Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The storm howled through the shattered doorway, wind scattering rain and leaves across the floorboards. Scarlett flinched as lightning tore open the sky, its flash revealing the madness in Mack’s eyes. His arm locked around her throat, the cold press of steel biting against her skin.
Robert stepped fully into the hut, soaked to the bone, a blade in his hand and a fury in his stance that made the air itself tremble.
Scarlett’s heart thudded painfully. She wanted to cry out, to reach for him, but Mack’s grip only tightened.
Robert’s voice was cold as steel. “Let her go, Mack. Ye daenae want to do this.”
Mack’s laugh broke through the thunder. “Daenae want to? Aye, that’s rich.
I warned ye, Robert. Warned ye she should’ve been mine.
But ye took it all: the land, the men, the loyalty that was rightfully mine…
and now her.” His arm jerked Scarlett closer, the blade grazing her throat.
“Ye think she wants ye? A laird too broken to love?”
Scarlett gasped. Robert didn’t move, didn’t blink. Only his voice changed, a softer, deadlier calm that steadied even her fear. “If ye hurt her,” he said, “ye willnae live to see the dawn.”
Then Mack snapped. With a guttural sound, he shoved Scarlett aside. She hit the floor hard, her shoulder slamming against the table’s edge just as steel flashed through the lamplight.
The men collided. Steel rang. Something on the shelf above Scarlett's head crashed to the floor.
She dragged herself backward, her bound wrists scraping raw against splintered wood.
She couldn't follow the fight. It moved too fast, too violent, the lantern swinging so wildly the shadows made it worse.
What she could see: Mack swinging wide, all desperation.
Robert absorbing it, giving ground deliberately, waiting.
The lantern swung violently on its hook, its light slashing across their faces. Blood slicked Robert’s arm where Mack’s blade had grazed him, but he didn’t falter. His expression was grim and set.
“Mack, stop!”
Neither man heard.
Mack lunged again. Robert caught the blow, twisted, and drove him backward into the table. The wood splintered. Dishes shattered. Scarlett scrambled clear as the table crashed to the ground.
“Ye think she’ll stay with a man like ye?” Mack spat, his voice breaking with rage. “She’ll tire of yer orders soon enough!”
Robert said nothing. His answer came in motion, his sword struck clean, knocking the dagger from Mack’s hand and sending it skidding across the floor. Then his fist connected hard with Mack’s jaw. The crack of bone was sharp as thunder.
Mack reeled, blood streaking his chin. For a moment, Scarlett thought it was done.
But Mack lunged again, roaring, grabbing Robert by the tunic and slamming him into the wall. The hut shook under the impact. Rain poured through the roof in sheets.
“Robert!” Scarlett cried.
Robert’s sword arm was trapped. Mack’s hands locked at his throat, pressing hard. “She was never yers!” Mack snarled. “Never!”
Robert’s eyes found Scarlett’s, only for a heartbeat, but it was enough. He shifted, broke Mack’s hold, and with a violent twist, threw him forward. Both men crashed to the ground. A sharp, sickening crack split the air, the sound of something breaking that would never mend.
Then silence.
Only the rain remained.
Scarlett’s breath came shallow, her vision swimming. She stared at the two bodies tangled on the floor, waiting for movement. Slowly, Robert pushed himself up, chest heaving. His sword lay forgotten at his side. Mack did not move. His head was turned at an unnatural angle, eyes wide and lifeless.
Scarlett pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. She wanted to look away but couldn’t.
Robert sat back on his heels, staring at the man who’d once served under him. In the flickering light, the Laird’s face was stripped of its command; only exhaustion and disbelief remained.
“Robert…” Scarlett’s voice broke, soft and shaking.
He looked up, and what hardness was left in him crumbled. His face was pale beneath the streaks of rain and blood. His voice, when it came, was rough and low. “Are ye hurt?”
She shook her head, unable to speak. Her hands trembled where they were tied.
In two strides, he was at her side, cutting through the ropes. The moment her wrists came free, Scarlett fell forward, and he caught her.
He pulled her close, one arm around her shoulders, the other cradling her head. “Ye’re safe now,” he murmured into her hair, his voice unsteady. “I’ve got ye, love. I’ve got ye.”
Scarlett buried her face against his chest, breathing in the scent of rain and steel and him. “I thought— Her voice cracked.
“I ken,” he said, holding her tighter. “I thought the same.”
The storm still raged outside, but inside the broken hut, there was only their breathing.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes found his arm, blood dark against the torn fabric. “Robert, ye’re hurt.”
He glanced down, brushing it off with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “A scratch.”
“It’s more than that.” She reached for him, her fingers trembling.
He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest. “I’m fine,” he said softly. “I just needed to see ye breathe again.”
Something in his tone made her throat tighten. “Ye came alone?” “Aye.”
“Ye fool,” she whispered, tears burning in her lashes. “Ye could’ve been killed.”
His mouth curved faintly. “Wouldnae be the first time ye’ve called me that.”
She let out a breath that trembled between laughter and tears. “And it willnae be the last.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face, but it faded as his gaze drifted to Mack’s body.
Scarlett’s hand touched his cheek. “Ye did what ye had to.” Robert’s jaw clenched. “Aye. But I’ll never take pride in it.”
Thunder rolled softly outside, the storm easing at last. Rain trickled through the broken roof, cooling the air that still smelled of smoke and fear.
He rose and extended his hand. “Come. Let’s get ye home.”
Home. The word hit differently now.
Scarlett took his hand without hesitation. His grip was warm and sure, the only solid thing left in a world still shaking.
When dawn began to break, pale light spilling through the thinning clouds, she finally whispered, “Robert?” “Aye?”
She turned slightly, her voice soft. “Thank ye.”
He didn’t answer right away. His arm tightened around her, his breath warm against her temple. “Ye never have to thank me,” he murmured. “I’ll always come for ye.”
The rain eased to a drizzle, the world washed clean. Gundor's towers rose dark against the dawn ahead of them.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why risk yer life like that? For me?”
His eyes softened though his breath still came uneven. “Because there was no choice,” he said simply. “Because I’d rather die finding ye than live a thousand days without ye.”
Scarlett stared at him, speechless. Her tears blurred everything until all she could see was him.
“Ye cannae say things like that,” she murmured, voice shaking. “Not when I daenae ken what to do with them.”
He managed the faintest smile. “Then daenae do anything. Just breathe, Scarlett. Just stay here.”
She leaned into him again, her head resting against his shoulder as thunder rolled across the hills. “I’m here,” she said quietly. “I’m nae going anywhere.”
He let out a long, shuddering breath, his hand splaying against her back as if memorizing the shape of her. “Good,” he whispered. “Because I’ve had enough ghosts for one life.”
The words made her chest ache. “And what will ye do now?” she asked softly.
“Take ye home.” His tone was firm, decisive. “We’ll burn this place to ash and never speak of it again.”
She looked up at him, her face pale but steady. “And ye’ll let yerself rest?”
He snorted, a hint of humor cutting through the exhaustion. “Rest is for the dead, lass. And I’m not there yet.” “Ye’re a fool.”
“Aye,” he said, cupping her jaw, thumb tracing her rain-soaked skin. “But I’m yer fool.”
Her lips parted, a soundless laugh caught between disbelief and something deeper. For a heartbeat, she almost kissed him, almost let the weight of what they’d survived pull them together completely. But the storm’s howl broke the moment, dragging them back to the world beyond these walls.
“We should go,” she said finally.
Robert nodded. He bent to retrieve his sword, wiping it once on his sleeve before sliding it back into its scabbard. His movements were slower now, every step heavier, his body trembling from blood loss. Scarlett noticed and frowned.
“Ye’re barely standing.”
He gave her a look, one that might almost have been amusement. “And yet, here I am.”
“That’s not pride, Robert. That’s foolishness.”
“Call it what ye like,” he murmured. “But I’ll not fall till ye’re safe in yer bed.”
“Then let me help ye.” She moved closer, looping an arm around his waist. “Lean on me.”
He hesitated, the proud laird who’d never taken help from anyone. But something in her eyes made refusal impossible. He nodded once, quietly. “Aye. Just this once.”
They stepped out into the storm together.
“Stay close,” he said. Scarlett blinked. “Robert…”
He struck flint to steel, sparks catching on the dry thatch. Flames leapt instantly, defiant even against the rain.
Her eyes widened. “Ye’re burning it?”
“Aye,” he said without hesitation. “Let the storm take what’s left. I’ll not have this place remembered.”
The fire spread fast, orange and gold licking through the dark, its heat washing over them as they mounted the horse. Scarlett climbed first, settling in the saddle. Robert swung up behind her, wincing as the movement pulled at his wound.
“Ye shouldnae ride,” she said, twisting to look at him. “Ye’re losing too much blood.”
He only tightened his hold on her, one arm firm around her waist. “I’ve ridden through worse.”
“That’s no comfort.” “It wasn’t meant to be.”
Scarlett let out a breath of frustration. “Ye’re impossible.” Robert’s laugh came soft and weary. “So ye’ve told me.”
They rode in silence after that, the steady rhythm of hooves merging with the hiss of rain. Scarlett felt the tremor in his arm where it wrapped around her, the faint, unsteady flutter of his pulse against her back.”
“Robert,” she said quietly after a while, “why daenae ye rest? Let me ride.”
He cut her off gently. “No. Not until ye’re home.” Her throat tightened. “Ye stubborn man.”
His voice came low, near her ear. “Aye… but ye’re here. That’s all that matters.”
Scarlett turned slightly, wanting to see his face, but he pressed his forehead to her shoulder, hiding whatever emotion flickered there.
“Robert…” she began softly.
“Daenae speak,” he murmured. “Just let me have this. The sound of yer heartbeat… the warmth of ye still breathing. I need to know it’s real.”
Her eyes stung again. “It’s real,” she whispered. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving ye.”
His arm tightened once more, the tremor in his hand betraying the pain he wouldn’t admit.
Behind them, the hut burned bright against the rain—a fleeting sun swallowed slowly by the storm. Ahead, Gundor Castle loomed on the horizon, black against the lightning, waiting to reclaim them both.
Scarlett glanced back at him. His chin was against her hair, his breathing slower than it should have been, his weight heavier on her back than when they'd started.
"Robert." She kept her voice steady. "Stay with me."
His arm tightened once, faint but deliberate.
She faced forward. Kept the horse moving. Watched the castle grow closer in the gray dawn and did not let herself think about anything except getting him through those gates.