Chapter 30
“Nay one threatens me wife, and nay one takes her from me,” Killian snarled, lunging forward and grabbing Shawn Lyall by the collar of his shirt.
The older Laird stumbled as Killian pushed him back, slamming him against the damp stone walls.
Clearly, the cretin hadn’t been expecting company, too slow to react. But although he was older and long past his prime, he wasn’t to be underestimated. There was plenty of fight left in the old dog, and fearing his end, he would only become more ferocious to survive.
“She’s nae yer wife!” he spat, recovering quickly. “She’s a dead woman.”
Killian noticed the movement of Shawn’s hand half a second too late, a dirk drawn from the folds of his belted plaid. Twisting at the last moment, he felt the faint kiss of the blade against his side. A scratch, nothing more, but enough to remind him to keep his wits about him.
“And yer braither will follow!” Shawn hissed, striking again.
This time, Killian was ready for it. He grabbed the man’s wrist and smashed it hard against the wall, over and over, until Shawn had no choice but to drop the blade. As the metal clattered on the filthy floor, Killian managed to wrap his hand around the older man’s throat, fingers slowly squeezing.
“Me… men will… crush ye… for this,” Shawn wheezed, his eyes bulging.
Desperately, he brought his fist up and tried to punch Killian in the cheek. But there was no momentum, pinned as he was, his calloused knuckles glancing off as Killian turned his face while making sure to keep a firm grip on Shawn’s throat.
“Yer men daenae want to do a damn thing ye say,” Killian bit out. “They’re eager to be rid of ye, and they’ll get what they want today. Murdock will be the Laird of Clan Ainsley before the mornin’ is over, and ye’ll be on yer way to a grave.”
A flicker of uncertainty passed across Shawn’s increasingly purple face. “Ye’ve… conspired?”
“Ye gave him nay choice,” Killian retorted.
“Yer daughter and I gave ye a chance to end this war for good, but ye couldnae do it. Ye were greedy, and ye were nay laird. A true laird puts the welfare of his people above his own wants and desires. That is what Murdock means to do, for his clan and for his daughter. And, aye, for his youngest sister, since he couldnae do aught to spare his other one from yer schemin’ and yer greed. ”
Shawn thrashed, managing to deliver a sharp kick to Killian’s knee that knocked him off balance for a moment. But that moment was all he needed to shove Killian in the chest and dart to the side, running out of the cell altogether. Not bothering to fight anymore.
The wretched man was trying to escape, no doubt knowing that there was nothing he could do now but try to save his own skin.
“Daenae do this, Faither.” Murdock’s voice brought Shawn to an abrupt halt, the towering heir emerging from the shadows of the hallway.
His broadsword was drawn, a sad look in his brown eyes.
“Face yer punishment, as ye’ve always taught us to do.
Ye can live, Faither, but ye’ll spend the rest of yer days in these dungeons. ”
Shawn backed up, but Killian was there to block his exit.
“Ye’d do this to yer own faither?” Shawn muttered, his lip curled. “I’ve given ye everythin’, Murdock, and ye turn on me like this? Ye conspire with MacNairns, after everythin’ we’ve done to claim what’s ours from them?”
Murdock sighed, shaking his head. “Let me ask ye this—what did ye mean to do when I returned today?”
“I… daenae understand,” Shawn replied, yet his eyes narrowed as if he understood perfectly.
“Ye ken I drafted a peace treaty and sent it to Laird MacNairn. I ken that ye ken, so daenae try to deny it,” Murdock said, his voice eerily calm.
“So, I want to ken what ye planned to do about that when I returned. I already ken ye had me messenger killed and replaced with yer own. I also ken that ye put a lock of Skye’s hair in yer threat to Ailis and Laird MacNairn.
What else did ye intend to do, to keep me in line? ”
Shawn seemed to falter, though Killian’s attention was split between the older man and the kneeling figure of his beloved wife. She appeared to be well enough, drawing in deep, measured breaths, but Killian didn’t care to see her bound and frightened in a filthy cell.
Deal with Laird Ainsley first, then ye can free her. She’ll nae be safe until her faither is gone.
“He already told me,” Ailis panted. “He said he’d use Skye. Said he’d do to her what he was doin’ to me if ye didnae obey.”
Murdock nodded slowly. “Aye, I thought so.” He took a step closer to his father. “It’s yer decision, Faither. Ye can live in these dungeons, or ye can die today.”
“Ye wicked imp!” Shawn snapped, lunging suddenly for his son.
Murdock ran straight into him, pushing him back with an almighty roar.
The older man sprawled onto the floor. He lay there panting, winded by the impact.
“He killed yer faither,” Murdock said, equally breathless. “It’s yer right to take revenge, but I willnae do it for ye. I hope ye understand.”
Killian gave a nod of acknowledgement.
Shawn Lyall was still Murdock’s father, regardless of how evil or cruel or twisted he was. It would indeed invite poor fortune if a son were to kill his own father, as dishonorable an act as any in their traditions.
Reaching for his own dagger, Killian kneeled, one knee resting on Shawn’s chest.
“Ailis?” he prompted.
She twisted around to look at him.
“Do ye want me to kill him?”
She hesitated, grazing her teeth across her lower lip. “I daenae want any more bloodshed, but if he lives, I worry that he’ll find a way to hurt those I care for.”
Does she mean me?
Killian knew it wasn’t the time to ask, so he turned his attention back to Shawn.
Having been raised with honor, he didn’t know how to feel about taking the life of a man who was just lying there, helpless. But then he thought of what he had seen Shawn do to Ailis, holding her head under the water, trying to make her suffer as much as possible, and his resolve hardened.
This wretched beast was no helpless being; he was just facing his punishment or pretending.
When Killian saw the old Laird fumbling at his waist, he understood that it was the latter: a ruse, a deception, the man still refusing to give up. Still, Killian pretended not to notice, waiting for Shawn to strike for the sake of honor.
As a new blade glinted in the low torchlight, flying upward to try and stab him in the ribs, he grabbed the man’s wrist and turned the blade in one smooth move. He put all of his strength behind it, driving it into Shawn’s chest.
Indeed, it seemed fitting that Laird Ainsley should die by his own blade and by his own stubbornness.
His eyes widened, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “There’ll… never be peace,” he choked out. “I’ll… still… win.”
“Nay, Laird Ainsley. Ye’ve already lost,” Killian replied, pushing the blade in all the way.
Within minutes, Shawn Lyall, the Laird of Clan Ainsley, was dead, the light gone from his eyes. He lay still on the ground, though Killian was careful to check for a pulse before he drew back. But the man’s black heart was as still as the rest of his bloodthirsty, warmongering self.
A second later, Killian was back in the cell and on his knees in front of his wife.
“Ye’re safe now,” he soothed, reaching around her to untie the ropes that bound her wrists, an excuse to bring her close to him. “Ye’re safe.”
Ailis said nothing, though she leaned against his shoulder as he freed her.
When her bonds had been removed and he hugged her tightly to him, she buried her face deeper into his shoulder.
She tucked her arms in and allowed herself to be held, the dampness on her face and hair making it hard to know if she was crying or not.
I got here in time, love. I shouldnae have waited for so long, or at all, but I’m here now.
“Ye’re safe,” Killian repeated instead, willing her to wrap her arms around him.
She pulled back, her expression dazed. “Th-Thank ye,” she stammered, frowning. “I… um… aye, thank ye.”
Light pressure on his chest surprised him, the push of her hands taking her further away from him.
Not wanting to spook her after the ordeal she had just endured, he loosened his hold on her and let her take a few steps back.
“Congratulations on… um… the end of the war,” she said haltingly, her gaze darting between him and her brother. “And I’m sorry, Killian, for ever suggestin’ to anyone that it was yer clan that started it.”
Murdock cleared his throat. “It was his clan who started it.”
“It wasnae,” Ailis insisted. “I’ll explain everythin’ to ye later. There are things ye might think ye ken, and there are things I’m certain ye daenae. But, for now, ye should return to yer people and yer castle, Killian.”
Killian tilted his head, staring at her in confusion. “Our people, lass. Our castle. Ye’re returnin’ with me.”
“Nay… nay, I’m nae,” Ailis replied, wiping water from her eyes. “The war is finally over, yer braither is alive and safe now, Skye is safe. Everythin’ is as we wanted it to be, so there’s nay reason to force this marriage on ourselves.”
Killian blinked, and even Murdock seemed surprised by his sister’s remarks.
“I’m safe here now,” Ailis added, with a tight smile to her brother.
“Ye will nay longer be distracted from yer duties because of me, Killian. Heaven kens that yer people daenae need a constant reminder of everythin’ they’ve lost because of a war that me faither started out of revenge. Nae even against the MacNairns.”
What is she talkin’ about?
Killian hadn’t heard much of the conversation that had taken place between Ailis and her father, but he was clearly missing some important pieces. Yet, what was evident enough to him was that she was shunning him out of guilt. It was etched in her frown and her watery, sad eyes.
“Peter… is dead,” she said, her voice catching.
“He refused to go back when I told him to. He wanted to escort me all the way, and… that man had him killed. I asked that his body be returned to yer lands, but I daenae ken if it was done. I’m sorry.
And I’m sorry that Fraser was treated so horribly, though he assured me that the finger wasnae taken from his sword hand. ”
Hiding her face from him, she turned and left the cell, walking the short distance to where Fraser was being held.
The door was half open already, Fraser blinking blearily. There had been guards on Killian and Murdock’s way in that had been swiftly dispatched, and Killian guessed they were responsible for the bloody gash on the side of his brother’s head.
Peter is dead?
The revelation stung, a sharp jab under the ribs.
Friends weren’t something that Killian had plenty of, but he had counted his man-at-arms among them. Indeed, Peter had been at his side for so long, through battles and late-night ruminations over good whiskey, that he wasn’t sure what things would look like without his friend there.
Yet, it was precisely the sort of thing that Peter would have done—protecting Lady MacNairn without any thought for his own safety.
Killian didn’t have much time to dwell on it, instinct compelling him to follow Ailis out. After all, he had a brother to take home, a clan to inform about the peace treaty, and a wife to soothe.
Evidently, she wasn’t thinking clearly, but that could be remedied with tenderness and encouragement.
“I wish ye all the best,” Ailis said to Fraser as she paused by his cell. “Please, give me love to Paisley and tell her that… I’m sorry for everythin’ she suffered because of me family.”
Murdock stepped in at that moment. “Why daenae ye tell her yerself, Ailis? She’s waitin’ outside. She was eager to come in, but Killian said he’d refuse the union between her and his braither if she tried to join us.”
“Nay, Braither. I think I’ve caused enough trouble for the MacNairns already,” she replied thickly. “I’d like to retire now. I’m tired, and Skye will be wakin’ up soon, and there’s a lot for us to discuss when I’m ready.”
She moved to leave, but Killian caught hold of her hand, turning her around.
“There’s a lot for us to discuss, too,” he said firmly.
“But what ye need to ken now, lass, is that I willnae be goin’ anywhere without ye.
We can talk elsewhere, I daenae mind that, but I let ye go once, and I willnae make the same mistake twice. ”
Her face fell, her shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “I cannae stop ye from followin’ me,” she said with a sigh, “but I’ll never leave this place again.”
Pulling her hand free, she began to walk away, leaving Killian and Murdock to exchange confused glances, while Fraser raised his injured hand and croaked, “Nae to interrupt whatever the devil is goin’ on here, but can someone help me up? Apparently, me betrothed is waitin’ for me.”