Page 120 of A Highland Bride Disciplined

Roderick’s grin was sickening. “Aye. I found her near Oban. She thought she could hide from me — thought she could shame me wi’ her weakness. Had me thinkin’ that she had given me the son I had always wished for.” He laughed then, a humorless laugh, the venom dripping from the edges of his mouth as he ran a hand through his hair, “Well, thatwhorewasbeggin’me for death by the time I was finished wi’ her.”

The words blurred into roaring in Kian’s ears.

Scarlett’s face flashed in his mind. Elise’s gurgling laugh. The letter Nieve had left. The thought of that broken woman, left to despair and ruin by the monster in front of him —

Kian reared back only slightly and kicked Roderick back with a roar. His boot colliding square in the center of the McTavish pup’s chest, knocking the wind from him.

Roderick stumbled, gripping his center, clearly affronted, but Kian closed the distance.

Their blades clanged again, sparks flying.

Roderick swung hard, a wild arc meant to cleave Kian’s shoulder, but Kian parried, the force jarring through his bones. The younger man recovered faster than expected, pivoting to jab low toward Kian’s ribs. Steel scraped steel, the tip glancing off Kian’s cuirass and leaving a shallow dent.

“Ye’ll nae take me so easy,” Roderick spat, breathless but grinning like a crazed man.

“Ye’re already beaten,pup,” Kian snarled, driving him back step by step.

Roderick didn’t appreciate that specific endearment. He fought back like a man unhinged, desperation lending strength to every blow.

Kian recognized that the man’s technique would wear him down all on his own. Roderick feinted left, then brought his blade down in a furious chop.

Kian caught it easily and parried, their swords locking so close he could see the sweat dripping from Roderick’s brow, the madness in his eyes.

“She begged, Crawford,” Roderick hissed, teeth bared. “Begged me wi’ tears on her cheeks. And there was somethin’ about her desperation that I —mmmm…ye ken?”

Rage surged again.

Kian shoved with all his might, breaking the lock. Roderick staggered, then lunged again, blade whistling toward Kian’s throat. He swung wildly.

Kian ducked, the blade whistling past his ear, and drove his own sword forward.

It sank deep.

Roderick’s eyes widened, shock and confusion flashing before blood bubbled at his lips. He staggered, choking, staring at the steel in his chest.

Kian leaned close, his voice low and brutal. “Ye’ll never touch another soul again, ye evil bastard. The world is better to be free of ye, for good.”

With a savage twist, he yanked the blade free.

Roderick crumpled. His sword clattered to the stones, his body folding after it.

The courtyard fell silent almost instantly.

His men, who’d fought half-heartedly even before, stared at their fallen commander. One man dropped his sword. Another stepped back, hands raised. Within moments, they were throwing down weapons, voices pleading surrender.

Tam barked at Crawford men to round them up. Campbell gave a bloodthirsty laugh, but even he lowered his blade once it was clear the fight was over. Hamish exhaled hard, wiping sweat from his brow.

Kian stood over Roderick’s body, chest heaving. His knuckles were white on the hilt of his sword, and his breath hung raggedwith the weight of what he’d done. The smell of blood filled his lungs, bitter and final.

He looked up.

Every eye in the courtyard was on him. His men. Scarlett’s kin. Even the surrendered McTavish soldiers. They all waited for his word, his judgment.

“Crawford stands,” Kian said, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest. “Crawford willalwaysstand. And nay man who threatens us, our blood, our bairns, will live to see another dawn.”

A roar answered him, fierce and united.

But when the echo died away, Kian’s gaze turned to the keep. To the door Scarlett had vanished behind. He could almost feel her fear lingering in the stones.