Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Brody? Dead?” Eliza gasped. “Nay, nay!”

It was the panic and horror in Eliza’s tone that broke through the numbness invading Maisie’s mind. She disentangled herself from Graeme and went to hug her sister, telling her what had happened from the time she had arrived home to mere moments before when Brody had let go to save her. Maisie held Eliza as her sister sobbed, and Aidan crossed the knoll to approach them.

Eliza pulled back and looked at Maisie with tears still streaming down her face. “I did tell Aidan where to find Bernard. I’m sorry. I—I did nae ken what Brody had done, and I thought if they found Bernard before we did, then mayhap they’d somehow persuade Bernard to lie about Brody.”

Given Maisie herself had once had that same thought, she understood her sister’s fear. “What happened?” she asked, looking between Aidan, Ross, and Eliza.

“We went there to collect Bernard,” Aidan said, “so we could bring him to yer brother. Had I kenned what Brody had done—”

“Ye loved him, same as Eliza and me. Ye believed in him,” she said, hearing the torture in Aidan’s voice.

Aidan nodded, a look of relief crossing his face. “We came upon Bernard and a priest—”

“Father Atholl,” Eliza inserted. “Bernard screamed, ‘I’ll kill ye, Atholl.’” Her sister shuddered with the memory.

“Aye, he did,” Aidan confirmed. “I grabbed Bernard’s arm from behind to stop him from using his sword—”

“And the p-p-priest stabbed Bernard in the chest,” Eliza said through her growing sobs. “Then he sh-shoved him at Aidan, and Aidan stumbled backward and fell.”

“Bernard was a huge man,” Graeme said.

Maisie had the sudden overwhelming urge to be in the safety of Graeme’s embrace once more. She went to him, and he slid his arms around her, bringing her back to his chest with his chin resting on top of her head. He understood instinctively what she needed.

“The priest grabbed me,” Eliza said, “and put a dagger to my neck.” She showed them the cut across her neck that Maisie had not noticed before.

“Atholl was strangely good with weapons for a priest,” Graeme said.

“Maybe Atholl is nae truly a priest,” Ross replied.

“Once I got Bernard off me,” Aidan said, “I ran outside. Atholl had mounted my horse, and I went to run after him as he started away—”

“But I was hysterical by then,” Eliza said in a near whisper. Her face had turned red with embarrassment. “I grabbed Aidan by his plaid, and I would nae let him go.”

“That explains the ripped plaid,” Graeme said.

“I kinnae believe Brody is dead,” Eliza wailed.

Maisie could hardly believe it, either. Grief twisted her insides so that her stomach ached with it. “I want to go home,” she said, the feeling so powerful she couldn’t contain it.

Graeme turned her to face him, the look on his face somber. “I hope ye mean to the Dunstaffnage, Wife.”

“Wife?” she asked, surprised.

“Aye. By the laws of handfasting, we our bound now, but I’ll release ye if—”

“Nay,” she interrupted, her emotions careening wildly between joy and sadness. She had lost her brother and gained a husband. She swallowed past the hard knot of grief in her throat. “I am yers.”

“And I am yers,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth. When he broke the contact he said, “Forever.”

“Forever,” she agreed, kissing him now, not caring that they had an audience. When she pulled back, she raised on her tiptoes, pressed her lips to his ear, and whispered, “and a day.”