Page 25 of Secrets of a Kilted Seduction

“How can I leave?” whispered to him, making sure Tadhg could not hear. “What if he gets injured and needs me?”

His handsome brows creased in confusion. “If he gets injured then there’s

a healer fer that.”

“I am a healer,” she told him, “And ye’ve nae idea how many times I’ve had tae patch him up.”

“Is that so?” He looked at her with interest. “Well, Tadhg’s a lucky man in more ways than one then.”

“Stop yer fussin’, Alana,” Tadhg suddenly broke in, his voice pure gravel. “Here comes Blaine.”

She followed his glance, and her eyes soon alighted on their host, now clad in fighting gear and striding out at the head of his retinue, with a look of grim determination on his boyish features.

“Wish me luck, bonny lass,” Tadhg suddenly said, taking her by surprise when he bent down and planted a kiss on her lips.

“Tadhg, please!” she called after him as he stalked away to greet his foe in the middle of the ground. Her fingers went to her lips, which tingled from his kiss. “This should nae be happenin’,” she moaned, wringing her hands as she watched his retreating back.

“Ach, lassie, let them fight it out like men, and pray Tadhg’s the better one,” Knox advised her calmly. Alana forced herself to watch, shaking with nerves, as the two men squared up to each other. They glared at each other before lowering the vizors of their helmets and preparing to fight. The metallic zing of swords being unsheathed cut through the air, marking the start of the contest she knew could leave one of them fatally injured. All she could do was take Laird Stewart’s advice and pray.

“Oh, Lord, please keep Tadhg safe, dinnae let him get hurt,” she murmured under her breath. “And if ye can, let him win.”

The two men faced each other, both equipped with formidable blades and a wood and leather small, round shield – a targ - that acted as another weapon as well as a defense. It could be used to deflect an enemy’s sword strikes as well violently shove them off balance, leaving them vulnerable to attack. Alana was slightly relieved to see that neither carried a dirk in their belt. The fight was to be limited to swords, as if that was any consolation.

Tadhg had the height advantage, and he struck the first blow, his targ held close for protection, his blade descending from above, threatening to slice into Blaine’s exposed neck. But the smaller man skillfully parried the blow away, thrusting the blade aside with his own before using his targ to try to shove Tadhg backwards. To Alana’s relief, Tadhg kept his balance, maneuvering with surprising agility for such a large man, his wrist flexing, ready to strike again, this time at Blaine’s chest.

Blaine danced backwards, dodging the blow by inches. He seemed to take fresh wind, immediately striking back, his features distorted with effort and concentration as he launched a ferocious onslaught against Tadhg.

Tadhg fought like a whirlwind, skillfully holding off Blaine’s blows and pressing his foe with equal brutality. Soon, both of the sweating, panting fighters began to show evidence of the multiple nicks and small wounds which inevitably came with bladed combat.

Alana stifled her scream with her cupped hands when she saw the point of Blaine’s sword pierce Tadhg’s leather jerkin just above his breast. She moaned slightly to see crimson fluid emerge from the hole in the leather, silently praying the cut was not deep. Tadhg, however, did not even seem to notice he was hurt and continued to fight like an automaton, his face dark and set, his eyes almost black and expressionless, his hair sticking to his face with sweat.

The clash of metal on metal rang about the castle walls as the pair slugged at each other, exchanging a continuous volley of heavy blows, shoving each other with their targs, sustaining more injuries and bringing forth more blood. By now, it was running freely down Blaine’s neck from a wound where his helmet met his shoulder. The leather vambrace protecting his lower arm had been sliced almost in two and was flapping around his bloody wrist.

Still, they continued to batter at each other, and the growing intensity of Blaine’s onslaught against Tadhg hinted to Alana at the presence of an underlying hatred for his foe previously concealed beneath a friendly facade.

More cuts appeared on Tadhg’s face and arms as Blaine’s sword tip skimmed his exposed flesh, but he ignored it all and just kept relentlessly raining down blows with his blade, not giving Blaine an inch of quarter. Before long, it became obvious to all, including Alana, that Blaine was starting to tire.

He tried to maintain his attack, but to Alana’s relief, Tadhg seemed to be in the ascendent. It was not long before Blaine struck at him, and Tadhg skillfully caught the flat of his sword with his own and flicked the blade from Blaine’s hand. Before it had even landed on the ground, Tadhg smashed his targ bodily into Blaine and knocked him on his back.

In an instant, he had Blaine pinned, his boot on his chest, the tip of his sword poised at his throat. Instead of cheers and applause, a fraught silence hung in the air as the onlookers held their collective breath, Alana among them.

“Tadhg, ye’ve won, me friend,” Knox called out. “Ye can let him up now.”

Tadhg, his breathing ragged, made no sign that he had heard him, but a few seconds later, he removed the blade from their host’s throat and stepped away from him, sheathing his weapon.

Blaine, still on the ground, pulled off his helmet, threw it down, and then gave a loud belly laugh as he panted. His face was red and sweating, and his familiar smile was back. “Well, I think ye won that round, man. Congratulations, ye beat me fair and square.” He let out a low whistle as one of his men helped him to his feet. “Phew, that was some hard fighting all right.” He rubbed his hand across his hair, down his neck, and then looked at his palm with an expression of surprise, finally seeming to notice he was bleeding.

The cheering, stomping, and applause broke out then, and Alana waited no longer. She picked up her skirts and ran to Tadhg, who was already surrounded by admirers. She fought her way between them, grabbed him by the arm, and jerked him away.

“Are ye happy now ye’ve beaten him? D’ye feel better?” Alana whispered to him angrily as she all but dragged him from the field all the way back to the vestibule. All the way, she kept up a stream of invective, cutting him off every time he tried to speak. In the end, he seemed to give up and weathered her rebukes in silence.

“Ye’ve proved ye’re the big man now, but what ye seem tae have forgotten is that we have tae sit down tae dinner with that man and eat his vittles. We’re guests in his castle, fer the Lord’s sake!” What she did not say was what was really worrying her—that he was injured, and that she was afraid for him.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, she paused to ask a servant where she could find the castle healer. It turned out the infirmary was on the floor above their chambers. At their door, she pushed Tadhg inside and said, “I need tae treat that wound immediately, lest it become infected. I’m goin’ up tae see the healer fer some salves and supplies.” Without waiting for a reply, she shut the door on him, turned back to the landing, and ran swiftly up the stairs.