Chapter 23 #2
He hadn’t been expecting it. With a cry, he jerked back his hand, sending her flying backward. He made to lunge for her again when River leaped forward, a blur of red fur.
The little fox wound his body around the knife like a weasel, its sharp canines doing much more damage than Willow’s blunt jaws.
Magnus howled, dancing around and shaking off the fox. The little creature lost its grip and was hurled against a nearby wall. There was a thump, before it fell limp on the floor.
“River!” Willow screamed, and would have bolted toward the fox if Daphne hadn’t rushed forward and seized her in her arms.
She backed away down the aisle, her eyes huge, clutching Willow to her chest. Hunter noticed that Willow’s face was pressed into her mother’s shoulder, and Daphne’s hand was pressing against the back of her head, keeping her eyes turned away from whatever came next.
That was good.
Magnus took one step toward them, but that was all he managed. Hunter tackled him, hitting him low around the middle. They went down in a tangle of limbs, the knife flashing sharp between them. Magnus swore loudly and jerked his arm, managing to cut Hunter in the shoulder.
Hunter seized his wrist, put his weight behind it, and slammed Magnus’s hand on the floor, once, twice, three times until the man gave a pained cry and his fingers relaxed.
He snatched the knife. He had intended to keep it, to step back and give himself some breathing room, but Magnus lunged at him again, meaty hands scrabbling across his face, probing for his eyes.
“Ye cannae be trusted!” he screamed. “Ye lied! Oathbreaker, that’s what ye are! I could be a better laird than ye, if only me birth had been a little better. If only—”
The knife slid deep into his chest. He gave a breathy gasp, the air driven from his lungs, and his eyes widened. A horrible silence ensued. Then, very slowly, his knees gave way.
He would have crumpled to the floor, except that Hunter grabbed him, easing him down.
“Magnus, me friend,” he whispered. “Why did ye threaten me family? Why have ye made me do this?”
Magnus’s mouth opened and shut. Blood streamed from the wound in his chest, pooling on the floor beneath him. The stone would probably stain.
“Couldnae bear it,” he grunted, the words feeble. “Another war… nae strong enough.”
“I’d rather die than start another war,” Hunter whispered.
Magnus choked up a mouthful of blood. “I wish I could believe that.” And then he was gone, just like that. Between one blink and the next, his soul fled to wherever it was that souls went.
Hunter sat shakily back on his heels, staring down at him. “Does anybody else have similar opinions?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Silence rang out in the chapel.
Hunter hobbled to his feet, his limbs twinging in pain. The cut in his shoulder was bleeding lightly, hot blood trailing down his arm. He turned to face the guests, meeting gazes.
“I have given me life for this clan,” he continued, his voice tremulous.
“Never once has anything come before that. I have been a good laird. No famine, little crime, fair taxes, fair treatment. I have served ye well. And ye all met Daphne and liked her as a good Scottish woman from a good family. Ye loved Willow too, a quick and clever wee bairn. That’s what ye all said.
But I will tell ye all this now. Anyone who touches me family dies.
I made the vow; ye all ken this. But now, things have changed.
If ye want me gone, now is the time to say it. ”
He waited.
Silence hung over the chapel. He met Daphne’s gaze. Pale and shivery, she swallowed thickly. He couldn’t read the look in her eyes. Was it fear? Relief?
He’d find out later, he supposed.
Then a long, low wail tore across the chapel, starting as nothing more than a moan and growing louder until it was a cry.
Elspeth staggered to her feet, nearly bent double. She hobbled forward and dropped to her knees beside Magnus’s body.
“Nay, nay, nay,” she whimpered. “Get up. Get up, me love.”
Magnus lay still, his eyes staring at nothing.
Tears ran down her face, and she twisted to look up at Hunter. “What have ye done?” she choked out.
He met her gaze. “He would have killed Willow and Daphne. Would ye have still loved a child-killer?”
Elspeth didn’t seem to have heard him. She only shook her head, staring down at her dead lover.
“Ye say that a wife and child willnae affect how ye care for yer clan,” she whispered. “But what if an enemy threatens yer wife or this new child of yers? What if they kidnap them? What then? How many more people must we lose?”
“I cannae do anything to bring back the people who died in the war all those years ago,” Hunter responded, his voice tight.
He caught sight of his mother in the front pew, hanging her head. Skye’s arms were wrapped tight around her. Lady Pilbury had gone pale and stared at nothing.
He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at Daphne.
“But I can remind ye that there has never been a war since. I have fulfilled me promise. I have been a good laird. I’ll continue to be a good laird.”
“And yet me man is dead,” Elspeth whispered.
There was no answer to be given, not now while she was in her grief.
Hunter briefly closed his eyes. Elspeth simply sat where she was, staring blankly at Magnus’s body.
After a moment of painful silence, Daphne cleared her throat. “I have something to say.”
The guests shifted to look at her. Hunter dragged his gaze up from Magnus’s body to glance at her.
She breathed in, adjusting her grip on Willow. The little girl was still cowering with her face hidden. Gingerly, Daphne handed her to Lady Pilbury, who wrapped her arms protectively around her.
Then she stepped around Magnus’s body and moved to where River lay crumpled at the bottom of a wall. She carefully picked up the little bundle of fur. It was impossible to tell whether the fox was alive or not, but she cradled him to her chest as if she were sure he was.
Then she turned to face the congregation.
“When me daughter was born, I made the choice to stay in England,” she said quietly, but her voice still carried across the chapel.
“I chose to keep Willow away from her father. I see now that I did the right thing. I cannae be responsible for more deaths. And if any of ye here today have thought that yer Laird would betray ye or forget ye because of me, I…” She shook her head.
“I willnae forgive meself. He never would, ye see. I’ve never kent a finer man than Hunter, or a better laird.
Forgive him for breaking his oath. Ye willnae find a better leader, nae if ye waited for a thousand years.
See him for what he’s done and for what he’s lost, and ken that he did it all for ye. ”
Absolute silence fell over the chapel.
Hiding her face, Daphne turned away. She didn’t look at Hunter. Snatching up Willow again, she turned on her heel and ran out of the chapel, the doors banging shut behind her.