Chapter 13 #2
“I haven’t dodged anything.”
“Aye? Then why dinna ye tell me right now who ye really are, Elodie MacNeil? Where did ye come from? Why were ye on that hillside? What are ye running from?”
She backed away another step. “I hit my head, remember. My memory—”
“I believed that to start with,” he said. “I dinna believe it anymore. So if ye want the truth about me, how about ye tell me the truth about ye first?”
She tried to speak but nothing came out. How could she explain? How could she tell him she came from a future he couldn’t even imagine?
The silence stretched between them and Ronan’s expression slowly hardened.
“That’s what I thought.”
Before she could speak, he whistled sharply, bringing Bran and Skye bounding towards him. Then he marched away, disappearing into the shadows between the trees.
Elodie watched him go, feeling like her heart was breaking.
RONAN STALKED THROUGH the woods with only the dogs and the silence to keep him company.
The forest was damp from the recent rain. Moss coated fallen trunks and droplets clung to every branch. Somewhere overhead a bird called. Ronan noticed none of it. He was trying not to think. Trying not to remember.
Yet all he could hear was the pistol shot.
The crack echoed through his mind and he saw David falling. The look of shock on the young man’s face as he fell.
He stopped abruptly. His breath caught and for an instant the woods disappeared. He was back there again, on the moor. Smoke hung in the air. Men were shouting. David was being thrown backwards, blood exploding from his shoulder as the musket ball tore through his flesh...
Ronan bent over, bracing his hands on his knees then looked down at his palms. He half expected to see them coated with blood.
His stomach twisted as he remembered reaching for his own pistols.
Remembered the terrible cold clarity that had settled over him as his hesitation vanished and the world narrowed.
He remembered taking aim. Pulling the trigger.
Firing the first pistol. Then the second.
Dropping them to the ground once they were spent and pulling his sword instead.
Murdoch’s men had looked as surprised as David as he’d dispatched them with brutal efficiency. It had been over in minutes. Those men, breathing, talking, living one minute. Snuffed out like a candle flame in the next.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the memories, against the dark, pulsing shame that washed through him
This isn’t who I am, he told himself desperately. I’m not that man.
But a darker, more insidious voice answered him. It’s exactly who you are. Just ask Bryce. Or have you forgotten what you did?
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as though to keep the memories from forming. No. No. No. But they came anyway.
Once again, he was eighteen years old, facing his oldest brother with rage boiling through his veins.
Once again he saw his brother’s arrogant expression as he pronounced their father’s will invalid, pronounced that he was taking everything.
Once again he felt that blind, white-hot fury.
Once again he felt himself lose control, felt the rage take hold of him.
Once again he saw himself draw his dagger, throw himself at Bryce.
He saw his brother’s eyes widen in shock.
Felt the soft pressure as his dagger punched into his brother’s stomach.
Felt the hot wash of blood over his hands.
Felt the horror as he realized what he’d done.
Oh God. Oh God. No more. Please.
But the memories weren’t done with him. Faye’s face flashed in his mind. He heard her voice saying, Ye have a past that could save us all. Will someone have to be seriously hurt before ye act?
And then David falling, blood exploding, Sarah screaming.
No. No. No.
Bran whined suddenly and put a paw on his knee, snapping Ronan back to the present. Around him, the woods were quiet and still. Yet Ronan’s heart was pounding as if he’d been running and a soft sheen of sweat coated his forehead.
“I’m fine,” he told the big sleuthhound.
The lie sounded hollow, even to his own ears, and the dogs weren’t convinced. Skye nudged his hand with her nose and then licked his fingers. Ronan breathed deeply for several moments. Finally, he straightened and carried on walking.
He’d maybe gone a hundred paces before Bran barked in warning and Ronan saw Eamon hurrying towards him through the trees.
“Chief!” the young man called. “There ye are!”
Ronan’s stomach tightened with dread. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Naught. I came to tell ye that David’s awake.”
Ronan felt something inside him loosen. “He is?”
“Aye. Faye thinks he’s going to make it.”
Ronan closed his eyes briefly. Thank the Lord. Relief washed through him so strongly his knees felt weak and he had to brace himself on a nearby tree trunk. Eamon, he noticed, was looking decidedly uncomfortable.
“What’s troubling ye?” Ronan asked.
The young man shifted awkwardly. “I’m sorry, chief.”
“Sorry? For what?”
“If I’d been paying more attention—”
“Eamon.”
“I should have spotted them. If I’d been more careful, then David wouldnae have been hurt.”
The guilt on the lad’s face looked painfully familiar. “It wasnae yer fault,” Ronan said sternly.
“But—”
“It wasnae.” His voice hardened. “Those men were lying in wait. They fooled all of us.”
Eamon looked unconvinced so Ronan put a hand on his shoulder. “I need ye to listen to me. I’ll say it again just so it’s clear. It wasnae yer fault. Understood?”
Slowly, Eamon nodded and the tension left his shoulders.
Ronan removed his hand. “Good. Have ye seen Elodie?”
“Aye, she went out to the clearing near the burn.”
Ronan let out a slow breath. The thought of how he’d left things between them made his stomach twist. “Get back to yer post. Take the dogs with ye.”
Eamon nodded and walked away, calling Bran and Skye to heel.
Ronan watched him go then turned back towards the Steading.
He slowed as he approached the clearing and peered through the trees.
Just as Eamon had said, Elodie was sitting by the burn with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them, the sun glinting in her dark hair.
Ronan slowed and simply stood looking at her. The sight of her hit him with the force of a hammer blow. The wounded look in her eyes after their argument earlier cut him like the sharpest dagger. He never wanted to hurt her. Never.
He cleared his throat and Elodie looked around, her expression brightening when she saw him. His chest constricted painfully. God help him, he didn’t deserve her.
“Any news on David?” she asked him. That was Elodie through and through, her first thought always for others.
“Aye. He’s awake. Faye thinks he will be all right.”
Elodie closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. “Oh thank goodness.”
Ronan sat down cross-legged beside her. The stream burbled softly nearby, filling the air with its gentle speech. There were a hundred things he wanted to say but now that he was here he couldn’t seem to put them into words.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “I came to apologize.”
She cocked her head at him. “Apologize? For what?”
“For being an arse.”
She smiled wryly. “Ah, that.”
“Aye, that. I had no right to speak to ye the way I did. I’m sorry. Can ye forgive me?”