Chapter 19

The congregants readily turned into spectators. In their Sunday best, they huddled together outside the church, waiting for the action.

Commander Pierce had been reluctant to let go of Jane, but he had eventually conceded. Now, Jane was at Alistair's side at the chapel's entrance, beseeching him to take his words back. "I would prefer," she said to him, "being married to him, living all my days as a slave in his house, than having him kill you. Please, Alistair. Say you have changed your mind and escape with Ramsay and Eleonor. I doubt that the duke will take her now, anyway. Please. I cannot bear the thought of living in a world without you." She clutched at his shirt, oblivious to the reaction it elicited from spectators.

Alistair chuckled. "Have ye nay faith in yer lover, Jane Marsh?"

"Do not jest!" Jane exclaimed sharply. "This is a matter of life and death. Don't you dare jest." A sob escaped her. "He means to kill you."

"As he should," Alistair said, "fer I have taken what almost became his most prized possession, a lily sweeter than any, a jewel without comparison, and made it mine. What man wouldnae feel like killing the man that robbed him so?"

"Alistair, please. Please. For my sake."

"It is fer yer sake that I fight, Jane," Alistair said.

"I know, and I love you for it, but he is a Commander. He is ruthless and he does not fight honorably. He has been fighting for almost all of his life."

"As have I," Alistair said. He held her shoulders and rubbed them reassuringly. "I have nay intention of dying today, dear Jane. Nae when I have just reunited with me braither. Nae when a life with ye is in me grasp. Ye have nothing tae fear." He planted a kiss on her forehead, which elicited gasps from onlookers. "Only believe in me." So saying, he stepped away from her and Ramsay quickly joined him. They left the church entrance and walked into the sunlight.

Commander Pierce was in a circle that the crowd had created for the fighters. His face was a mask of pure hatred, but a sneer appeared on it suddenly. "You should have made a whore of her one more time before this fight. That would be fair, I think. One last rut before I cut that bastard head off your shoulders."

"Is this an English tradition?" Alistair asked with a grin.

"What?" Commander Pierce asked, taken aback.

"Calling the enemy a bastard, even when he is nae. I am nae a bastard. I kenned me faither. I assume, Commander, that ye ken the meaning of the words ye use?"

There were scattered chuckles among the spectators. The Commander's eyes darkened. But then the sneer came back. "You are quite right, savage. You are not a bastard. Your beloved Jane is. A bastard and a whore. An unfortunate combination."

The grin which had been on Alistair's face died immediately. He stole a look at Jane, who appeared to be trying to hide the fact that the insult had volleyed into her. And then he looked back at the Commander. "Ye will regret those words," he promised, his voice low and filled with dark intent.

"Tell your children about this day," the Commander said, spreading his arms abroad in a theatrical manner, "the day when the great Commander Edward Pierce vanquished a Scottish runt on English soil." He drew his sword. It was a monstrous affair of pure, slicing steel. Alistair followed suit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jane move. Eleonor held her comfortingly, and Ramsay stood behind Eleonor as if to support her.

Commander Pierce swung first. His aim was skilled, but Alistair managed to move in the nick of time. The Commander attacked again. Again, Alistair dodged the sword. It continued like this for a couple of seconds. "Fight me, you son of a whore!" the Commander bellowed. He lunged at Alistair again, but Alistair deftly bent at the knee and slid out of harm's way, leaving the commander staggering. There was a small moment in which Alistair could have planted his sword in the other man's back, but he refrained from doing so. The Commander caught his balance and turned, rage in his eyes. He ran toward Alistair, his sword held up to strike. Both made contact.

The sound was terrible.

A hush settled over the onlookers.

Jane wailed.

Metal left human flesh with a slicing sound.

The Commander backed away from Alistair, staggeringly, his gaze unfocused. There was a wound in his belly, from which blood poured. He looked down at the ground, and then looked at Alistair. He descended to his knees, clutching his stomach. He made gurgling noises, and a thin line of blood trickled down his chin. He then collapsed in the dust.

For a moment, there was deafening silence. It was as though the world was held spellbound.

And then Jane broke the silence by flinging herself into Alistair's arms, crying tears of relief. The crowd murmured. Slurs were hurled at Alistair and the Scottish in general. Ramsay walked to Alistair and as soon as Jane pulled away, he embraced him heartily. "I remember that move," he said.

"Of course ye dae," Alistair replied with a chuckle, his hand firmly around Jane's waist. He looked down at his side. "Sadly, the Commander had moves of his own."

Jane and Ramsay looked down to see that his side was bleeding. There was a dagger in Commander Pierce's dead fingers. Apparently, he had pulled it out at the last minute and struck just as Alistair drove his blade into his belly. Jane gasped. "We must get you treated immediately," she said, and called for help. No one answered.

"I shall have my revenge," the Duke of Lancaster said, surprising them all. They did not know that he was still here. "Come, darling," he said to his daughter as he grabbed her hand and started off in the direction of his carriage. The girl cast a longing look at Eleonor, but her father pulled at her hand and she turned away. Eleonor rushed to Alistair. She tore her veil away and pressed it to his wound. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you for saving Jane and me."

"You are welcome," Alistair said, trying to smile. "Jane has told me so much about you."

"Oh, Alistair, me must get you tended to," Jane said. "Come."

"'Tis only a flesh wound," Alistair said. "I have survived much, much worse." He turned. Andrew Marsh was a short distance away, looking at the four with an unreadable expression. Alistair walked to him and pointed his sword at him. Jane and Eleonor came rushing to Alistair's side.

"What would ye have done," Alistair said to Jane, "tae the one who killed yer faither?"

Andrew Marsh's eyes widened. "This was not part of the agreement!" he exclaimed. "Sheathe your sword." His eyes darted from Jane to Eleonor and then back to Alistair.

"I shall dae only what Jane asks," Alistair said.

"Put your sword away, Alistair," Jane said softly. All eyes turned to her. " He kept me when he could have thrust me away, after all." She turned to the man she had known as her father for all of her life. "You took care of me, even though it was without a crumb of love. You fed me and ensured I had shelter. That was an act of kindness, lean and bare as it was." She swallowed. "I can never forgive you for what you did to my father. All I can do is give you the chance to redeem yourself."

Andrew Marsh burst into laughter. It was a harsh, loud, mirthless sound. "Do you expect me to be grateful? You think… you think that I want to have anything to do with you? Either of you?" He cackled and spit in the dirt. "I would rather die than see you girls give birth to a small Scottish half-beast."

"You will not talk to them in that manner!" Ramsay said, stepping forward.

"I never want to see any one of you until I draw my last breath. Do not come near my property. You are not, and will never be, welcome. You are excluded from my will. As of today, you both are dead to my memory." He turned and walked away.

The foursome stared at him as he got into his carriage and sped away, leaving dust in its wake. Eleonor burst into tears, and Ramsay embraced her and comforted her. "'Tis alright, me lass," he crooned to her. "Ye are me family now, and I will love ye and cherish ye, just as I will love and cherish our child. Dae ye understand me, Eleonor?"

Eleonor nodded. "Thank you, Ramsay. For… for coming back. I…" She burst into tears once again, and Ramsay cleaned her tears away and said warm, soothing words to her until she became still in his arms.

"Walk with me, sweetling," Alistair said, tearing his eyes away from his brother and Eleonor, one hand linked with Jane's and the other applying pressure to his wound. He looked at her, his eyes kind and loving.

"We should not walk, Alistair; you are bleeding," Jane said, her face filled with worry.

He smiled at her. "I am more than fine, Jane Marsh."

"I suppose," Jane said with a low, self-deprecating laugh, "that I cannot in good conscience be called that anymore."

"What, Jane?" Alistair said with mock shock. "Me lass, ye dinnae cease tae amaze me with the lengths ye are willing tae go fer our love. ‘Evelind' would be a fitting Scottish name, I think. Or ‘Mairin.'"

Jane chuckled, but she sounded weary. "You ken what I mean, Alistair. The surname. I have just been disowned."

"Yer uncle has as good as disowned ye," Alistair corrected. "Yer faither would never have. He was a Marsh. Ye have every much a right tae bear that name as that old man that just ran away, his tail between his buttocks."

Jane gasped at the crassness of Alistair's words. "He didnae run away!" she said.

"Oh, but he did!" Alistair said. "He did not leave purely out of anger towards ye and yer sister. He kenned well that all it would take was a misguided word fer his head tae be taken off his shoulders."

"Alistair!"

"And I would have done the honors, Jane." Alistair stopped and looked Jane squarely in the eye so she could see how serious he was. "At yer word, I would have run me sword through him. He caused ye much pain. He took yer faither away from ye. If his plan had succeeded, he would have taken yer sister away from ye as well. It was as though he derived joy in making you unhappy. I cannae allow that." He ran his thumb affectionately over her chin. "I will never allow anyone tae make ye unhappy ever again."

The moment was poignant with emotion, eyes communicating wordless promises. Jane's throat caught. She had almost lost this magnificent being who loved her, cherished her. Who was willing to die for her. In a bid to lighten the emotion, she asked, "Even a butcher, then?"

That took Alistair by surprise. "What?" he said. His eyebrow raised. Jane started to walk again, and Alistair fell in step. "Should a butcher make me unhappy with the price he quotes for a leg of hog, would you kill him then?"

Alistair chuckled. "Immediately. Without thinking."

"You are a brute," Jane said in dramatic disapproval.

"Ye are the ardent lover of a brute. And I think you have nae come tae terms with the life of a laird's woman. Ye must leave yer provincial English life behind, dear Jane!"

"The English life is not provincial!" Jane countered.

Alistair gave her look and motioned to their surroundings. "Are ye sure?"

The church was the only beautiful structure in view. The rest of the buildings were old, and some were dilapidated.

"Well… well…" Jane started. "This is not how it is everywhere. This town just happens tae be…"

"Tae be what, Jane March?"

Jane sighed and said nothing.

"Back tae our former line of discourse," Alistair said, "ye will have nay contact with butchers and the like unless ye want tae. The servants tend tae such things. The meat is brought tae the castle in heaps. And only when the warriors are too occupied tae hunt game."

"Alistair, why are we talking about butchers when you have just survived a fight?"

"The word you seek is ‘won,' me lass, nae ‘survived.'"

"True," Jane said. And then she stopped so Alistair could stop as well. "Thank you for defending my honor. No one has ever defended my honor before."

Alistair smiled. "I would dae anything fer me bride."

Jane smiled and cocked her head. "Was that your way of proposing to me, my laird?"

The honorific pleased Alistair greatly. "I shall show ye me way of proposing when we get back tae the castle." And with those words he kissed her.