Page 72 of His Secret Highland Bride

He didn’t raise his sword to anyone who’d dropped their weapons. He didn’t understand the reason they chose not to fight. All he knew was that every MacColl who defected meant less of a chance he’d lose someone else today. While he surveyed the battlefield, he spotted two MacColls moving on a smaller man. When he looked closer, he recognized the boy. Doran.

He hadn’t realized he’d come to fight. He was getting better with his moves but was in no way ready for such a battle. And to engage two large warriors would mean instant death for his wife’s young cousin. He couldn’t imagine having to tell her the news.

“Alec!” Shane yelled and pointed.

As if it were no more than a minor inconvenience, Alec stepped behind the men and cast his sword in a long arc, cutting them both down in one swipe.

The boy swayed for a moment but didn’t swoon. Shane was impressed to see the lad shake off his fear and jump right back into the fight, picking lone warriors and using the moves Shane had taught him. Shane might have sent him home if the battle hadn’t slowed to just a few smaller fights between the clans. In the middle of the chaos stood a large man with no fewer than six retainers at his side.

Laird MacColl.

Shane whistled, and Alec looked to him right away. His brother glanced between them but understood well enough. It wasn’t the same as fighting with Ronan, but they were brothers and there was still a bond there. Alec gathered Fitz and a few other men to come with them as they went to meet the other party. The men spread out to a half circle around the laird as Shane grew closer.

“I am Shane MacPherson, laird of Clan MacPherson. You attack us on our lands at your peril.”

“You stole my wife and money, and I’m here to take back what is mine. Give me my wife, or prepare to surrender your own in her stead. Otherwise, we end this with blades.”

Shane shook his head. “I do not have your wife or your money. I’m afraid you’ve fallen victim to Deirdre’s tricks. She did the same to my father. What money she didn’t squander, she stole when she fled our keep to go to yours. Now she did the same to ye.”

“Lies. I think I’d know my own wife.”

“You mean our stepmother? I’ve known her since I was twelve summers and know her better than ye think,” Shane said.

The retainers blinked and looked to one another. Finally, the laird shook his head. “She said marrying her would align the MacColls and the Grants because her son was the laird of the Grants.”

“That he may be, but his mother is no one to speak for my stepbrother. The Grants would side with the MacPhersons if they’d had time to arrive. Of that, you can be sure.”

“Uncle, we are alone against the Camerons and the MacPhersons. We’re outnumbered. We must retreat.”

The laird glared at the younger man. “Don’t be a coward, Bacchius. MacColls do not retreat. So long as there is breath in my body, I will fight.”

“Bloody hell,” Alec said, sounding almost bored as he stepped closer and drew the sword from his back. “Let’s get on with it, then, so we can have our supper.”

Shane and Fitz did the same, and the fight began. Shane faced off with the other laird. At the first cross of their blades, Shane knew his opponent was weak with age and laziness. But the fire in his eyes was still strong. He’d not give up even if he knew he’d lose.

Shane hoped his own pride would never be his downfall, like it was to be for this man. Shane would not play with the man. Defeating him would likely lead to a quick surrender and fewer lives lost.

A feign to his left and a strike to his right, and the man dropped to his knees. Shane lifted his sword to finish his enemy, but he gasped at the sharp pain in his back. He turned to see the laird’s nephew staring at him with wide eyes of surprise, his skin as pale as milk.

Shane watched as Alec bore down on the man, severing his head from his lanky neck. Turning back to the laird, Shane tried to raise his sword again, but the pain stole his breath, and he stumbled back. Fitz moved in and ended the laird in one slash of his claymore.

Shane saw the remaining men drop their swords as soon as their chief fell. The war was over. No one else would be harmed today. As he gasped for air and gave in to the fire spreading through his back, he thought of Lindsay and then Maria. He would be with one of his wives today; he wasn’t yet sure which one.

He hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to Lindsay for fear it would bring ill luck. He wished now he had said more to her. He should have told her he was sorry. That he hadn’t wanted to leave her but was only doing what he thought was best in that moment.

“Ye have grown lazy,” Alec said.

Fitz reached out and smacked Alec. “What is wrong with ye? You don’t speak to a man who might die like that.” Shane wanted to thank Fitz for his loyalty but needed to focus on moving air in and out of his burning chest.

“He isna gonna die. It’s but a scratch. And look at his mouth. He’s not bringing up blood from the lungs. If we get him to a healer so he doesn’t keep flooding the field, he should be fine by morning.”

Alec’s words—harsh as they seemed—put Shane’s mind to ease. The war chief had certainly seen his share of mortal wounds and knew if Shane’s was serious or not. Shane hoped he wasn’t wrong.

The men loaded him into a cart and began the bumpy ride back to the castle. The sky swirled above him, going in and out of focus. Light sparkled at the edge of his vision. He didn’t have much time left before he succumbed to sleep. And he wasn’t sure if or when he would wake up again.

“Alec?”

“Aye? I’m here.”