by Barbara Bard
* * *
Sarah needed him. Sarah had him. The tempo increased until both of them were practically vibrating on the floor, eager to give and receive all the pleasure they had. Drew's thrust grew deeper. Sarah almost felt as though she was going to be torn in two when there was one almighty moment where Drew's entire body tensed. His hands dug into her skin and his eyes shot wide open as he burst within her.
* * *
Sarah felt the warm liquid seep into her and murmured with contentment. Pleasure settled all around her mind. The delirium faded. Her eyes closed, and she sank forward into Drew's arms again.
* * *
“Promise me you won't die,” she said.
* * *
“I promise, Sarah. I love ye,” he said. Sarah looked up at him, the light of love dancing in her eyes. She smiled sweetly at him and knew that the two of them were meant to be together for a very long time indeed.
* * *
She caressed his chest, kissing it lightly, before planting another kiss on his lips.
* * *
“You'd better come back, because I can't go through life without doing that again,” she said, smiling teasingly. Drew kissed her deeply and then pushed himself up, pulling his cloak around his shoulders.
* * *
“That hae given me the energy to slay a hundred men,” he joked, then moved away to pick up his sword. He was every inch a fierce warrior, and Sarah was proud to call him her man. She clutched her clothes to her breast and her gaze lingered on the entrance to the tent after he was gone. There was nothing she could do now but wait until his return, and pray that he did not meet his end.
22
Drew left the tent feeling energized. There was nothing like the love of a woman to put a fire in one's soul. His leg was feeling better too, and he looked forward to rejoining the warriors on the field of battle where he could make the English pay for their crimes.
* * *
His sword hung at his side as he walked over to his trusty steed and got him ready for battle. The black horse had been present for the entirety of his relationship with Sarah.
* * *
“Thank ye for taking me tae her,” Drew whispered in the horse’s ear. The horse whinnied a little. For a moment it would have been easy for Drew to believe that the horse understood him.
* * *
Along with Drew and Blair, there were a number of other warriors looking to return to the field of battle. They had all been wounded, but had been treated now, and were ready to get back to what they did best; fighting. Declan was there too, looking at Drew with great ire. The young man was naive and didn't understand the way of the world, but Drew couldn't look at him with too much disappointment considering that he too had once thought the same, not being able to understand how anyone could love an English girl over a Highland woman.
* * *
Blair strode among them all, looking tall and proud, unmarked by war. His prowess was such that no Englishman had been able to mark him, and Drew felt stupid that he had been wounded so casually by an errant javelin. Not again. He wasn't going to stop until Lord Flynn's head rolled beside his feet.
* * *
“It is time tae end this war! Let us take the last of their blood and show them that they should never come back here!” Blair roared. The rest of the Highlanders roared with him, and then the force of men galloped out onto the field, the hooves of the horses throwing up mud.
* * *
Drew was astounded at the piles of dead men that lay around the battlefield. He'd always thought of war as a glorious thing, but now his father's and Sarah's words echoed in his mind. Neither of them had liked the idea of war, and Sarah didn't see it as necessary, and now Drew was beginning to see her point.
* * *
It could so easily be him laying on this field, lifeless, with no hope of ever returning. He'd been fortunate in that Sarah had saved him from death once, and he wasn't about to tempt fate again. This battle was going to be ended soon, and Drew was going to return to the love of his life.
* * *
They charged in, yelling their battle cry. Drew drew his sword and felt the fury rise within his heart. He felt stronger now, and put it down to the love he felt for Sarah. He wasn't only fighting for glory, or for his clan, he was fighting for the chance to return to his beloved.
* * *
There were still plenty of English soldiers ready to be killed, but Drew's eyes were peeled for Lord Flynn. In the distance was the English camp, and he surmised that Lord Flynn was waiting there, lurking behind his army, avoiding a direct confrontation. Drew cut his sword across a soldier who rode up to him. The Englishman dropped down and blood sprayed from his chest.
* * *
“It’s good tae see ye are nae swayed by your new love,” Declan said, riding beside him. Blair had already charged ahead in another direction and was swarmed with the English.
* * *
Drew scowled.
* * *
“Ye should never hae doubted me,” Drew said.
* * *
“You're just as bad as him, ye know,” Declan said, wielding his sword in a manner that befit a man twice his age. He was a fine warrior, and yet another symbol of the good breeding of the McClair clan, but there was still much troubling his soul.
* * *
“We are nae bad, Declan. Ye must start tae see that. Deirdre hae twisted your thoughts. Dinnae give in tae her wild beliefs.”
* * *
“All I know is that ye and Blair hae both shunned the clan in favor of English lasses.”
* * *
“I'm going tae say the same thing tae ye as Blair once said tae me. When ye find someone ye love, ye will realize that it disnae matter if ye're Scottish or English. Ye need tae let go of this grudge, Declan. It's nae going to lead anywhere good.”
* * *
“I would never love an English lass,” Declan sneered.
* * *
“Watch your tone, son,” Drew warned as he slashed at another English soldier, decapitating him.
* * *
Declan and Drew, divided by their opinions, united by the common enemy, continued forward. They flung death from their swords and more English fell at their feet. The Scottish army swarmed over the field and soon the English were quite outnumbered.
* * *
Drew loved every minute of being in the heat of battle. He smiled widely as he thought of Sarah and how proud he was that he had earned her love. She had saved his life for a reason, and this was that reason. He wasn't going to rest until the English were driven back across the border and returned to their lands, so the Highlanders could get back to living in peace.
* * *
The sound of horses galloping thundered in his mind. The anguished moans and cries of wounded soldiers filled the air. Some of them were crawling back to their respective camps. Not all of them would make it.
* * *
Drew looked forward and saw Blair swinging his sword violently, cutting down English soldiers. He saw other Highlanders being killed as well, and occasionally when he looked down to the ground he saw a face he recognized.
* * *
Indeed, war was a sobering affair. Now, in the midst of all this death and destruction, Drew thought he understood his father better than ever before. The image Drew had had of his father had always been one of a mighty warrior, relishing the cries of his enemy in the throes of death.
* * *
But now he saw the truth. Aife had not been a man who welcomed war. He merely did his duty, and Drew wondered of the pain the man had suffered at the thought of his children seeking to be warriors. Drew knew that war was necessary, but it came at a cost. There was no need to glorify it, and there was no way he could shy away from the grim truth of the matter.
* * *
War was hell, and there would be too many to mourn.
* * *
But there would be time to think about that later, when he was back in bed wit
h Sarah. There he could spill all the troubled and conflicting desires in his heart. Presently, he had to remain focused. The battle raged. There was still an enemy to fight, and every inch they gained was another inch closer to Lord Flynn, who would pay for what he did to Sarah.
* * *
The Scottish warriors were routing the English and their numerical advantage was such that victory was an inevitability. Drew regretted missing the biggest chunk of the battle, for it would have been glorious to see the Highland army throttle the English.
* * *
“For Gall! For the Highlands!” Blair yelled as he led the final charge. Most of the English were getting scared now. And Drew couldn't blame them. The sight of a Highland army riding at you with swords drawn was enough to strike fear into the heart of any man, especially the English.
* * *
Drew cut down any Englishman who stood in his way, and the battering ram of their men broke through the final line of the English. All that stood between him and Lord Flynn now was distance, and an eager smile played upon his lips at the thought of seeing him brought to justice.
* * *
Drew urged his horse on until he was level with Blair. The brothers nodded at each other. This was how it should be, the two brothers united, leading the allied clans into the final phase of the battle, the one that would see an end to all this.
* * *
Drew's sword gleamed as the sunlight reflected off it. Crimson blood trailed behind, dripping off the edge of the blade. The Highlanders were hungry to see the English fall to their knees.
* * *
“Lord Flynn! Show yourself!” Blair roared. His words bellowed, striking fear into the hearts of the English. Drew took a moment to look at them. Many of them were just boys. This was a place for men. The English scrambled back, dropping their swords and raising their hands in meek surrender. The camp was filled with activity, people rushing out to try and escape, but there was no chance.
* * *
A stray arrow was fired, but it hit nobody and was met with a flurry of arrows from the Highlanders. A small force of the English remained.
* * *
“Lord Flynn! Come and meet your defeat,” Blair boomed again. His horse moved back and forth in front of the English camp. He was making himself a target. Anyone with an arrow could have hit him quite easily, but nobody dared. It was a sign that the English had been completely demoralized and defeated. Their surrender would be sweet.
* * *
The English looked back towards their camp, their eyes searching for Lord Flynn just as much as the Highlanders’. Drew waited with bated breath, eager for the final duel, but Lord Flynn did not present himself.
* * *
“Are ye a coward?” Blair called out. “Are ye going tae keep hiding? Nae wonder ye have been beaten! Ye cannae even muster the courage tae face us.” The Highlanders laughed at the cowardly English. Before this battle the Highlanders had not had much respect for the English. They thought them devious cowards, and the actions of their leader had not changed their minds any.
* * *
“We are nae going anywhere, and if ye take much longer we're going tae come intae the camp and drag ye out by your breeches,” Blair said. The whole thing was becoming a joke. The English had panicked looks on their faces and they too looked back at their camp, calling for Lord Flynn to present himself. The two armies were united in their search for Lord Flynn.
* * *
It took a few moments, but eventually a figure strode out from the camp. He looked strange, wearing a posh tunic that had no sign of wear and tear on it. His blade was smooth and shining as well.
* * *
“Either he's had his blade polished or he didnae stay in battle for long,” Blair said in a low voice.
* * *
“I know which one I think is more likely,” Drew said, his face twisting in anger. So here was the man who had treated Sarah with such cruelty. The man who had scared her and made her feel as though she had to run away from all she knew.
* * *
“I shall accept your surrender,” Lord Flynn said in his high-pitched, reedy voice. Drew and Blair laughed. Blair nodded to Drew, indicating for him to take the initiative. Drew leaped down from his horse and stayed a moment to embrace the pain in his leg. Although he could walk there was still a dull pain present, and his mobility had been dampened.
* * *
Drew let his cloak fall beside him and then strode out to meet Lord Flynn.
* * *
“As I said, surrender and you can go back to your homes.”
* * *
“I'm nae surrendering, lad. Ye'd better watch your mouth.”
* * *
“I beg your pardon. I am Lord Harold Flynn and you shall address me as such!”
* * *
“I shall address ye with all the respect ye deserve,” Drew said, and promptly spat on the ground. Lord Flynn stepped back.
* * *
“What do you want, you barbarian?”
* * *
“I want tae fight ye, Flynn. I want tae know that your cruelty is nae going unpunished.”
* * *
“My cruelty? What do you mean?”
* * *
“The woman who was betrothed tae ye. She hae told me all about what ye did tae her. How ye treated her. Now it's time for me tae repay the debt she owes.”
* * *
“You have her?!” Lord Flynn thundered. “I demand that you return her to me this instant!”
* * *
“Ye are in nae position tae be making demands, Flynn.”
* * *
“I knew she had disappeared into your clutches. You vile brutes! You have won this battle but you have not won the war.” Lord Flynn spun on his heels, wanting to storm away.
* * *
“Where are ye going, ye coward? We hae unfinished matters.”
* * *
Lord Flynn paused. He walked straight back up to Drew.
* * *
“Did you call me a coward?” he said menacingly.
* * *
“Aye, and I'll call ye much more before the day is out,” Drew said. Lord Flynn snarled. Drew was laughing, and then before Drew could do anything else Lord Flynn lunged forward with his head, smashing his forehead into Drew's face. Drew staggered back. Stars danced around his head and he heard Flynn's blade being drawn. Instinctively, he raised his own sword and blocked Flynn's blow. The Highlanders all cheered for Drew.
* * *
Drew shook the blurred vision from his mind and fought back, parrying Flynn's blade. Although he was a coward, it became quickly apparent that Lord Flynn was adept in the song of steel. Drew twisted his blade this way and that as sparks flew from the meeting of their blades.
* * *
“I may not be able to beat your army on this day, but I can at least leave one of you dead on the ground!” Flynn cried. The two of them locked blades and came face to face with each other, barely inches apart.
* * *
“Yer blood will be spilled on the Highlands. This will be your resting place,” Drew said. They pushed back against each other and circled slowly, testing each other with sharp thrusts of their blades. They looked from different worlds. Drew was a warrior, wearing barely any clothes, his muscular body glistening in the sun. Lord Flynn's body was covered in bright, fancy clothes. He was slender in build than Drew. The battle was over and the Scottish had won, but this was to kill the English leader.
* * *
Drew had a fierce look on his face as he raised his sword and cried out. He summoned an image of Sarah in his mind, the thought of her being cruelly treated by this man spurring him on. Like a wolf who had tasted blood, Drew was on Lord Flynn with great animosity, his blade slicing through the air. But Lord Flynn was equal to him, meeting his ferocious thrusts and jabs with skill and a nimble agility. Many times Drew thought he had Lord Flynn, but Flynn managed to dodge or lean out of the way. Drew's blade only
met air.
* * *
Lord Flynn's skill only served to enrage Drew more. The anger surged through him, boiling his blood. The two men came together again, their blades scraping against each other, filling the air around them with an unnatural screech of metal against metal.
