Chapter 22
Time slowed to a crawl.
Elijah saw the knife coming, saw the hatred in Paisley’s eyes, the desperate fury that made her lash out at her own daughter. Saw Piper starting to turn, her face still flushed with anger and defiance, completely unaware of the blade arcing toward her.
He moved.
But he was too far away. Too slow. Just like with Catherine, he was going to be too late.
Piper’s arm came up at the last second, some instinct making her try to protect herself. The knife meant for her face caught her forearm instead, slicing deep. Blood bloomed instantly, dark and terrible in the moonlight.
Piper cried out, stumbling forward, and Elijah caught her before she could fall.
“Enough!” he roared, the word tearing from his chest with such force that everyone in the clearing froze. “Enough!”
He released Piper carefully, making sure she was steady, then turned to face the mercenary who’d held her captive. The man with the broken nose who was still trying to grab her, still trying to complete his job.
Elijah’s vision went red.
He crossed the distance between them in three strides, his sword already drawn. The mercenary barely had time to raise his own blade before Elijah was on him.
“Ye touched her,” Elijah snarled, his sword crashing against the man’s with brutal force. “Ye put yer hands on me woman.”
“I was just followin’ orders,” the man gasped, stumbling back under the assault.
“Ye threatened her. Hurt her. Terrified her.” Each word was punctuated with another strike. “And for that, ye will die.”
“Wait, please! I was just hired.”
“I daenae care.”
Elijah’s blade found its mark, sliding between the man’s ribs with practiced precision. The mercenary’s eyes widened in shock, then went dim. He crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the dirt.
Elijah turned, blood on his sword, fury in his eyes, to face Findlay and Paisley. They’d backed up against a tree, their faces pale with terror. Paisley still held her knife, but her hand was shaking so badly the blade trembled.
“Ye cut her,” Elijah said softly, advancing on them. “Ye drew yer own daughter’s blood.”
“It was an accident—” Paisley started.
“It was attempted murder.” Elijah’s voice was ice. “And ye’re goin’ to pay for it.”
“Stay back!” Findlay’s voice cracked with panic. He looked at the remaining mercenaries, the four who’d been hanging back, watching. “Kill him! Kill the Laird! Whoever does it gets double the money! Triple! Whatever ye want!”
The mercenaries exchanged glances. Then, as one, they moved forward.
“Declan!” Elijah called, not taking his eyes off the advancing men.
“Already here, me laird!” Declan appeared at Elijah’s side, his sword drawn and ready. Blood stained his shirt, not his own, Elijah noted with grim satisfaction. “Just like old times, aye?”
“Aye. Just like old times.”
The three mercenaries rushed them, but they were disorganized, undisciplined. Hired thugs who’d probably never faced real warriors before.
Elijah and Declan had been training together for fifteen years. Had fought side by side in more battles than either could count. They moved like water, like dancers, anticipating each other’s movements without needing words.
Elijah took the one on the left. Steel clashed against steel, the sound ringing through the clearing.
The first man went down quickly, a feint high, then a strike low that took out his knee. He fell with a scream, and Elijah’s pommel to his temple silenced him.
The second was more skilled, actually managing to block Elijah’s first three strikes. But on the fourth, Elijah twisted his wrist in a move his father had beaten into him years ago, disarming the man. A swift kick to the chest sent him sprawling.
Declan was having similar success. One of his opponents was already unconscious on the ground. The other was backing up, his sword raised defensively, clearly rethinking his life choices.
“Yield,” Declan said pleasantly. “I promise the dungeons are relatively comfortable.”
The man dropped his sword and raised his hands.
“Smart lad,” Declan said. “Now, on yer knees. Hands behind yer head.”
Elijah turned back to Findlay and Paisley. They’d tried to use the distraction to run, but they’d only made it a few steps before freezing when they realized they had nowhere to go.
Findlay’s face twisted with desperate rage. “This isnae over! Ye think ye’ve won, but we’ll tell everyone what ye did! How ye attacked innocent people! How ye are wicked.”
He charged forward, his fists raised, trying to overwhelm Elijah with sheer desperation if not skill.
Elijah didn’t even bother drawing his sword. He simply stepped aside, letting Findlay’s momentum carry him past, then delivered a single, precise punch to the man’s jaw.
Findlay dropped like a stone, unconscious before he hit the ground.
“Pathetic,” Elijah said, looking down at him with disgust. “Ye’re absolutely pathetic. One hit. That’s all it took.”
He turned to Paisley, who had dropped her knife and was now cowering against the tree, her hands raised in surrender.
“Please,” she whimpered. “Please, we dinnae mean to make ye angry. We were just—”
“Just what? Just tryin’ to extort money from me by threatenin’ yer own daughter? Just hirin’ men to kidnap her? Just slashin’ her with a knife when she refused to cooperate?” Elijah’s voice was deadly quiet. “Which part of that was ‘just’ anythin’?”
“We’re desperate! We’re in debt! We had nay choice!”
“Ye always have a choice,” Elijah said. “And ye chose wrong. Over and over again. And now ye’ll pay for those choices.”
He turned to Declan, who’d finished securing the conscious mercenary. “Take them to the dungeons. All of them. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.”
“With pleasure, me laird.” Declan grabbed Findlay’s unconscious form, slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “What about the dead one?”
“Leave him for now. Send men back to collect the body.” Elijah glanced at the mercenary he’d killed and felt nothing. No guilt. No remorse. The man had threatened Piper. That was enough.
Declan began herding the prisoners back toward the castle, Paisley stumbling along in shock, the other mercenaries battered and defeated. Their voices faded into the darkness.
Elijah stood alone in the clearing for a moment, his heart still racing, adrenaline still singing through his veins.
Then he heard a soft sound behind him. A whimper of pain.
Piper.
He’d almost forgotten—no, not forgotten, never forgotten—but the battle rage had pushed everything else aside. Now it came flooding back.
Piper was hurt. Bleeding. Because of her mother. Because he hadn’t been fast enough to stop it.
Elijah turned to find her sitting on the ground where he’d left her, her hand pressed to her bleeding arm, her face pale with shock.
“Piper,” he breathed, crossing to her in three long strides. He dropped to his knees beside her. “Let me see.”
“It’s nothin’. I’m fine.” But her voice shook, and there was so much blood.
“Let me see,” Elijah repeated, gently but firmly moving her hand away from the wound.
The cut was deep, running from her wrist halfway up her forearm. Not life-threatening, probably, but bad enough. It would need stitches. It would leave a scar. Another scar for her collection. Another mark of pain inflicted by the people who should have protected her.
“I’m so sorry,” Elijah said, his voice rough. “I should have stopped her. Should have been faster.”
“Ye saved me,” Piper interrupted. “Ye came for me. Ye fought for me.” Tears were streaming down her face now. “I thought… I thought they were goin’ to kill me. Or worse. And then ye were there, and ye…”
Her voice broke on a sob.
Elijah pulled her against his chest, careful of her injured arm, and held her while she cried. His shirt was already covered in blood, some the mercenary’s, some Piper’s, but he didn’t care.
“I’ve got ye,” he murmured, one hand stroking her hair. “I’ve got ye, lass. Ye’re safe now.”
“I was so scared,” Piper sobbed. “When they grabbed me, when they took me, I thought I’d never see ye again. Never see the children again. Never be near them again.”
“But ye’re here. Ye’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
“I thought I was goin’ to die,” Piper continued, the words pouring out now. “And all I could think was that I never told ye, all I never said.”
“Hush, lass. It’s all right.”
“Nay, it’s nae all right!” Piper pulled back enough to look at him, her gray eyes bright with tears and something else. Something fierce. “I need to say this. I need ye to ken.”
“I ken,” Elijah said softly. “I already ken.”
“Ye what?”
“I was terrified tonight,” Elijah admitted. “When that man grabbed ye, when he threatened to kill ye.” He stopped, his throat tight. “All I could think was that I couldnae lose ye. That if somethin’ happened to ye, I… I wouldnae survive it.”
“Elijah.”
“I failed Catherine,” he continued, the words he’d been holding back for nine years finally breaking free.
“I was too slow, too distracted. And she died blamin’ me for it.
Died thinkin’ I’d failed her. And maybe I did.
Maybe I wasnae fast enough or strong enough.
But tonight, tonight I swore I wouldnae let that happen again.
Wouldnae let ye slip through me fingers. Because I…”
He stopped, the final words catching in his throat.
“Because what?” Piper whispered.
“Because I love ye,” Elijah said, the admission feeling like diving off a cliff.
“I love ye, Piper Armstrong. I love yer courage and yer kindness and the way ye challenge me. I love how ye protect me children like they’re yer own.
I love how ye make me want to be better, to do better. I love everythin’ about ye.”
Piper stared at him, her lips parted in shock. “Ye love me?”
“Aye.” Elijah cupped her face with his free hand, his thumb brushing away her tears.
“I ken I shouldnae. I ken ye’re a governess, and I’m yer the Laird, and there’s a hundred reasons why this is complicated.
But I daenae care. I love ye. And tonight, when I thought I might lose ye, it nearly destroyed me. ”
“I love ye too,” Piper breathed, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’ve loved ye for… I daenae even ken how long. Weeks? It feels like forever. And I thought… I thought ye could never feel the same way about someone like me.”
“Someone like ye?” Elijah’s voice was fierce. “Someone brave and beautiful and better than I deserve? Aye, I suppose ye’re right about that last part. But I feel it anyway. I love ye anyway.”
“Beautiful,” Piper repeated, like she couldn’t quite believe it. “Ye really think I’m beautiful?”
“I think ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Elijah said. “Inside and out. And I want to spend the rest of me life provin’ it to ye. If ye’ll let me.”
“What are ye sayin’?” Piper’s voice was barely audible.
Elijah took a deep breath. This was insane. They’d known each other for less than two months. She’d been through trauma tonight, was bleeding, and in shock. This was possibly the worst time to be doing this.
But he’d almost lost her. Had come so close to watching her die. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—wait another moment to make his intentions clear.
“Marry me,” he said.
Piper’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“Marry me,” Elijah repeated. “I ken it’s sudden.
I ken ye’ve been through hell tonight. I ken there are a dozen practical reasons why we should wait.
But I daenae want to wait. I want ye to be mine properly, legally, forever.
I want to wake up every day knowin’ ye’re safe and protected and loved.
I want to give ye everythin’ ye’ve never had, security, comfort, a home where ye’re valued. I want—”
“Aye,” Piper interrupted.
“—to show ye every day that ye… wait, what?”
“Aye,” Piper repeated, a smile breaking through her tears. “Aye, I’ll marry ye.”
Elijah stared at her, convinced he’d misheard. “Ye will?”
“Aye, ye daft man. I love ye. I want to be with ye. I want to be a maither to yer children, if they’ll have me. I want all of it. With ye.”
“But… but ye’re bleedin’. Ye’re hurt. Ye should think about this, make sure ye’re really sure.”
“I’m sure,” Piper said firmly. “I’ve never been surer of anythin’ in me life. I love ye, Elijah. And aye, I’ll marry ye.”
Elijah felt something inside his chest crack open—something that had been locked tight since Catherine died. Joy. Pure, uncomplicated joy.
He pulled Piper close, mindful of her injured arm, and kissed her. Not gently, not carefully, but with all the desperation and relief and love that had been building inside him.
Piper kissed him back just as fiercely, her good hand fisting in his shirt, anchoring him to her.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Elijah rested his forehead against hers.
“I promise ye,” he said quietly. “I promise I’ll spend every day of the rest of me life makin’ sure ye never regret this. Makin’ sure ye ken how loved ye are. How precious ye are.”
“I ken,” Piper said softly. “I already ken. Because ye came for me tonight. Ye fought for me. Ye chose me.”
“I’ll always choose ye,” Elijah vowed. “Always. Nay matter where ye go, nay matter what happens, I’ll follow. I’ll find ye. I’ll protect ye. Because ye’re mine now, Piper. Truly mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”
“And I’m yers,” Piper said, smiling despite the tears still on her cheeks. “Truly yers.”
They sat there in the clearing for a long moment, holding each other, letting the reality of what had just happened sink in.
Elijah had faced his demons tonight. Had saved Piper where he’d failed Catherine. Had finally let himself feel something more than duty and guilt.
And Piper—brave, beautiful Piper—had chosen him back. Had agreed to marry him. To be his.
“We should get ye back to the castle,” Elijah said eventually. “That arm needs tendin’ to.”
“Aye,” Piper agreed. “But first, kiss me again. Please. I need to ken this is real.”
So Elijah kissed her again, there in the moonlit clearing, with blood on his sword and hope in his heart.
And for the first time in nine years, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he deserved this. Deserved her.
Deserved to be happy.