Page 21 of McKenna’s Honor (The Clan MacDougall #4)

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B ree shook her head in complete disappointment. Her heart ached with guilt that she was actually taking her father and Duncan to Stirling. Reluctantly, she had surrendered to the arguments her father and Duncan had made. If they did not appear before Robert Stewart then it was quite possible that Isobel and Aishlinn would die, along with many others. No matter which way she looked at it, she would lose a parent.

If she refused to take her father to Stirling and Isobel and Aishlinn died, he would never forgive her and she’d never be able to forgive herself. The only way to keep Isobel and Aishlinn safe was to sacrifice the lives of her father and brother.

Och! How she wished Nial were with her. Aye, he would be more than angry that she had risked life and limb to rescue her father and Duncan. But she knew he would eventually forgive her for taking such a tremendous risk.

Her life, until Caelen McDunnah arrived at the McKee keep a week ago, had been blessed beyond comprehension. Nial loved her deeply, wholly, and passionately, without reserve. He was completely devoted to her. She had a beautiful son, a family she adored and loved, and a nice home. She wanted for nothing.

Now, her world was falling apart at her feet and she had never felt more alone. Emptiness had settled into her heart and she knew that her life had been forever altered. And for what? For one man’s greed and need of power and another’s sense of honor and duty.

That her father and brother were now willing to sacrifice their own lives in order that their wives would live was honorable. But now Bree knew the truth. It was not just for Isobel and Aishlinn that they were going willingly to the hangman’s noose. It was for the good of their country.

She cast a glance at her father as they rode quietly toward Stirling in the wee hours just before dawn. Aye, she would take her father to Stirling, but she was in no hurry to make certain he arrived in time to hang.

Angus sat tall and proud in his saddle. Even with his filthy, tattered clothes, and the dirt that came from living in a dungeon these past weeks, he looked a formidable man. Bree choked on tears she refused to shed. She would not allow her father to see her cry. Come dawn, he would hang.

Robert and Collin rode ahead, next to Duncan. Bree kept to the rear, near her father. There were still so many questions she wanted to ask him but she doubted she had the strength to hear his answers.

Why he had done what he had done no longer mattered. When she had looked him straight in his eyes as he confessed all to her, she could detect no dishonesty on his part. Angus had bared his soul to her, had told her everything, the whole, sordid, ugly truth.

The only comfort she had was learning that Duncan had not been a part of this hideous scheme until the very end. Duncan had done what he had in the hopes that things would sort themselves out soon and in the end the truth would come to light. That hadn’t happened and now it did not appear as though it would happen at all.

“Say what’s on yer mind, lass,” Angus said without looking at her.

Bree took a deep breath. She wanted to rant and rave, to scream, mayhap even to beat him over the head with a tree branch. She wanted to cry, to wail, to ask why. No child ever had a better father than she. No father ever looked upon his daughter with the adoration that Angus had with her. Even when she tried his patience, he had displayed nothing but understanding.

Angus had taught her to defend herself, to think on her feet, and to always help those who were less fortunate than she. In essence, he had been the perfect father to her, the perfect chief to their clan and the perfect husband to her mother.

Mayhap that was the problem. For her entire life she had held her father in such high esteem, had painted him as nothing less than perfect, even when he tried her patience. She had made him a god among men. Idolized him. And for the first time in her life, he had let her down. And not gently mind you. Angus McKenna was not as perfect as she had made him out to be. He was human.

“I love ye, da,” she said sincerely. “No matter what happens on the morrow, I want ye never to ferget that.”

Angus was quiet for a few moments, keeping his eyes on the land before him. “No man could ever have asked fer a better daughter than ye,” he said. Bree noticed the slight break in his voice, as if he were choking back tears. “Never ferget that I was always proud of ye. Even when ye acted stubborn like yer mum.”

Bree snorted softly at the mention of her mother. She knew her father was attempting to lighten the solemnity of the moment. “’Tis a good thing I have her temperament.”

He finally turned to look at her. With a raised brow he asked, “Aye? Why is that?”

She looked ahead and smiled. “Fer if I had yer temper, ye’d have a verra bloody skull right now.”

Angus chuckled and looked away. Bree had seen the moisture in his eyes when he had looked at her. It was that look, the look of pride and admiration that nearly did her in. No matter what he had or had not done, he was going to his death loving her. She would not allow him to go thinking she was ashamed of him.

The seriousness of the moment hit her with such force that it was all she could do to keep her seat. Never in her life had she felt such anguish or grief. She choked on her tears and did her best to maintain some of her dignity.

When she realized what they were truly discussing, she could not stop a few of her tears from escaping. The seriousness of it all, the solemn, grave truth of it was like a slap to her face. They were saying their goodbyes.