“Aye?”
Henry’s eyes darted between them. “Do not come closer.”
“Ye came to me home,” Connor said. “Ye touched me bride, and ye held me bairn like a shield. Ye lost the right to give orders.”
Alex moved, slow and measured, toward Henry’s weaker side. Henry saw him and jerked back. Connor stepped in at the same instant, his blade angling high toward Henry’s throat. Henry flinched, but then Connor’s sword swung down.
The cut opened across Henry’s forearm, shallow, precise, and brutal enough to make his fingers loosen. He cried out, and Alex moved before the baby slipped, catching him cleanly against his chest and turning away.
The baby screamed once against Alex’s plaid.
“Take him inside,” Connor ordered.
“Aye, me Laird.”
Violet started toward them, but Connor’s hand lifted once, warning her back without looking away from Henry. Alex carried the baby toward the castle, one broad hand supporting the tiny head with surprising care.
Henry swung the cane, and Connor caught the blow with his forearm, stepped inside it, and struck Henry across the jaw with the hilt of his sword. Henry staggered backward as a thin blade slid free from the cane with a metallic hiss.
Violet’s stomach dropped.
Thankfully, Connor saw it and moved first.
The sound of steel clashing against steel immediately rang through the air. Henry’s hidden blade clattered to the stones while Connor drove him backward with two fast strikes, then hooked a boot behind his ankle and sent him down hard.
Henry landed on his back with a wheeze, his bleeding arm clutched to his chest. Connor pressed the sword’s tip to his throat.
“Wait,” Henry gasped. “He was my sister’s child.”
“Then ye should have honored her wishes.”
Henry scoffed, a bruise darkening on his jaw. “Oh, please. You know nothing about Jane, you brute.”
Connor stepped forward. “I ken the society that shunned her willnae raise her son.”
Henry’s face twisted. “You cannot keep him from his own kin.”
Connor’s blade pressed hard enough that Henry stopped breathing for a moment. Violet stood rigid beside the stone edge, one hand braced against it, her shoulder throbbing and her arms empty.
Connor looked down at Henry.
“I will treat this as grief this time,” he said. “I will let this slide because I want to believe ye are hurting. Come for him or Violet again, set one foot on Moore land again, and grief willnae save ye.”
Henry swallowed. “You have no right.”
Connor lowered his sword by an inch. “I am a Highlander,sir. Having a sword is enough.”
Two guards came running from the archway, and all the while, Connor did not look away from Henry.
“Escort him out of here,” he ordered. “One of ye will follow him until he crosses into England. If he turns back, bring me word.”
Henry pushed himself upright with a wince, blood staining his sleeve. His eyes found Violet.
“This is not finished,” he spat.
Connor stepped between them as the guards hauled him up and dragged him toward the gate. He watched until they had him moving, then turned away before the man disappeared from sight.
Violet stared at the door through which Alex had carried the baby.
