Page 28 of Married to the Cruel Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #5)

28

T he breeze was quiet at first. Then, it shifted.

Keith heard it more than felt it, slicing across the loch and bringing with it a strange echo. Sharp. Sudden. Familiar.

A scream.

Ersie.

His head whipped toward the sound, the blood in his veins freezing. He met Ciaran’s gaze, and they didn’t need to speak. Both men reached the same conclusion at the same time.

Ciaran nodded once. Keith returned it.

In one swift motion, Keith turned Brannoc around and dug his heels into his flanks. The beast sprang forward, its hooves pounding the earth, flinging mud and gravel behind them. Ciaran was at his side, matching his pace, both of them driving their mounts hard back toward the keep.

Please be all right. I dinnae ken what I’ll do if I see her bleedin’… I will probably kill someone. That is if she hadnae already killed them.

They arrived in a rush of flying dirt and startled shouts from the courtyard. The horses skidded to a stop, their chests heaving.

Keith jumped off before his horse came to a full halt, his boots slamming into the stone as he crossed through the gates.

Chaos met him.

Three bodies sprawled in center of the courtyard. Blood pooled on the worn stone beneath them. The two brothers from the festival, and one of his guards.

“Dead.”

Ciaran grunted. “Ers!” he called out.

Keith’s heart raced as his eyes swept the distance between himself and where she stood.

There.

Ersie.

She sat in the middle of the scene, her shoulders squared, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Lying on the ground next to her, Lucas wheezed heavily, crimson staining his side, his tunic barely holding on by the seam at his shoulders.

Keith crossed to her in seconds, but it felt like a lifetime.

“What happened?” he demanded, though his voice was lower than it should’ve been. His eyes flicked from the dead men to her face.

Ersie didn’t answer right away. She was shaking. Not out of fear, no. Keith knew better than that. She was shaking with restrained fury.

“Where did ye go?” she asked, her voice tight. Not accusatory. Not pleading. Just tired. Edged.

Her words weren’t just a question—they were a reckoning.

Keith hesitated just for a breath. “We went, as I said last night, to the loch. To talk about the investigation.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

He watched as her expression shifted—a subtle drop of the mouth, a flicker in her gaze. Hurt. There. Just for a heartbeat.

And then it was gone. Hardened into steel.

She nodded once, almost too sharply.

Keith felt it deep in his chest, like a lash. He wanted to reach out, to say something that might smooth it over. He wanted to touch her perfect face and brush the errant strands of hair from her eyes. But his eyes fell on the bodies again, and the moment slipped away.

Nae now.

Lucas grunted and leaned forward, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “They tried to escape.”

Keith looked between the corpses and his brother, then to Ersie. Her silence was loud.

“They tried to kill me,” Lucas added, his voice hoarse with exertion.

“Is that so?” Keith asked, his tone tight.

Lucas nodded. “The bastards had blades. I?—”

“I only arrived after it was over,” Ersie cut in, her voice calm but cold.

Lucas tilted his head, smirking. “Aye, screamin’ like a damn banshee.”

Keith said nothing. Instead, he stepped beside her, close enough to feel her heat. “Are ye hurt?”

Ersie shook her head, still watching the corpses. “I wish I got here sooner. Could have helped prevent Lucas’s injury.”

Keith exhaled. He waited for her eyes to meet his again, but they didn’t.

His jaw clenched. Not just from the blood or death. Not just from his brother. Not just from the lost leads again. But because he’d seen the flicker on her face. He’d seen it break before it reset.

And it was his fault.

She deserved better than this—than the uncertainty of what they were, than the burden of danger he’d invited her into.

The tension between them pulsed like a live wire, too charged to touch, too dangerous to sever.

He wasn’t sure what cut deeper, the fact that she looked at him that way or the fact that he’d let her.

But either way, the damage was done.

And he would have to find a way to fix it.

Later .

For now, he reached up, pulling his cloak from his shoulder and offering it to her. “Here, lass. Ye have done enough this mornin’.”

Her hand brushed his as she took his cloak. A flash of heat, unspoken words humming in the space between them.

As she wrapped herself in the familiar fabric, Keith turned toward the servants who had appeared and stood off to the edge of the courtyard.

“Burn the bodies,” he said sharply. Then, he turned to Lucas. “Are ye well, Braither?”

Lucas grimaced but nodded his head firmly.

“Do find out if they spoke to anyone else. I’m done playin’ games.”

Lucas held his eyes, implying that there was more to the story than what had been said, and Keith turned back to Ersie.

“Go to yer braither, lass. He’s worried. We’ll talk later.”

Her eyes locked onto his finally, a cold mask falling over them, driving an icy wedge between them. “Aye. We will.”

Keith knew that talk might ruin him, but he had to focus on Lucas and the dead men.

The healer skidded to a halt and began examining Lucas’s wound immediately.

The courtyard reeked of blood.

Keith stood over the corpses, breathing hard, his fists clenched at his sides. The chaos had begun to ebb, but the echoes of violence still pulsed like a heartbeat in the walls of the keep.

Lucas leaned against the stone archway, a dark smear trailing from his temple down to his jaw.

“Why did ye kill them?”

“Already told ye, they tried to kill me,” Lucas said, casual as anything.

Keith rounded on him. “What the bloody hell happened here? How did they get out of the pit?”

Lucas straightened and opened his arms wide. “Exactly what it looks like. The guard let them out, armed them, and when the three bastards lunged at me, I put ‘em down.”

Ersie stood nearby with Ciaran, her eyes watchful, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. She said nothing at first, just exchanged a look with Keith. One that bristled.

“Ye brought them here,” Keith growled. “Ye handled their interrogation. And now they’re dead.”

Lucas’s eyes flashed. “Would ye rather I let them run me through? They all had blades.”

“So it seems. Where’s yer pistol?”

“It’s only a single shot, Braither. There were three of them.”

“It would have bought ye time and alerted someone to come help ye!”

Keith’s anger and worry collided as memories of Mairead and his son flooded his mind. The thought of losing his brother was not one he was willing to entertain.

Ersie stepped in then, her tone calm but clipped. “These men were armed, Keith, and they caught him off guard. That much is clear.”

Keith rounded on her, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing. “Ye werenae even supposed to be here. This entire thing?—”

The words died on his lips as her eyebrows rose, and something in her eyes—hurt—gave him pause.

“This entire thing?” she repeated quietly. “Ye think this is me fault?”

He shook his head once, violently. “Nay. I…” He sucked in a breath, his voice dropping. “They were our only leads.”

“I didnae even fight! They were dead when I arrived,” Ersie hissed.

“They confessed, Keith,” Lucas cut in, rubbing his bloody knuckles. “They accused me of killin’ the bairn, and then they said they were there to avenge their Laird, but I immediately?—”

The ground shifted under Keith’s feet. “They admitted it?”

“Aye,” Lucas spat. “Said it plainly. That they were paid. That the bairn was a threat to someone.”

Keith took a step back.

“Ye did let anger take over, Lucas,” Ersie said. “This could have gone differently, and we could’ve gotten more information. But thinkin’ like that does none of us any good because we cannae go back and fix it. It’s done.”

Keith shifted his gaze to her. “More? What more? They murdered me son!”

“Then we need to ken who paid them!” Her voice rang like a bell, steel-edged and steady.

“They accused Lucas of killing the bairn, which is just preposterous because they told us they were here to track ye , Ersie,” Keith said, his gaze boring into her. He then glanced at Ciaran, before turning back to his brother. “But they were also here for revenge. Could it have been Red Hugh and the Kitarnes? Would Laird Kitarne collude with the man?”

“Nae likely,” Ciaran said coolly. “Red Hugh was down in the borderlands this past week. I have men trackin’ his movements for… me own purposes.”

“So, it couldnae have been Red Hugh. These men were from Clan Kitarne,” Ersie concluded bitterly.

“Aye,” Lucas wheezed. “That’s what I thought too. And I admit, Braither, I saw red when one of ’em said, ‘The wee beast is better off at the bottom of the loch.’ It was them, Braither. They killed him.” He burst into a sob, and the sound pierced Keith’s heart.

Keith’s face contorted. The pressure in his skull, the heat in his chest—it all mounted like a volcano ready to burst.

Ciaran’s voice cracked through the rising tension. “Enough.”

“Take her upstairs,” Keith said, his voice low.

“I’m nae leaving,” Ersie snapped. “This involves the investigation.”

Ciaran met Keith’s eyes. A look passed between them. Understanding. Resolve.

“There is nay more investigation, lass,” Keith said slowly as he turned to Ersie again.

Her mouth opened slightly as if she had more to say, but he cut her off.

“Ersie, leave it,” Ciaran pressed, tugging on her arm.

“Keith!” she bit out. “Look at me!”

His eyes met hers. “Follow me.”

She hesitated. He felt the weight of it, the obstinate irritation at being ordered around simmering inside her, but she moved.

Ciaran stepped away, and Keith led Ersie back inside the keep.

The door to the small library opened, and he ushered her in before he followed and let the door close behind them.

She leaned her side against the edge of the cold hearth, daylight pouring into the space between them as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

“I just…” he began, but his breath caught in his throat. “I just couldnae hear anymore.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, and she stood unmoving, but he knew she could hear him.

“It’s…” he tried again. “It’s over.”

The weight in his chest pinned him in place.

Ersie straightened and walked toward him. His eyes followed her as she crossed the last step between them and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Keith didn’t move. But she stayed there.

Slowly, his arms came around her. Slowly, as if he was unsure that he deserved it. As if he couldn’t allow himself to have it.

Not when every nerve was on edge, even as his son’s murderers lay dead in the courtyard. Not when he didn’t avenge his son’s death, but Lucas had.

“Ye carried the weight of it, Keith,” Ersie murmured, her cheek resting against his chest. “All these years. Ye bore the fire and the pain. Ye never stopped seeking the truth, even when it nearly killed ye and turned yer clan against yet. That’s the only vengeance the dead could ask for.”

Keith rested his chin lightly on the crown of her head, breathing her in. Her hair smelled of lavender and mist, and he let his eyes close.

“Lucas delivered justice,” she continued gently. “But ye carried it.”

Her voice was soft and steady, and Keith let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. One that had been lodged in his chest for five years.

“Ye are right, lass. Of course, ye are. Thank ye.”

Ersie smiled up at him. “Of course.”

“I’m still bound to me past, but somehow I feel free. Only ye made this happen.”

Ersie blinked once, twice. Slowly, her hands rose to his face. But Keith stepped back abruptly. Not from her, but from the heaviness between them.

His hand curled around hers as he pulled her toward the door. “Come with me.”