Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Marian’s mind raced.
She glanced at the door quickly, estimating the distance to it with her eyes.
A few yards. Too far.
Her gaze flicked back to Edmund. His steps were hurried now, loud against the stone floor as he closed in on her.
She knew that she could not possibly reach the door in time to escape him. Not with her injury.
Her eyes widened as he stretched the twine taut between his hands, his thin lips curling into a sinister smile.
“Please,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice but unable to stop it. “Uncle, please—”
Edmund smirked, releasing a sharp, rough breath. “Begging won’t help you now, niece,” he drawled, his words twisting her heart with cold dread.
His face contorted into a cruel, crooked expression, and she lunged for the door, barely thinking about it. Her movement was quicker than her body could handle in its current state.
Pain shot through her side where she’d struck the table, but a desperate surge of strength drove her forward, stretching her further than she’d thought possible.
So close.
Her fingers stretched forward, grazing the handle ever so slightly, just as Edmund’s hand closed around her arm.
“No!” The word tore from her throat in a shout as he yanked her backward, spinning her so violently that her shoulder slammed into the wall.
Marian fell to the floor before she realized it. The impact stole the breath from her lungs, and she gasped, her vision blurring slightly.
Edmund crouched beside her, a low laugh escaping him. He tangled his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back until her neck arched at an unnatural angle.
Marian clawed at his wrist, her fingers slipping against his sleeve uselessly as she tried to pry him off her.
“You… you do not have to do this.” Her voice was thin and desperate as she pleaded with him.
“On the contrary,” he said, tightening his grip on her hair until she winced. “I very much do.”
Marian’s throat went dry.
He’s going to kill me.
Her body shuddered at the realization, and she thought of something, anything that could possibly distract him. Even for a moment.
Her eyes landed on the twine in his free hand—his weapon, perhaps—and she swallowed, an idea coming to her mind.
My mother…
She only had one shot, so she allowed herself to feel the pain of her mother’s betrayal, hoping her attempt would be convincing enough to distract her uncle.
I can grieve later.
“My mother,” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper. “She would hate you if—”
“She suggested I use this twine,” Edmund interrupted, a faint smile curving his mouth. “Do you not understand? Juliet does not care—”
Marian twisted hard. She pulled the twine off his hand and threw it across the room with all of her might.
Edmund released his grip on her hair for a moment, and she twisted, tugging herself free as quickly as she could. Only then did she realize how difficult it was to stand upright after two hard falls.
She dragged herself backward until her back hit the wall, breathing heavily as a tear rolled down the side of her cheek. Her limbs shook as she tried to stand, refusing to cooperate as pain spread deeper through her bones.
It is over.
A shiver ran down her spine as she looked up, meeting Edmund’s gaze.
I have made it worse.
“You foolish girl,” he gritted out as he rose to his feet, supporting his weight with his cane.
His tone was more terrifying than any fury could have been.
Marian swallowed. She tried to stand again and failed, a gasp escaping her lips.
“Did you really think I would let you walk away?” Edmund walked slowly toward her, his cane hitting the floor loudly with every step. “You had your chance to do this the proper way, Marian. I gave you every opportunity to be useful, and you refused. Now, it is over.”
Marian shook her head, her breath coming faster. “You cannot do this.” Her voice was almost a whimper now. “I will—”
The words died in her throat as he stopped in front of her.
“You will what?” he murmured, bending slightly to meet her gaze. “Marry the brute?”
Marian shook her head, a tear sliding down her cheek.
“What will you do, Marian? Crawl to the door? Scream for the brute to save you?” He spat on the floor beside her.
“Stand up,” Edmund ordered coldly. “Your mother raised you as a proper English lady. It’s only fair that you die as one.”
Marian wiped the tear with the back of her hand, hating it. Bile rose in her throat.
“You cannot walk out of here, Edmund,” she said quietly, drawing a breath to steady herself.
“Get up!” His voice thundered across the room.
Marian groaned as she forced herself upright, dragging herself up against the wall for support, even as her limbs shook with pain and exertion.
“Lachlan…” she panted, saying his name like a prayer. “Lachlan will hunt you down.”
Her words seemed to break something within him. Something dark flickered in his eyes, then he lunged at her, moving so fast that she barely saw it.
A sharp object collided with her temple, and white light exploded behind her eyes. The room spun violently as her legs gave way beneath her. And afterward came the darkness, closing in as she fell to the floor.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and all pain ceased to exist.
Lachlan had never found it harder to sit still. His fingers tapped against the desk as he questioned Finn, each answer leaving him more dissatisfied than the last.
“What do ye make of the bastard?” he asked.
Finn straightened slightly. “I cannae say, me Laird,” he replied carefully. “He seemed… normal. Said he wanted to see his dear niece.”
“Dear niece,” Lachlan hissed, his jaw clenching slightly. “The English surely ken how to sweeten their words.”
Finn’s brow furrowed slightly, but he did not speak again.
Lachlan glanced out the window. The evening had settled quicker than he had expected, and the sky was beginning to darken. Yet, he had heard nothing from Marian.
He drew a deep breath. “How long have they been in the receivin’ room?” he asked.
Finn shifted in his seat. “’Tis been a while.” He paused before adding thoughtfully, “Perhaps they have a lot to discuss.”
Lachlan huffed. His finger struck the desk harder once, then he paused.
The situation made him increasingly uncomfortable, mostly because he did not know what Marian’s choice would be, and he was not used to sitting around, waiting.
Perhaps she would stay.
His jaw tightened.
Or perhaps she has already left.
His muscles tensed as he fought the urge to pace the room.
“Me Laird,” Finn said slowly.
Lachlan looked up, realizing that he had been tapping his feet against the floor.
“I think they would tell us…” Finn hesitated. “Before they leave.”
They?
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked more closely at Finn, and for the first time that evening, he noticed that he wasn’t the only upset person in the room.
His eyebrows drew together.
He had not paid any mind to Finn’s peculiar friendship with Marian’s maid, though he had noticed it in passing. But now, he caught a hint of sadness in his expression and thought about it.
Lilly seemed to have been crying when he had gone into Marian’s chamber earlier.
Perhaps…
The door burst open, striking the stone wall behind it with a loud bang.
Lachlan jumped to his feet at once, his hand instinctively reaching for the dirk at his belt before he even looked up to see who it was.
“Lilly?” Finn’s voice was a pitch lower than usual as he crossed the room quickly.
Lachlan paused, his dirk half unsheathed as he followed his gaze.
What is she doin’ here?
He pushed the dirk back down into its sheath, watching the two.
Lilly trembled as she stood before Finn, and he gently gripped her shoulders, steadying her before gazing softly into her eyes.
“What has happened to ye?” he asked.
Lachlan’s eyebrows flew up. He had half expected Finn to usher her out of the study. Instead, the man waited patiently for her to speak, even as her breath came in sharp, broken gasps.
“It is not me, Finn,” she hiccupped, her lips trembling as tears streamed down her face. “It is… it is Her Ladyship.”
Lachlan froze. Something twisted sharply in his chest, and he quickly rounded the desk, his eyes darkening as he moved toward Finn and Lilly.
“Marian.” His voice was tight. “What has happened to her?”
Lilly let out a sob, and Lachlan’s jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin.
“Speak, lass.” His tone was sharper than he had intended, but he did not care. “Now.”
His mind raced ahead of her words, grasping at many different scenarios, each worse than the last.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
She stifled her sobs. “In the receiving chamber.”
Lachlan’s shoulders relaxed for just a moment.
She hasnae left.
He released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.
“Then why are ye cryin’, Lilly?” Finn asked gently.
Lachlan picked up his sword and fastened it to his belt impatiently.
God help me if—
“Her uncle…” Lilly sniffed. “I think…”
Lachlan’s head snapped up.
“I heard shouting,” she continued, her voice shaking, “And then… something like a blow.”
His heart sank. The word struck him harder than any blade, and something in his chest went cold.
He did not wait to hear another word. He turned and stormed out of the study, his feet carrying him faster than he could arrange his thoughts.
His boots struck hard against the stone as he made his way down the hidden staircase to the Great Hall, his pace quickening with every step.
Finn and Lilly followed behind him as fast as they could, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered. By the time he reached the Great Hall, he was already running.
His heart pounded as he hurried toward the receiving chamber with just one person on his mind—Marian.