Page 59 of Bride takes a Scot

Declan drew his sword, and it sang its vibrant “shhgging!” sound, scraping against the sharpener set in the scabbard. His prized weapon would seek his vengeance for him this day. Declan braced his legs and stood in an unmistakable stance with his sword pointed at the miscreant. His body tensed in anticipation of jumping forward to enact the one thrust—ending Silas’ life, once and for all.

He would kill the knave, but before he would, he wanted the answer to his last question. “Did ye leave a dead rat in my bedchamber?”

Silas laughed derisively. “Aye, aye. I hoped to frighten your wife enough to seek my embrace, but alas she did not.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What does it matter? Now either kill me or set me free.”

Declan’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword, and he used all the force within him to shove it through Silas’s chest. His stepbrother fell backward with a forceful grunt and blood pulsed from the wound with each beat of his dying heart, pooling in a great dark puddle on the ground next to him.

“Good riddance,” Anse said and spat on him.

The rest of his clansmen did the same, one by one passing their foe and showing the disrespect Silas deserved.

Declan gave his stepbrother a final stare before he said, “Have him taken to the ravine and tossed into it. He does not deserve a proper burial.”

He turned and began to walk slowly away, unsure if he felt vindicated. Had Silas spoken truthfully or not? Even if he hadn’t been Declan’s accuser or the traitor trying to overtake his clan, his stepbrother deserved to die for taking Leona’s life and trying to drown Isabella. Added to the years of difficulty his son endured…

Silas was now at unrest in Hell, where he belonged.

He raised his eyes to the sky. “Ye can rest in peace now, Leona, sweet lass. I have avenged ye.” With that, he lowered his head and drew a heavy breath. He heard the mumbles of approval and support from his clansmen and turned to find them nodding. Some had their heads bowed in respect of his words for Leona.

Anse stood with a bowed head and waited until he approached him. “Silas was a sneaky son-of-a-bitch. We did not know what he was up to. I was with the soldiers and because Lorcan guarded Milady, I did not worry for her. I should have put more men on her. God Almighty, what he did to her… I cannot forgive myself.”

He set a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Do not hold yourself in contempt, my friend. None of us knew what Silas did to Leona or what he intended to do to Isabella. Where is Lorcan? I want to question him.”

Anse lowered his chin. “He is dead, Laird. Silas killed him with a dagger in his back. Lorcan probably never saw the attack coming.”

Another person to grieve, another person lost because of Silas’s envy and evil plans. “We will place him with honor, Anse.See the friar and Claude about burial preparations.” He sighed and lifted his chin with an effort. It had been a trying day, almost as difficult as one spent in battle. “Now, I need to see my wife.”

“Tell her I am sorry, Laird.”

“Nay, if ye want to apologize, Anse, ye should come and do it yourself but there is no need. Ye are not guilty of her attack. Isabella would not want ye to hold yourself accountable.”

“Nay, but I should have prevented it.”

“As should I have.” Declan understood how his cousin felt. The responsibility and safety of their clan’s men and women rested on their shoulders. That they had a villainous knave within their midst sat afoul.

By the time Declan had reached his bedchamber, his tension had eased, and he’d shaken off the torment of killing his foe. Quietly, he entered the room where he found Noah sitting next to Isabella on the bed. She was dressed in a clean nightrail and lay back against the pillows with her eyes closed. Edith was in a nearby chair. She, too, appeared to be sleeping. But as he drew closer to the bed, she opened her eyes and got to her feet.

Edith bowed to him. “She is resting now, Laird. I do not deem she suffered much. Ye were in good time to get her from the water. I shall leave ye but there will be a maid in the hallway. Shout if you need anything.”

“My thanks, Edith,” he said.

With that, Declan removed his boots and upper tartan, discarding both beside the bed. With haste, he washed in the basin, calming even further as the clean water eased him. He crawled onto the bed next to Noah and pressed a hand to his wee face.

“Da, Edith says she is well.”

“Aye, we are blessed that she is.”

Noah set his small hand in his and Declan peered at it.

“I am sorry, Da.”

Declan pulled his son across his chest. “Ye have no reason to be sorry. I think ye were brave, aye. Tell me what happened at the loch that day…the day your mother drowned.”

Noah sniffled and began to talk. Slowly at first, with hesitations and fits and starts as he seemed to search for words long denied him. But before long he was speaking freely, recalling in detail everything that had happened from the moment Silas had forced his mother into the water to when Noah was shoved away and fell.

Isabella opened her eyes but was silent. Instead, she watched them.

He returned her gaze. “Silas cannot hurt ye or Isabella anymore.”