If Stellan survived this battle, someone would dig out the arrow heads for him and patch him up. If he didn’t survive, Anders would be pissed that he had to become laird. And Mariota— Stellan couldn’t think of her now or he’d break down. He couldn’t leave her. She loved him, not Anders.
Alber charged.
Stellan stayed mounted, guiding his horse with his knees and shifting weight to meet Alber’s attack. He swung his sword, scoring a wound on Alber’s shoulder similar to the ones inflicted on him.
“Now we’re even,” Stellan taunted. “Are ye sure ye want to continue this?” He was grateful that his growing battle lust was dulling the pain in his left arm and shoulder. He could fight. But the harder his heart beat, the faster he would bleed.
"Ye’re no’ going to last long,” Alber said and sneered. “Ye must be feeling weak by now. I can take ye.” He swung for Stellan’s head.
Stellan blocked his strike, his sword and good arm vibrating with the power of it. ”Dinna be so sure. I have much to live for.” And much to love for.Mariota.
Alber laughed and swung again, but missed. “Mariota MacKay? Ye think ye’re going to be the first? Ye are only the latest in a long line. Did ye ken that?”
“But never ye,” Stellan taunted. “Have yer bollocks recovered yet?”
“She’ll find out when I finish with ye.”
With a growl, Stellan knocked him from his horse.
Alber bled more freely after his fall, his shoulder wound gaping, crusted with dirt. If he lived, it was sure to fester.
Arrowheads blocked Stellan’s wounds from bleeding heavily, though he could feel some blood seeping around them and dripping down his arm— enough, he supposed, for Alber to assume he was in worse shape than he actually was. But the more he used that arm, the more the arrowheads would cut the muscle they lodged in. He let it remain by his side.
Alber stood as Stellan swung off his horse and slapped its rump to get it moving out of the way of what was to come. The duel continued on the ground, Stellan circling and thrusting, looking for weaknesses in his opponent, just as Alber did, and both trying to wound the good arm the other fought with.
Stellan couldn’t help trying his link to Anders. Would it still work? Was he close enough? Would Anders hear him and know that he was thinking about him? They might have grown past the ability they shared as young lads. Their connection had not always been reliable even then. Now? Still, he had to try. He was in a fight for his life. Alone. Wounded.Take care of Mariota if Idinna make it back, he fought to project as he blocked another of Alber’s thrusts.Dinna let this man near her. If I fail, kill him.
The fight seemed to go on forever. Stellan was panting, but Alber was both panting and pale from the multitude of cuts Stellan had inflicted on his bad arm, his torso and one leg. None were deep enough to finish him, worse luck, but they bled, so until they both exhausted every reserve or failed to block an attack, the fight would continue.
Stellan had taken a few cuts, the most severe a slice along his ribs under his good arm. He fought not to let it slow him down. Even with only one arm, he was faster and more precise in his thrusts than Alber. Still, blood loss was becoming a factor, shaking Stellan’s confidence and making him start to fear he wouldn’t win.
Alber might have had good reason to brag about Red Harlaw, despite what Mariota believed. The man wouldn’t give up. Stellan could see in Alber’s eyes that despite his wounds and exhaustion, he was enjoying this. Was his adversary toying with him? The thought threatened to steal the strength from Stellan’s legs. Or was Stellan’s own exhaustion making him see things that weren’t there?
Like Anders, who Sutherland noticed as a mirror-image stutter of movement in the corner of his eye.
Alber lurched forward and stumbled over a half-buried rock as he swung at shoulder height.
That rock saved Stellan from his distraction. He blocked Alber’s swing with a dangerous chop that forced both swords down till the point of Alber’s penetrated the ground. Stellan lifted his and ran Alber through.
Alber’s shocked cry ended on a gurgle.
Stellan jerked his blade up.
Alber slid backward off Stellan’s blade and fell to the ground.
Stellan kept his gaze on him long enough to be certain he would not get up again. He wasn’t certain anything else he saw was real. With a disbelieving glance at Anders and some Sutherland men approaching him, Stellan collapsed.
CHAPTER 20
Mariota leapt from her horse once she and her escort crossed under Dunrobin’s gate. “Ian!” She called for the hawk master as she ran for the mews, certain the stable lads would care for her horse. She needed to find Valkyrie. The hawk master came to the open door of the mews just as she reached it. “Is Valkyrie within?” Her heart was thundering so loudly, she was certain the man could hear it.
He gave her a nod and gestured for her to enter as he stepped out of the way. “She’s here, lass, and she’s well,” he told her, while wiping his hands on a cloth. On it, streaks of blood mixed with water varied from red to pink. “She lost a claw somewhere, but other than that, she’s unhurt. What happened?”
Mariota ran to Valkyrie’s perch. The hawk sat there calmly, watching her mistress approach. “Ach, my poor weeeyas. I’m so sorry ye were harmed.” She studied the wrapping Ian had put on her foot. “Will she be well?”
“Aye. She will. Ye neednafash, lass.” He gave her a smile. “Ye sent her, then?”
“We were attacked.” She told him about the arrow that did the damage he’d repaired. “Stellan and two of his men stayed behind to search for the shooter.”
