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As the remaining reinforcements invaded, Finian didn’t move, keeping careful guard over the child. His breath froze in the air, and the longer he stood still, the more difficult it was to keep from shivering. In time, he saw Lady Harkirk in the distance, watching him. He sensed that she approved of what he’d done, and her quiet presence granted him the absolution he needed.
He set the child down in front of her father. “You saved her,” MacKinloch said. There was surprise in the chief’s voice, along with gratefulness.
“Were it not for me, she’d never have been in danger. I’m sorry for it.” Finian moved aside so Alex could reach for his daughter, and when the pair embraced, his throat closed up. Though he’d done what he could to help them, it wouldn’t assuage his own loss of Iliana.
As he parted from the MacKinloch chief, he struggled to walk like a normal man. So cold. So desperately cold. He gripped the edges of Lady Harkirk’s cloak, shivering violently.
Behind him, the battle had ended, and his own clan and the MacKinlochs had seized command of the fortress. He caught a glimpse of Lady Harkirk moving towards him, a hand covering her mouth in horror.
Finian followed the direction of her gaze, and saw the reason for her fear. Lying upon the ground was the body of Lord Harkirk, a black-feathered arrow embedded in the man’s throat.
Chapter Two
He’s dead. After all these years, he’s finally dead.
The words didn’t feel real to Alys. And though an hour had passed while the MacKinlochs freed the prisoners and drove out the remainder of her husband’s men, she felt an overwhelming fear. Smoke billowed into the air from the fires set by the MacKinloch men, and her husband’s body was left to burn.
No longer would she be enslaved within a marriage to such a monster. Never again would he use her body, blaming her for her barrenness. She was free of Robert, but she didn’t know whether to weep for joy or out of fear for where she would go now.
Her maid Jeanne had tried to lend support, taking her hand and murmuring words of comfort. But Alys couldn’t find any words at all to reply. Laren MacKinloch came up beside her, offering the comfort of silence.
“I’m glad he’s dead,” Alys whispered. “I just…don’t know where to go now.”
The woman touched her shoulder. “Do you have family you could return to, perhaps in England? We could arrange an escort.”
Alys shook her head. “I have no one.” It wasn’t the truth, for her father was still alive. He’d gloried in the service of King Edward, commanding troops wherever Longshanks desired English forces. A man born and bred for the battlefield, her father had arranged her marriage to Lord Harkirk as a means of securing a strong alliance. No doubt her father would arrange another marriage to further his own interests, if she dared to return home.
She stared into the forest, turning over the problem in her mind, when a sudden motion caught her attention. It was the older girl she’d freed several weeks ago, before Robert could have her killed. Alys had been forced to disguise her as a boy, shearing off her hair, but the ruse had worked. She’d hidden the girl in the forest, in an abandoned shelter.
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