The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (43 page)

Knowing that her mother was right made no difference to Lina’s feelings. But she ruthlessly suppressed them, wrapped herself in calm, and knelt to find the knot in the rope that bound Lady Aubrey’s wrists.

Wiping his dirk clean with scooped-up duff, Ian watched Dougal, hoping the man knew that he would need help to control two women and would not try to force them to flee with him. He wanted Dougal to fight.

Never having matched swords with him, Ian knew not what to expect. He guessed that, lacking character, Dougal would be a sly rather than skillful warrior.

That he had abducted Lina and Lizzie had shocked and infuriated Ian. That Dougal would set a trap for Lady Aubrey fit the view that Ian had long held of him. And what had just happened enhanced that low opinion of the man. Only a coward hid behind women while minions fought his battles.

If anything surprised Ian, it was seeing Dougal draw both his sword and his dirk and stalk toward him with confidence evident in every move and gesture.

Often, when approaching a battle, Ian had worried about disappointing his father or failing his King. But he had always easily shed such concerns when the fight
was at hand. Now the thought of possible failure swept through him.

He would not, could not fail Lina.

Seeing her kneeling, uninjured, to untie Lady Aubrey, he hoped the two would have the good sense to slip away while he dealt with Dougal.

His own weapons in hand, Ian focused his attention on his opponent.

Dougal sneered. “I hope when ye married her, ye were shriven of your sins.”

“You think
you
can best
me
?” Ian taunted softly.

Seeing color sweep into Dougal’s face, Ian realized he could anger the man with ease. Tucking that helpful wee fact into his imaginary weapons chest, he made a show of returning his dirk to its sheath and gripped his sword with both hands.

“Tired?” Dougal asked, moving lightly to his right and holding his sword out straight as if to flaunt his strength. He kept his dirk in his left fist near his thigh.

“You may hope,” Ian replied, turning just enough to maintain their respective positions. As always, when certain danger and an unpredictable outcome confronted him, time came to a near standstill. Even his pulse slowed.

He had been breathing heavily after his battle against the other two. Now, he felt as clearheaded as if someone had doused him with revivifying ice water.

Every sense had come alert. He could hear Dougal’s feet on the soft ground and his sheath creaking softly as it swung from his belt. His baldric made noises, too. Ian heard them all and noted every movement of the other man’s eyes, face, hands, and feet, as if
he
had many eyes instead of two. He could smell the piney air and the man’s
sweat, although they had not yet begun. Ian felt every ridge in his sword’s hilt right through his gloves. He sensed the weapon’s weight and slightest movement.

He had never understood the familiar phenomenon, but he treasured it.

As Dougal’s sword made its movement at what seemed to be a snail’s pace, Ian felt his muscles tense in response. Images passed through his mind, one after another as clear as could be, of what he would do and how he would do it if Dougal lunged left, right, or straight at him. He felt as if he had all day to decide.

Dougal attacked deftly and without much warning by shifting left while attacking to the right. But Ian’s sword flashed up to meet his with a clang that echoed through the silent woods.

From that point, things moved with blinding speed, because Dougal was a fine swordsman. The deftness of his movements and agility matched Ian’s own.

Even so, Ian’s ability to think faster than he acted and to remain aware of every sense and detail remained steady. His eagerness for the battle had increased as it always did against a worthy opponent. The only time he had been hurt, the worst of it was his knowledge that the swordsman had been less experienced and that the injury had been his own fault. He had been careless.

With no room for carelessness now, he fought hard and well.

Dougal eased to his right and forward as he had many times before, forcing Ian back to his own right. When Ian expected Dougal to leap to his left, as he had each time before, Dougal flashed forward to his right instead.

Hastily shifting his sword and position to parry the
blow, Ian failed to heed a branch no thicker than his forearm on the ground behind him. His right heel came down on it, rolled back with the wood, and cast him off balance just as Dougal’s sword swept toward his head.

Gasping, Lina clutched her hands to her breast and clamped her lips shut. Feeling helpless, she called on the Fates with every fiber of her being to help Ian.

She was sure in that moment that, with Ian falling, Dougal would win.

It happened so fast that she could not be sure what Ian did. He seemed to hit the ground with his left shoulder and roll catlike to his feet, facing Dougal again, with his sword at the ready. Without pause, he charged, taking Dougal by surprise. With one deft, slashing stroke, he knocked Dougal’s sword from his hand and away.

“Yield, and you will live,” Ian shouted.

“The devil I will!” Dougal shouted, rushing Ian with his dirk held to stab.

Swinging mightily with both hands and the side of his sword blade, Ian hit Dougal’s upstretched arm hard enough to send the dirk flying from it into the trees.

When Dougal turned away to run after it, Ian put down his sword, drew his dirk, and dashed after Dougal to finish him.

“Nay!” Lina cried. “Do not kill him!”

When Ian paused and Dougal scrambled away toward his dirk, she wanted to bite off her tongue. She dared not look at her mother, certain that Lady Aubrey would condemn such an outcry. Ian would have much to say about it, too.

Worse, she could not defend herself because she had
acted without thinking. As often as she had condemned Ian’s doing so…

Dougal stopped abruptly, turned, and leaped toward Ian, apparently hoping to strangle him with his bare hands.

Ian raised his dirk again.

Lina clamped her mouth shut and squeezed her eyes shut as well.

She heard a loud crack, then a thud, and then silence.

As Ian rubbed his fist, doubtless bruised from its hard contact with Dougal’s bony chin, he looked at Lina and nearly smiled at her expression. Determined to keep that touch of amusement out of his voice, he said sternly, “Open your eyes.”

Her eyelids squeezed tighter, and her lips pressed together so tightly that he was sure her little white teeth must be gripping the lower lip.

After a swift, oblique glance at her nearly smiling mother, Ian waited.

Lina’s cheeks grew pink. She opened her eyes. Her lips relaxed.

He did not know what he had expected her to say, but she said firmly, “You must not kill him, sir. It would only make matters worse if you do. Pharlain would call it murder, and you would have no defense, because he’d deem Mam and me to be unacceptable witnesses. And all who oppose the King would agree with Pharlain.”

Glancing at Dougal, who was either still unconscious or pretending to be, Ian said, “What would you have me do with him?”

Handing him the rope that had bound her mother’s wrists, she said, “We should take him back to Bannachra with us and decide there.”

Ian eyed her sternly. “If you are hoping that I’ll have no more to say to you about all this, you should know that your hope is misplaced.”

“I do know that,” she said, meeting his gaze. “But I also know that I am right about Dougal. You must not be the one who determines his fate.”

“You seem to
know
much today,” he said. “What was all that about Dougal coming to ruin through a friend?”

“All what?”

Her expression was as guileless as ever he had seen it. Knowing what she thought of liars, he found it impossible to imagine that she was lying now to him.

Silently taking the rope from her hand, he moved toward Dougal, who was beginning to stir.

Lina followed him. “What did you mean by that?” she asked as he knelt and bound Dougal’s wrists behind him.

Feeling the icy chill he had felt earlier, Ian said, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Lina would have liked to press the matter then. But Dougal was conscious.

Turning toward her mother, she met Lady Aubrey’s most penetrating gaze, the one she employed so usefully whenever one of her daughters had misbehaved.

Resigned to a well-deserved rebuke for crying out to Ian in the midst of a fight as she had, Lina drew a breath and went to hear what her mother would say.

To her surprise, Lady Aubrey said quietly, “How do you feel, love?”

“How do I feel?” When her ladyship nodded, still eyeing her in the way that made Lina feel as if her mother knew her thoughts, she tried to think of an acceptable answer to the question. “I feel as I usually do, Mam. Although, I confess that I’m gey curious. Did you know that Dougal would be here?”

“Aye, because he surprised me in our woods and made me agree to meet him and not tell anyone. Later, I found a message telling me when and where to go.”

“You should have told Father.”

“He will doubtless agree with you when I do tell him,” Lady Aubrey said with a wry little smile. “But once I knew what Dougal wanted, I also knew that I had to keep my promise to meet him. Sithee, love, meeting him was
all
I promised. I knew that I need not fear that meeting, and there was one other thing, too.”

“I’ll wager that the villain threatened to do us harm if you refused, aye?”

“Aye, he threatened us all, but that is not what I meant,” Lady Aubrey said gently. “I meant that I knew you were somehow involved.”

“You
saw
something,” Lina said.

Lady Aubrey nodded. “I dreamed it. Whilst you were captive and I was sick with worry, I dreamed of you here in this place, confronting a man whose face I could not see. The dream comforted me, because it suggested that you would survive your captivity. So, when Dougal told me where he wanted to meet, I knew I had to come here. I learned long ago not to ignore such dreams when they occur.”

“Did Lady Margaret know about this dream?”

“Nay, but she may have noted that my behavior was unusual, especially when she began to complain. Sithee, I had received Dougal’s message by then, naming this place, so I did not exert myself to make her feel comfortable. Forbye,” she added dryly, “she was happy enough to put us both to work when we arrived.”