Page 91 of Devil Black

“I have every faith in you. I entrust you with my life. Yet, I would not have you do anything in which you do not believe—”

“You know what will happen to you if I leave here without you, Isobel. Even if I go straight to Stirling to plead our case—against James’s loyal subject and friend, no less—’twill take too long. Once I am gone, MacNab will unleash his every perversion...”

“I know.” Isobel thought of that terrible room—Aisla’s prison and death place—the ropes on the bedposts, the threatened wave of warriors. Could she endure it? Maybe not, but neither could she endure costing this man, whom she loved, the one remaining occupant of his heart. “Yet surrendering your lands will beggar you. I cannot send you—send all of us—penniless into the world!”

“We shall not leave you here.” Thomas spoke. “I shall offer to fight the bastard myself, if need be.”

Dougal looked hard at Thomas before giving a tight smile. “You, the son of a bailiff, when here stand I, descendent of chieftains? I would fight the bastard in a heartbeat, man, if I thought we had a fair chance.”

“Then let us put our heads together,” Thomas growled, “and see how we can assure it.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“So that is our offer—our only offer!” Dougal roared into his opponents’ faces. “Combat, single combat, one on one between myself and Bertram. When I win, you will release all of us—myself, this man, Thomas Hewett, and both our wives.”

Randal MacNab smiled into Dougal’s face. “We have been here before, I think,” he tossed back at Dougal with satisfaction. “I remember you lying in a bloodied heap on the stones of my forecourt. You were taught a lesson then, MacRae. Have you truly forgotten?”

Dougal felt rage rise to his head, so strong it barely left room for thought, and fought it down. Now, of all times, he needed a clear head.

“We ha’ not been here before,” he shouted. “This time it shall be done fairly—one on one, I say, and with honor, if you can muster any.”

Bertram spoke. “Och, and listen to him whinge and whine. Your combat last time was one on one, was it not, man? You faced but one opponent at a time.”

Dougal stiffened in ire. He wanted to strangle Bertram, the bastard, with his bare hands, wanted it so badly the desire felt like fire in his blood. He wanted to leap upon the man now, but he felt Isobel, at his side, reach out and touch his arm.

“This time,” he told Bertram through his teeth, “if you have the balls for it, I will face you and only you, not the master of your guards, nor so many of your warriors I lose count. Two men only, yourself and me, with two swords—to the death, if need be.”

Bertram and his father exchanged glances.

“And,” said MacNab the Senior, “should my son prove victorious again?”

Stony-faced, Dougal replied, “I sign away my lands to you—this night—all MacRae holdings in Lothian.”

“And the women?” Randal’s eyes narrowed.

“They go free, either way. You can keep me if you wish—”

“You,” said Bertram flatly, “will be dead.”

“Na, na,” Randal objected, “I canno’ see that. One of these women will, one day, inherit a fine holding in Yorkshire, after their father dies. ’Tis what you are thinking, MacRae, is it not? Surrender your lands here, crawl away on your belly, and take up the lands of your wife’s father?”

“He will crawl nowhere,” Bertram put in, fingering the hilt of his sword. “He will lie leaking his life’s blood.”

“Aye, so,” Randal mused, “yet I am a man who likes assurances. What of this, MacRae—if you lose, I keep the women and your lands. Let us make the stakes high and the contest interesting.”

Dougal shook his head. He had to bargain cannily, now, and get this thing right. “No, we fight for the lands only. The women will leave here first, under the protection of my wife’s brother-in-law.”

He shot Thomas a look. The bailiff’s son stood strong and steady. Thomas had his instructions and Dougal felt a bit surprised to realize he trusted the man to carry them out.

MacNab laughed. “I begin to think you as innocent as you were all those years ago. Do you take me for a fool? The women stay.”

Dougal looked at Catherine, who stood clutching Isobel’s hand. “At least let my wife’s sister accompany her husband away. She is with child and thus no good to you. Her father will never believe she took your son in marriage.”

Randal appeared to ponder it. He, too, eyed Catherine and then said, “Hewett leaves before the fight?”

“Before the fight,” Dougal insisted. “He is my assurance, you see, that you shall play fair this time. He shall travel directly to Stirling and await word from me.”

“And if you fall?” Bertram demanded avidly. “If you die?”