23. A Traitor’s Reckoning

23

A TRAITOR’S RECKONING

I t had seemed such a shame to close her eyes against what was sure to be a beautiful morning. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds, turning the sky from a rich orange to a pale steel blue. The rays landed on her cheeks, warming them. It was the nicest thing she had felt in days. She knew without needing her sight that the mountains would be coated in snow, glimmering in the morning light. She had spent her entire life admiring the beauty of the lands that surrounded her home. It felt only right that she would die outside with it.

Yet, despite the welcoming weather and the views she had not been able to enjoy for years, Taryn could not bring herself to pry her eyes open. She knew that the moment she saw the noose that would rob her of air, she would also lose all courage. So her eyes stayed firmly shut.

Her ears, however, took in every sound, every voice that called out. The entire clan had to have come to see her hang. It was devastating to know that so many relished the idea of her death. She could hear many more people calling for the executioner to do his job already.

Scattered throughout the fray, a few voices of dissent rang out. She heard their pleas for reason and justice to prevail. Their fervor warmed her, knowing that there were some who disagreed with what her uncle and her parents had deemed the best way forward. But despite all their protesting and shouting, she knew there was nothing short of a miracle that would change the Laird’s mind. He had clearly made his decision days ago.

Taryn knew the hanging platform had taken at least that long to construct. And if, in all that time, none of his council and no one else from the clan had managed to convince him that a different way forward was the answer, nothing would. Her last hope that James would return in time to free her, or with some other way to prevent her death, was gone. There would be no saving her now.

Determined not to waste her final moments, Taryn sent her mind to her favorite memories. She longed to be anywhere but the place that she stood. Without a way out, she opted for the next best thing; hiding within her own thoughts. Laura’s brave, bold smile came to mind. The smell of Laura’s home, fabric, and tea and her mother’s cookies. She saw the forest, the moment her arrow landed on the target, the way James’ hands had felt on her waist. Sorcha’s laughter drifted in, followed by Aila’s eyes that were always so warm and welcoming. She heard Arran playing with Christopher and Elsie, seeing who could throw their stones the farthest, while Lachlan watched.

But the moment that lingered the longest in her mind, that comforted her when all the others had faded, was James. She recalled the way his lips had felt pressed against hers. She thought about the heat from his hands that radiated through her skin. Every time they had ridden together, bumping into each other on the saddle. Sunlight seeped through her closed eyes, and she could almost see the brilliant shade of green that James’ eyes were first thing in the morning and when he was angry. She longed to see him one last time, to hold him close, to hear him calling her name. She could almost hear it now, dancing on the wind, floating above the fray of the crowd.

“Taryn!”

Against all odds, she smiled. It felt foolish and freeing to find happiness in these last few moments. She hoped that James’ voice would be enough to give her peace as she faced her death.

“Taryn!”

She focused on the sound, growing louder the more she honed in on it. The thrum of the crowd faded away, quieting until all she could hear was James.

“Taryn!”

Impossibly close and clear, Taryn was starting to question what she was imagining, what she was reliving, and what was happening around her. She waited, hoping to hear it one more time, before she forced herself to look. The sound of her name echoed through the courtyard a fourth and final time.

“Taryn! Look at me!”

Her eyes popped open. Ignoring the rope, the scaffold, and the grim looks on her parents’ faces, Taryn started searching the crowd. It seemed so improbable that James would return in her final hour, but her gut screamed at her to look for him anyway.

The silence that now blanketed the crowd hadn’t been her imagination. People had grown quiet, confused, looking at each other and towards the back of the courtyard rather than at her. Her gaze traveled down the length of the courtyard until everything in the world came to a screeching halt.

Tears sprang to her eyes as they locked on the sight of James shoving his way through the crowd. Several paces behind him, soldiers in a tartan that she didn’t recognize poured into the already packed courtyard. Their weapons gleamed in the morning sunshine, nearly blinding her. But she paid them no heed, too entranced at the sight of James racing towards her.

“James,” she sobbed, pure relief coursing through her.

To her right, Laird McGregor shifted forward on his feet, reminding her that nothing was over yet. The executioner, who had been positioned in front of the door pull to her left, moved forward too. Panic threatened to consume her as it had the crowd in front of her. They had finally realized that they were being invaded by an army of some kind and were screaming their terror. Taryn wished she could let out such a sound, one that conveyed all she was feeling, but no noise escaped her.

The executioner moved again, ready to reach for her should Taryn do something as foolish as try to run. He stretched out a black leather gloved hand to grab her and a sword slashed through the air.

“Nay body move.”

She didn’t know how he had managed the feat, but James’ voice carried over the crowd, his order forcing everyone within earshot to freeze. Even her uncle had stopped moving, as though he had been waiting for someone else to take control.

Taryn ached for James to look at her, to talk to her, to promise her that everything would be all right. But his face was etched with determination, his eyes locked on Laird McGregor.

“Ye will put a stop to this madness now,” James demanded, “or I will. And it will be yer death the clan witnesses today, nae hers.”

Shock carried through the air, Taryn, and the rest of the clan alike, in disbelief that anyone would dare to address their leader as defiantly as James had. He kept his sword raised, the tip pointed in her uncle’s direction. Villagers scrambled to get out of James’ way, no one daring to interfere with what he was doing.

“Are ye truly going to betray me, yer Laird, and yer clan for this lass? Is she really worth losing yer home, yer friends, the life ye have kent until now?”

“Of course she is.” His answer came without reservation. “Why do ye think I am here? Do ye think me as foolish as to make idle threats in front of all the McGregors?

“And how do ye plan on following through on yer threat when ye are all the way down there, and I am all the way up here?” Laird McGregor questioned.

His words came out harsh and tired, but there was an underlying curiosity to it as well, as though he truly wanted to know just what James had planned.

“Aye,” James answered coolly. “I am too far away to reach ye. But he is nae.”

With his left hand, James pointed behind him. Taryn searched the crowd until she found what had given James so much confidence. She nearly collapsed at the sight of Lachlan and Aila, sifting through the crowd only a few paces behind James. Just like James, Aila had her sword raised high, warding off any villagers who might grow restless or overly confident and get in their way. Lachlan, however, paid no attention to the crowd. His gaze was solely on the Laird, Aila’s bow stretched taught in his hands with an arrow notched in the string aimed for her uncle.

Moving ever so slowly, Laird McGregor raised his opened hands in a sign of surrender. He took several steps back, putting more space in between him and Taryn. The executioner followed suit, lifting his gloved fingers off Taryn’s shoulder.

James lowered his sword just enough to be able to jog through the parted crowd, making it to the front of the platform with ease.

“What do ye think ye are doing?” her father shouted, indignant at James’ boldness. “Get away from her.”

James, halfway up the platform, didn’t have the means to fend off Jonah as he grabbed for James’ shoulder. Taryn whimpered, the thought of her freedom being stolen once more when it was so close now. But she needed not have worried. Before Jonah could do anything but reach the fabric of James’ coat, he grunted in shock. Rowena screamed, piercing and painful. It took Taryn a few slow blinks to see just what had sent her father falling to his knees. Lodged deep in his shoulder was one of Lachlan’s arrows. He had already notched another one by the time her eyes found her friends.

Blood poured out of her father’s wound, but the sight elicited no emotion from her. James summited the platform, spun to face the crowd, and pointed his sword in their direction.

“Does anyone else care to test just how serious we are about this?”

Silence answered him, to his satisfaction. Slowly, he turned to face the Laird, who still had his hands up and head bowed in surrender, then to the executioner who had the good sense to get off the platform all together.

Finally, he turned his eyes on Taryn. Her knees buckled. With her hands still bound behind her back, she would have fallen on her face had James not been there to catch her.

“Woah there, love. Everything is all right,” he murmured.

She leaned into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of everything that was him. The tears she had been so desperately trying to keep contained fell from her eyes, dampening his shirt. He only pulled her in closer, hugging her to him as they both let out the breath they had been holding.

“Let’s get ye free, aye? And then we will deal with everything and everyone else.”

Nodding, Taryn was grateful for how gentle and kind he was being with her. She was in sore need of it after the time she had spent in the prison.

“Ye are going to have to let go of me so I can cut the ropes on yer wrist,” he urged, trying to extract himself from her grip.

“I thought I had lost ye,” she whispered, not yet ready to pull away. “I thought I would never see ye again. I never thought I would see my family again. Thank ye for bringing them to me. Thank ye for coming to save me. I still cannae believe ye are really here.”

“Ye and me both,” James admitted. “But I am here. Ye are safe. I will never let anything happen to ye. I swear. Trust me Taryn, all I want to do right now is scoop ye up into my arms and ride far, far away from here. But we have an entire clan to deal with, starting with yer uncle. So please, let me go so I can untie ye. The sooner we deal with this, the sooner we can go.”

Sucking in a steadying breath, Taryn picked up her head and stepped out of his embrace. She cursed every inch of space that she put between them. At least, she did until James flashed her a smile, his stunning green eyes glowing. It was only a flash, but it was enough to make her stand still so he could step behind her and run his blade through the ropes around her wrists.

As soon as the braided knots gave way, James stepped right back to her side, tucking her into his arm.

“Let me make myself abundantly clear,” he spoke, addressing the crowd, staring directly at her parents as he did so. “Should anyone be foolish enough to lay a single hand on this woman, I can promise ye that ye will lose that hand, if nae yer life. She is under my protection and that of the Kincaid and McKenzie Clans.”

Taryn had so many questions to ask, starting with just how James had managed to turn strangers into allies, but they would have to wait.

“As for ye,” James said, turning his attention once again to Laird McGregor. “I never thought I would live to see the day that a traitor and a coward would be ruler of this clan.”

Gasps ricocheted throughout the crowd, but James didn’t care.

“When I was a lad, my father would tell me story after story of all the great McGregor Lairds who had come before my time. It was those stories that inspired me to serve my clan as a warrior, to give my life to protecting these people. And yet, today, ye were willing to murder one of your own, yer own niece at that, as if that could get ye out of the mess we are in. A madman made some wild demands of ye and because ye dinnae have the spine to stand up to him, ye were going to do as he said.”

Turning back to face the crowd, James looked out on all the familiar faces, appalled at all he saw present.

“Anyone willing to stand by and allow such a heinous crime should be imprisoned for their negligence. This is nae how McGregors should behave. This is nae who we are.”

Taryn watched as part of the crowd agreed with James, their faces awash with relief and gratitude for his intervention. She tried to commit their faces to memory, to know who was on her side. The others grew even more outraged.

“What of our families?”

“How are we supposed to defend ourselves from the Englishman now?”

“Ye have doomed us all.”

James vied for control once more, but the naysayers grew louder and louder, until finally Lachlan and Aila made it to the scaffold and climbed atop. Lachlan threw a hand into the air, gaining everyone’s attention, while Aila pulled Taryn away from James and into a tight squeeze.

“Och, Taryn,” Aila greeted.

Returning the enthusiastic welcome, Taryn hugged her friend close, not noticing the way Aila had twisted them around so that her body was between Taryn and the crowd until Taryn picked her head up. Both James and Lachlan had also shifted their stance, blocking their women almost entirely from the agitated crowd.

“I ken that ye fear what the Baron will do to us.” James’ tone had transformed to something softer and more understanding, yet still just as certain. “And for good reason. He is the man responsible for the near complete annihilation of the Kincaid clan. Baron Dudley has been gaining ground and expanding his reach ever since. This is why I have allied with the Kincaid and McKenzie clans. I am asking that ye join me.”

“My clan was decimated because we were nae prepared for an English invasion,” Lachlan explained. “But that does nae have to be the case for the McGregor Clan. I am here to see that things turn out differently for ye. We must remember who we are. We must fight together as one.”

The disgruntled rumblings from the crowd were slowly shifting to murmurings of agreement.

“We have allies,” James assured them. “The McKenzies, the Frasers, and what is left of the Kincaids have all agreed to help us protect our lands, to stop the Baron from taking any more from us. And all thanks to Taryn McGregor—not this abomination of a Laird. Her bravery and kindness secured these alliances for us.”

He paused, letting this new information settle in. Taryn felt a streak of smugness at the shock plastered across her parents’ faces. Laird McGregor couldn’t bother to do anything but look tired.

“I dinnae ken about ye, but I am tired of allowing an English lord dictate what our homes look like. I am tired of him stealing from us, robbing us of our rightful things. He has made enough demands. He has pushed too far. And now it is time that we stand up and fight back!”

Cheers erupted, scattered throughout the crowd.

“Those of ye who wish to fight,” James told them, “follow me. I will lead ye to honor and the knowledge that ye have done the right thing. The rest of ye can stay here with yer coward of a Laird.”

“Taryn!”

Her mother’s sharp voice cut through the growing groanings of the crowd. A lifetime of heeding that voice made something inside Taryn stand a little straighter, paying more attention to her mother.

“Ye will nae move from where ye stand,” Rowena ordered.