of his blade. On he fought while Alexander MacDonald and his henchmen raced for the scrub beyond the beach.
Out of the corner of his eye, Eoin caught sight of MacIain charging after them with Grant in his wake. “MacDonald,” Aleck roared. “Stand and fight, you milk-livered coward!”
With a thrust of his sword, Eoin cut down the man with the battleax. The other soldier lunged with his lance. Eoin dodged to the side. The man stumbled forward and Eoin pummeled him on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword.
Finally free to run ahead, Eoin challenged two of the henchman while Aleck circled with Alexander MacDonald. Though Eoin wouldn’t lose any sleep if the MacDonald Chieftain won the fight, his duty was to capture the man and, if possible, keep him alive to stand trial in Edinburgh.
Together Grant and Eoin fought the henchmen while Aleck and Alexander clashed in a battle of strength.
Eoin quickly bested his attackers and spun, ready for his next opponent. On the beach, Fergus and the MacGregor army had already taken control and were binding the surviving enemies’ wrists and ankles as MacDonald soldiers lay on their bellies. Off the shore, most of the MacIain men still watched the battle from the safety of their galley. Milksops, the lot of them.
They’d chased down Alexander MacDonald and not ended up on a wild goose chase, even though Aleck MacIain had driven them away from the armada. Perhaps the chieftain recognized the galley? It mattered not why. Capture of the MacDonald Chieftain meant Eoin would soon part company with the Ardnamurchan Clan and never need see them again.
Eoin knocked Grant’s opponent in the back with the pommel of his sword. Spinning, Grant used his hips to gain an advantage and cut down his foe. The MacIain henchman readied his weapon and started toward Aleck, but Eoin grasped the younger man’s shoulder. “Let Sir Aleck have his vengeance.”
The MacGregor guard joined them, encircling the fighting nobles. Sweat streaked from Aleck’s brow, his breathing labored. Between bouts, he balanced his great sword on the sand to catch his breath—but doing the same, Alexander was every bit as exhausted.
Though the two proved to be equally matched, Eoin stood ready to pounce if MacDonald gained the upper hand.
He watched as a battle between love and duty warred inside him. Eoin himself yenned to face Aleck MacIain in a fight of swords and brawn, but Alexander MacDonald’s crimes against the crown must not pass by unpunished. If only Eoin and his men had taken control of the beach before Aleck had arrived.
The contenders faced each other, bleeding and haggard, each one barely able to lift his weapon. Aleck sneered with blood staining his teeth. He dropped his sword and staggered forward while shaking his left arm at his side—the one he’d broken.
A dagger dropped from Aleck’s sleeve into the blighter’s palm. “You will never attempt to take my lands again,” he growled, slashing the knife across Alexander’s throat.
Eoin clenched his fists.
The MacDonald Chieftain, descended from the Lord of the Isles, stood for a moment. A stunned look stilled his features as blood flowed down his iron breastplate. Without uttering a word, he crumpled to the sand in a heap.
Aleck swayed on his feet and smirked at Eoin.
Behind them, Duncan and the king strode up the beach.
Aleck raised his dagger in the air. “The usurper has been vanquished by my hand.”
Eoin gaped at the bastard in disbelief.
With a hearty laugh, the king marched straight to MacIain and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have done Scotland a great service.” King James raised his palms in triumph and walked in a circle. “This day, we have quashed the rebellion against Scotland and I am very pleased.”
Aleck slid his dagger back into his shirtsleeve and grinned.
The young king faced the miserable blackguard. “Sir Aleck, I bequeath to you lands on the former MacDonald Islands of Jura and Islay, for you are the true hero of this battle.”
Aleck puffed out his chest like a strutting peacock, then bowed deeply. “I am forever in your debt, your Grace.”
The king slapped his shoulder. “You are and I caution you to nay forget it.”
Eoin could have taken his dirk and stabbed himself. No doubt the land on Islay included one of the MacDonald castles.