Page 94 of The Bells of Triumph
“Ye are quite confident for a man fighting without a weapon.”
Campbell angled his sword at Seamus once more. It was the closest the two men had gotten. And it was just close enough. Catching the flat of the blade under his arm, Seamus drew Campbell in close, pinning his arm under Seamus'. Stuck, Campbell tried to pull free to no avail. Seamus sucked in a breath, absolutely certain of what was coming. Just then anarrow pierced the air landing on the ground just beside Seamus' left foot. Before Campbell could so much as register what had happened, Seamus pulled the arrow out of the ground and thrust it into the man's chest. Bone crushed and blood started to spurt, covering Seamus' hand, but he kept pushing until he felt the tip of the arrow pierce Campbell's heart.
“I did have a weapon,” Seamus whispered into the dying man's ear. “Ye just did nae think about her.”
The men stayed that way until all of the air had left Campbell's body. No one from Campbell's camp understood what had happened until Errik, Liam, Finn, Connor, and the other rebels barreled towards them on their horses, swords drawn and screaming.
Wrenching the arrow out, Seamus threw Campbell's body to the ground. His crown rolled off his head and across the grass until it hit the boot of one of his elders. Disbelief was painted across each man's face. Disbelief that quickly turned into fury. Armed with only an arrow, Seamus made ready to defend himself, but before he could, the rebels raced past him, covering him as much as they were able.
“Get on,” Flora shouted.
He turned to find her and her horse right behind him, her arm already out, waiting for him to take it. He had barely made it into the saddle before Flora raced away again. She didn't stop the horse until they were far enough away from the fight that he could hardly hear it anymore.
“Flora,” he said softly.
She kept going, not saying a word.
“Flora,” he tried again. “I think we are far enough away. We are safe.”
Dismounting in a heap, Flora kept her back to him. He followed after her, and went to place a hand on her shoulder, only stopping when he saw how covered in blood it was.
“Everything is fine, Flora. Ye did good.”
She turned then, her normally pale, smooth skin and mystifying gray eyes turned flush of red anger and hot tears.
“What were ye thinking? How could ye do that to me?”
She shoved at his chest with every question, her tears falling faster and faster.
“He was going to kill ye! It was a trap. I told ye it was a trap. But ye went anyway. I thought I was going to have to watch him drive that bloody sword through yer chest, stopping yer heart and mine. How could ye do that to me?”
Her last shove was a feeble attempt and he clasped her hands, the mess on his own forgotten. Pulling her in close, Flora collapsed on his chest, her fists gripping his shirt as she buried her face, needing to assure herself that he was unarmed, that he was still alive.
“I kent that it would be all right.”
“How could ye ken that?” she asked, looking up at him through tear filled eyes. “How could ye possibly ken that?”
“I kent that ye would save me. It is what ye have always done, my love. From the verra first time we met, ye and yer arrows saved me. Ye have saved me every day since. I kent that today would be nay different. Ye saved me.”
