Page 69 of Stealing a Kilted Heart

A cry tore itself from Knox’s throat as he turned around to swing his blade, his rage guiding him as he tried to strike Gordon down. He was fast, though, expecting the blow, and he blocked it, the clash of their swords drowned out under their wild roars, like two rabid animals trying to tear each other apart. Knox was relentless in his attacks, striking again and again only for Gordon to meet him halfway, always on defense but never once faltering.

“An’ now I’ll kill yer precious wife in front o’ ye,” Gordon said through heavy pants as Knox took a moment to steady his feet, reminding himself that he couldn’t only rely on his rage to win this fight. “An’ ye’ll hear her squeal like a pig, too.”

He’s only tryin’ tae taunt me. He wants me careless. He wants me weak.

Knox wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He would do anything it took to kill him, not only to save Fia, but also to avenge his family. After all these years, he would finally have his revenge, and he would know that his mother and his father could finally rest in peace.

Much to his relief, when his gaze searched for Fia, he found her once again in the shadows, where she had been since before the start of the fight. He found her plastered against the wall, trying to make herself as small and invisible as she could, keeping away from Gordon just as Knox needed her to do. The more she remained out of his field of vision, the more she kept herself away from the action, the easier it was for Knox to focus on the task at hand—killing Gordon once and for all.

Another bellow was torn from Knox as he attacked again. This time, he conserved some of his energy, baring his teeth as he tried to corner Gordon, crowd him against a wall. But the man was slippery, making sure he was never pushed against one, and so Knox was quick to change tactics.

If he couldn’t get to him, he would let Gordon be the one to come.

It was a risky plan, one that could easily end in his death. But Knox was determined, and so he gave the impression of a tired-out fighter, making mistakes that were small, yet significant. And when he left his right side open, that was when Gordon finally struck, going for the killing blow.

Only Knox jumped out of the way before the blade could slice him, and with a swift twirl behind Gordon, he plunged his blade through his back with a grunt, blood fountaining out of the wound.

The only sound Gordon could make was a soft gasp as his knees hit the floor. Above him, Knox stood frozen, heaving, drenched in blood—some of it his own, some of it Gordon’s, some of it from all the other men he had killed that night. So many lives had been lost. So many had been struck dead by his hand.

And then Fia’s hand closed tenderly around his shoulder, and he turned around to face her, falling into her embrace.

“It’s over,” she told him, running her fingers through his bloody, matted hair. “Hush now… it’s all over.”

It was the truth, but it was still difficult to believe. Adrenaline still coursed through Knox’s veins, his heart beating like a drum, and the only thing that kept him from collapsing on the floor, was Fia, holding onto him like that.

Footsteps echoed outside the room then, fast and frantic, and Knox was quick to tear himself away from Fia, putting her behind him. He waited with bated breath, counting the seconds in his head, waiting to see who it was—friend or foe.

When the group of men appeared at the door, the first thing Knox saw was a friendly face.

“Magnus,” he said, sagging with relief. His friend was in a similar state, sword drawn, covered in blood from head to toe, but he seemed unharmed, much to Knox’s relief. Instantly, Magnus entered the room and grabbed him, pulling him into a crushing hug and patting his shoulder.

“Ye’re alright?” he asked, and Knox was quick to nod.

“Ye?”

“Aye,” said Magnus. “More than. Look who I found.”

Knox looked over Magnus’ shoulder at the door and saw Callum there, beaten and bruised, surrounded by soldiers. Two of them had apprehended him, holding tightly onto his arms, his hands bound behind his back.

And Knox still had his sword in his hand.

“I’ll kill ye, ye bastard!” he roared, sidestepping Magnus to get to Callum, but Fia was quick to come in his way, holding her hands up.

“Wait!” she called. “Wait… it isnae worth it, Knox. He isnae worth it. Look around… look at all this blood.”

“What’s a little more?” Knox asked. “He deserves it.”

But Fia wouldn’t hear it. Even as he tried to walk around her, she once again got in his way, stopping him.

“Please, listen tae me,” she said, her hand coming up to rest on his cheek. That calmed him a little, grounding him, bringing him back to his body, but the rage still burned hot inside him. “The humiliation will be a much greater punishment if ye imprison him fer treason. Callum is a proud man. He’d rather die than be humiliated like this.”

Knox glanced between Fia and Callum, watching as the man gritted his teeth. He didn’t know if Fia was right; he didn’t know if it was the right call at all, but her compassion moved him unlike anything else.

Besides, he didn’t think he could ever say no to her.

“Fine,” he said, relenting. “Take him back tae the castle an’ throw him in the dungeons.”

The last thing Knox saw before his men dragged Callum away was his murderous glare, like a promise this wasn’t over.

He could try to escape all he wanted, Knox thought. But he would fail.

With a sigh, he let his sword fall to the floor and grabbed Fia, pulling her into his arms. She was alive, he told himself; she was safe. There was no one left to threaten her anymore, and if there ever was, they would meet the same fate as Gordon. He wouldn’t let anyone harm her and live.

“I love ye,” he told her, pulling back to press a passionate kiss to her lips, needing to feel the life force within her.

“An’ I love ye. An’ I kent ye’d come fer me,” Fia said, gazing into his eyes. “I kent ye wouldnae let them hurt me.”

“O’ course,” Knox said. “Nae one will ever touch ye, mo ghraidh. Ye have me word.”

As long as he lived, Knox lived for her.