Chapter 14

Dunn came to slowly, consciousness dragging over him like a wave—just as overwhelming. The first thing he noticed was the pounding headache, so strong that he could hardly open his eyes at first, even the scant light of the torches around him too much to bear.

The second thing he noticed was that he was bound to a chair, his hands tied tightly behind its back, though his legs had been left loose. He didn’t know if that would make much of a difference, though, when he was surrounded by men from all sides, all of them armed.

He looked down at his waist. Naturally, his weapons had been taken.

Next to him, he heard a familiar voice, though at first, he couldn’t decipher what it was saying. He had to focus properly, to force himself to ignore the pain in his skull, to listen.

“Ye have the copies,” Elayne said in a pleading tone. “Let us go, faither. Please. Ye will never see us again.”

Dunn didn’t need to hear Laird Macgillivray’s reply to know the man would never let them go. He didn’t care about Elayne and he certainly didn’t care about Dunn. By the end of this, at least one of them would be dead—and it wouldn’t be Elayne.

Dunn dragged his gaze to the others in the room. Laird Macgillivray stood at the far end along with Laird McCoy, which didn’t surprise Dunn. What did surprise him was that next to them stood Blaine, staring impassively at him and Elayne.

“Traitor,” Dunn grit out, teeth grinding in rage. “Was that yer plan all along? Tae pretend tae help us an’ report tae yer laird?”

Blaine gave a small shrug. “I’m the Captain o’ this clan,” he said. “What did ye expect? I have sworn tae protect it. Och, an’ dinnae try tae escape. I tied those knots meself.”

Instinctively, Dunn flexed his arms, testing the knots on the rope—only to find them loose, or at least looser than he had expected. With some effort, he could free himself, he was certain of it.

Did he dae it on purpose? Or is he so confident in his abilities that he hardly tried?

Dunn couldn’t tell. He had once thought he was good at reading people, but when it came to Blaine, he could never tell what the man was thinking. There was always a blankness about him, a neutrality Dunn couldn’t quite parse.

“If there is a traitor here, it’s me own daughter,” said Laird Macgillivray, contempt dripping from his words. “Ye were always a disappointment, Elayne, but I never thought ye would go as far as tae betray yer own faither. It would have been better had ye died in that loch.”

Dunn watched as Elayne physically recoiled, as though her father’s words were a blow. Dunn had never imagined that a parent could be so cruel to their child, so hateful. How could he wish his own daughter dead? How could he speak such words without a moment of hesitation, without a hint of regret?

“Dinnae dare speak tae her like this,” Dunn barked, his entire body going rigid with the effort to free himself as quickly as he could, eager to jump to his feet and drive the nearest blade through Laird Macgillivray’s heart. “Ye are a vile, weak man an’ I willnae allow ye tae treat Elayne like that anymore.”

“Ye willnae allow me?” Laird Macgillivray asked, amused by the thinly veiled threat. “What will ye dae? Soon, ye’ll be dead an’ Elayne will spend the rest o’ her life in atonement fer what she’s done. Who will save her when yer gone an’ she’s married tae Laird McCoy?”

Dunn only clenched his jaw, saying nothing. What could he say to that? The only thing he could do now was to try and get out of those ropes as quickly as possible, but even so, the odds were against him. With so many men in that small room, it would be a struggle to escape alive.

“Knife,” Laird McCoy demanded, holding out his hand. One of the men rushed to hand him a blade and Laird McCoy tested its weight in his hand as he approached Dunn. From the corner of his eye, Dunn saw Blaine tense up, his gaze falling to Dunn’s hands, which were still tied behind his back.

“I’d like tae end him meself.”

Laird McCoy approached Dunn slowly, taking his time—and without knowing it, giving Dunn time to free himself. Maybe if he could delay this, if he could get him to gloat, he would manage to get himself free. Next to him, Elayne choked on a sob, shaking her head vehemently.

“Stop,” she pleaded. “Faither, make him stop! Dunn an’ I, we never married! It was all a ruse, I swear! Let him go an’ I will wed McCoy, I promise ye!”

“Silence!” Laird Macgillivray’s voice thundered in the small confines of the room and Elayne snapped her mouth shut immediately, not daring to test her father’s patience. “Ye expect us tae believe ye when all ye dae is lie?”

“I’m nae lyin’ about this,” said Elayne quietly. “I promise.”

“It doesnae matter,” her father said with no hesitation. “It is done now. If naething else, Laird McCoy an’ I will have the pleasure o’ killin’ this pest.”

Just as Laird McCoy approached, Dunn finally felt the ropes slipping from his wrists and freed himself, springing up to his feet. Before McCoy could strike, Dunn slammed his arm against his, knocking the knife loose from his grip. Though a blade would have benefit him, he didn’t have time to look for it so he attacked regardless, this time with his fists, swinging them wildly as he tried to catch Dunn off-guard. Dunn barely had the time to move out of his path, Laird McCoy’s knuckles just grazing his jaw as he leaned back, before bringing forth an attack of his own. With a swift kick of his leg, Dunn had Laird McCoy pinned to the floor, pushing a knee on his chest as the man struggled, trying to get free.

In the sudden chaos, none of Laird Macgillivray’s men moved, too scared that the wrong decision would end Laird McCoy’s life. Laird Macgillivray didn’t seem to have the same concerns, though, as before Dunn could even incapacitate Laird McCoy, he felt the chill of a blade on the back of his neck.

One wrong move and he would be dead.

Laird McCoy scrambled away from Dunn, his gaze dripping hatred as their eyes met. Dunn raised his hands in surrender, standing slowly, the blade still pressed to his neck. How was he going to get out of this now?

“Blaine,” Laird Macgillivray called. “Are ye waitin’ fer orders? Kill him.”

“Nay!” Elayne screamed behind them just as Blaine approached slowly, unsheathing his sword. His movements were peculiar, Dunn noticed; slow, as if he was waiting for something. He could feel the impatient press of the blade on his neck, and suddenly, he was trapped between two blades with no hope of escape.

“Blaine—”

The door slammed open, banging against the wall before Dunn could even find the right words to say. In the chaos that followed, the only thing he managed to see was a blur of blonde hair and familiar faces, three blades swiftly striking down Laird Macgillivray’s men until the only ones standing were the two lairds and Blaine.

What are they doin’ here?

Dunn could hardly believe his own eyes. All three of his brothers were there, armed to the teeth, blood and sweat covering their skin and clothes. Though Laird Macgillivray’s blade had never left the back of his neck, Dunn held no more fear. His brothers were a force to be reckoned with, and with only the two lairds and the captain of the clan standing, there was little Laird Macgillivray could do as he waited for more troops to arrive.

“Stay back!” Laird Macgillivray warned, the blade pressing hard enough against Dunn’s skin to draw a drop of blood. “Stay back or I will kill him.”

Had it not been for Blaine, Dunn could have escaped Laird Macgillivray’s grasp, but the man still stood in front of him, sword in hand.

“Well?” Dunn asked him, so casually that one would have thought he was under no threat of death. “Will ye kill me, Blaine? If so, hurry up.”

Blaine watched him for a few moments in silence. Then, he gave a small shrug and stepped back. “Nay. I think I prefer ye alive.”

Dunn grinned. So, he had left the ropes loose on purpose, it seemed, and he was still alive, which could only mean he had been the one to call his brothers there. Otherwise, they would not have spared him.

“Good man,” Dunn said, before he spun around and out of Laird Macgillivray’s grasp. Surprised by the sudden movement, Laird Macgillivray could do little other than step back, putting some space between them, blade clutched tightly in his hand.

He was afraid, Dunn could tell. He didn’t want to engage him in combat, not directly.

“Enough!”

The shout cut through the air and everyone turned to look at its source—Laird McCoy, who was advancing towards Elayne. He, too, had a knife in his hand, ready to strike.

Elayne’s eyes widened in horror as Laird McCoy approached. She knew what was about to happen. They all did. Heart stuttering in his chest, Dunn took a few stumbling steps forward, a plea catching in his throat as he tried to reach for Laird McCoy.

But the man was too far and Dunn was still disoriented by the blow to his head. He would never reach him in time. He would never be able to stop him from taking Elayne’s life.

Swift as a bolt of lightning, his brother Evander, the war leader of their clan, crossed the distance between him and Laird McCoy. Out of the four brothers, he was the one who never hesitated before a kill, who did what had to be done like he was born for it, like he had been carved into a weapon before he was even born. It showed in the tattoos scattered across his skin: one for each man he had ever killed.

Without so much as a grunt, Evander plunged his blade deep in Laird McCoy’s back. The man came to a halt with a gasp, his feet swaying under him as his eyes widened, realization dawning on him with every stuttering breath he took.

Blood pooled in the corners of his mouth and bloomed over his clothes. Beneath him, Elayne, still bound to the chair, tried her best to pull back from the drops that dripped on her, her face distorted with equal measures of disgust and horror. When Evander grasped Laird McCoy’s shoulder and removed the blade, the latter collapsed to the floor. With one last sigh, his eyes glazed over, the life finally leaving his body.

Laird Macgillivray was the only one standing now, and he was surely painfully aware of it when everyone turned to look at him. Taking a few steps back, he cowered in the corner of the room, but there was nowhere for him to go. There was no escape where he had fled. Dunn’s brothers stood like a wall in front of the door, blocking his escape.

Evander advanced towards him, adjusting his grip on the blade, but he came to a stop when Elayne screamed.

“Wait!” she pleaded, voice breaking. “Wait, please, ye cannae kill him. He’s me faither.”

“He would have gladly killed ye had it nae been fer the alliance,” Evander pointed out, harsh and painfully honest as always.

“Still, I cannae bear tae watch him die,” said Elayne. With a sigh, Dunn walked to her and began to work on the knots that bound her hands, pulling her into his arms when she was finally free. Tears glistened in her eyes, but her voice was now level, even as her bottom lip trembled. “Keep him imprisoned, but dinnae kill him. I am beggin’ ye. He is the only family I have left.”

“Elayne, he’s nae,” Dunn said softly, brushing the hair that had fallen out of her updo away from her face. “We are family now. Ye’re nae alone.”

Elayne turned her gaze to Dunn, eyes wide and pleading. “I ken that,” she said. “But I still dinnae wish fer him tae die. Dunn, please. Dinnae kill him.”

Though Dunn couldn’t imagine how Elayne still held love in her heart for that vile man, he couldn’t help but nod in agreement. He couldn’t do this to her, not when she looked so devastated at the thought of her father dying. It would wreck her, he knew, to see him bleed out on that floor like Laird McCoy.

“Evander,” he said softly, nodding at him to step back.

For a moment, Evander hesitated and Dunn couldn’t help but wonder if he would go against his wishes. In the end, his brother only sighed and put his blade back in its sheath. Just when both Dunn and Elayne sighed in relief, though, he turned back to Laird Macgillivray and punched him hard across the cheek, the blow so powerful that it knocked the man out.

Hissing quietly, Evander tried to shake the pain off his knuckles. Dunn felt Elayne go rigid beside him as she watched but all he could do was tighten his hold on her, offering as much comfort as he could.

“I’ll make sure he ends up in a cell,” Blaine said as he grabbed one of the ropes he had used on them to tie the laird’s hands instead. This time, Dunn noticed, the knots were much more secure.

Perhaps Evander’s display of violence was not the most reassuring thing for Elayne, but the more she looked at her father, still breathing in the corner of the room, the calmer she became. Dunn pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, pulling her gaze away from the man. The best thing she could do now was to forget about all this, difficult as it would surely be.

Once Blaine had the laird removed from the room and taken to the cells beneath the castle, the rest of them left as well, since none wished to stay in that small, dark room, surrounded by bodies. There would be a lot of work to do now, Dunn knew, but before anything else, he wanted Elayne to meet her new family.

“I wish the circumstances were better,” he said, as all of them entered the great hall to discuss what to do next. “But it is what it is. Elayne, I’m sure ye ken this already, but these are me braithers, Alec the eldest one and laird of our clan, the second one is Bran who is the Mackintosh clan’s advisor, and me third braither is Evander.”

As he spoke, Dunn pointed to each of the men, who bowed their heads in greeting. Still, he could sense the apprehension that rolled off Elayne in waves. He could hardly blame her. After everything she had seen and gone through, he couldn’t expect her to be warm and welcoming.

“Welcome tae the family,” Evander said then, offering one of his tiny but sincere smiles.

To Dunn’s surprise, Elayne seemed to relax a little. Though she still regarded Evander with some suspicion and concern, she returned the smile.

Perhaps they would all be just fine, after all.