Page 47 of Highlander’s Dangerous Love

“Ye are in exile, Colin. Why’re ye here?”

“I needed tae speak wi’ ye, Bryce,” he explained, holding his hands up and backing away carefully. Colin had learned from experience that it was better to keep his distance when Bryce had that white-hot seething anger.

“Couldnae a letter have sufficed?” He asked, still advancing, hand on his sword.

“No guarantee ye’d answer,” Colin replied. And it was true; any letter from him or his father would likely be burned. Exile meant they were as good as dead to the rest of the clan.

“How did ye get word tae Gemma, then?” Bryce asked. “She kens. I dinnae know how, unless ye came out of hidin’ tae spin yer miserable tale.”

“Gemma came after me. Found me in my new village, an’ I told her everythin’.”

“I gave ye one chance tae make things right, an’ ye chose exile. I see now I should ‘ave just dealt with ye myself!” Bryce cried, lunging at Colin with his sword.

Colin narrowly escaped the edge of the blade as it came down. He hadn’t carried his own sword with him on his journey, since it was rather bulky and hard to hide. But there were swords hanging on the wall of the great hall…oh, he could use that to his advantage. He twisted and dodged Bryce’s blade until he could yank one off the wall. It was old, heavy and dull, but it was better than nothing.

He gritted his teeth as he parried Bryce's furious attacks. His sword clashed against his opponent's with a metallic ring that echoed through the great hall. The sound was amplified by the storm raging outside, which unleashed a torrent of rain and thunder upon the Highlands. Their swords clashed again, and Colin felt the impact reverberating through his arms. He knew he had to end this quickly or he would be in trouble. He feinted to the left, then swung his sword in a wide arc to the right. Bryce fell for the feint and moved to block the imaginary attack, leaving himself open. Colin seized the opportunity and lunged forward, his sword aimed at Bryce's chest.

But Bryce was not an easy opponent to defeat. He saw the attack coming and deflected Colin's sword with a quick flick of his wrist. The force of the deflection made Colin stumble, and he almost lost his footing. He regained his balance just in time to block Bryce's counterattack, cursing inwardly for not bringing his own sword. This clunky, dull thing was not near as nice a weapon as Bryce’s finely made blade. The stumble had pushed him out the side door and into the courtyard, where the torrential downpour obscured his vision.

They circled each other, their swords raised and ready to strike. Colin could hear his own breath coming in short gasps, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins, making him feel alive and invincible. His father had told him to always keep a calm head, and knew he couldn't afford to be reckless. Bryce was too dangerous, too unpredictable. He had to find a weakness, a flaw in his opponent's defense, and exploit it.

They clashed again, their swords ringing out in a metallic symphony. Colin parried Bryce's attack, then launched a series of quick jabs and feints. He was testing Bryce, trying to find a weakness. Unfortunately, they’d had the same teacher, so Bryce wasn't fooled by Colin's tactics. He countered each attack with ease, his sword moving like a blur.

They fought for what seemed like an eternity, their swords dancing in a deadly dance. The rain was coming down in sheets now, making the stone walls of the great hall slick and treacherous. Colin could feel the cold water soaking through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. In this weather, the sword felt heavy, and his hand slipped on the grip, which had doubtlessly been worn down by years of battle.

They circled each other again, their swords raised and ready. Colin could see the anger in Bryce's eyes, the frustration and the pain. He knew he had to end this, had to find a way to disarm Bryce without hurting him.

“Bryce!” He shouted over the thunder and rain, “ye must listen tae me! I came here tae speak wi’ ye!”

“Then talk!”

“The captain is yer father! Bryce, we’re brothers!”

That made Bryce falter a moment. There was a look of realization in his eyes, mixed with confusion. Thunder shook the very stones of the castle just then.

“Nay…nay, we cannae,” Bryce muttered, stepping back and lowering his sword.

“Think about it! Why do we look so alike? Why do ye have no brothers or sisters? Why d’ye think ye were mistaken for my father’s son as a child?” Colin urged.

For a moment, it looked as if Bryce might concede, and realize that this fight was indeed pointless. He even looked like he might cry; he had that intense look of despair that Colin had only ever seen a few times on the battlefield.

It was short-lived.

Bryce channeled whatever emotion he’d felt momentarily into the force of his next charge. Colin had to act quickly, and barely got the sword up to block the blow.

“Ye will not take the lairdship from me!” He screamed.

Colin used the slippery stones to his advantage; he kicked out his leg and made a quick sweeping motion with it. Bryce stumbled and fell backwards, his head hitting the stone column. Still, it was not enough to stop him.

“I dinnae want the lairdship! I just want tae have a peaceful life with Gemma!”

“All ye do is lie an’ steal! That ends taeday!” Bryce screamed.

He rushed toward Colin with his sword raised, but at the very last second, they heard a woman’s cry.

Gemma stood there in the pouring rain, her dark hair loose and soaked. She looked beautiful, terrifying, and desperate. Colin had never loved her more.

“Stop this at once!”