Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Ryland stood still, his eyes locked on him, wanting to keep him talking until he could figure out a way to get Esme free of him without her being harmed.
“What makes you think you have a right to rule Clan Glencairn?” Ryland demanded.
“I am a distant cousin to Torrance’s father. With Torrance gone and you, too make sure you were no threat to my claim—no relationship—which it appears you are, I would be heir to Clan Glencairn. But if I cannot have it, I won’t let you have what you obviously want.”
Roland moved the blade to Esme’s throat.
Ryland raised his hand. “Stop! Fight me for it. Win, and Glencairn is yours. You have my word on it and those around me witness to my promise. You will rule and Esme will return with me to Clan MacLeish.”
“And you will claim allegiance to me for all to hear,” Roland said as if he already tasted victory.
“Aye. You have my word,” Ryland confirmed.
Roland didn’t hesitate. With a forceful shove, he sent Esme tumbling away from him.
Roland roared, his eyes wild with fury as he charged at Ryland.
Their swords clashed with a jolt that rang through the trees, steel scraping as they locked and shoved. Roland fought with brute strength, pressing forward fast and hard, trying to overwhelm. Ryland didn’t back down. He fought with the strength of two men.
Blades sang again.
Esme got to her feet, her heart pounding. Snow churned beneath their feet, their breaths harsh in the winter air. The others stood firm, Knox keeping Dru locked against him, worried she would dive in and help her brother. Una stood beside Hakon, both watching every twitch of Roland’s blade, but no one dared interfere.
This was Ryland’s fight, and he had given his word it was to be a fair one.
Roland struck low and Ryland blocked him.
“You never belonged here,” Roland snarled, lunging again.
“I always belonged here,” Ryland said, slamming his hilt into Roland’s ribs.
The man grunted, stumbled, but recovered quickly.
A flash of his blade caught Ryland’s side—too shallow to slow him, but it drew some blood.
Roland grinned, tasting victory and lunged.
With skill and speed, Ryland sliced across Roland’s shoulder, blood blooming.
Roland roared and came in swinging, reckless and wide.
A quick duck under the blade and a pivot, had Ryland driving his shoulder into Roland’s chest, sending him sliding back across the snow. Roland tried to recover, lifted his sword—but Ryland was already there.
Steel met steel one final time.
Ryland twisted his blade past Roland’s pitiful attempt to strike him, stepped in close, and with a swift, brutal motion—drove his sword through Roland’s gut.
Roland let out a sharp gasp, then a strangled breath. His sword dropped from his fingers, hitting the snow.
With the force of his blade, Ryland held him upright. “Your fatal mistake was taking the woman I love.” He yanked the sword free.
Roland crumpled to the ground, the snow catching his fall and turning red beneath him.
Silence settled over everyone, their eyes on Roland, all except Esme.
She stood frozen, breath visible in the cold, Ryland’s name soft on her lips.
He turned to her, his chest rising, blood on his tunic and he held his hand out to her.
She ran to him, and he caught her in his arms, hugging her tight.
CHAPTER 32
“Time to explain,” Ryland said, looking at Patrick the next morning.
It had taken the remainder of yesterday to clean up after the battle, see to the wounded and dead, and the prisoners they took. Esme hadn’t let Ryland do anything until Brenna tended to his wound that thankfully turned out to be minor. He, in turn, forbade her to leave the keep until he said otherwise, then thought better of it, realizing he sounded too much like Torrance. He explained his fear that someone might still wish them dead and she agreed to remain in the keep until he sorted things out, which he did easier than he expected.
Any Glencairn warrior who had betrayed Torrance, which included Gavin, had quickly fought for Ryland, when they learned it was him, relieved that he would lead the clan. It did much to soften any punishment they might receive. Much still needed to be worked out but time would see to that.
“Aye, hurry and tell us,” Dru urged, looking down the table at Patrick from where she sat snug against her husband in the Great Hall. “I am eager to hear how Ryland escaped the clutches of my selfish father.”
The others there, Hakon, Una, Brack, and Brenna were just as eager to hear. The Monk was not there. He had left at daybreak, anxious to return home to his wife, Shade, though not to an angry Nug who he had ordered to remain behind to see Clan MacLeish kept safe.
“It is thanks to his mum that he did,” Patrick said, “though it broke her heart to separate the lads. But she feared that once Randall learned he had twin sons, he would pit the lads against each other to see who would emerge the strongest to rule Clan Glencairn. She didn’t want that for either of them, so she gave one to the healer who delivered the twins and told her to find a good home for him.”