Page 72 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
“Go, go,” Grant rasped. “Get out of here.”
“I won’t leave you!” Emma cried, then she paled as her eyes fell to his neck. “Grant, you’re bleeding—badly.”
“Dammit,” he muttered and shook his head. That explained the dizziness. Or perhaps his brother had coated his blade in poison. “Stay back, then—and take deep breaths.”
“No, Grant, wait!” Emma called as he pushed her back and jumped up, drawing his blade as he raced toward Reuben.
Reuben, who was scrubbing his face in the water, spun around to parry the blow. Thunder boomed in the distance, an echo of their fighting, as Grant pushed his brother back into the shallows.
“Yield and I willconsiderexile,” he snarled. “Ye cannae hope to defeat me.”
“The toxin from the gallowsweet will kick in soon, and ye shall fall into a sweet sleep, Braither,” Reuben said with a mad laugh.“And I shall run me blade through yer heart, then throw ye in the loch.” He leaned in. “And perhaps I’ll have that pretty Outlander, eh?”
Grant mustered every bit of willpower as he rammed his shoulder into his brother’s chest and then swung his sword. Rain began to fall, and lightning flashed in the distance, while thunder boomed. The wind rose, and Reuben laughed, splashing and shoving back his hair.
“Ye cannae win,” he shouted. “Even the land around us kens that the true Laird is me.”
“I think it is the opposite, Braither,” Grant said through gritted teeth. “Yer treachery is so heinous that the land rebels and the sky weeps.”
For a moment, Reuben faltered, and there was something petulant in his expression, something that dredged up a nauseating memory of their father. It always came down to selfish wants, like a little boy demanding and screaming for toys and treats, and now he knew he could never have them.
“I should have expected that Faither would fail ye,” Grant snapped. “That’s why Maither tried to get ye out, too. But he beat her and cut her face when he found out, did ye ken that?” His throat burned from all his yelling. “And he locked her up in the dungeons—forweeks.”
Reuben shrugged. “She should’ve kenned her place.”
“Ye sorry bastard,” Grant spat as pity and horror filled him. “He took everythin’ that could’ve been good from ye. Everythin’ that our maither tried to give us. But ye shall nae touch Emma, and never again will our familyfailBanrose.”
Reuben’s eyes narrowed. “In another moment, ye will be dead, Grant. Perhaps ye should spare me the speeches.”
“Och, Reuben,” Grant hissed and touched his neck, showing him his bloody fingers. “Ye were barely raised as a warrior, whereas I was raised both as a warrior and an assassin, ye see. Ye didnae think that MacCabe taught me how to fight while incapacitated?” He shook his head, and a grim smile tugged at his lips. “And ye never learned the trick of poison. Requires a subtler hand than a careless, pampered one.”
Reuben paled and stumbled back, his grip on his blade loosening. “What—what do ye mean?”
“Ye might have slowed me down a bit, but the poison is all but tricklin’ out of the cut ye made. Ye need to have me ingest it or stab me in the belly for it to work.” Grant laughed. “Maybe it is a weakness to try and be a good man in the twisted legacy our faither left—to look out for others rather than ourselves. And mayhap I cannae speak too loudly because of the rope.”
He lunged, and the two brothers fought briefly, their swords clashing in the rain. Lightning and thunder crashed closer, and Reuben’s eyes were wild with panic, for he knew that he had lost. Eventually, his sword flew through the air, before it sank into the loch.
“Yer mistake, Reuben,” Grant said slowly as he leveled his sword at his brother’s heart, “has always been that ye do too little and talk too much.”
CHAPTER 30
Agony twistedthrough Grant as he thought of the small boy sitting in front of their father on a great horse, his little face dark with malice as he watched his brother swing.
He lifted his sword, a choked cry escaping him?—
“Grant, stop!” Emma cried out, and he glanced back at her.
Her dark hair was plastered to her face, her dress soaked through, and her entire form shook. He’d hoped that she would run, but of course, the stubborn fool had not.
“Do not do something you will regret,please,” Emma begged. “Not for me. Do not kill your brother for me. End it here, instead.” Rain filled the silence that followed. “Think of your mother.”
Grant’s sword slipped an inch, and his heart cracked. “Dammit?—”
“Ye would take the word of a woman,” Reuben screamed, his eyes crazed, and he kicked out, sending a spray of water and rocks into Grant’s face.
Temporarily blinded, Grant stumbled back, and his brother’s fist landed on his jaw.
Reuben tugged at his wrist, reaching for the sword. He almost got it, before Grant headbutted him. Or tried. Reuben half-dodged and managed to force Grant to drop the sword in the loch.
