Fear seized her chest when she turned back and saw Nathan running after her. He was chasing her with full determination, his steps pounding after hers. She zig-zagged, she jumped over a hedge of briars to slow him down, but at last he caught her and tackled her to the ground.
They both rolled across the dirt, her scream tearing through the still air.
Her eyes zeroed in on his wounded leg, and she kicked hard. Her foot slammed straight into the bandage. He groaned in pain, staggering as she scrambled up.
“Ye’ll pay for that!” he roared.
She tore through the woods, the branches slapping her arms as she ran. Her lungs burned, but she didn’t stop.
Nathan ran fast, his fury driving him. He caught her again, his hand wrenching her arm. He spun her toward him and slapped her hard across the face.
Her cheek stung, and she stumbled, choking back a cry.
“Stay down,” he hissed.
“Ye shouldnae have done that,” a voice came from behind, deep and cold.
Lily and Nathan turned at the same time.
Alasdair stood beside a tree, his hair disheveled. His sword was gripped tight in one hand, and his other hand was balled into a fist.
There was nothing on his face but anger.
Nathan released Lily, and she stumbled back. Alasdair glanced at her, the redness on the side of her face stoking his rage.
He should charge forward and tear Nathan’s head off his neck right now. Instead, he remained standing while his man-at-arms gave him a malicious smile.
“So, ye figured it out.”
Alasdair stepped forward, rage burning in his chest. His gaze lingered on Lily, who was rubbing her face.
He looked back at Nathan. “Why would ye do this?”
Nathan drew his sword, the blade glinting. His laugh was sharp. “Is that a serious question? Why would I do this?”
Alasdair moved closer. “Why go to such lengths? Why turn the people against her? Why try to rid yerself of us both?”
Nathan’s grip on his sword tightened. “Because ye daenae deserve this clan. Ye daenae deserve this bride, or an heir. And ye sure as hell daenae deserve me loyalty.”
Alasdair shook his head, his steps slow but steady. “Nay. That’s the lie ye’ve told yerself. But it’s nae the truth, is it?”
Nathan’s jaw clenched.
Alasdair pressed on. “Ye did this because ye were afraid. Afraid I would replace ye with Finn. Ye were terrified that the one thing ye kent how to do, the one thing yer self-importance was tied to, would vanish. Ye couldnae face me like a man, so ye chose the coward’s way out.”
He could see Nathan’s face contort in anger, so he continued.
“Is that how ye served me braither, Nathan? As a coward? Is that why he died?”
“Enough!” Nathan roared and lunged at him.
Their swords clashed, steel ringing loud. The sound cut through the morning air as the two men fought.
“Ye’re nae yer braither, Alasdair,” Nathan snarled between heavy strikes. “Ye never will be. Ye’re just a pirate who was too weak to stay. And now ye think ye can come back? Bring yer pirate friends here and make us bow?”
Alasdair pushed back against his blade, his teeth gritted. “All ye had to do was ask me, Nathan. I never once thought to replace ye.”
Nathan blocked his swing, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild. He looked straight at Alasdair and let out a harsh laugh. “Ye forget, me Laird. I train with ye. I ken every move ye make.”
