Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy 3)

But Cameron also fought like a man who knew he was marked for death. Much of the arrogance that Cameron wore like a cloak had disappeared. It was as if for the first time he sensed his own mortality and was desperate to survive.

Weakened by fever and blood loss and the ferocity of the battle thus far, Caelen stumbled back under the force of Cameron’s attack. He dug in his heels and met Cameron’s sword with his own, the impact jarring his shoulders.

With the blades kissing, Caelen thrust his boot into Cameron’s midsection, knocking him back. He followed, pressing his momentary advantage by launching a series of blows that had Cameron retreating.

The insistent clang of metal rang in his ears. Around him the smell of death was thick and cloying. Much of the roar had faded, as McCabes and McDonalds alike worked to dispatch the men who’d sworn their loyalty to a man with no honor.

All Caelen could see over and over was Rionna staggering to her knees before pitching forward to the ground. A sound much like that of a wounded animal bellowed from his throat.

For all Cameron’s cowardice, he was a skilled warrior, and he was fighting for his life. He knocked Caelen back and swung his sword. Caelen went to his knees and jerked his head back so the blade cut through empty air just an inch from his throat.

His shoulder burned, stinging from sweat and slick with blood. His strength was fast ebbing and he had to end this quickly. His brothers were occupied with their own battle across the courtyard. There was no one to aid Caelen. He had no reserves to draw on.

He staggered to his feet after deflecting yet another blow and prepared to launch himself directly at his enemy. Cameron raised his sword over his head and, with a snarl, started to leap forward to meet Caelen’s attack, when suddenly a sword thrust through Cameron’s chest.

He was completely impaled on the length. The point sliced through the front, bathed in crimson. Cameron looked down in complete befuddlement, his eyes glassy as death crept over him.

As his knees buckled and he slipped to the ground, Rionna came into view. She gripped the hilt of her sword with both hands, her face as pale as death. When she lifted her gaze from Cameron’s lifeless body to Caelen, her eyes were cloudy with pain and as dull and glassy as Cameron’s had looked when he drew his last breath.

“He didn’t deserve to die with honor,” she whispered. “He has none.”

She took one step forward then bobbled and put her other foot back to steady herself. Then she sagged and went to her knees in the snow.

All Caelen could see was the blood that soaked her tunic.

“Rionna!” he cried.

He dropped his sword and ran forward, catching her as she pitched sideways. He gathered her close to his chest and gently lowered her to her side, mindful of the dagger still deep within her flesh.

“Thank God,” she whispered as she stared up at him, her eyes so dim that it was like all the life had leeched right out of them. The usual wash of gold and amber, so warm and vibrant, was a dull shade of brown, like trees in winter. “I worried so. I couldn’t find you during battle. I worried you’d been killed.”

A spasm of pain crossed her face and she gave a soft sigh as she closed her eyes.

He touched her cheek, her mouth, her eyes, and even her ears. “Don’t you die, Rionna. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare die on me. You’ll live. I command it. Oh God,” he said brokenly. “Please don’t die, lass. You can’t leave me.”

He lifted her against his chest and rocked back and forth, grief so thick in his heart that he couldn’t breathe.

“I love you,” he said fiercely. “ ’Tis not true that I kept a part of my heart locked away from you. You own all of it, lass. You’ve always owned it. I didn’t give it to you. You took it from the very start.”

He touched her cheek again, willing her to open her eyes, and as if she answered his unspoken demand, her eyelids fluttered and opened, but it was evident it cost her dearly.

She smiled faintly. “ ’Tis glad I am to hear it, husband, for ’tis the truth I despaired of you ever giving me the words I most wanted to hear.”

“You stay with me and you’ll hear them every day for the rest of our lives,” he said in a harsh tone that was rife with grief and desperation. “Ah, lass, I don’t deserve you. ’Tis God’s truth, I don’t, but I want you all the same and I’ll not live a single day without you.”

“What a pair we are,” she whispered. “Battered, bruised, and bloody. Too weak to help the other to our deathbed. ’Tis the truth we’ll have to die here because I lack the strength to carry you.”

The teasing in her tone was his undoing. The knot swelled in his throat and tears burned his eyes, crowding in until his vision went wet and blurry.

“Aye, lass, you have the right of it. Perhaps my brothers will come along and carry the both of us to our sick beds. But if you think you get your own bed, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I’ve never before seen such a pitiful sight. What say you, Alaric?”

Caelen looked up to see Ewan and Alaric standing over him and Rionna. Worry burned bright in their gazes but Ewan’s tone was light and jesting, as if he was loathe to let his fear bleed over into his words.

“Methinks marriage has made my brother soft,” Alaric replied. “ ’Tis a shame when a puny lass has to save his arse.”

“Come down here and I’ll show you puny,” Rionna grumbled.

Caelen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so he sat there, with Rionna gathered tight in his grasp, and buried his face in her hair. He shook from head to toe as it sank in just how close he’d come to losing her, and in fact, he could lose her still.