Page 37 of Highlander’s Torn Bride

“Do not let yer opinion of him reflect onto me,” he said, coming toward her now with the same sort of quiet anger that she had seen of him in the barn.

She should have been frightened. She wasn’t. The wind was rising around them, throwing her copper hair out around her, and lifting the pale blue skirt of her favorite dress around her.

“You are the one who earned the poor opinion first. You ken, in the time after my father died, I really did believe I needed you in my life,” Margaret started. “But it was like selling my soul to the devil: happy for a time but doomed to an eternity of misery. I had my happiness, and now here is my misery.”

Gavin went to strike her, but Margaret ducked, having known it would be coming. This boy may have evolved to using words, but fists would always be his tried and true.

“Working every day until my hands bleed would be happier than living a life with you.”

He swung again; she slipped left. “Margaret, stop, I love ye too much to hear you say such things.”

“Love me? Is that what this is? Forcing me into a corner, taking everything away from me at your pleasure? You think that is what love is?”

Gavin’s jaw tightened, and he lunged at her, nearly catching her shoulder before she once again jumped left. With her out of reach, he said, “What do you think it to be, then? A man throwing you aside and into the arms of another?”

“If that was what was best for the object of his love, then yes!” Margaret shouted in return, before she realized that she was not sure if Gavin had been describing he throwing her into Alexander’s arms, or the other way around. Had that been why Alexander let her go? Was it some sort of foolish self-sacrifice?

No, Margaret pushed the thought away. Do not give him such credit.

Margaret, seeing Gavin take a step toward her, tried to step left again, but found her leg press up against a stone. She had been too engrossed in the verbal spar to pay attention to her surroundings. Now she had a barrier to the left, the ravine to her back, and Gavin lurking at her right and front. His next hit would land. And, she hoped it bruised well. She wanted him to have to see it for the rest of their ride home.

Gavin, seeing her predicament, did raise his hand, and Margaret closed her eyes.

“Enough.”

Margaret opened her eyes and saw Gavin, his eyes pinched with fury as he looked behind him to the one that had caught his arm in the air. Alexander’s returning glare was not full of quite as much fury, but rather a quiet sort of unaffectedness that should have made any who witnessed it crumble, for it was the sort of stare a hawk gave a hare.

“You’ll be apologizing to my wife and leaving this place.”

Gavin pulled himself free of Alexander’s grip, spinning around and pulling his sword with the same motion. Alexander mirrored the movement, and then rushed forward, steel flashing in the sunlight.

What followed was a series of quick blows and blocks that Margaret could hardly follow. She tried to follow the swords, but they seemed to appear in one place with a clang, disappear, and then reappear elsewhere with a crash. As they fought, she noticed Alexander’s steps were pressing Gavin to turn in the opposite direction until he was right in front of her, and he stopped forcing the slow spin.

Gavin realized it as soon as it was too late, and shouted out in fury, “She is not yours!”

“She isn’t yours either!” Alexander replied, as their swords met between them with renewed fury that Margaret did not even try to follow. What she did see was Gavin kick up a bit of dust, using that to shield an incoming blow. Alexander blocked it, but it had forced both of their swords in the air. Gavin ducked down, dropping his sword and wrapping his arms around Alexander’s knees, forcing him back and straight toward her.

In the last second, Alexander planted one foot while freely letting the other move, forcing them to spin around, putting Gavin at the rear. Gavin’s feet slipped over the edge, and he began to fall down the ravine, hooking his hands against Margaret’s ankles and pulling her feet out from under her. Alexander’s eyes widened as she fell back, but Margaret knew he could stop. She and Gavin would fall, but he would be safe. But then he was lunging for her, grabbing her outstretched arm and pulling her so violently against him that she thought her shoulder had come out of its socket.

She hardly felt a thing on the way down.

When they finally came to a halting crash at the bottom, Margaret pulled herself from Alexander’s arms.

“You fool! What were you thinking!” she screamed at him as she checked him over for injuries. Gavin, a few feet away, was moaning with pain.

“I didna have time to think,” he replied.

“Do not worry, I figured that!” she said, tears in her eyes.

“No, no, lass, we aren’t needing those," he said, lifting a shaking hand and pressing it against her eyes.

Margaret composed herself, pulling the tears back and rising to her feet. They had to get back to Dirlot, and the sooner the better.

She hooked her hands under his arms and lifted, pressing all of her strength into him as she brought him to a stand. It was far easier once he was up, as he was strong enough to keep his feet beneath him, only wrapping his arm around her shoulder to keep balance.

“Margaret, stop, please,” Gavin said, his words muffled by the tall grass that he could barely lift himself from.

Margaret watched him as he floundered there, feeling Alexander’s gaze on her while she did.