“For our parents, Keegan. For me. For Melissa.” Damon ducked his chin, looking directly at the laird with whatever strength that remained. “For yer Willow.”
Keegan nodded, a grim and potent purpose filling him until it overflowed. Were it tangible, Keegan was confident that all the battlefield would see the thick, smoke-like fury wafting off his body and downing out everything around him.
“I will be back for ye, Damon. Ye willnae end here today.”
Damon offered a weak smile. “And leave poor Rodrick to take care of ye? Never. Go.”
Straightening up, Keegan left his brother for just a moment. He looked across the field at Rodrick, who hurried to Damon’s side, and then he ran after Magnus.
He was ending this—right now.
28
“Ye willnae escape yer fate, Magnus!” Keegan dashed across the bloodied grass, closing the distance between them. “Turn and face me!”
The coward didn’t seem bothered by the notion that he was retreating, that he couldn’t be strong enough to face the wrath that he’d earned through his horrendous actions over the years. Magnus didn’t stop, rushing forward and shoving warriors between him and Keegan at every opportunity.
It didn’t matter if they were McCallum or Brahanne; Magnus looked to sacrifice anyone he could to give himself even just a few more moments of life. Keegan dodged them, winding through the bodies as he drove forward toward his final opponent.
“Ye are a coward!”
Keegan took a blade, stuck into the ground by a fallen warrior, and threw it into the side of a wagon up ahead. It diverted Magnus’s retreat, steering him back toward the castle as Keegan hoped. The laird was right on his heels when Magnus foolishly darted further into the hectic center of battle, and he was forced to stop.
The world dropped away, and Keegan stood face-to-face with the man. He could see the blood-stained brow of his father, struck down heartlessly with a knife in his back. He could see his mother just a few feet from his father’s body, how he’d clearly been trying to save her, and how it didn’t matter because Magnus had run both of them through.
On a day that was meant to be about peace, no less.
It was hard to understand how much evil could be contained in such a simple-looking vessel. Magnus stood a few inches shorter than Keegan, and he didn’t possess as much muscle strapped to his frame. And yet, the man was menacing, staring out with those hazel eyes that looked too much like Willow’s. He was favoring his injured side, still recovering from the last time that they’d fought.
“Ye havenae any more claim to this land than anyone else, Brahanne! It should belong to them who’s strong enough to seize it!”
The wind blew, ruffling through the sweat-drenched blond locks at the top of Magnus’s head. Keegan could feel the chill of itdance over his own flushed skin, a minute relief from the heat that swelled through his blood.
“Me family has been tendin' to this land for generations, Magnus.” Keegan’s voice was low and strong, carrying with it the memories of pain that haunted him each day. “Ye willnae have somethin' simply because ye wish it so.”
“I will achieve greatness! I will fulfill the great work of me faither! I willnae let a single thing stand in me way to doing so!” He sneered, the malicious gleam in his eyes as bright as ever. “Yer parents will attest to that! And yer brother! Yer clan! And yer sweet little Willow!”
Keegan charged forward. Furious grief and anger so powerful that it nearly made him sick funneled through his blood—hot and consuming and unyielding. Swinging his blade in a low arch, Keegan targeted Magnus’s legs.
Just in time, the man threw himself to the side, rolling across the grass before scrambling up to his feet once more.
As Keegan bolted toward him again, Magnus swung his own blade up, flinging up dirt as it carved through the topsoil and right in front of Keegan’s face. He was barely able to shrink back enough to keep his face from being split in two. But the move also opened Magnus’s opposite side for an attack, so Keegan lunged to the side and jabbed his sword forward.
He made contact but only slightly.
Magnus swung back around, and Keegan was forced into a backward roll, the edge of Magnus’s weapon glancing across Keegan’s shoulder. He hissed, gripping the spot as they squared off once more.
“Ye ken that Willow was still a virgin.” Keegan pulled his hand away, glancing down at the bright red smear across his palm. “The MacMillan…they had nay way of sayin' so for certain. Ye told them so that they might cancel the engagement. Dinnae ye?”
Scoffing as if he actually had the gall to be offended, Magnus put a hand to his chest, feigning such hurt.
“Come now. Can ye truly think so little of me?”
Dropping his head and sinking his weight into the balls of his feet, Keegan glared all the harder. “Yes.”
He lashed out, launching one, two, then three attacks at Magnus. The other Laird barely managed to parry them, but the bastard had done enough to keep himself out of harm’s way.
“Ha!” Magnus chuckled wildly. “Well, alas, I’m afraid that the MacMillans simply dinnae wish to be parted from their bit of land after all.”