Page 103 of The Warrior
Then Duncan came straight at Erik. Back and forth, back and forth, he swung his two-handed sword in deadly arcs. Though his opponent met each swing, Duncan was forcing him to step back and back again.
Erik was strong, but he was tiring under the onslaught of Duncan’s relentless blade. Duncan sensed the end of their battle drawing near. And for the first time, he wondered if he could kill his father. Aye, he would strike him dead without remorse if he needed to.
Erik deserved no mercy. But if Duncan could simply disarm him, he would.
Erik attempted to strike Duncan across the chest, and they crossed swords, arms straining and faces inches apart. As they leaned into each other, they were so close that Duncan could see the drips of sweat on Erik’s brow.
“You’re a MacLeod,” Erik said, his face and neck muscles straining with the effort of holding his sword against Duncan’s. “Claim your heritage and Trotternish Castle for the MacLeods!”
“I will live and die as a MacDonald,” Duncan said between his teeth and shoved Erik back with his sword.
“So be it,” Erik said.
Duncan swung his sword with all his might toward Erik’s side. But Erik was quick for his years and at the last moment ducked under Duncan’s moving blade. Duncan knew what Erik was going to do next before Erik did. Mercy was no longer a choice. When Erik sprang back up with his dirk, Duncan’s was already in his hand, ready to plunge into Erik’s throat.
But just as Duncan was about to strike, he caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. It was Ragnall, and he was running straight for Erik.
Everything happened so fast that Duncan acted on pure instinct. He lunged for his son and caught him midair as Ragnall launched himself on Erik. After rolling on the ground with him, Duncan sprang to his feet, placing himself between Ragnall and where Erik had been the moment before. He managed to do it all without either of them being caught by Erik’s blade.
But his enemy had also moved quickly.
Erik held Moira against him, and his blade was at her throat. Duncan died a thousand deaths as he saw the fear in her eyes.
“Ye hurt her,” Duncan said, “and I’ll kill ye before ye take your next breath.”
“I believe I have the upper hand here, and I’m taking her with me,” Erik said as he dragged her toward the boat. “Make one move I don’t like, and I’ll slice the lass’s throat.”
“Don’t take the coward’s way out,” Duncan said. “Fight me.”
“There was a time when I could have taken ye,” Erik said. “But I don’t need to fight ye now that I have her.”
“Do ye care nothing for your own life?” Duncan asked. “If ye take her, I will track ye down and kill ye. Ye could never have taken me in your prime, and ye surely can’t now.”
Duncan held himself back, every muscle taut with the need to murder this man who dared threaten the woman he loved. But Erik was using Moira’s body as a shield, and his blade was a hairbreadth from her ivory neck.
“Ye set your sights even higher than I did, crawling into bed with your chieftain’s only daughter and getting her with child,” Erik said. “Shame it didn’t lead to the advantageous marriage ye hoped, but it was a grand scheme. Perhaps I’ll try it myself. “
“Ye will not harm her,” Duncan said, shaking with rage.
Moira struggled against Erik as he began dragging her backward toward the boat. Panic surged through Duncan. He had to stop them. If Erik got her onto the boat, he feared he would never see her alive again.
Duncan dropped his sword to the ground. “Take me instead.”
Erik did not loosen his grip on Moira or lower his blade, but he did stop to stare at Duncan.
“I’m the one who took Trotternish Castle from ye,” Duncan said as he removed the dirks from his boots and the hidden one strapped to his thigh and tossed them aside. “Take your revenge on me.”
“You’d do that for a woman?” Erik asked.
“Aye,” Duncan said as he started walking toward Erik. “There is nothing I would not do for her.”
Chapter 45
Duncan walked slowly and deliberately toward Erik. He would take the man down with his bare hands or die trying.
“Stay back,” Erik warned.
Duncan hesitated, judging the risk to Moira. Then he saw Erik’s eyes widen. An instant later, he felt a rush of wind beside him as a blur of gray flashed past. It was the wolfhound.
