Page 66 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

Eiric nodded, and then looked around the camp, spotting the large tent nearby. That must be where Marion was, he thought, as he doubted that Commander Forbes would leave her all alone with his soldiers.

He made his way towards the tent, but as he was walking, his way was blocked by two men. They were both young, it seemed to him, much younger than him, barely anything more than boys.

Eiric could never stomach fighting such young men. It seemed like such a shame to him, killing boys who were so young.

“Get out of me way and I willna harm ye,” he told them. “Ye have me word.”

The two boys looked at each other, and for a split second, Eiric would have guessed that they would take his offer. In the end, though, they only raised their swords in a challenge, and Eiric couldn’t help but wonder whether that was because they were so loyal to their Commander or because they feared the other man much more than they feared him.

“Verra weel,” he told them with a heavy sigh. “Just ken that ye brought this upon yerselves.”

Even as Eiric fought the two boys, he tried his best to not kill them. He would have to harm them, he told himself, but he decided to do his best to knock them out quickly, so that he would deal the least damage he could.

They didn’t know what they were fighting for, he was certain of that. When he had been their age, he hadn’t known a single thing about political motives, and he couldn’t blame them for blindly following their commander and the Crown. They didn’t know any better, he thought.

Eiric dodged their blades, pirouetting to the side every time they swung their swords. He answered with blows of his own that were only meant to maim, and soon enough, he managed to hit one of the boys on the back of his head with the hilt of his sword. His fellow soldier watched in horror as the boy fell onto the ground, unconscious, perhaps thinking that Eiric had killed him.

And then, the boy attacked him again. He was angry, and Eiric could tell from the way he moved, as though he put every ounce of his energy into killing him. But the boy was no match for Eiric, even though he was fast and had the stamina of a very young man. Eiric parried his attacks, one after the other, their swords clanging and adding to the cacophony of sounds that were drowning the camp. Just when the boy least expected it, Eiric kicked him on the shin, distracting him for long enough to hit him on the head, just like he had done with his friend.

They’ll wake up soon enough.

After that, there was nothing between him and the tent. He approached, and just as he did, he saw shadows moving inside, one away from the tent’s entrance and one towards it.

One of them must be the commander, Eiric thought. Quickening his pace, he gripped his sword tighter, knuckles going white under the pressure.

He had never met Commander Forbes before, as he had been bedridden when he had taken Marion away. All he knew about the man came from those who had seen him that day, and from his father, who had encountered him before. Their descriptions, though, did little to prepare him for meeting the man. He didn’t know any of his strength and weaknesses, didn’t know much about him other than his name and the fact that, much like Lynton, he was bloodthirsty.

When the man stepped out of the tent, Eiric’s first impression was that he looked just like any other pompous English commander. He didn’t need to know anything about him, he decided, in order to beat him, because he knew how the rest of the English army operated, and that was enough.

They’re all the same. They even look the same. No imagination, those Sassenachs.

“You!” the commander said, pointing the tip of his sword at Eiric, as though he knew him. “You’re the son of Laird MacLeod, are you not?”

Eiric blinked in surprise a few times, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the other man in the dim light of the fire that burned in the middle of the camp.

“Aye,” he told him. “How do ye ken that?”

“We met at a ball,” the commander said. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I know how you Scots like your liquor.”

“Canna argue with that, Commander,” Eiric said. “But I think it has somethin’ to do with the fact that ye all dress the same and ye all look like shite.”

Eiric smiled at the murderous look that the commander gave him, his words clearly having the desired effect on him. The more Eiric riled him up, the easier it would be to kill him, he knew.

“You think you’re a clever man,” the commander said. “It’s a good thing that the girl you and your family kidnapped has told me everything about your defences. What will you do, I wonder, when we come to you? Do you think that you’ll be able to save your people if you even survive tonight?”

“Och, aye,” Eiric said, his tone filled with confidence. “I think we’ll do just fine, considerin’ the fact that Marion gave ye fake information.”

It took the commander a few moments to understand the gravity of what Eiric had told him, but once he did, his face contorted into a grimace of rage.

“That wench!” he shouted, his entire body shaking with rage. “Well . . . she won’t be a problem for much longer. She’s already half dead in there. Won’t take long to kill her after I’m done with you.”

The commander’s words gave Eiric pause. Marion was in danger. He didn’t know what the commander had done to her or why, but it was clear to him that he had to rush to her if he were to have any chance of saving her.

“I’ll kill ye,” Eiric told the commander. “For whatever ye did to Marion, I’ll kill ye.”

The commander laughed, the sound echoing all around the camp, mixing with the battle cries and the agonised screams of those who were hurt. It was a hollow sound, and one that Eiric never wanted to hear again in his life.

“I see,” he told Eiric. “You are in love with her . . . how pathetic. She’s a pretty girl, I won’t deny that. So pretty that I wanted her for myself, but she’s more trouble than she’s worth. She’s the same as any other wench. And she was dying to have me.”