Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Innes stumbled as one of the men shoved her, almost tripping over a rock that jutted up at the edge of the river.
At least, she thought it was a river. In the darkness, it was hard to tell which way was which.
The branches were tearing at her hair and her dress as the thunder growled in the distance.
She had given up protesting for her freedom, sensing that her sister-in-law would not grant her such kindness after all she had done.
The tears were streaking silently down her face, mixing with the spattering rain that fell from the grey sky above.
It seemed to drag on for an eternity, a fair reflection of her terror and how impossible it seemed for her to escape from the mess she now found herself in.
Behind her, she could hear Isobel thanking her man for his help. He had offered her a hand to help her through the rough terrain. As absurd as it seemed given the circumstances, she still insisted on being treated like a lady.
Would her brother ever find out what his wife had done tonight?
Would his suspicions be aroused when he realized that a night his wife had spent away from the Keep had been the very same one that his sister had vanished, never to be seen again?
She prayed he would, but she could not be sure that Isobel had not managed to convince him that up was down and left was right, given her penchant for twisting the truth.
Isobel’s men had driven her away from the tavern and to the woods that led away from the village, through which a river wound as far as she could see.
Even in the midst of her grief and terror, she grounded herself with the thought of the soft, damp soil at the sides, the way that it would make for fertile ground for flowers to thrive come the Spring
Not that she would be there to see it. All at once, the man grasped her arm, dragging her to a sudden halt, and Isobel stepped forward holding a torch.
It illuminated her features, which Innes had once thought so beautiful.
Now, written with hatred, they were hideous to her, twisted into a mask of everything she loathed.
“Well, dear sister,” she almost laughed, her eyes glistening with satisfaction. “It rather looks like this is goodbye.”
She glanced at the river beside them, the water now glimmering with the reflection of her torch.
A lump sprang into Innes’ throat, and she searched for the words to dissuade her, to seek freedom, to do anything other than meet her fate here at the hands of a woman who seemed to hate her so for something she could never have helped.
“You dinnae have to do this, Isobel,” she pleaded. “I’ll take my horse, I’ll go back to the Keep, and I willnae tell anyone about this.”
She snorted, clearly not believing a word that came out of her mouth.
“If I were to trust that, I’d be a fool,” she replied. “No, we’ll loose the horse, let it wander through the woods. By the time they find it, it will seem like ye fled from yer husband and then just… fell.”
She smiled, almost sweetly.
“If only you had kept to pressing yer flowers in the garden,” she continued. “Instead of taking what was never meant to be yours.”
Innes’ foot slipped slightly, the soft earth threatening to give way beneath her even where she stood.
She craned her neck, wondering if there was any point in crying out, but she doubted it would have done much to change her predicament.
One wrong move, and she would fall beneath the fearsome flow of the river.
By the sounds of the storm that was drawing in, the current would soon be strong enough that she would be swept halfway to the sea before anyone realized she was even missing.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to bring to mind her husband, to think of Lachlan, in what she was sure would be her final moments.
His smile, his touch, his laugh, that he had chosen her, despite what Isobel told her…
Then, she felt the cold press of a blade against her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, and she found herself staring at one of the men, a grin on his face as he held a jagged, antler-handled knife to her cheek.
“A shame to ruin such a pretty thing,” he whispered, his lecherous words making her ill.
Her eyes fluttered shut, searching for some escape from this, something that would grant her mercy in the face of her death.
Her mind flicked to an image of Lachlan, her last chance to muster something that would not terrify her.
Even as the cold of the blade bit into her skin, she forced herself to focus on the memory of his smile, the way he made her feel.
No matter what Isobel had told herself, she could not strip that from her.
She could not take away the love she had felt….
And then, like a crack of thunder through a clear sky, the sound of hooves filled the air. Her eyes flew open, and she turned just in time to see a horseman galloping towards them through the trees, head low, eyes focused on her, nothing but her.
Lachlan.
“Get away from her!” he yelled, hand flying for his sword as he thundered towards the man who had held the knife to her face.
Soon a second set of hooves thundered through the woods. Keith. More men flagged him, but a look from Lachlan had him stop on his trucks, ordering the other men to do so, too.
No, it was Lachlan’s fight. His redemption. His way of asking Innes’ forgiveness. However, if this heroic act cost him his life…
Innes’ assaulter faltered, staggering backwards, but Lachlan didn’t slow his steed; he reared the horse up on its hind legs, hooves flying through the air just a few inches from his face, and, in his panic, he lost his footing and tumbled into the frigid waters of the river below.
Innes was still frozen to the spot, so shocked by the sudden arrival of her husband that she could not help but wonder if it was nothing more than a fantasy on her part.
“What are you waiting for?” Isobel cried out, stabbing her finger towards Lachlan as he steadied his horse once more. “Deal with him!”
The other man drew his sword, but he’d hardly had time to expose the blade before Lachlan had thrust his own through the man’s chest. The sickening sound of metal slicing through flesh rose above the gargle of the river beside them, his companion already washed far downstream where nobody would find him.
Innes’ hand flew to her mouth. If there had been any doubt that this was real, it would have vanished the moment she had heard that.
She could never have imagined something so brutal, but Lachlan?
Lachlan was a warrior. And he was clearly willing to do whatever it took to ensure that his wife was safe.
He pulled his sword back, blood spraying the grass, and leapt from his horse.
The metallic scent of gore filled the air, the rushing in Innes’ ears impossible to differentiate from the water behind her.
Isobel’s eyes were wide, sliding back and forth as she searched for some way to rescue the situation before it spun entirely out of her control.
“Isobel,” Lachlan growled as he advanced upon her, sword still drawn.
For a moment, Innes thought he was going to swing it at her sister-in-law, leaving her to die there in the forest alongside the men she had used to try and kill her. But Isobel, it seemed, would not go down quite so easily
“Dinnae come any closer!” Isobel ordered as she leapt to Innes’ side, grasping her arm so roughly that her nails bit into Innes’ flesh.
Innes tried to wrench herself free, but her iron grip was imbued with the strength of a woman who knew that her last hope lay here.
“Let go of her,” Lachlan snarled, his lip curling up to expose his teeth like a wolf defending his pack.
“You think you can be happy with this girl, Lachlan?” Isobel demanded, as he closed the distance between them, sword still drawn, blood glistening in the moonlight that filtered down through the trees. “She doesnae understand you! Yer darkest sides, the parts of you that I knew.”
“You never knew me, Isobel,” he snarled, his eyes unblinking, voice unwavering. “You saw only what you wanted to see. Innes, she…”
He looked to his wife, his gaze softening.
“She understands me,” he continued. “She makes me want to be a better man. She sees the good in me. She’s shown me peace that you could never. But I ken that you’ve found that with Arthur, and I wouldnae want a mistake like this to mar the rest of yer marriage."
Isobel’s grip tightened.
“Think of yer husband,” he warned her. “We can resolve this peacefully. There’s still time. You dinnae have to go through with this.”
“Aye, we can end this now, Isobel,” Innes pleaded with her. “A moment of madness, we’ll tell Arthur. My brother’s a kind man, he’ll see his way to forgive you.”
Something in Isobel wavered. Lachlan’s sword was still drawn, ready to strike should she protest.
“I can hardly take the offer of peace seriously if you still have yer blade aimed at me,” she snapped.
Lachlan locked eyes with Innes, doubt written on his face.
He clearly didn’t trust her, at least not enough to do as he was asked.
But she nodded slightly. If they could not offer her this, then what reason would she have to believe that they were telling the truth about offering her a chance at freedom?
Lachlan sheathed his sword, and Isobel’s grip on her arm slackened. Innes pulled away, putting a few inches between them.
“See, sister?” she murmured, a wash of relief coursing through her body. “You dinnae have to see it through. We can be family, no matter what—”
“I’ve heard enough,” Isobel snapped.
And, when Innes turned to look at her properly, her heart dropped.
She hardly recognized her, the way her eyes seemed to have darkened to a near-black, her face twisted with such hideous fury she looked almost as if she were wearing a mask of anger.
“That’s what you believe, is it? That’s what this girl has you trusting in?”
Her nails sank into Innes’ arm once again. She looked back towards the river. The blood drained from Innes’ face as she suddenly realized what she was going to do.
“If I cannae have peace,” she growled. “Then neither can you!”
And, with that, Isobel dragged Innes roughly back to the edge of the bank.
She mustered more strength than a girl her size should have been capable of, her rage driving her.
Innes scrabbled to keep her footing, arms swinging as she searched for a branch to cling to, but there was nothing—nothing but the cold embrace of the water below.
And then, Isobel let go.
The last thing Innes remembered seeing before the water swallowed her was Lachlan. His lips were parted, and he must have been calling something out to her, but whatever it was, she could not hear it over the roar of the water.
For a moment, she seemed suspended mid-air, her blood pulsing around her body. She was aware of every heartbeat, the way it seemed to stretch on for a lifetime, like her mind was trying to make the most of the seconds she was still alive…
And then, the cold hit her, pricking into her skin like a million white-hot needles.
Her cloak and dress sagged with water at once, dragging her downward, and the current buffeted her as her head slipped beneath the surface.
Water rushed into her ears, her nose, her mouth, until it felt like there was nothing else in the world but this brutal, biting cold, nothing but the sound of the river screaming around her.
Her arms swung out towards the bank, groping for anything that might give her some purchase to keep herself from being swept away, but she found nothing.
And her mind seemed to gift her something to take her away from the nightmare ahead of her; an image, so vivid she could have sworn she could reach out and touch it, of her and Lachlan.
The two of them, dancing at the Fraser Keep.
His arms around her, his eyes fixed on her, so full of love and adoration that it seemed nearly impossible for him to contain it…
And behind him, Arthur, laughing as he watched them, sitting at one of the large tables. On either side of him were a boy and a girl, the girl a little older, with light-brown hair that fell to her shoulders, the boy with a messy crop of curls that seemed fit to escape his head at any moment.
Her heart swelled; her children. She knew it. She had never imagined being a mother before, but she knew these were the children she would have had if she had only stayed in the Keep as Lachlan had told her.
A glimpse of her future before her death—a cruel joke, a twisted promise of what would never be…
An enormous sound shattered the monotony of the water around her and she felt something against her waist. Not the chill of the river, no, this was something else. Something warm. Something insistent. Something strong that refused to let her go.
Her cloak was pushed from her shoulders, left to drift off downstream, and finally, something dragged her to the surface.