A Highland Knight to Remember by Amy Jarecki

Author:Amy Jarecki [Jarecki, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Highland
Published: 2015-05-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Alan MacCoul lunged, thrusting his sword. Missing his mark, he threw his head back and cackled. If his sparring partner hadn’t been fast, he’d be dead. Though Alan needed well-trained men, poor fighters would be culled. He advanced on the sentry, hacking his two-handed blade left and right, giving no quarter. Wearing his partner down renewed his strength. Lust for blood pulsed through his veins, the stench of fear bled through his sparring partner’s pores.

“M’lord.” The booming voice behind him registered, but Alan didn’t stop.

His opponent tripped and fell on his backside. Alan pounced, pointing his blade against the coward’s neck.

The man held up his hands then pointed. “Y-you’d best turn around m’lord.”

If this was a trick to draw attention away, he’d skewer the miserable sop.

“M’lord,” the gravelly voice behind came again.

“This had better be good.” Alan looked over his shoulder and grinned.

Brus dragged a prisoner into the clearing, leading him by a rope tied around his wrists. The man’s face was purple and swollen. Blood streamed from his nose, and from the red soaked into his shirt, his nose wasn’t the only thing that had been bleeding. Even though the prisoner looked like shite, Alan still recognized him.

Fraser.

Before he turned completely away, Alan grazed his blade up his sparring partner’s cheek, opening up a stream of blood. “Learn to fight before you spar with me again, else it will be your last match.” He smirked at Brus. “Where’d you find this pox-ridden whoreson?”

“Spying for MacDougall—looking for us. His two accomplices are already dead.” Brus tugged the bastard forward. “But I thought you might want a word with this one before I ran him through.”

Alan examined his prisoner with an evil chuckle. Snot ran from Fraser’s bloodied and broken nose. Brus hadn’t been kind. From the dirt and grass covering his body, he’d not only been beaten, he’d been dragged. One eye was swollen shut and a cut at his temple still streamed red. “You’ve shown him our hospitality, I see.”

Fraser spat, hitting Alan in the chest.

Clenching his fist tight around the hilt of his sword, Alan thumped him in the jaw. “You always were a sniveling maggot.”

Blood trickled from the corner of the miserable wretch’s mouth.

“Did Sean send you?”

Fraser spat blood on the ground this time. “I kent you were causing the mischief at Dunollie. Why must you always be a bastard?”

“I’m asking the questions. If you hadn’t noticed, your life is mine to take.” Alan recoiled and slammed his fist into Fraser’s gut.

With a grunt, the Dunollie guard doubled over, his spittle spraying the dirt.

“I’m the lord and master here. You are but a rodent caught in my snare.”

The rat had the nerve to glance about. “It looks as if you’re preparing for war,” he growled through clenched teeth.

Alan threw back his head and roared with laughter. “My force is rather large. Perhaps I’ll take the crown.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m a man looking to claim my rightful place. I’ve been ignored and shunned all my life and I’m weary of it.

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