Page 34 of A Highland Healer Captured (Scottish Daddies #3)

“Then he told me the truth,” she whispered, voice barely carrying.

“That it wasnae our father who led the strike on yer gates that night. That it was him . He boasted of it. Said he’d come to take what was his—land, power, vengeance.

He—he laughed when he said he’d sworn to kill yer bairn.

Me brother. Me own blood. I—” She broke, choking on her breath.

“I kenned then what kind of man he was. Cruel. Mad. Worse than our faither ever was.”

Zander let go so suddenly she sagged against the wall. His hands curled into fists at his sides, trembling with rage. His heart thundered, a beast pounding in his chest. Marcus alive? The thought was poison itself.

“I killed him,” Zander muttered, half to himself, the memory burning like a brand. “I cut him down.”

Cora’s tear-streaked face lifted. “Ye thought ye did. But he’s nae. He’s come, Zander. As he said he would.”

He loomed over the girl, his shadow long in the firelight. “Ye watched me boy suffer. Ye watched me son gasp for breath while ye stood at his side.”

Cora sobbed, shaking her head violently.

“I didnae ken it would be so cruel! I stopped for a while. Then ye brought the healer and Marcus made me continue. I thought— I thought if ye saw him get better, ye’d send her away.

He said he would come to ye to offer aid.

I thought he meant to bargain, nae to kill . I swear it!”

Her words cracked like kindling, but they gave Zander no heat. He could scarcely see her for the fury in his eyes. His son. The only good thing left from a marriage of convenience, the only soul that mattered in this blackened world.

And she—this girl he had taken in, fed, clothed, defended—had been poisoning him under his own roof.

“Ye ken what ye’ve done?” he said, low and terrible. “Ye’ve made me son weaker than he had to be. Ye’ve near buried him for yer braither’s madness.”

Her sobs grew louder, shoulders heaving. “I kent it was wrong. I kenned. But he’s me blood, Zander! He found me, and I— I was glad. I mean I thought he was dead! I wanted to believe— Before I kent otherwise, everything had gone to shite.”

“Blood means naught if it poisons ,” Zander cut in, voice a snarl. “Blood that vows to kill a bairn is nae blood at all. It’s rot. And ye carried it into me house.”

Cora dropped to her knees, shaking, clutching her hands together as if in prayer. “I beg ye. Forgive me. I was blind. Foolish. I didnae want to harm him. Saints, I love him, Zander. I swear I do.”

Zander’s breath came harsh, ragged, fury beating in his skull. He looked down at her and saw the orphaned girl he’d taken in.

He dragged a hand down his beard, forcing himself to think, to breathe. Marcus alive. Skylar had been right to see danger where he hadn’t. And Cora… she had been the knife slid between his ribs, hidden and smiling.

His voice came low and hard. “What was it tonight? What did ye mean to do standin’ over my son’s bed?”

Cora shook her head violently. “I was nae goin’ to harm him?—”

“Ye’ve already harmed him!” Zander bellowed, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. Katie whimpered at the force of it, and Skylar shot him a look sharp enough to cut. He dropped his voice back to a growl. “What was the plan?”

Her knees buckled, but he kept her upright. Her lips worked, fear in every line of her. “I meant to take him away,” she whispered finally. “To run.”

The words hit like a slap. “Take him?”

“Aye.” She nodded, eyes wet, desperate. “Marcus is comin’.

Tonight, before dawn. Him and men he’s gathered.

He swore he’d storm the keep and put every man to the sword.

I couldnae let him find Grayson here. I thought—” Her voice broke.

“I thought if I took the boy and ran, I could hide him. Save him.”

Zander’s grip tightened until she gasped. “Ye poison him for months, and now ye tell me ye’d save him?” His fury shook the air itself. “Do ye hear the madness of yer own words?”

Cora’s tears spilled faster. “I kenned it was wrong, what I did before. But I love him, Zander. I swear I do. I couldnae bear to see him?—”

His laugh was a roar, black and joyless. “Ye love him as a wolf loves the lamb. Ye call it love while ye slip poison in his cup.”

“I listened to Marcus because he is me braither!” she sobbed, her voice cracking. “And when I saw Grayson suffer… I kent. I kenned Marcus was nae the man I thought. I couldnae let him hurt him anymore?—”

“Spare me,” Zander cut her off, his voice ice. “Ye had months to tell me. Months to put truth in my ear. Instead ye crept like a snake at me son’s side. And now, when yer caught, ye paint yerself a martyr.”

Her knees hit the floor with a dull crack as she tried to bow before him, her bound hands lifting. “Please. I beg ye. Forgive me. I’ll swear against him. I’ll tell ye everythin’. Only—only daenae cast me out.”

Zander’s vision blurred red. He wanted to shake her, to roar his fury until the stones themselves split.

He wanted to see Marcus’s head on a spike, wanted to crush this betrayal underfoot.

But more than that, he wanted to hold his son safe, to lock every door and window, to keep the world’s teeth from touching the boy again.

He felt Skylar’s presence wane, and he turned to see where she had gone.

The last thing he wanted to do was get so caught up in getting Cora’s confession, that he lets Skylar slip out unnoticed.

Mason had returned and was kneeling next to her.

He gave a firm nod, and Zander knew instantly that his son was safe.

Skylar’s voice rose, sharp and commanding.

“More cloth, quick! The blood’s slowing, but I need it packed tighter.

” Her hands were already slick, and her cheeks were still flushed from the fight.

He had half a mind to go to her, to kneel at her side and let her steady him.

But Mason was there helping her, so Zander’s grip on Cora’s shoulder tightened.

He bent low, bringing his face close to hers. “Ye think I’ll forgive? That I’ll let ye roam these halls after what ye’ve done?” His voice was a rasp of iron. “Nay, lass. Ye’ll answer for it.”

“Zander—” she pleaded, her eyes wide, frantic. “I didnae want to hurt him. I swear on me maither’s grave.”

“Yer word is ash,” he snapped.

He yanked her upright again and turned toward the door, his steps heavy, dragging her with him as if she weighed nothing. His voice lashed like a whip over his shoulder. “Mason! To me.”

He heard Skylar say quietly, “Go! Go, I’m good.”

And then the man appeared at his side.

“Dungeon,” Zander ordered. His voice brooked no question.

Mason’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Aye.” He took Cora’s other arm as she struggled.

“Please!” she cried, heels dragging against the flagstones. “Please, Zander, I beg ye! I was wrong! I ken it now! I only wanted to protect him! Marcus is coming. Tonight or tomorrow!”

Her pleas rang down the corridor as Mason hauled her toward the stair. The sound grated against Zander’s skull, fury and sorrow and betrayal twisting his gut.

He stood alone in the solar doorway, his chest heaving, his fists clenched so tight his nails cut skin. Behind him, Skylar murmured to Katie, her voice steady, a balm against the storm. His son’s eyes connected with his, red-rimmed and wide with terror.

Zander closed his eyes and swore an oath then, silent but searing.

Marcus would nae reach these walls. Nae while I still drew breath.

His gaze cut back to Skylar, kneeling by Katie, her hands worked quickly though her cheek bore a bruise. The dirk he’d given her lay on the rug, red with hearth light. She’d defended his son when he hadn’t seen the threat at his own table.

Zander’s jaw locked. Anger, sadness, and a gnawing feeling of wanting to believe Cora, but not being able to trust her fully.