At the duke’s next attack, Colyne ducked. Forged steel hissed over him by mere inches. Taking advantage of Gaston’s lowered weapon, he charged.
Blades screamed.
Locked.
Colyne shoved. The duke stumbled back.
Sweat poured down Colyne’s face as drove forward with a series of brutal swings. He would nae lose her. She was his life. “Cede!”
“To a Scot?” With a curse, Gaston bore down on Colyne, narrowed the gap, swung.
Colyne repulsed the blow, drove his blade forward. The slide of the duke’s flesh against the honed steel offered its own reward.
In shock, Gaston gaped at the wound across his left arm, a clean line severing skin from bone. Brows slammed together in outrage. “For that you will die!”
The thud of steps echoed as the guards rushed toward them. “Halt!” one of the king’s knights ordered.
Eyes blazing, the duke attacked.
Colyne repelled the blow. “This,” he said between clenched teeth, “is for Marie!” He sidestepped and thrust, sank the tip of his sword deep into the noble’s gut.
The duke’s weapon clattered to the ground, slid across the stone, wobbled at the edge, and then tumbled over. Eyes wide with shock,the duke stared at the blood staining his tunic in a slow, sluggish trail and collapsed to his knees.
Colyne glared at the noble. He’d almost cost Scotland their much-needed aid, had played a part in both Stephano and his family’s as well as Douglas’s murder, had hurt Marie and had endangered their child’s life. The bastard would never harm anyone again. Colyne lifted his sword to deliver the fatal blow.
Marie stepped forward.“Non!”
Colyne’s fingers trembled on the hilt. “He deserves to die.”
“He does,” Marie agreed, her voice unsteady, “but his shame will be greater if his sentence is delivered by my father and witnessed by his own serfs.”
As much as Colyne yearned to end the bastard’s life, he lowered his weapon. He would allow the king to mete out the deserved punishment. “Why did you help to abduct Marie?”
Defiant eyes lifted to Colyne. Silence
“For the coin my abduction would bring,” Marie said.
The duke glared at her.
“I overheard him and the man with whom he met.”
Colyne motioned the guards as they halted around them. “Arrest the Duke of Vocette for conspiring against King Philip.”
The knights seized him.
“When you are interrogated,” Colyne stated, his words like ice, “ ’twill be intriguing to see what devices they choose to acquire your confession. Methods I have nay doubt will have you praying for death long before ’tis served.”
Fear curdled in the man’s eyes, and he tried to shove to his feet. His legs gave, and he landed hard. Wide eyes, panic swept his gaze. “Non,” he begged, “if you have any mercy, kill me now.”
“Mercy?” Marie said with disgust, “you have earned none.” She nodded to the guards. “Take him to the dungeon.”
“I will help you,” Gaston pleaded, as the guards hauled him away. “Give you whatever amount of coin or lands you request.”
The knights shoved the duke into the turret, his pleas for death echoing in his wake.
His heart pounding, Colyne drew Marie into his arms.
Her body trembled against his. “I was so afraid!”
