Iain didn’t need a warning anyway.He moved in a blur she could not follow. It was like trying to capture themoment a storm turned deadly. He opened like a sky filled with torrential rainand poured his fury on the other knight.
Yet Malcolm’s fighting prowess hadnot been exaggerated. He took blow after blow from Iain and did not fall. Andthen, when Iain raised his sword to strike once more, she heard Malcolmexclaim, “Die!” She gasped when she thought she knew why. Iain’s left side wasexposed! Marion splashed forward toward Malcolm, raised her dagger, and plungedit into his back—or attempted to. The dagger did not go through the armor. Itsplashed into the water and disappeared. There was no time to look for it.
Malcolm spun around, eyes wild, andswunghis sword toward her neck. She screamed as Iain’s sword glimmered in themoonlight above Malcolm, then came down and ended the man’s life with a sharpblow to his head. He dropped into the river directly in front of her.
Her legs trembled and threatened togive out, but Iain wrapped her in his embrace. She buried her face against hischest, sagging into him. They stood for a moment, face-to-face, both pantingheavily.
“Wife.” His voice held a fainttremor, as if some emotion had touched him, and she could almost feel her hoperising in the air.
She lifted her gaze to his. “I’msorry.” With her hands fisted by her side, she waited for Iain to tell her howdisappointed he was in her. That was what her father would have done.
In the distance, Angus was callingher name and Rory Mac was shouting for the MacLeod. Iain called out that theywere fine, that he’d killed two of Froste’s men, and to give them a moment.Then he caught her gaze once more.
“Ye’re sorry?” he asked, soundingincredulous. “Ye’ve nothing to be sorry for, Marion. I’m to keep ye from harm,and I failed.”
“But you didn’t,” she exclaimed.“You just saved me!”
“There’d nae have been a need ifI’d nae left ye down here alone.” His tormented tone made her breath catch, andwhen he looked at her, there was anguish in his eyes. He tugged a hand throughhis hair in obvious agitation. “Can ye forgive me?”
“Forgive you?” Her heart swelledalmost painfully. Iain had askedherforgiveness, which meant he thoughtenough of her to want her forgiveness, if nothing else. She swallowed the largelump in her throat. Not once, in all her years, had her father ever asked herforgiveness for anything; he was always quick to tell her what she’d done wrongto make her feel small and unworthy. Iain was not like that. For all hisgruffness, he was also gentle.
“I can forgive you,” she said, “ifyou can do the same for me.”
He cupped her face. “Why do yethink ye need my forgiveness?”
“I vowed to myself I’d not screambecause that’s what they wanted,” she said, motioning behind her. “They wantedme to scream for you so you would come to my aid, and then they were going tokill you.”
“I suppose I’ve the answer to thequestion of if Froste intends on defying Edward,” Iain said, his voice hard.“Nae that I really thought otherwise.”
Marion shivered at the idea. “Doyou think Froste sent more men?”
“Nay,” Iain answered. “I think thearrogant clot-heid imagined those two would complete the mission. We’ll makeour way to Alex MacLean’s hold tomorrow morning and warn him that knights maybe passing through these parts.”
“Marion,” came Angus’s worriedvoice.
Marion peered around her husband’senormous frame to see Angus and Rory Mac standing at the bank of the river.Angus held a torch that illuminated both men’s faces.
Rory Mac was the one who spokefirst as Iain took Marion’s hand and led her to the men. “I told the old man todo as ye ordered Iain and give ye a minute, but he was fretting over the chicklike a hen.”
Marion supposed she was the chickand Angus the hen.
“I’m nae stunned,” Iain replied,his tone not indicating if he was angry that Angus haddisobeyedhim. That was another big difference between her father and Iain. Her fatherwould have punished Angus for daring to defy him, even though Angus was clearlyworried for her. Iain seemed to understand this, and even if he did not likeit, he was in control enough not to show it and to allow Angus to see her. Warmthtoward Iain filled her heart.
“Are ye hurt, Marion?” Angus asked,his voice shaking. “I could nae move swiftly enough te help ye,” he grumbled,rubbing his leg.
She regarded his leg. “Haveyoubeen hurt?”
He shook his head. “Just sore fromyer father’s beating.”
“Oh, Angus!” she cried out, angry withher father and mad at herself for not seeing to his wounds sooner. “Let me helpyou,” she said, starting toward him.
Angus shook his head. “Nay, lass.I’ll tend te my own wounds. I ken how. Yer place tonight is by yer husband’sside.”
She glanced at Iain to protest, andhe shrugged. “If ye wish to tend to him, do so.”
“Nay,” Angus said, the stubbornnessshe knew well clear on his face. “Ye go with the MacLeod.”
Rory Mac made a derisive noise fromhis throat. “I’ll tend the old goat,” he said to Marion. “Tell me what to do.”
