Chapter 24
“I daenae want to go back,” Willow protested. “I want to stay here. This is home. Ye said so.”
“This was never home,” Daphne responded, a little more sharply than she intended.
She grabbed a handful of linens and stuffed them into a bag. If she packed quickly, they could leave before dark.
There were still tear-stains on Willow’s face. She would have nightmares about today; Daphne knew that. The nightmares would hopefully fade with time. Children were resilient, after all. Willow was more resilient than most.
The horror of it all lingered in Daphne’s mind. She could see the terror on the guests’ faces. She could hear Elspeth’s wail.
Nobody had mentioned what had happened to Elspeth. There was no sign of her, of course, and Daphne knew the maid would not be punished. But would she ever recover?
Daphne let out a long, shaky breath and straightened up, swallowing hard.
How did it come to this?
“Mama,” Willow ventured, shifting her weight, “when can I see River?”
“Nae for a while, pet.”
“Where is he?”
“I took him to Rhiannon. She heals people, but she thinks she can heal animals, too.”
“Will River soon be well?”
Daphne considered lying. But then, she would have to say the truth at last, and that would hurt her daughter far too much.
“I daenae ken,” she confessed. “He hurt his leg badly, pet. Rhiannon will do what she can. We willnae leave without him, I promise.”
Willow curled up into a tighter ball near the head of the bed, half-hidden in blankets and pillows. Daphne glanced up at her, her heart aching.
I should have protected her. I should have tried harder.
“Is Hunter coming with us?” Willow asked after a moment.
Daphne ducked her head, focusing on packing. “Nay, pet. He’s nae coming.”
She pointedly didn’t look up to avoid the look of devastation and disappointment on Willow’s face. She’d expected tears, protests—the works. Instead, Willow just sat silently.
The silence quickly became too heavy, and she was half-relieved to hear a tap at the door. She thought, briefly and foolishly, that it might be Hunter.
To do what, ye stupid woman? Ye broke off the betrothal at the altar, in front of half of his clan. He’ll never forgive ye. Besides, leaving is the right thing to do. It’s safer.
“Come in,” she called.
The door creaked open, and Lady Pilbury shuffled inside.
“There you are, my dear,” she said, smiling nervously. “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come see you, but I suppose it’s best that I gave you a little time. How… How are you?”
Daphne threw her a long, bleak look.
Lady Pilbury cleared her throat, looking away.
“Forgive me. Foolish question. Well, I am here to say that you will always have a place in my home. I… I think perhaps it’s time that I took my leave, too.
Helena wants me to stay, but after all of this…
” She shook her head. “I’ll go home, and you can come with me.
Things will be exactly as they were. And I do feel a good deal better now. ”
Daphne glanced at her. “Should ye nae stay here, Lady Pilbury? For yer health?”
“I must admit, I’ve felt rather less like I am dying since I arrived.
That healer, Miss Rhiannon, had a great deal to say about the efficacy of English doctors.
But hopefully this little rest and my treatment have done me enough good for now.
Helena reluctantly offered a carriage to take us home.
We can leave whenever you choose, my dear. ”
“Tonight,” Daphne said bluntly.
Lady Pilbury flinched. “So… So soon?”
“Aye. I want to leave this place and the Highlands behind. Nobody will leave me alone. Me sister keeps trying to come see me, but I cannae bear it. I daenae want to see her. I… I’ll write her a letter when I’m back in England. She could come visit us, I suppose.”
Lady Pilbury tightened her grip on the head of her cane. “Are you quite sure about this, my dear?”
“Me Lady, if ye daenae want to return, then—”
“I will support you,” she interrupted firmly. “Whatever you choose, that’s what we’ll do. But I want you to be sure, my dear. Why, when I was your age, I…”
Alas, there was never an opportunity to hear what she had done at Daphne’s age, because at that moment, Skye strode into the room without knocking. Her face was carefully blank, and she threw Daphne a long, strange look. Whether it was angry, sad, or something else, Daphne couldn’t decide.
“Ye had better come to see Hunter,” she said shortly.
Daphne shook her head. “I willnae.”
“He’s been injured. That wound on his shoulder, remember? It’s bleeding heavily, and without care, it’ll get infected. He willnae let the healers touch him until he’s spoken to ye.”
Daphne briefly closed her eyes. “Then ye had better lead the way.”
Skye gave a grunt and a nod, then strode out of the room.
They navigated the halls in silence, side by side. Daphne glanced over at the woman who had almost become her sister-in-law that day.
Did Skye resent her? She must. She must be angry.
It didn’t seem wise to ask.
“I’m sorry this all ended the way it did,” Daphne murmured.
Skye heaved a sigh. “I’m just relieved nobody was hurt.”
“I should never have come here.”
Skye shot her a quick look. “Ye see things in black and white, daenae ye, Daphne?”
That was unexpected.
They paused before a nondescript door, Skye’s hand resting on the handle.
“Black and white?” Daphne echoed. “What do ye mean?”
“There are nay more than two ways about anything. If something isnae right, it’s wrong. Hunter is the same. I always admired that quality about him, a little bit, but now I think it might be his downfall. Yers, too.”
Before she could ask what that meant, Skye turned the door handle and pulled the door open. She gestured for Daphne to step inside. With a sigh, Daphne obeyed.
She found herself in a small surgery, not large enough to be a proper apothecary room. The space was large enough for maybe one person to rest, with a narrow pallet bed and some shelves on the wall bearing pots and vials of various substances.
Hunter sat on the bed, leaning forward. He’d taken off his fine linen wedding shirt, and she caught a glimpse of the bloodied item lying wadded on the floor beneath the bed.
She could see the nasty red gash across his shoulder, blood smeared around it. The edges of the wound were angry and irritated. There were bruises scattered across his chest, angrily purple.
He lifted his eyes to hers.
She pushed the door shut behind her. “Why arenae ye letting the healers take care of ye?” she asked shortly.
“I have unfinished business.”
“Did they catch the archer?”
As she said that word archer, Daphne remembered the soft hiss of an arrow flying over her head. Where would it have struck her if it had hit home? In her temple? In her eye socket?
Hunter nodded gravely. “He was caught. He’s confessed to everything.
We already kent Magnus was part of it, and some of his men are loyal to him.
Some have fled, others we’ve caught. It’s hardly a coup.
I think he was forced into acting too soon.
But he would have risen up against me, sooner or later. ”
“And… And Elspeth?”
“I sent her home to her parents, at least for now. She’s grieving.”
She nodded.
A long silence fell between them. She didn’t dare meet his gaze, in case it forced her to do something foolish, like rush over and fling her arms around him.
“I hear that ye are leaving,” Hunter added flatly, his eyes cold.
“Aye. It seems best.”
“Does it?”
“It does. And I want the truth. The truth about yer vow.”
He gave a short, harsh laugh. “Ye think ye deserve the truth now, when ye intend to abandon me? Nay, lass.”
“So ye never meant to tell me, then,” she responded tightly. “Why did ye fight so hard to hide all of this from me?”
He stayed silent for a long moment, long enough for her to think that he was not going to speak. Then, at last, he heaved a sigh, leaning back.
“I suppose I was afraid,” he murmured. “Afraid of losing ye and Willow.”
“Ye willnae lose us, Hunter. I can promise ye that. But I… I willnae be the reason that yer clan turns against ye.”
His expression tightened. “Daphne…”
“Nay. Nay more. If I stay here and talk to ye, ye will talk me out of me own head. Ye will… will confuse me.”
“Confuse ye?”
“Ye ken what I mean. And I must be clearheaded. We’re leaving. Tonight, in fact. Lady Pilbury is leaving too. Please daenae think that it’s easy, but I have decided.”
He said nothing, just stared at her.
Daphne turned back to the door. She’d just placed her hand on the handle when he spoke again.
“What about River?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What about him?”
“Rhiannon says that his leg is in bad shape. Twisted and broken. Bad for an adult fox, but for a kit…” He shook his head. “The wee thing willnae survive the journey back to England until he heals. If he heals.”
A lump formed in Daphne’s throat. “Then ye had better leave River here,” she stated quietly, lifting her chin. “Leaving him here might save his life. I’ll nae sacrifice anything more because of us, Hunter.”
He pursed his lips. “Will Willow forgive ye?”
“Aye, she will. One day.”
“Will ye forgive yerself?”
There was no point in asking whether he was still talking about the fox. Daphne knew that he wasn’t.
Turning away, she slipped out into the hallway. Skye had been waiting at a reasonable distance and glanced up. She lifted her eyebrows questioningly.
“Send in the healers,” Daphne said quietly. “He’ll let them care for him now.”
Right up until the moment they climbed into the carriage, Hunter wanted so badly to believe that it wouldn’t happen.
What did ye think would happen? That she’d turn around, burst into tears, and leap into yer arms?
The last part would be difficult, because he had not gone down to see her off. He was in his study, standing at the window overlooking the courtyard. If she looked up, she’d see him.
She didn’t look up.
A handful of servants piled bags and boxes into and onto the carriage, lashing them securely.
Lady Pilbury climbed into the carriage first, looking smaller than before, leaning heavily on a carved oak cane Helena had given her.
Helena held her elbow, supporting her into the carriage.
Her shoulders looked tense, high up under her ears.
She’s nae pleased about this.
Willow came next, and Hunter’s chest constricted.
She was too small to climb in easily, and seemed to have lost her spark.
One of the male servants picked her up carefully and placed her inside the carriage.
She vanished inside the darkness, but not before poking her head out and looking hopefully around.
“She’s looking for ye, ye ken,” remarked a female voice from behind.
Hunter didn’t bother to turn to his sister.
“Do ye think I’m going to go running down and beg them to stay?” he murmured. “I willnae do that, Skye.”
“I didnae ask ye to. But ye could at least ask her to stay.”
“Nay.”
“So that’s it, then? Ye will let them go because of yer pride?”
Hunter rounded on her. “Enough, Sister. Ye daenae ken what ye are speaking of.”
“Ye forget,” Skye snapped back, “that I was here. I kent Alice. I kent yer son.”
“Enough. Enough! I willnae hear this.”
He meant to march past her, but she neatly stepped between him and the door. He could have forced his way past her quite easily, but he found himself stopping his tracks, meeting her unblinking gaze.
“Ask her to stay for just a little longer,” Skye urged, her voice hushed. “Listen to me advice. Listen to Mother. Have ye even spoken to her about this?”
“Mother cannae help me.”
“How do ye ken? She’s lived so much, experienced so much. Do ye really think all that experience counts for nothing? And poor Lady Pilbury. Rhiannon is convinced she’ll die under the care of those awful English doctors.”
“Skye, ye daenae ken what ye are talking about. Ye cannae possibly understand how I feel.”
“Of course I daenae ken. I daenae pretend to ken. But I ken ye, Hunter. I ken that ye will sit where ye are and watch yer life go by out of pure stubbornness. I cannae let it happen. I willnae.”
“Then daenae. Go home, Skye. Go back to yer husband and yer keep. Leave me be.”
Skye flinched back, her mouth tightening.
He wished that he hadn’t said it. But of course, words couldn’t be taken back once they’d been given life, and that was that. So he said nothing and just held her gaze, waiting for her to react.
“Well,” she said at last, her voice firm and angry. “If that’s what ye want, then fine. I’ll go. I daenae want to stay here and watch ye destroy yer life over a vow ye made a decade ago. A vow made because of a few selfish, cruel people.”
“Daenae,” he ground out. “Just leave, Skye.”
Without another word, Skye turned on her heel and strode out of the room, leaving the door swinging open.
He stared after her for a long moment, until the crunch of wheels on the paved courtyard made him blink. Heart hammering, he hurried back to the window and peered out.
It was all over. The carriage was packed. Lady Pilbury, Daphne, and Willow were inside. Already, the carriage was growing smaller, dwindling toward the gate.
His mother stood alone on the steps, waving miserably.
That was it, then. They were gone, and he’d missed his last look at Daphne.
Turning, Hunter slammed his fist down onto his desk hard. A crack opened up in the middle, and he opened his fist, shaking out his aching fingers.
I deserved that. I deserved all of it.