Page 43 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

But Murray, seeing his forces defeated, let out a roar of pure rage. He broke away from Ruaridh's blade and charged toward Iona with his dirk raised high.

"If I will go down, then ye must go down with me!"

Ruaridh's hand moved faster than thought. His own dirk flew through the air in a perfect arc, taking Murray through the chest. The MacNab laird stumbled, his eyes wide with shock, then collapsed face-first into the forest floor.

Silence fell over the clearing like a shroud.

"It's over," Gordon said quietly, surveying the scene. "Murray MacNab is dead."

Bruce immediately raised his hands. "I surrender. I'll answer fer me part in this."

"Nay," Ruaridh said, moving to check on Iona. "Ye helped save me wife. Ye could have killed her but chose mercy instead."

"I heard everything," Gordon continued, his gaze moving between Bruce and Murray's corpse. "Every confession Murray made about the blackmail, the corruption, all of it. I'll give testimony before the king about what I witnessed here."

Bruce nodded slowly. "As will I. Murray dragged our clan into this madness, but I'll nae let his crimes go unanswered. The king deserves the truth about what he was daeing."

Ruaridh pulled Iona into his arms, a gasp of pure relief tearing from his chest. He held her tightly, his hands on her back as if to confirm she was truly there, truly safe. His gaze was searching, scanning her face for any sign of a wound.

"Are ye hurt, mo chridhe ?" he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

"Nay," she whispered back, still trembling from the ordeal.

Her fingers, delicate and shaking, rose to his face, touching the grime of battle and the rough stubble on his jaw.

"But what of ye, Ruaridh? During the fighting.

.. I was so afraid fer ye." Her thumb traced a small cut on his cheekbone, her eyes welling with tears.

He just held her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair.

The nightmare was finally over. Murray MacNab was dead, and with him the threat that had shadowed their marriage from the beginning. For the first time since their wedding, they were truly free.

The walk back to Castle MacDuff felt like a funeral march despite their victory. Ruaridh kept one arm around Iona's waist, supporting her trembling form as Gordon's men escorted Bruce.

In the castle courtyard, the surviving MacNab warriors stood in defeated clusters, their weapons cast aside.

"Hear me!" Ruaridh called out, his voice carrying across the assembled crowd. "Murray MacNab is dead by me hand. The king has already signed papers absolving me wife of any charges—papers that prove Murray was the real traitor tae the crown."

Murmurs rippled through the MacNab forces. Some looked relieved, others angry, but none raised weapons.

"Yer laird confessed his crimes before witnesses before dying," Ruaridh continued.

"Blackmail, corruption, threats against Highland lairds.

He'll face the king's justice even in death.

But ye, all of ye have a choice. Lay down yer arms and return home or continue this fight and find yerselves branded as traitors alongside him. "

One by one, the warriors fell to one knee. The war was over.

A cry of joy echoed across the courtyard as Niamh burst from the castle doors, her face streaked with tears of relief. She rushed to Iona, gathering her into fierce embrace.

"Me brave, brave girl," Niamh sobbed, holding Iona as if she'd never let go. "Thank God ye're safe. When they took ye, I thought... I feared..."

"I'm here," Iona whispered, clinging to the woman who'd become her second mother. "I'm safe. So many people fought fer me life taeday. Ye, telling Ruaridh I’d been taken. He came tae save me. All the warriors of the clan. And Bruce. He chose mercy when Murray demanded murder."

Niamh looked over at the MacNab deputy, who stood quietly among the prisoners. "He has me gratitude as well."

The healer's chamber felt too quiet after the chaos of battle. Moira worked with gentle efficiency, cleaning the cut on Iona's throat and checking for other injuries while Ruaridh sat nearby, his own wounds being tended by her assistant.

"Ye're fortunate," Moira said, dabbing salve on the thin line Murray's blade had left. "A hair's breadth deeper and ye'd have bled to death."

"I had good protectors," Iona replied, her eyes finding Ruaridh's across the chamber. "All of them."

"Aye, including the one ye least expected." The healer glanced toward the door. "That MacNab man, he's been asking after yer health. Strange thing, an enemy showing such concern."

"He's nae our enemy anymore," Ruaridh said firmly. "Whatever else happens, he saved me wife's life. That makes him a friend to the MacDuffs."

As Moira finished her work, Iona felt the full weight of everything that had happened settle over her like a heavy cloak. The nightmare that had begun with Murray's assault was finally over, but at such a cost. Alistair's death cast a shadow over their victory that would take time to heal.

"What happens now?" she asked quietly.

Ruaridh rose from the healer's table, moving to take her hand. "Now we live the life we've fought so hard tae protect."

For the first time in months, the future stretched ahead of them free from the shadow of Murray MacNab's threats. It would be a future marked by loss and shaped by the lessons learned in darkness, but it would be theirs to write together.