Chapter 18
Pelna ran into the keep with Gareth at her heels. Her entire body felt like a single raw and quivering exposed nerve, and she took the stairs two at a time, frantic and terrified.
“Father?” she called out. “Father, are ye all right? Answer me!”
She turned the corner into the corridor that led to Laird Cameron’s bedchamber and saw, to her horror, that the door was open. She ran to it and skidded to a halt in the doorway.
What she saw there made her blood freeze in her veins.
Laird Cameron had been slain—run through the heart, from the look of it, with his blood staining the sheets and blankets around him.
His final expression of fright and anguish was frozen on his face.
It was the same look Bran’s corpse had worn, but it hurt her heart infinitely more to see it on her father.
Jamie stood next to the bed, likewise covered in blood.
He looked up at Pelna with grief and alarm, gesturing at the laird’s body helplessly.
“I knew it was a distraction,” he moaned pitifully.
“I ran up here as soon as I could tae make sure the Laird was safe, but I arrived too late, it seems. He is murdered, and his killer has fled!” Then his eyes went to Gareth and narrowed suspiciously.
“And now I see the man who doubtless ordered this death. Come tae inspect the handiwork of yer assassin, have ye? Tae make sure he did his job well, as ye told him tae?”
“Calm yerself,” Gareth replied, putting a hand up. “I am here tae help, and I had nothing tae do with this.”
“A likely story!” Jamie snapped. “Just coincidence, I suppose, that ye happened tae show up when ye did? Or perhaps ye had yer soldiers ride in at the perfect time tae create an even larger distraction than the fire, givin’ yer killer more time tae do his evil work?”
Pelna ran to her father’s bedside, holding his cold hand and sobbing. She had spent weeks preparing herself for the possibility of his death, but not like this, nothing so horrid and unspeakable as this.
“He was already dyin’,” she wept. “His days were numbered! Why would someone cut them shorter still? What purpose could such cruelty possibly serve?”
“Why don’t ye ask yer new suitor?” Jamie snarled. “I have no doubt he could tell ye easily enough since he’s the villain behind it all! Yer father even said as much tae ye last night, I ken he did! The McDaughs are evil! They must all be destroyed, down tae the last man!”
“I shall ignore the harsh words ye have spoken thus far,” Gareth told him through clenched teeth, “fer I suspect they were uttered out of grief. However, I advise ye tae control yer means of expression going forward. I do not appreciate baseless accusations or the threats which accompany them.”
“Who cares what ye bloody appreciate?” Jamie sneered. “Go! Take yer damned men and leave our lands at once before I summon the rest of our armies tae strike ye all down here and now!”
“Stefan Wallace might have a thing or two tae say about that,” Gareth pointed out.
“Then let him come and say it, after seein’ what ye have had done tae his father! By God, ye knave, I’ll drive ye out of here myself if I have tae!”
Jamie started forward, enraged, and that was when Pelna saw that he was limping slightly. She looked down at his ankle and saw a deep scuff mark.
She recognized it well, for she had left it there herself not half an hour earlier.
Her grief had blinded her to it initially, but now she also noticed that Jamie’s clothes seemed identical to those her hooded attacker had worn.
At that, everything fell into place for her.
“Gareth, it was him!” she blurted out. “He’s the one who tied me up in the hut!”
“What?” Jamie scoffed incredulously. “Don’t be ridiculous! What hut? I went tae help with the fire when the alarm sounded, and when I realized it was meant tae draw attention from the plot against the laird’s life, I came straight up here!”
“Nay, ye monster!” she raged. “Ye fiend! I ken it was ye!”
Gareth began to raise his sword, eyeing Jamie uneasily. “I think ye ought tae stay right where ye are, lad,” he warned.
Jamie gave him a baleful glare…and then, suddenly, broke into a wicked grin.
“No, I don’t believe I shall,” he retorted.
“In fact, I believe I’ll kill the both of ye right here and now.
I’ll tell Stefan and Daric that their father and their poor dear sister were killed by none other than Gareth McDaugh, who arranged fer the fire so he could swoop in with his forces tae help, and no one would suspect or stop him.
And all so he could come up here and commit cold-blooded murder.
I stopped him from fleein’, there was a fight, and I ran him through.
No doubt I’ll be promoted tae captain of the guard after that, and the warrin’ between the McDaughs and Wallaces will go on in earnest. I’m sure that will be good news fer the Sinclairs indeed. ”
He drew his sword from its sheath, and Pelna saw it still had her father’s blood upon it. The sight of it was almost enough to make her gag.
“Is that why ye have caused all this, Jamie? Have ye been in the employ of the Sinclairs the whole bloody time?”
“I most certainly have,” he answered with a slight bow.
“I was little more than a stableboy fer them, but I showed an aptitude with the sword and bow, and so they chose tae give me a chance tae prove myself. They told me tae come here and join yer guardsmen, and so I did and made myself both trusted and indispensable in the process. It was difficult tae contrive a reason tae split up when Aidan and I were out on the moors lookin’ for ye, my lady, but I told the pot-bellied fool that in doing so, we could cover more ground and thus find ye more easily.
From there, it was a simple enough matter fer me tae double back, track ye tae that barn, and attempt tae kill both of ye from a distance.
Though, in truth, if I had managed tae kill even one of ye, that would have sufficiently stirred up the ire between yer clans. ”
“Perhaps if ye were a better shot, ye might have succeeded,” Gareth suggested coolly.
Jamie’s grin vanished, and he bared his teeth angrily. “If it weren’t for that damned storm, I’d have easily shot both of ye right between the bloody eyes! But no matter.” He hefted the sword, continuing to advance on Gareth. “This is better, I think. Aye, this will do nicely!”
Jamie swung the blade, and although Gareth might normally have sidestepped it rather easily, his recent injuries made him slow. As it was, he barely got out of the way in time, and the tip slashed a line across the front of Gareth’s tunic.
His grimace said it all: That was too close.
Jamie lunged, and this time Gareth was able to parry it, though the effort was great.
He thrust his own sword at Jamie, who tried to dodge, but his ankle tripped him up and he lost his balance, staggering and catching himself against the wall.
The blade missed its mark but still managed to glance off Jamie’s forearm, drawing blood.
The weapons clanged together, the two men wounded but furious enough to fight through it.
Gareth aimed a blow at Jamie’s head, and the sword seemed to weigh five times what it normally did in his hands.
His shoulders throbbed and screamed, and he was still weak from all the blood he’d lost the night before, not to mention his arduous trek from the border back to the abandoned farmhouse.
Jamie ducked the strike, aiming his sword at Gareth’s heart and lashing out. Gareth blocked the attempt with difficulty, and the two swords remained locked together, quivering in the hands of their owners.
“I had hoped tae have a bit of fun with Pelna before sendin’ her tae her final reward,” Jamie mocked, “but I suppose this will have tae do!”
Pelna desperately wished for a weapon. It seemed as though every damned room in the keep had ceremonial swords and daggers mounted on the walls except for her father’s bedchamber, an oversight she cursed bitterly as her hand closed around a large candle holder, testing its weight.
It seemed heavy enough for her purposes, and she approached Jamie from behind while his attention was directed at Gareth.
Gareth’s eyes darted to her, alarmed. It was clear that he did not want her to risk drawing nearer to the man for fear that an errant swing of his sword might hit her.
She was not overly pleased by the prospect of that either, but neither did she have any intention of standing aside helplessly while Gareth’s life was at risk.
If he were at full strength, that would be one thing, but to see him struggle against Jamie, the swine who had murdered her father, was simply more than she could bear.
Jamie drew his sword back for another swing and, in doing so, nearly took Pelna’s head off without even realizing it. She cringed away from the blade, and Gareth’s eyes widened, a warning hovering on his lips.
Unfortunately, the brief look of alarm on Gareth’s face was enough to let Jamie know that something was going on behind him. He glanced over his shoulder just in time for Pelna to bring the candle holder crashing down on his forehead.
Jamie cried out, staggering. His face twisted with rage, and blood began to trickle down the side of it.
Gareth took a page from Jamie’s book, using a momentary yet devastating distraction to do what he needed to.
He stepped forward and ran Jamie through with his blade, piercing his heart.
“That’s fer the arrow,” Gareth growled.
Jamie’s face went slack with shock and dismay. His fingers went limp, and his sword clattered to the floor.
“Nay,” he breathed in a trembling voice. “It…wasn’t supposed tae happen like this.”
Gareth pulled his sword free, and Jamie tumbled like a puppet with its strings cut, dead before he even hit the floor.
Gareth tossed his own sword aside with shaking hands, and Pelna ran to his embrace with tears in her eyes.
“Oh Gareth, I was so worried! He took my father from me, and he almost took ye as well!”
“We’re safe now,” Gareth assured her, holding her tightly. “He’ll never trouble us or anyone else again.”
She looked up at him. “But what of the Sinclairs? They must be made tae pay for this!”
“They will,” he promised. “No matter what it takes.”