Chapter 18 #3
Something cold settled into Ronan’s gut.
Aye, he knew it. He’d known it from the moment he’d decided to agree to Faye’s request and take his people south.
He’d been fooling himself to think that he might be able to win back his lands without bloodshed.
Bryce would see him hang before he handed over his lands.
But the Murdochs were offering him another way.
Alana climbed to her feet. She was graceful and willowy, almost as tall as Ronan himself. “We only wish to protect yer people. They deserve better than hiding in a forgotten valley while Scotland tears herself apart.”
Ronan folded his arms. “They deserve peace. Freedom.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “And ye think they’ll get any of that whilst Scotland is yoked to the English crown? What happens when the King’s soldiers find yer precious valley? They willnae care that ye have tried to stay out of the conflict. They will burn the Steading to the ground. “
The image struck far closer to Ronan’s fears than he cared to admit, and Henry saw his reaction.
“Ye’ve already realized this, of course. It’s the only reason ye would risk a confrontation with yer brother.”
Ronan felt the nerve in his cheek twitching furiously. His hands clenched into fists, and he forced them to relax. Sensing his tension, Elodie stepped closer until her shoulder brushed Ronan’s arm. She said not a word, but her presence steadied him.
Henry faced Ronan. “I know what yer brother stole from ye. I also know that Bryce Campbell will never surrender yer inheritance willingly. We share a common enemy. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, aye? So let us help.”
Henry took a slow step closer. “We can provide men. Weapons. Support.” He spread his hands. “Ye need only stand with us.”
Lady Alana spoke softly. “We offer ye everything ye abandoned.”
Everything he abandoned? Memories suddenly engulfed him. Ronan saw his father’s ruddy face, his mother’s warm smile. He remembered the smithy on the estate where he’d hidden from lessons. He remembered his brothers laughing before grief and ambition had poisoned everything.
For one dangerous heartbeat, he wanted it. He wanted everything he’d lost, everything he’d given up. Everything his brother had taken from him.
“Come home, Ronan,” Henry Murdoch said softly. “Ye are the rightful laird. Yer people deserve a leader. Ye deserve yer birthright.”
Elodie’s fingers closed around his arm, squeezing, and he met her gaze. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t have to. He knew what she was thinking about. The Steading. Faye. Eamon. David. Sarah. All the people who had trusted him, not because of his title, but because of who he’d chosen to become.
Aye, for a moment, he’d wanted his old life back. He’d wanted the title, the lands, the power. But only for a moment. What he really wanted, what he had always wanted, was peace. For his people. For Elodie.
He looked back at Henry. “What if I refuse?”
Henry’s expression scarcely changed. “That would not be a wise decision.” The men around the clearing moved, their hands going to their pistols, but Henry held up a hand to stop them. “Dinna make yer decision now. Think about it.”
Lady Alana bent and smiled at Morag. “Time to go home now, little one.”
Morag looked uncertainly at Ronan.
He crouched. “Come here, lassie.”
Morag ran into his arms and lifted her against his shoulder.
Henry folded his gloves neatly. “Ye and the child may go.”
Ronan’s blood went cold. “What about Elodie?”
Six muskets were suddenly raised and pointed right at Elodie who went as pale as milk.
“Lady Elodie will remain with us as our guest. I give ye my word she willnae be harmed. Return by first light tomorrow to give us yer decision.”
Two soldiers moved towards Elodie, but Ronan stepped in front of them before they could reach her. “Touch her and I’ll kill ye,” he growled.
Elodie laid a hand on his arm. She looked terrified as she met Ronan’s gaze. “It’s all right,” she said. “Get Morag home. I’ll stay here until you come back.”
She looked right at him, and beneath the fear in her eyes he saw something else. Trust.
Ronan swallowed hard. “I’ll be back for ye.”
She nodded tightly. “I know you will. “
Henry stepped aside. “Ye’d best go, Laird Campbell. Yer people will be worried.”
Ronan held Elodie’s gaze for another long heartbeat, then, with Morag held securely against him, he turned away. Every instinct screamed at him not to leave Elodie but he knew what the outcome would be if he drew his pistol now.
Whistling for the dogs to heel, he forced himself to walk away. Each step felt like he had lead weights strapped to his ankles, each movement that took him further away from her felt like he was being ripped in half.
The walk back to camp seemed to take an eternity. Urgency boiled through him like hot acid and he had to restrain from breaking into a run.
“Where’s Elodie?” Morag asked. “Why didnae she come with us?”
“She stayed behind to talk to the nice people,” Ronan replied, trying his best to keep his tone even. “Dinna worry. She’ll be back soon.”
Morag took this on trust and began to drowse against his shoulder. That trust settled heavily across Ronan’s shoulders. Morag trusted him. His people trusted him. And Elodie...
Oh God help him, Elodie.
Only when the campsite came into view, did Ronan allow himself to breathe easily. The moment Morag’s mother saw them approaching she let out a cry.
“My bairn!”
She came running across the camp, skirts gathered in both hands. Morag wriggled free from Ronan’s arms and raced towards her.
“Mam!”
The woman dropped to her knees and wrapped both arms around her daughter, sobbing openly.
“Oh, thank God... thank God...”
Around them, people stopped what they were doing and relief rippled visibly through the camp. Ronan looked around until he spotted Faye and beckoned her over.
“Eamon,” he called quietly. “Ye too.”
The young man hurried over. “What happened? Where’s Elodie?”
“We need to speak privately. Follow me.” He nodded towards one of the abandoned carts standing at the edge of the camp and the three of them hunkered behind it.
“Where did ye find the lass?” Eamon demanded. “Who took her?”
Ronan pulled in a deep breath. “Lord Henry and Lady Alana Murdoch took Morag.”
Faye and Eamon went very still. Faye hissed out a string of colorful curses.
“They are the ones who were looking for the Steading,” Eamon growled. “The ones who sent their thugs to attack us.”
“Aye. And it turns out they’re not just opportunists trying to grab land like I thought. They’re rebels against the crown.”
Faye scowled. “Rebels?”
“Disinherited nobles who would hang should the king’s men get their hands on them.”
Eamon looked confused. “So why do they want the Steading? It’s hardly fit for nobility is it?”
“They want it as a base. Somewhere they can build their forces where the king’s men willnae find them.”
Eamon’s face darkened. “Bastards.”
Ronan nodded once. “It gets worse. They know who I am and they offered me an alliance. They’ll help me reclaim my lands if we join them.”