Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
The guards swarmed the room and grabbed Gavin’s arms.
He struggled against them, but their swords were primed and the sharp blades held his rebellion at bay for now. He was dragged towards the door and Isla turned to her father.
“Dinnae hurt him. He hae suffered enough at yer hand already,” she said.
“This man was about tae abduct ye, and ye would defend him?” Laird Sinclair said, before turning to Iain.
“This is what I was trying tae warn ye about, Iain. Women sometimes think they ken best, but their hearts are weak and they take pity on the most pathetic of creatures. They can nae be trusted.”
“Dinnae say that! This is all yer daeing!” Isla countered, practically throwing herself towards her father, trying to push him away from Gavin.
Laird Sinclair twisted around. He caught her trailing foot with his, a subtle trip that nobody aside from Isla saw.
To Iain it would have looked as though Isla bounced off him, but she felt the force of her father’s arm pushing her away.
She crashed to the floor, staring daggers at him. Laird Sinclair held out a hand.
“Please, Isla, this is most humiliating. I thought ye hae grown intae a woman, but ye are acting like a child. It is most unbecoming,” he said.
She slapped his hand away and rose to her feet under her own power. Laird Sinclair turned to Iain again.
“I must apologize for my daughter’s behavior.”
Iain was yet to speak.
“This is between ye and me, Sinclair. Tell ye guards tae leave and we will settle this like men,” Gavin snarled.
“I gave ye a home, and this is how ye treat me? Ye turned yer back on me as soon as ye could, siding with those traitors,” Laird Sinclair snapped.
“There is only one traitor here,” Gavin bit back.
“Ye see, Iain, this is the kind of people we are dealing with. They are angry, greedy, and cannae look past their own self-interest. They need tae be taught a swift lesson, a lesson only they can understand.”
Laird Sinclair held out his hand to a guard and took a sword. He thrust it into Iain’s hand. Iain was still staring at Isla and almost didn’t realize that he was now holding a sword.
He looked down at the weapon and blinked. Laird Sinclair made a motion with his hand. The guards kicked the back of Gavin’s knees and he was forced to the floor. Isla witnessed this all with horror, wondering if she was about to see everything come undone.
“Kill him, Iain. He hae invaded yer Keep and attempted tae steal yer bride. We cannae tolerate such behavior. Gavin MacLaren must die. Let yer pride guide yer sword, and send a message that will be heard across the Highlands,” Laird Sinclair hissed, a dark whisper that promised nothing but sin.
“Iain, dinnae listen tae him! This is nae the way. I can explain everything, please, ye just hae tae listen tae me,” Isla begged, her voice imbued with desperation.
“Ye need tae be decisive, Iain,” Laird Sinclair continued. “Ye must make yer own decisions. Ye cannae let yer wife tell ye what tae dae. A Laird must be strong.”
Laird Sinclair clenched his fists and his eyes flashed with anticipation as he waited for blood to be spilled. Isla’s heart quaked and she was tempted to throw herself in front of Gavin to bring a pause to the moment, to give Iain a chance to think.
But Iain deserved more credit.
“There will be nae killing taenight,” Iain declared quietly, staring at the blade in his hand. “Take him tae the dungeons for the time being. There hae been too much blood spilled in the Highlands and I dinnae want tae continue that here.”
Laird Sinclair looked disgusted, but although Iain’s voice was quiet, his resolve was strong and Laird Sinclair did not try to dissuade him.
“As ye wish,” he conceded, and again motioned to the guards, who dragged a thrashing Gavin out of the room.
Her father threw Isla one last look, however, and it was a look of victory, a domineering look that suggested she could never win and that he would always be one step ahead of her.
Within moments she was alone with Iain, who was still holding his sword. The air was charged with anxiety and she couldn’t help but feel that Iain was angry with her, as he had every right to be.
“Thank ye for nae killing him, Iain. Please allow me tae explain,” she began, but Iain lifted his gaze and looked at her with such an intense stare that it stole the words from her throat.
“He is a criminal who came tae hurt ye. Naething else matters,” he said quietly, although it was clear that there were plenty of thoughts running through his mind. “We are tae be married taemorrow. I hope that ye are feeling better and that the night shall be restful.”
He turned away before Isla could say anything more. Iain closed the door.
This time a key did not turn in the lock, not that Isla was going anywhere. The man she loved was in a dungeon. The one she was supposed to marry might think she was a traitor. Between them her father loomed, mocking her, winning despite all of her grand plans.
Perhaps she wasn’t cut out to usurp him.
But what could she do now? Gavin was lost to her, and she might have surrendered any chance she had of turning Iain to her side.
Gavin hung his head as he was led to the dungeons. His feet dragged against the floor. A couple of other guards had come to join the ones already escorting him. Laird Sinclair wasn’t taking any chances.
Gavin’s muscles ached from the climb, but even so he considered breaking free and putting up a fight.
However, the fight would be short. Even if he overpowered these guards, Laird Sinclair was nearby, no doubt standing ready with a dagger to slip between his ribs.
If Gavin did slip away, there were still so many guards standing between him and freedom.
People thought him reckless, and in many ways he was. But he was also a survivor and he had spent enough time in Inverdane Hall to pick up a few things from the foxes, like how to think ahead.
And what was most important now was to see Isla again. He sensed she had been lying to him before, and their kiss confirmed it.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her and all she needed was to shrug away the chains of circumstance that bound them. As long as she lived, he would live in the hope of tasting her lips again.
Her kindness had kept him going for ten years, and now his love for her would help him endure whatever was to come.
Like so many other dungeons these ones were cramped, damp, and reeked of mold and misery.
He was thrown roughly into a cell, placed behind iron bars.
Laird Sinclair dangled the keys in front of his face.
The older man curled his fingers around the bars and placed his face in between them, grinning maliciously at Gavin.
“The fallen lion finds his way tae me again. Did ye really think ye could escape my attention? I ken everything, Gavin. Ye hae always been a failure. Ye were a failure tae ye father, a failure tae the Pact, and now ye hae been a failure tae Isla.” Laughter rumbled beneath his words.
“Did ye believe ye could take her away from me? My hold on her is too great. Naething happens in these lands without my design.”
Gavin glared at him. For years he had suffered in silence, taking all the beatings and abuse with a heavy heart because he knew things would be worse if he lashed out.
But those days were over. Things couldn’t get any worse.
“Ye arrogance will be the end of ye. I will hae yer head by the time I am done. Ye hae lost yer children, yer home, yer wife… and for what?”
“For everything,” the man hissed, his eyes growing wide.
“Ye think anything else matters more than power? Everything I hae done, every child I brought intae the world, was tae help me ascend. I hae a vision a long time ago, and for a long time I hae waited, and now I can finally make that vision a reality. The Highlands shall be mine, and it will be built upon a foundation of bodies of all those traitors who stood against me.”
“Ye are the traitor. Ye are the one who broke the Pact.”
“It was my Pact tae break. Ye hae nae idea the thought and planning that went intae this. What ye dinnae realize is that the Highlands are already mine, all I need now is for other people tae realize it.”
“There are plenty who will stop ye,” Gavin said, although Laird Sinclair was so deranged that Gavin wondered if there might be some truth to what he said.
“Did ye truly think she would follow ye? What could ye hae even offered her? What kind of life could ye hae promised her? Ye hae naething. Ye are naething. Ye were naething when ye came tae Inverdane Hall, and ye will be naething when yer eyes close for the last time.”
Gavin was getting tired of his words. He snarled and then lunged forward as quickly as he could, reaching beyond the bars to try to grab Sinclair’s tunic.
He succeeded, but only for a moment. The guards brought fists down upon his arm like hammers, shoving him back. Laird Sinclair composed himself but did not return to the bars.
“I ken ye are thinking tae yerself that this is nae the end… but it is. Naebody can outsmart the fox, least of all a dull-witted lion.”
Laird Sinclair chuckled to himself as he left with his guards in tow. The sound lingered, echoing around Gavin’s ears. Gavin slammed his arm against the iron bars, ignoring the pain. He gritted his teeth and prayed that Laird Sinclair wasn’t right.
There were still others fighting against him. His brother Aidan and his wife. Coll and Rowena. Kai and Kirsty. And most importantly, Isla.
They all had the future in their hands. Laird Sinclair’s vision would remain just that.
Sinclair’s words haunted Gavin, though, because he wasn’t sure there was a place for him in that fight. He’d tried and he’d failed. He wasn’t sure he would be given an opportunity to try again. Perhaps he should leave and give Isla a happy life if Iain could find it in himself to forgive her.
He had her kiss. He had her love. That might have been all he was going to get.