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“How far away is it?” he asked, frowning.
“About ten miles or so,” she answered, “but bear in mind that we are taking wagonloads of goods and chattels, sheep, cows, and whole families. It will take a few days.”
Murdoch smiled and rolled up his sleeves. “I had better start now, then,” he said in a determined voice, grinning at her. He went over to an old woman who was having great difficulty loading her possessions onto her cart and, after he had gently moved her away, began to lift her furniture and ornaments effortlessly. The old lady looked on in awe.
Keira watched, admiring the play of Murdoch’s muscles as he worked, then she tore her gaze away from him and began to throw herself into the fray, lifting, carrying, and lending a hand wherever she was needed. Two hours later, everyone’s goods had been loaded, and the wagons had begun to roll off the drawbridge onto the green meadows below the castle.
Suddenly there was a howl from behind them, and the laird dashed out of the castle, brandishing a sword as he ran toward Murdoch, screaming like a banshee.
“You!” he yelled. “You swine! Where are my servants? Where is my wife, you traitor?”
He slid to a halt, his whole body trembling with rage as he glared at his captain.
“Your servants are where they want to be,” Murdoch said calmly. “And so is your wife.”
Dougie stepped out of the crowd, holding Adaira by the hand.
“This is where I want to be,” she said solemnly. “By the side of my one true love.”
The laird glared at her. His mouth opened and closed a few times but no sound came out. Then, suddenly, he swerved around and faced Murdoch, who was unarmed.
“You traitorous piece of slime,” he snarled. “Do you have the courage to take me on, man to man?”
Keira’s heart jumped into her mouth, and she opened her mouth to protest, but a look from Murdoch silenced her.
“Of course I do, M’Laird,” he replied mildly, accepting the sword that Dougie gave him.
Archie McTavish rushed at him before he was ready, but Murdoch blocked his thrust and twisted the laird’s sword around so that his blade was positioned to swipe across McTavish’s body, which he did. However, the laird was quicker than he thought and jumped backward before thrusting at Murdoch again, and it soon became clear that they were very evenly matched.
The bout went on and on without any sign of a winner, but the laird was older, and it soon became clear that he was tiring as his thrusts became less powerful and he was less able to move out of Murdoch’s way.
Murdoch had no stomach for a fight to the death, so he called out to the laird.
“This is pointless, M’Laird. Let us consider honor satisfied.”
Murdoch, expecting McTavish to agree, had let his guard down, so when McTavish charged at him again, he was not ready.
Murdoch stepped aside, but the laird’s sword struck him with a glancing blow on the arm. He raised the injured limb, but he still had enough strength to bring his sword down on the back of the laird’s neck with some force, and he knew before he hit the ground that McTavish was dead.
Murdoch stood up, shuddering with shock, at the same time as Adaira crouched down to bend over the corpse of her husband. She felt his neck to make sure that he was dead, then looked up and shook her head.
“He is gone,” she said gently.
Keira knew she should have been sorrowful. This man had given her life, after all, but instead she felt nothing. He had killed her mother, and the only emotion she felt was gratitude to Murdoch for taking him away.
“I didn’t want to kill him,” Murdoch said huskily, passing his hands over his eyes. “I-I am sorry, Keira. Please forgive me.”
Keira stepped into his arms. “There is nothing to forgive, sweetheart.” She tilted his head to look him in the eyes. “You are the better man, and I love you.”
“Even now?” His voice was husky, his eyes glittered with unshed tears.
“Even now,” she replied, kissing him.
