Page 23 of The Cruel Highlander’s Healer (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“T here will be nay exchange,” Conall said, the words echoing through the night as he glared at Alistair.

His stomach soured as he stared at the man before him, rage and regret warring within him.

Conall had trusted Alistair. For years the man had been one of Conall’s most trusted. He had been one of his father’s most trusted. And now?

The thought of the years of resentment left to fester just below the surface turned his stomach as he glared at the man.

“If ye want this one,” Alistair whirled a finger back, pointing to Eliza where she rested on the ground, “to be safe, then there will be an exchange.”

Conall took a step forward. The rustling of leaves and the sound of footsteps behind him let Conall know that Eliot had moved forward as well, deciding to reveal himself.

Conall signaled to Eliot behind his back, and his guard started moving a few paces to the right. In a practiced move, they would flank Alistair, ensuring that they surrounded him and could act if he moved toward Eliza.

Alistair’s eyes went wide as he noticed it, and he took several quick steps.

“Stop movin’!” he yelled, and in one quick motion, he drew a long, wicked looking dagger from his belt.

Conall wasn’t entirely sure what happened next, it all occurred so quickly. And whether it was Alistair’s scream or Eliot’s approach that did it, he did not know. But something spooked Alistair’s horse.

It let out a loud, high-pitched whinny and reared on its hind legs. Eliot was close to it, and he lifted his arms to shield himself as the horse's hooves lashed out.

It clipped his cheek, sending Eliot tumbling toward the ground. Conall was distracted by Eliot’s fall, so he did not see it when Alistair moved.

He heard Eliza scream and Conall whirled again. Alistair had her now, his arm wrapped around her from behind and lifting her up off the ground. Alistair’s dagger was pressed to her throat.

“Daenae move!” the guard screeched again, the sound filling the space.

The horse let out another whinny, but it did not rear again. From the corner of his eye, Conall saw Eliot begin to stir.

“Eliot!” Conall called, but he kept his eyes fixed on Alistair and Eliza. “Eliot, answer me!”

“I’m alright,” Eliot groaned. “It just clipped me cheek. I’ll be alright.”

Conall nodded, but he kept watching Eliza’s every movement. Her eyes were wide with fear, and they were fixed on him. Silently begging him to save her.

He was going to do everything in his power to do exactly that.

“Ye think ye can scare me, Alistair?” Conall asked, and he took a quick, measured step forward.

Alistair startled, the knife at Eliza’s throat shaking as he tried to take a step back. But Eliza didn’t cooperate, and Alistair stumbled.

“Come closer and I’ll slit her throat!” Alistair threatened, fighting to regain some of his composure.

“Slit her throat and ye’ll have nothin’ and nay one to bargain with,” Conall taunted. “But we both ken it’s nae her ye want. It’s me.”

In his periphery, he noticed Eliot had found his feet once more. He was able to clock his position, noting that he’d moved a safe distance away from the horse and even closer to Alistair.

Conall held out his hand, laying the palm flat as it faced the ground. It was a sign they’d crafted years ago, having plenty of time to hone it in the years they’d spent fighting side by side.

Eliot noticed it, and he stopped advancing. Conall left his hand out, ready to give the signal when it was time to move.

“It’s me ye want to hurt,” he taunted again. “Eliza has done nothin’ to ye. And I willnae risk letting; me maither go, ye ken that much. Nae after what she did.”

“She dinnae do it!” Alistair yelled, his voice edging on hysteria. “She told me she dinnae do it!”

“Aye,” Conall said, forcing his voice to sound amused despite the fact that his heart was pounding with terror seeing the knife that close to Eliza’s throat. “I’m sure she did. But she is a liar, it’s what they do. They lie! She is just toyin’ with ye to try to help herself. She will slit yer throat the very moment she is free.”

“More lies!”

Conall’s words had the desired effect though. Alistair had allowed himself to get so worked up he’d moved the knife away from Eliza’s throat and had now leveled it at Conall.

He was still holding Eliza, though, and that would not do.

“C’mon, Alistair,” Conall taunted.

He took another step forward. His hand was still flipped over, still giving Eliot the signal to wait. He turned it on its side, thumb facing up.

Eliot moved, darting to the right. The sudden movement grabbed Alistair’s attention, and the moment that Alistair’s eyes was off him, Conall darted forward.

Alistair realized what was happening a little too late as the two men rushed him from two sides. He raised his arm to defend himself, dropping his hold on Eliza in the process.

Conall had expected that he’d have to grab hold of her and help her out of the way. But she was no shrinking damsel. The moment that Alistair’s grip dropped from around her neck, she raised her foot, stomping it down hard on his toes.

Alistair let out a yowl of pain just as Conall reached him. His fist shot out, connecting with Alistair’s cheek just as Eliza darted away.

He spotted her in his periphery shrinking into the trees, hiding from a safe vantage point to watch the carnage.

Alistair swung his arm, the dagger slashing out wildly at both Conall and Eliot. Eliot dodged to the side, jumping back just in time as Alistair swung wide.

When Conall saw his chance, he darted forward. In one swift movement, he wrapped his arm around Alistair’s, incapacitating it. He jabbed his elbow into Alistair’s nose, hearing a satisfying crunch when it made contact.

“Eliot, check on Eliza,” Conall roared, reaching with his other hand to grab the knife.

Alistair was gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white as they pressed against his skin. Conall grabbed the hilt as much as he could, and in one quick movement he jerked back.

Alistair’s wrist snapped with a loud crack, and the man screeched. Something wild and feral unleashed within Conall.

“Why did ye do it?” Conall asked, wrenching the knife from the other man’s hands.

He let go and Alistair fell to the grass. Behind him, he could hear Eliot and Eliza speaking in low, pitched tones, so he knew the both of them were alright. He kept his gaze focused on the man now sniveling at his feet.

“Why did ye try to hurt the bairns?”

Alistair cradled his wrist to his chest, staring up at Conall with hate filled eyes.

“It was yer maither’s plan,” Alistair seethed. “Originally, we were goin’ to approach ye and tell ye that if ye released her, she would heal them. She kent what the tonic was all along. But then ye showed up with her.”

Alistair pointed a shaking finger over Conall’s shoulder, no doubt pointing it directly at Eliza.

“And I saw the way ye looked at her. Ye were pantin’ over her for days, nothin’ more than a dog chasin’ after a bone. When I told her about it, we kent we had a much more powerful bargainin’ tool in our midst.”

“Ye risked the life of children?” Conall said, fury rising up within him to the point of madness. “Ye were willin’ for bairns to die just so ye could get me lyin’ murderous maither out of jail!”

Alistair opened his mouth to speak again, but Conall could hear no more. He surged forward, swinging the knife wide.

Alistair raised his arm, the slash of the knife that had been intended for his throat landing on his forearm instead. Alistair grunted in pain, but Conall whirled again, swinging his arm so the knife slashed through the air once more.

Once again, Alistair blocked the blow. He began skittering backwards, using his legs to push against the grass as he tried to back away from the angry, menacing laird intent on taking his life.

“I was a coward when I imprisoned me maither!” Conall said, swiping again as Alistair moved and dodged. “I should have killed her then. Just as I’ll be doin’ to ye!”

He let out a roar so forceful his vocal cord strained. With one final slash of the knife, an exhausted and wounded Alistair was no longer able to block the blow.

Conall plunged the knife down, and this time, the point found flesh. It sunk into Alistair’s chest, burying itself all the way to the hilt.

Alistair’s grey eyes went wide. In the moonlight, they seemed to glow. The light within him flared for the briefest of seconds, before it began to dull.

“I’ll be sure to send me maither after ye shortly,” Conall snarled in the man’s face.

A gurgle sounded from between Alistair’s lips, followed slowly by a trickle of blood. Conall let go of the dagger still buried in Alistair’s chest, and the body thunked to the ground.

He stared down at where it landed at his feet. There was no movement, not even a rattle or wheeze as Alistair tried to draw breath.

Conall kicked him over with his boot, rolling the body onto it’s back. Alistair’s eyes were still open, but vacant. The man who had caused so much pain, all because he’d allowed his weak mind to be tainted by a murderous, vindictive woman, was dead.

“Conall?”

A female voice sounded from behind him, and Conall whirled.

Eliza had stepped out of where she’d hidden in the shadows, the moonlight bathing her skin in a lovely, silvery glow. Her eyes were wide, but with a jolt he realized it wasn’t because she had feared for her own life. No, she had been afraid for his.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, not allowing himself to show even an ounce of emotion. Not now.

“We’ll leave the body,” he explained. “I’ll send someone out for it in the mornin’. Let’s get ye back to the castle, I’d like yer maither to take a look at ye.”

Eliza studied him. “Are ye alright?”

She stood with her feet firmly planted on the earth, staring at him as he crossed the clearing.

While the two men had fought, the horse that Alistair had taken from the stables had been whinnying and fighting against where it’s reins were tied off around a tree.

Thankfully, it hadn’t managed to break free. Conall approached the beast, making soothing sounds and raking his hands gently over the creature’s coat to help calm it.

It took a few minutes, but the horse began to settle, turning docile enough that he felt emboldened to turn his gaze back to Eliza.

She was still standing exactly where he’d left her, gaze expectant. It was only then that he realized he’d not answered her question.

“Aye,” Conall murmured. “I’m fine. Nay need to worry about me.”

Eliot had used the time when Conall was steadying Alistair’s horse to slink through the trees and gather their own steeds. He was leading them through the trees now, one of their reins gripped in each hand.

“Eliot and I will ride back on our horses,” he explained, gesturing to the one that Alistair had used. “Are ye alright to ride this one back? We’ll have ye between the two of us, so nay one can get to ye even if they tried.”

Eliza rolled her eyes. “I’ve been askin’ ye to let me ride a horse on me own since ye kidnapped me. Of course I can ride that one.”

She marched forward, taking the reins out of Conall’s hands. A flicker of desire stirred inside of him at her spark, but he knew that moment was not the time to entertain it.

He helped Eliza onto the horse, getting her settled before he walked over and mounted his own.

Just as he advised, Eliza rode between him and Eliot. She was silent as the men spoke to each other, but Conall knew that she was drinking in every word.

“What are ye goin’ to do with yer maither?” Eliot asked, his voice somber.

Conall let out a sigh. He’d meant what he said to Alistair. He’d known all those years ago that he should have killed her for the murder of his father. But he’d been a mere boy then.

At only eighteen, he hadn’t been able to fathom killing his mother. Or even ordering the deed to be done. Now, however?

Now he was a man grown, and he knew exactly what needed to be done for his people.

“I’ll have her executed.”

The words fell across the three of them, launching them into silence.

They remained like that for the rest of their ride back to the palace. And Conall was glad for the additional time to think.

He’d never gone public with the news that Abigail Shaw had been the one to murder his father. He had not wanted to tarnish the reputation she’d crafted so expertly, because even though she had been a murderer, she was still his mother.

But Conall knew that meant he’d have to make that known now. The people wouldn’t just accept the lady they’d long forgotten about suddenly returning out of nowhere, only to be executed.

There was the possibility of doing it privately. But servants talked. The news would get out somehow. And he would rather do it in a way that he could control the narrative.

Lights shone in the distance, coming more and more into view as they approached the castle. Once they got close enough to make out some of the details, Conall’s brows knit together in worry.

More guards than normal sat atop the battlements. And as they drew even closer, he could see that they were strapped to the teeth with weapons.

There was a flurry of activity from within the grounds, the sound of it rising up from the courtyard to greet them. People were yelling back and forth, more than should be awake at this hour.

I suppose they could be awake and waitin’ for Eliza’s return. She’s made a good name for herself here over the last week.

It didn’t take him long, though, to realize that Alistair kidnapping Eliza had not been the only thing that had the castle in a tizzy.

The moment the guards realized who was approaching, the gates of the courtyard were raised, allowing them to pass through.

“The Laird has returned!” One of the guard’s yelled, the sound of it being echoed from one to the other as word spread all the way into the castle.

As they approached the large, main front doors, they were pulled open. Soft, warm light spilled down the front steps and servants came pouring out of it.

They reached them and took the reins of their horses in hand, allowing him, Eliza and Eliot to slide from their mounts. The moment Conall’s boots touched the ground, he whirled to face the steward nearest him.

He was about to ask him what was going on, when a harried Marissa appeared, with Dougal close on her heels.

“Me daughter!” Marissa yelled, immediately falling upon Eliza and wrapping her in a hug.

The woman didn’t address anyone else. The moment their hug was broken, she immediately began fussing over Eliza.

“Come inside,” she said in a bossy tone that left no room for argument. “I’ll have to look ye over and make sure that dobber dinnae hurt ye.”

Eliza tried to protest, but Marissa simply tugged her daughter’s hand and led her into the castle. The moment before she disappeared into it entirely, she looked over her shoulder.

Conall locked eyes with her, and he didn’t miss the regret in the depths of her gaze.

They still had a lot to talk about. But that would come later.

He turned to Dougal. The young guard looked weary, like he’d aged a decade since Conall and Eliot had rolled off into the night.

“What’s happened?” Conall asked, and color rose high into Dougal’s round cheeks.

“It’s yer maither, me laird,” Dougal began.

His tone was hesitant, like there was no part of him that had to deliver the news that was on the tip of his tongue.

“What about her?” Conall prompted.

Dougal’s gaze dropped to the ground. “While ye were gone, ridin’ after Eliza, she tried to escape. Before we caught up to her, she had made her way to the bairns. She was almost in the room when I apprehended her. She was goin’ to use them as a shield while she escaped. I couldnae let her. There was a fight and…”

The words died out, the sentence hanging in the air between them. Apprehension twisted low in Conall’s belly.

He knew what Dougal was about to say. He could see it on the lad’s face. That didn’t stop him from needing to hear it, though.

“And what, Dougal?”

“She’s dead,” the young guard finished in a rush. “She was goin’ after the bairns. We had nay choice.”

Conall had been prepared for a lot of things. And, there had always been some part of him that had known this day would come. But he hadn’t expect the sinking feeling in his stomach as Dougal’s words settled over him.

It wasn’t Dougal’s fault, though. And right now it was more important that Conall was the strong, unflappable Laird they’d all come to respect. He could sort out his own, complicated feelings on the matter later.

He clapped Dougal on the shoulder, prompting him to look up.

“It’s alright,” Conall assured him. “Ye did what ye had to do. I daenae fault ye for it. She was the one behind the poisonin’ of the bairns and the town. It was all her idea. She deserved it, in the end. It doesnae matter if she was me maither or nae. Nay one will be gettin’ away with somethin’ like that.”

Dougal didn’t move for a moment, and Conall got the impression he was taking it all in. Eventually, the guard’s jaw flexed and he gave a quick, terse nod.

“Now, if ye’ll excuse me,” Conall said to Dougal. “I need to go check on our healer. I’m nae sure if ye’ve noticed, but she’s had quite a doozy of a night.”