Jasper tried to grin at her, but Flora turned toward the ocean. There she saw a large ship anchored in the dark water, in line with the short strip of beach that sat two miles away at the foot of the cliff. It bounded with each crashing wave and its half drawn sails billowed lightly with the wind. She knew it to be the Portuguese trading vessel that she prayed would take Jasper far away from Scotland.
“Ye come here to fight this day to the first blood. No one shall die, but as soon as one o’ ye is cut, the duel will be over and the punishments and rewards, dealt,” Conner announced, his voice booming over the crashing waves below. “Andrew Philips, ye fight for Flora MacLeod’s honor and for the right to make her your bride.”
Flora jumped a bit. Marriage wasn’t mentioned in the original announcement. She assumed that was what the men were whispering about in the entryway, but focused more on the task at hand. She couldn’t waste any precious energy thinking of what could have been. If Jasper killed Andrew…she couldn’t think of it. Instead, Flora kept her eyes trained on Andrew and counted the jewels on her dagger.
Big Angus passed Jasper a plain, but well-kept sword that she knew was from the armory. It seemed no one wished him well in his venture, because none of them offered him use of their own weapon. In a petty way, Flora was glad that the clan had turned their back on Jasper and hoped his blade was cursed.
“Are ye both ready?” Conner asked, backing into the crowd to give them ample space to spar.
“Aye, let us be done with it,” Jasper snapped, a sly grin spreading over his face as he threw off his shirt. He then unsheathed his sword, tossing the scabbard to the ground and crouching low, recoiling on the balls of his feet, his eyes sharp. “I’ll have this lad bled in a moment.”
Andrew said nothing at first, just unbuttoned his fine English shirt and passed it to Charlie, then drew his borrowed blade, the sheath also being set aside, albeit carefully. He tested the weight of the blade for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he stepped back, his left leg slightly behind and the sword held firmly within his grasp. The weapon barely shook as he stood there and is seemed almost like an extension of his outstretched arm.
“Ready,” Andrew stated clearly, his eyes trained on Jasper.
Conner paused for only a moment before calling out, “Begin!”
The swordsmen clashed in an instant, the sound of steel on steel reverberating in Flora’s chest and the surrounding hillside. The spectators stayed frozen as the men fought, Jasper stabbing and slicing in the air as Andrew deftly slapped away each of his blows, his feet dancing from side to side as he nimbly weaved and bobbed.
“I had no idea…” Flora was flabbergasted. Andrew had never told her he was a skilled swordsman, but he seemed perfectly matched with Jasper as his partner, although they could not be more different. Where Jasper was rough and thick with jabbing blows, Andrew was lithe and lean, skirting the assaults almost gracefully. For the briefest of moments, Flora wondered if Andrew could really win.
Flora clutched Gwen’s hand tighter as Jasper nearly stabbed Andrew with a sharp swing. But he dodged it neatly, slapping away the blade with a scooping motion that left both of Jasper’s hands empty. The sword fell, arching through the air and falling to the ground several feet away. Andrew then reached forward and cut Jasper’s upper arm with the tip of his weapon, causing a small ribbon of blood to paint his skin.
“It is done,” Conner bellowed at once. “Andrew Philips has drawn first blood, leaving him the winner. Jasper MacNee, ye are—”
“No!” Flora shrieked as Jasper fell upon Andrew, who had been looking in her direction. “Andrew!”
The pair tumbled to the ground where, after a short scuffle of fists and feet, Jasper sat atop Andrew, who grappled to steal his sword. Jasper had the weight advantage then. While Andrew was lighter and faster upon his feet, Flora could see him struggle to breathe as Jasper held his throat with one hand and grabbed for the blade with the other.
“Conner, do something!” Flora begged. She made a move to run to Andrew, but Drum’s large arms grabbed her around the middle and held her tightly to his chest.
“Do no’ go, lass,” Drum murmured as Flora fought to free herself. “The lad must do this himself and no good will come o’ ye gettin’ in the thick o’ it.”
She allowed him to hold her, but still felt her heart lurch with each terse moment. Flora watched as Jasper grabbed the sword’s blade, now with both hands, pushing it downward towards Andrew. Drops of blood from his palms splattered upon Andrew’s bare chest and she could see him struggle to keep the sword’s edge from slicing into his flesh.
The men were both pink cheeked with effort as they struggled over who would gain total control of the single weapon. Flora was glad for Drum’s support as they watched the final moments of the fight. She felt her knees weaken as Jasper pushed harder, now balanced on his knees. But in one smooth arch, Andrew thrust the blade upward, slicing through the skin at Jasper’s neck, bearing his throat open.
Flora screamed in both release and alarm when Jasper’s blood sprayed over Andrew, coating him in a wash of red. Jasper’s body then heavily fell atop Andrew, who was just as immobile as his dead counterpart. She wondered where the sword had landed once it drew Jasper’s life from him, but she was still encased in Drum’s firm embrace.
The crowd stood stiller than a circle of standing stones as they waited for either Jasper or Andrew to move. But neither did. Both laid there motionless and the only sound Flora could hear was the rough waves hitting the rocks below and her own heartbeat in her ears like a funeral march.
Conner was the first to step forward. His mouth a hard line, he lifted Jasper’s body by the hair and tossed him to the side, causing a fresh wash of blood to seep from the open gash. Then he crouched beside Andrew’s form and leaned down. From a distance, it looked as if Andrew’s lips were moving and Conner was listening intently, but Flora couldn’t be sure.
“What is it? Is he all right?” Flora called out, fighting once again for Drum to release her. “What did he say?”
Conner looked up and his mouth split into a grin. “He said the bastard was so heavy, he knocked the wind right out o’ him!”
Flora let out a cry of relief as Conner gripped Andrew by the blood-covered arm and lifted him up, clapping him in the back. Andrew took a deep breath and scanned the crowd until his gaze found Flora’s. Drum released her then, and she bounded toward Andrew, tears falling freely down her face in sheer relief.
She flew into his arms, crashing hard against his chest. But after a moment, Andrew held her at length. “Flora, as much as I’d love to hold you, I’m…covered in…” He motioned to his red torso.
“I don’t mind,” she said in earnest. Flora would never take an embrace for granted again.
“I-I’d like to go…” He cleared his throat, peering around at the spectators, who were still watching in interest. “I’d like to go clean up…”
“Oh, goodness, I don’t want to keep you here like this. You’re so right.” She worried over him, holding tightly to his arm, staining her dress with the rapidly drying blood. His concern over his own cleanliness gave her something else to worry about, other than her own mixed emotions. “Hurry, come into the castle and we’ll clean you up. Are you hurt? None of that if yours, right?”
“No, Flora, none of it is mine.” His gaze slid over to where Jasper lay, but Flora pressed her hand to his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eye.
“I’m glad of it, Andrew,” she told him fiercely. “You’re a brave man.”
Conner came beside them, but Flora shook her head, motioning for him to retrieve his sword. Then she continued on her task of taking Andrew to the keep. She saw his hands were shaking, so she grasped one in her own and held it tightly, ignoring the sticky blood now coating her palm. Charlie followed, still quiet. His silence still unnerved her, but she had little to fear, since Andrew was alive and well.
When they passed through the gates and into the courtyard, anyo
ne who didn’t go to the duel stopped and stared. The party of three—now four, as Gwen had hurried after them—quickened their pace, speeding though the hallways and stairs until they came to Andrew’s door.
“Go get cleaned up,” Andrew told her quietly, pressing the back of her clean hand to his lips.
“Do you need my help?” she asked. His fingers still shook and there was a darkness to his gaze that worried her. She didn’t want to leave him alone.
He glanced at Charlie. “No, it’s all right. Charlie promised me a drink, didn’t you, Charlie?”
Charlie’s red brows disappeared into his hair. “Oh…oh, yes!” he exclaimed with forced glee. “I told Andy I would liquor the old chap up. Drink, drink, drink! Ha-ha!”
A choked sort of chuckle shot from Gwen’s pursed lips as Charlie broke into hysterical laughter that was both ridiculous and terribly forced. Flora took it as her cue to leave and squeezed Andrew’s arm one final time. He brushed his hand over his bloody face.
“You’ll be all right?” she asked in a whisper.
The corners of Andrew’s mouth lifted. “Yes, will you?”
“Now that I know you’re alive and well, nothing can spoil anything anymore.”
He kissed her knuckles again. “I’ll see you soon.”
Once Charlie and Andrew had disappeared into the room, Gwen and Flora made the short journey to her chambers. When the door was safely latched, Flora allowed herself to fall to the stone floor. She had pretended to be brave for Andrew’s sake, but seeing his body that just hours before had held her so tenderly, covered in blood, chilled her. It was confusing to feel so frightened and relieved at the same time. She took big gasping breaths as Gwen nimbly undid her gown and scurried into the bathroom to fill the porcelain tub.
Left only in her shift, Flora shambled to her dressing table and sat down before the mirror. She went to take off her choker when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. There was a smear of red down her cheek and her arms were covered in Jasper’s blood. She felt the urge to be sick, but closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing.
“Shall I help you?” Gwen’s voice was quiet, but even-keeled.
Flora couldn’t open her mouth, so she merely nodded, allowing Gwen to remove her necklace then half carry her to the washroom, where Flora disrobed. The bath was hot and smelled of her favorite eucalyptus scent. Gwen pinned up her hair and she sank deeper into the fragrant water until her shoulders were submerged.
Gwen picked up a washcloth and began wiping her face. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“I-I don’t know if I can,” she rasped. Flora didn’t know how to feel and didn’t want to dump her mixed emotions on her little sister’s lap.
“You should try.”
“Well…well, I feel relieved that Andrew wasn’t injured,” she began, staring at her knees through the water. “I feel…proud in a way that he fought so valiantly for my honor. But I also feel ashamed that he had to in the first place. If I hadn’t…done what I did with Jasper, Andrew would have never been put in this position.”
“Anything else?” Gwen asked as she turned to get a fresh towel from the linen closet.
Flora bit her lip, her mind flashing to Jasper’s dead body, lying near the cliffs. “I feel guilty…guilty that those two men fought over me. And guiltier still that Jasper, a man I thought I loved, is dead and I can only feel relief.” Her voice cracked. “And now I don’t even know why I’m crying!”
“You’ve been through a terrible shock. You’re allowed to cry.”
“I don’t want to cry,” she sobbed. “I just feel so terrible and I wish none of this had ever happened.”
“But it did and now it’s over. Jasper is gone and Andrew killed him for your honor. He was so brave today, and now you must be for him.”
“You’re right. I need to pull myself together. I can’t be a blubbering mess! Andrew did something amazing today and here I am, making it about myself.” She splashed some water on her face, washing away the tears. “I need to wear something brilliant and go to Andrew and be the woman he deserves.”
“That’s the Flora I know.” Gwen smiled. “Now, let’s get you ready. I’m sure the cook will prepare something marvelous for dinner.”
***
When Flora was dressed in a pale blue gown, pearls at her ears and throat, Gwen pronounced her fit to see Andrew. So she donned her white slippers and hurried to his chambers, ready to show him how much she appreciated all he had done. But when she rounded a corner, she slapped hard into Charlie’s chest.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, fluffing out her skirts. “I was just going—”
“To see Andrew, obviously.” Charlie took a long swallow from his flask. “But he isn’t in his room. And I must say, you Scots truly know how to have a wild party.”
“Not funny.”
“I’m being honest. No one ever gets killed at a London bash.”
Flora rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. This isn’t something to make light of.”
Charlie’s mouth flattened. “Trust me, I know. Andrew’s taking it rather hard at present.”
“What’s happened?”
“He just feels…well, I’ll let him explain it to you.”
“Really, Charles?” She balled her hands on her hips. “You’re always the first to announce the slightest bit of gossip and now you’ve nothing to say?”
He shrugged. “For once, I wish I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.” Flora sighed. “You’re right. I’m just worried about Andrew. Do you know where he is?”
“No, he just said he was out for air. But I hope he didn’t go far. It’s snowing now,” Charlie told her as he continued on his path.
Flora stepped over to the hall window overlooking the courtyard. A light dusting of white covered the walls and ground outside and more snow was lightly falling, adding to the frost that edged the glass. She couldn’t see into the hills, but thought Andrew wouldn’t go out into unfamiliar territory, particularly when he would have to pass the place where he felled Jasper.
She had a sudden thought, remembering how she had hid from him on the balcony above the library. She hoped she was right, as she walked through the halls, garnering her strength. Andrew deserved to hear something from her—an apology, a declaration of love, something to make his life a bit brighter, and something to help him forgive her for everything she had done that had led them there.
“Andrew?” she called out quietly when she stepped into the study.
When no one answered, she stepped though the carpeted room, her slippers silent. Then she climbed the stairs to the second floor, peeking into where she had first hidden from him days before. She took a deep breath before going into the narrow hallway and opening the heavy oak door to the balcony.
Andrew stood facing the sunset, his back to her. His hands were deep in the pockets of his jacket and the shoulders were covered in a light dusting of snow. Flora stepped out onto the stone, the frost below her feet crunching lightly with each step. He didn’t turn as she approached him, but when she gently laid a hand on his arm, he looked down at her. She was pleased to see that he was bathed and freshly shaved, dressed in clean clothes.
“Flora, what are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
He shrugged off his coat and draped it hurriedly over her shoulders. “You’re going to catch your death.”
“I had to come find you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his chest, relishing the steady beat of his heart.
He gently stroked her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Are you…are you afraid of me now, Flora?”
She pulled back, almost alarmed at his question. “What?”
“Well…I…I killed a man, a man you once cared for.” Andrew looked away. “I slaughtered him before your eyes.”
“And I’m bloody glad you did!” she told him sternly. “I’m glad he’s dead and you�
�re not. I’m glad you’re standing here safe in the freezing cold instead of him.”
“I’ve just never killed anyone…” His voice was softer, almost unsure of his own words.
Flora’s heart broke for him. She remembered when Conner was young, twelve years old, and he’d gone riding with their father. He had stabbed a man who attacked them, killing him before he hit the ground. Her brother spent the evening crying into their mother’s skirts. Flora never told anyone she’d seen him in such a vulnerable position, but she remembered it all the same.
She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his smooth face, his coat slipping from her shoulders. “Andrew, he would have killed you, had you not defended yourself. You did the only true and right think you could have done and he deserved to die. I know you didn’t want to be the one who dealt that kind of punishment, but you did it for me and I love you for it.”
He drew his head down, touching his forehead to hers. “I’d do anything for you, Flora.”
“I know that.” She gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a deep kiss, one they had been waiting for since the duel.
They clung to each other, drinking each other in. Andrew’s teeth nipped Flora’s lips and she tangled her hand in his dark auburn hair. His jacket fell to the ground and the snow swirled around them like an icy tornado, but neither felt the flurry, only the warmth emanating from their intertwined bodies.
“God, Andrew, I’d have you take me right here if it wasn’t so cold.” She giggled into his lips as they parted. “Let’s go inside. We’ll warm up in your chambers.” Flora wanted nothing more than to feel his hands upon her skin.
He looked as if he might have wanted to move, but he didn’t. “Flora…”
She cursed herself. She had been too forward. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”
“No…it’s not that…never that.” His gaze fell to his jacket, which was still lying on the floor.
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