Page 16 of The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (Kilgannon #2)

“I thank ye for yer help through these troubled times and for the faith ye had in me, but I canna keep this from our door. I led ye into this disaster and this is the only way I ken to get ye out.” Alex foundered, his pain visible.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again and looked at me in desperation.

Behind me men were muttering and a woman sobbed.

“Dinna blame yerself, Alexander MacGannon,” called a harsh voice. I turned to see Duncan of the Glen shouting, his face flushed. “Ye were betrayed, we as well. Ye did nothin’ wrong. Ye’ve been a good laird and I’m happy to have fought wi’ ye.”

Alex leaned forward. “I thank ye, Duncan, but…”

“Nay, Alex,” cried Thomas, his voice raw with emotion.

“We’ll ha’ none of this. We went willingly enough.

And ’tis not us payin’ this price, ’tis ye and yers.

It should be Malcolm and Bobbing John on trial and maybe dying, not ye.

” He turned to the others and roared, “We will avenge ye!” The crowd blared its agreement and behind me Matthew and Gilbey raised their fists, shouting with them.

Angus opened his eyes. Alex struggled for control before he held up his hands.

I was crying now, the boys sobbing into my skirt.

Alex raised his hands higher, his voice strong, the Earl of Kilgannon again, giving orders.

“Do not, Thomas MacNeill,” he said firmly.

“If ye avenge me more will die. I will come ba’ from my grave and haunt ye, man.

” He smiled a twisted smile and his tone softened.

“I coulda brought English vengeance on us easier ways than this. Dinna avenge me, Thomas. Ye must help me bring what peace Kilgannon can have or it’s all been in vain.

” He looked from man to man. “Give me yer word. All of ye.” Silence greeted him.

Alex looked across the crowd slowly, paused and waited.

I thought for a moment that he was lost but he stepped back, crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently as he threw back his head.

“I am waiting!” He shouted to the sky. “And I dinna have much time.” There was a pause and the roar of laughter that followed was mixed with rage and fear.

Ian and Jamie watched their father, fascinated.

“Alex,” said Angus, his voice clear and calm. “We’ll do as ye ask.” He turned to the others. “Won’t we, lads?” A murmur of agreement went through the men. Alex nodded and met Angus’s eyes.

“I thank ye for that, Angus. As always, cousin, I thank ye. And I’ll hold ye to it. Now, come,” he said to the crowd, “we have our kinsmen to mourn. Let’s have at it.”

Alex jumped from the step and swept the boys and me along with him.

We did not speak as we walked to the cemetery, but he grabbed Jamie with one arm and wrapped the other around Ian.

The boys clung to him and I walked behind the three, with Angus, the clan, and Robert and his men following us up the hill behind the castle.

I remember little of the ceremony that the priest held, only that the sky descended and a fine mist enclosed us as the pipers began.

Alex’s arm went around me and we huddled in the wet grayness, listening to the mournful eulogy.

Seamus MacCrimmon started the piping alone and the others joined in and then died away, leaving Seamus alone again.

I felt the music soothe my soul as always and tried not to realize that we were mourning not only the men lost in the rebellion but the end of the MacGannon line at Kilgannon, for life as we had known it.

For Alex. The boys wrapped their arms around him and he held me close, but he seemed beyond our reach.

He had withdrawn into himself and I felt a wave of loneliness.

He has already gone from us , I thought, but even as the thought formed, he kissed my hair.

I closed my eyes for a moment and wished us anywhere else but here.

The priest said one last prayer and the crowd moved down the hill, followed slowly by Seamus and the pipers.

Alex, the boys, and I stayed behind, standing silently over the graves for a long while, with Angus, Matthew, Gilbey, and Dougall.

And Robert. And then Alex led us back to the castle .

I’m sure that somehow food was on the tables and that we were cordial to our guests.

I vaguely remember talking with Robert about the rose garden that we had planted, but what else we said and what we ate I don’t know.

All I remember clearly is Alex’s leg next to mine throughout the meal and the glow the candlelight brought to his hair.

Like spun gold, I thought. I’m not sure I spoke intelligibly at all.

After dinner Alex called for music. Murreal and Thomas sang and for a moment I forgot why we were gathered and leaned against Alex as I listened.

But when they sang about lost love I had to fight my hysteria again.

I’m sure that somehow the boys were put to bed and Robert and the others shown their rooms, but I don’t remember any of it.