Chapter Twenty-Six

When Graeme came to a curve in the trail where Father Ollie believed Campbell had taken Maisie, Graeme froze in shock. Maisie and Campbell stood face-to-face at the very edge of the cliff, with Maisie’s heels hanging dangerously off the ledge. Every moment he’d spent with her flashed before his eyes, and he knew that her brother was going to push her. But knowing did not prepare him for when it actually happened. It felt like a dagger plunging deep into his heart, ripping into the muscle to deliver a fatal cut.

For a breath, he could not move as she fell backward, arms flailing wildly, hair flying out to either side, legs kicking the air. Disbelief rendered him immobile as she fell, taking her brother with her, and then they stopped just as quickly. Maisie was gripping a tree limb that grew from the side of the mountain, her brother gripping her ankle. How long did he have until she could no longer hang on?

His blood gave a mighty surge and he bellowed his grief and rage, and raced up the trail to save her. He pushed past the pain of the rocks cutting his hands, the cold piercing his lungs, and the fatigue from the near-complete lack of sleep since he’d sent her away.

He glanced behind him down the path. Ross still climbed as well, but his brother was not able to keep up with Graeme. He moved at an inhuman pace, knowing that Maisie was in mortal danger. He reached the top and raced over rocks and gnarled limbs.

He dropped to his belly and stretched out his arm toward her. “Maisie!”

She looked up at him, fear etched in every beautiful curve of her face. “I’m slipping,” she whispered.

His heart plummeted to where she would meet her death far below. “Hang on, damn ye,” he begged, trying to stretch farther, but it was no use, she was just out of his reach.

“I love ye,” she said with a finality that terrified him.

“Dunnae ye dare do that,” he ordered. “Ye will nae die this day.” He discarded each useless idea to save her and her brother as they came. There was no saving them both, but there was, he believed, the possibility to save Maisie. “Campbell, if ye love yer sister, ye’ll let her go. I kinnae save ye both, but without yer weight pulling on her, she has a far better chance to hang on until I can reach her.”

“Brody, nae!”

“Either ye both die or only ye do!” Graeme yelled to Campbell, cutting off her protest.

“I’m sorry for everything, Maisie. Tell Eliza, too. I love ye both,” her brother said, and let go.

Maisie’s screams filled Graeme’s ears and heart, and her pain was his. “Dunnae let go!” he demanded, glancing behind him to see if Ross had crested the top. When his brother appeared, Graeme yelled, “I need ye now!”

Ross closed the distance between them in a breath, and as he fell to his knees, Graeme said, “Take my ankles.” His brother’s hands clamped like a vise, and Graeme shoved himself half over the ledge, reached down, and wrapped his hands around Maisie’s forearms.

“I have ye,” he said so she’d release the branch, and he could pull her to safety.

“Ye’ll nae let me go?”

“Nae ever. I love ye.” With that, he pulled her up until she was over the ledge on solid ground. Then he gathered her into his arms and took her face in his hands. “I was a fool. Can ye forgive me?”

She answered by pressing her mouth to his. Just as he was returning her kiss, Ross said, “We’ve company.”

Graeme broke the kiss, came to his feet, bringing Maisie with him, and put a protective arm out to shield her as he withdrew his sword. Buchannan appeared first upon the knoll, then Eliza, who raced past him across the hill toward them.

“Maisie!” she gasped. “What has happened?”

Maisie clung to Graeme’s arm, trembling. “Brody tried to kill me, and he fell to his death.” She spoke with little emotion, and he suspected she was in shock. Her next question seemed to confirm it. “Which one of ye killed Bernard—ye or Aidan?”