Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
“Och, but I cannae give ye all the praise,” Dallas said, flashing a wink at Adeline. “Where ye hail from, the lasses must be cleverer than the lads. How did ye ken it was poison, eh? How could ye be so sure, so quickly, that it wasnae Oliver? Ye nearly had me head spinnin’, ye put it together so swiftly. I’m almost disappointed in meself.”
Adeline felt Logan’s arms around her, pulling her away from Dallas. “You should be,” she snarled, thinking of the villagers she’d done everything to help—all for nothing. “You made a huge mistake, but I think you know that already, don’t you?”
“Aye.” Dallas sighed. “I wasnae certain I could convince me dear nephew that ye were a witch, nay, but I was certain I could convince him that ye’d made mistakes of yer own with that tonic. Thought it might make him angry enough to at least put ye in the dungeons for a night, where I could dispatch ye meself. Suppose I dinnae realize that the two of ye were so… inseparable. Och, Logan, yer faither would be horrified.”
Logan maneuvered Adeline behind him, his whole body trembling with rage. The kind of all-consuming anger that she hadn’t seen from him before, not even at the beginning, when he thought she was a threat. This was the absolute fury of betrayal.
“Ye wanted the island that badly?” Logan hissed. “How many have ye killed, eh? How many have ye hurt?”
Dallas shrugged. “That depends if ye’re askin’ in general, or recently.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Adeline. “Though, really, ye should be blamin’ her for more folks dyin’ than needed. If she hadnae figured out that there was somethin’ in the water, the villagers in the east would’ve been sick for a while, nothin’ more. Aye, a few of ‘em might’ve died, but nae so many.”
“You did the same thing in the north, didn’t you?” Adeline hissed.
Dallas chuckled to himself. “Well, it wasnae any witch, that’s for certain.” He cast Logan a withering look. “But it wasnae because I wanted the island. I wanted ye to struggle, nae live peaceably. I wanted the islanders to turn against ye, like they turned against yer faither and me. And when ye got so furious with Oliver that ye sent him off the island altogether, I saw me chance to wreak havoc.”
“That doesnae make a jot of sense,” Logan cut in, one arm stretched out behind him to stop Adeline from doing something stupid.
He was right to do so, for she wanted to strangle the life out of his uncle for taking the lives of people she’d helped.
Dallas groaned as if he was bored by the conversation already. “Nay one would be able to blame him for the curse—a changeling curse—since he wasnae here. They’d blame ye, and they’d start wonderin’ if ye were like yer faither, after all, summonin’ dark forces here to the island. The longer it continued, the more they’d begin to doubt ye.” He sniffed at Oliver. “Then, of course, ye had to ruin it by comin’ back.”
“I think ye ruined it by bein’ inept,” Oliver fired back.
At that moment, for no good reason whatsoever, an odd laugh began to bubble up the back of Adeline’s throat. She felt it, rising up from her chest, and though she clamped a hand over her mouth, there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it from spilling out.
The rest of the room, including Dallas, stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. Maybe she had. It wouldn’t have been the most ridiculous thing to happen since Christmas Eve.
“You weren’t riding around out of the goodness of your heart at all,” she said, struggling to contain her mad laughter. “You were stirring up a fuss, weren’t you? A new plan that started when I arrived, I’m guessing. I bet you thought all your Christmases had come at once when I appeared, huh?”
Dallas said nothing, his nostrils flaring with contempt.
Adeline, however, couldn’t be stopped. “You rode around all the villages, probably having the time of your life, telling everyone that there was a witch at the keep who’d weaved her spell on your poor nephew. Lord have mercy, you’ve been a busy, little boy, putting all your ducks in a row.”
Dallas glowered at her. Men like him could bear all the injuries in the world, but they couldn’t stand getting struck right in the ego.
“You must’ve thought we were the biggest idiots alive,” she went on, feeling a little bit mad. “I bet you had a silly little grin on your face all night, thinking you were about to knock everyone out in one fell swoop. How did you think it’d go, huh?”
His scowl darkened, while her mocking laughter only got louder.
“Let me guess—the villagers would take me and burn me, Logan would be dethroned and thrown in the dungeons for being an unfit laird, and you’d put poison in Oliver’s tonic to finish him off. Then, maybe, you’d oh-so reluctantly take the Lairdship for yourself? Could be—you’d even marry Sophie if she’d have you. And because girls here don’t inherit, Moira wouldn’t be a problem at all.”
Dallas’s lip curled. “Ye really do think ye’re a clever lass, eh?”
“Tell me which part I got wrong,” Adeline challenged. “I’d say I was right about the poison, too. It was a back-up plan. You probably panicked when you saw how quickly I won over the eastern villages, and figured I might do the same with the mob, so you had to think of something really damning.”
The older man folded his arms across his chest, resembling a petulant child. “Either way, I got what I wanted.”
“See,” Adeline said, tugging on Logan’s arm, “this is what I meant when I told you about second sons and inferiority complexes. He had to live in his brother’s shadow, and then he had to live in yours. It’d be enough to drive anyone insane—evil people, anyway.”
Dallas propelled himself forward, baring his teeth. “I dinnae live in me brother’s shadow! Daenae say that to me again if ye want to keep yer tongue!”
Logan’s fist blurred through the air, connecting with his cheek. “And dinnae speak that way to her again if ye want to keep yers!”
“If I had to place a bet, I’d say that you didn’t dare try and usurp your brother,” Adeline carried on, lining herself up for the final blow. “He wasn’t like Logan or Oliver. He’d have ripped your tongue out if he even felt an inkling of rebellion from you. You were scared of him, but you wanted his validation.”
Dallas flinched, cradling his injured cheek.
“Again, I’m no psychiatrist,” Adeline said, smiling, “but I’d wager you didn’t know your father too well. So, your brother took the place of a father, and though you hated him, you loved him, too. This”—she gestured to Logan and Oliver—“is just you getting your own back for the hate part. For what you felt you deserved after your brother died. You’ve played the long game, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Between me and Oliver, we gave it to you.”
Dallas began to laugh, the sound sending a chill up her neck. “I’ll grant it to ye, ye’re sharp as a blade, Miss Adeline.” He met her gaze, his eyes the spitting image of Dr. Platt’s. “But I did this for me brother. He ’couldnae have been more disappointed in the sons he raised. I was the son he should’ve had. I was everythin’ he wanted his true sons to be, while they were weak and soft, ruined by their maither.”
“I’m glad that neither of them is like their faither!” Sophie hissed, before turning her back to the entire scene. Her shoulders shook, her hand to her mouth. Clearly, it was all too much for her.
“At least ye wouldnae have died the weaklin’,” Dallas snarled, chinning at Oliver. “I’d have made it look like ye killed the great Laird of Gibson. The peaceful warrior himself, murdered by his own brother as a mercy, while he was languishin’ in gaol for bein’ bewitched by a sorceress. And killed himself to spare his honor, afterward. I’d have made ye a tragic hero, Oliver, but ye couldnae keep yer mouth shut. I could’ve even made ye Laird.”
Oliver sneered. “I’ve never wanted to be Laird. Ye’d ken that if ye’d bothered to pay attention. Then again, why would ye pay attention to someone ye tried to kill as a baby?” His sneer transformed into a wry smile. “Let’s be honest, ye should’ve kenned ye wouldnae succeed in this, since ye werenae even capable of gettin’ rid of a helpless bairn.”
In the blink of an eye, Dallas rocketed forward, propelling himself upward until he was on his feet. He leaped off the end of the bed, lunging at Oliver. A flash of silver caught Adeline’s eye. Dallas had a blade, and it seemed he intended to finish what he’d started when Oliver was a baby.
Time slowed down to a dizzying crawl as more than one figure darted toward Oliver.
“Logan, no!” Adeline yelled, stumbling as Logan pushed past her, running toward his brother.
With Logan’s broad back blocking her view, she couldn’t see what was happening. Both Logan and Dallas had skidded to a halt right in front of Oliver, but neither was moving. Yet, their bodies were shaking like they were under great strain, their muscles working overtime. Adeline could even see the tendons rippling across Logan’s shoulders and down his back.
She edged cautiously over to Sophie, craning her neck to get a better vantage point.
Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. Logan had one hand wrapped around Dallas’s wrist, the other gripping the blade, the deadly point of it no more than a few inches from Oliver’s face. If he hadn’t been sick, maybe Oliver could’ve staggered out of the way, but Adeline guessed that if Oliver let go of the doorjamb, he’d collapse. His legs were already shaking, his eyes wide as he stared at the tip of the blade.
“Ye cannae stop me,” Dallas snarled. “Even if ye defeat me, even if ye take this dagger out of me hand, yer people will never again accept ye as their Laird. Ye’re poisoned, in their eyes. Ye’ve had a spell cast on ye. They willnae ever trust that the bewitchin’ is gone unless ye let ‘em burn that clever lass of yers. Even if ye send her away, they willnae trust ye. They want her dead, and ye’ve already made yer choice—that lass above yer people. Me brother wouldnae have hesitated.”
Logan’s forehead creased with the strain of holding back the dagger’s momentum. “Do ye ken what else yer brother wouldnae have hesitated to do?”
Dallas sniffed. “What?”
“Kill a traitor,” Logan replied as the dagger slowly, painfully, began to turn back toward Dallas.
The older man still had obvious strength, but he was no match for Logan. It was like the end of an arm-wrestling match, where the underdog suddenly turned the tables on the undefeated champion. At least, that was what the look on Dallas’s face telegraphed as his gaze fixed on the glinting blade.
“Logan, nay!” Sophie cried out, watching in horror.
“Ye heard yer maither, Logan,” Dallas drawled. An empty taunt, his words laced with real fear.
Logan kept turning the blade toward Dallas. “I daenae want to do this, Uncle. I’ve adored ye me whole life. I’ve trusted ye, relied on ye, sought yer wisdom, but either I do this now with yer pride intact, or I do this later after ye’ve endured a trial for all yer crimes. And I cannae promise the island will be as kind as me. Ye ken what we island folks do to traitors. Ye’ve done it with yer own hands, at me faither’s orders, often enough.”
Adeline refused to imagine what Logan was referring to. Judging by the twist of Dallas’s mouth, it wasn’t pretty.
“Turn around,” Sophie said. She put her arm around Adeline’s shoulders, physically forcing her to turn her back to what was happening. “Ye daenae want to see it, I promise ye.”
Even with her back turned, Adeline still closed her eyes and covered her ears. She sang Christmas songs in her head, pretending she was sitting in the hot pools with the man she was falling in love with. All the while reminding herself that this was 1705 and not 2023. Logan was just keeping his family safe in the only way he could.
If Dallas had come for you, what would you want Logan to do? she asked herself silently, between frantic rounds of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.
The answer didn’t surprise her, but it did soothe her.
Despite her efforts, she could still hear Dallas mocking Logan, not at all remorseful, even now. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a blade cutting through flesh. And then she heard nothing.
“Is it over?” she said, a few minutes later.
No one answered.
“Sophie?” She opened her eyes to find the older woman staring at the door.
Hesitantly, Adeline turned around, purposefully avoiding to look at Dallas’ body. There, framed in the doorway, was Theo, holding Moira in his arms. She seemed unharmed, but her eyes were wide and terrified, her lips trembling as she clung to the man-at-arms.
“They’ve broken through,” Theo said, his voice catching. “It willnae be long ‘til they start comin’ up the stairs. I daenae think there’s much time.”