Page 117 of A Touch So Wicked

“Sir Brody, I assume there are guards in the courtyard as well as in the gatehouse,” Damian continued. “Take two men with you. You know what to do.”

“Aye, my lord,” Brody acknowledged.

“Dickon, I’m assigning you the most dangerous job of all. How many Gordons are there in the keep?”

“At least fifty men,” Dickon recalled. “But I overheard two guards talking, and one remarked that half of them returned to their homes and families. Those who remained are billeted in the barracks.”

Damian digested this information. “Take the remaining men to the barracks, Dickon. You’re to subdue the enemy and confine them in the storeroom until I can deal with them. Remember what I said about bloodshed. Avoid it if you can.”

“Consider it done, Damian. I assume you’re going after the Gordon chieftain yourself.”

“Aye.” He turned to Dermot. “Where will I find the bastard?”

“He’s taken yer chamber for himself,” Dermot replied. “I’ll go with ye.”

“Nay. Find Maggie. Make sure she stays in the solar.” Damian wanted neither the old man nor Maggie hurt.

“Thank you for thinking of Maggie,” Dickon whispered as he moved off toward the barracks.

Grim-faced with determination, Damian crossed the hall and ascended the stairs to the tower. He paused before the chamber door, withdrew his sword with one hand, turned the knob with the other, and pushed the door open. The whisper of sound was barely audible but it evoked an immediate response from Tavis Gordon. He leaped from the bed, his naked form lithe and nimble in the glow of firelight as he reached for his sword resting against the wall.

“How did you get in here?” Gordon roared.

“I sprouted wings and flew,” Damian taunted. “Surrender, Gordon. My men have gained control of the keep.”

“I donna believe you,” Gordon spat, thrusting his sword at Damian.

Damian easily evaded the sharp point and brought up his own sword to defend himself. “Even as we speak my men are rounding up your clansmen and locking them away for safekeeping. You’re on your own, Gordon, I strongly advise you to lay down your sword.”

“Never!” Gordon rasped. “You stole my woman. Both Elissa and Misterly should be mine. Alpin Fraser promised them to me. I’ll kill you!”

Raising the sword in both hands, Gordon slashed viciously at Damian, unaware that he lacked Damian’s skill as a swordsman. Damian laughed at Gordon’s clumsy efforts and easily deflected the blade. Then he went on the offensive, feinting and thrusting until Gordon was backed into a corner. Gordon hacked furiously at Damian, but he must have realized defeat was at hand, for he began screaming, “A Gordon! A Gordon!”

“No one will come to your aid, Gordon. Toss down your sword before I’m forced to kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first, Englishman!”

Damian thrust and feinted as he dodged and pirouetted to avoid the bite of Gordon’s sword. Metal clashed against metal again and again as the blades met in a duel of strength. Gordon’s naked body was streaked with blood, and a lucky thrust had nicked Damian’s shoulder, but neither man acknowledged his wounds. Tiring of the game, Damian deftly brought the swordplay to its inevitable end.

Damian’s next move came so fast Gordon failed to react quickly enough. Gordon’s sword flew out of his hand at the same time the tip of Damian’s blade pressed against a vulnerable spot on Gordon’s neck.

“Go ahead, bastard, kill me!” Gordon challenged.

“That would be too easy,” Damian bit out. “Get dressed.”

A noise at the door distracted Damian and he turned slightly, spitting out a curse when he saw Elissa standing in the opening. “What in bloody hell are you doing here?”

“I had to come. I couldn’t bear not knowing what was going on. What if you were hurt?”

The brief distraction gave Gordon a window of opportunity. He picked up his sword and flung it at Damian. Instinctively, Damian ducked as the blade whizzed over his head. Elissa screamed as the tip of the sword pierced through her sleeve and lodged in the doorjamb. His heart pounding with dread, Damian rushed to her side, fearing that she’d been seriously wounded.

Suddenly he was pushed aside and nearly trampled upon as Gordon fled past him and out the door. Concerned about Elissa, Damian made no move to stop him. Grasping the hilt of Gordon’s sword, he pulled it out of the doorjamb and tossed it aside, relieved when no blood stained the blade.

“Are you hurt, love?” he asked, pulling her into his arms.

“Nay, the blade dinna touch my flesh.”

He grasped her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Thank God. I ought to give you a good thrashing for disobeying me, but I’d much rather kiss you.” Reluctantly he released her. “But it will have to wait. I have unfinished business with Gordon. Stay here. This time do as I say.”