Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

" Leo ."

Agnes's sharp, panicked cry was even worse than when he'd heard her voice echoing against the hills in the coming dawn, warning Briorn of danger. The fear that had spurred him on had been unlike anything else—for of course, his wife did not think to cry out for herself.

Even now, she tried to get between him and Flora, clawing at the woman, shoving at her, while Flora tried to twist the blade.

In his attempts to fling off Flora and ensure Agnes was not hurt, Leo went down on one knee. Flora shrieked with triumph and pulled the blade out of his shoulder, causing him to grunt with pain.

"Is it not enough that you took his home, his parents?" Agnes half-sobbed, half-shrieked as she grappled with Flora. "Enough, Flora. Enough. Stop this madness."

Leo meanwhile had gone very still. Up until that point, he'd thought Flora had somehow gotten swept up in bad business between Jack, may he rot in hell, her two traitorous man-at-arms who had helped Jackhim burn the castle down, and the elders in Mosage.

Fergus and the others had uncovered a plot to ensure that Leo married Grierson's daughter, no matter what. Leo knew they had no idea of the rest, but he'd still banish them all the same. Tasgall was just an old fool, after all.

Still, even the elder's treachery paled in comparison to what Flora had just revealed.

As Leo touched his shoulder, he thought back to the festivities before the raid. He suddenly recalled Flora slipping away, stopping to speak to a hooded figure, and had stupidly thought nothing of it. Fergus had even made a joke about the poor soul trysting with her.

Now, Leo knew in his heart that had been Jack. That had been the beginning of the plot. And as he raised his head, everything seemed to slow down. Agnes managed to grab Flora's wrist and get her to drop the blade, which fell in a slow arc to the floor.

His wife begged Flora to calm down, to listen to reason, even as her arm bled from the wound Flora had inflicted on her. Even as her fair face was marked with bruises from those brutes who lay dead in this very room.

"Isn't it enough?" Agnes demanded as Leo's hand closed around the handle of the dirk. "The raid, the fire, the attacks? Flora, hear me out."

"It will never be enough," Flora spat and wrenched herself free. "Those stupid bandits, Malcolm's braither, and Pip's old friend—they couldnae even do the job properly and kill ye. And even the fire wasnae enough to scare ye off, ye stupid little English mouse."

She spat at Agnes, who flinched back.

"All this death, and for what?"

"I'm glad they're dead," Flora sneered. "The useless animals."

"Are ye now?" Leo asked and surged upward, feeling the same rush of battle.

Agnes tried to grab at him, but he dodged her and caught Flora. In one move, he had her pinned to the wall with a blade to her throat.

"Would ye like to join them?"

The camp went quiet, with nothing to hear except the rasp of breath, the crackle of the fire, and the mournful whistle of the wind outside. Flora's pupils dilated, but she held Leo's gaze, as though daring him to do it. Something cruel flickered in her gaze.

"Leo—" came Agnes's soft voice, and his jaw clenched.

"Why havenae ye gone, woman?" he demanded, even though he knew she wouldn't. "Leave, Nes. Ye dinnae want to see this."

"Nay, stay and bear witness," Flora crowed, and Leo pressed the blade against her throat, drawing blood.

"Stop playing her game, Leo," Agnes said, putting a gentle hand on his wrist. He shifted his gaze to her steady green one. "She wants you to kill her. She means to bind you in any way she can. Do not take her life and be haunted by her—be free of her, as you chose to be seven years ago."

His chest rose and fell, while Flora went white to the lips.

"Ye frigid wench, shut up, shut up, shut up !"

"There has been enough death—too much death. But end it here, Leo." Agnes squeezed his wrist. "Your true enemy is dead."

"She tried to hurt ye—kill ye," Leo gritted out. "I cannae?—"

"You can," Agnes said. "I am still here." She stood straight-backed, every inch the Lady MacLarsen. "We survived. Let us celebrate that and not take another life. Not hers."

Leo allowed Agnes to pull down his wrist, take away the blade, and set it down. His hands opened and closed, a restlessness invading him, but at the same time, he felt something lift off his shoulders.

At that moment, sunlight crept into the room and shone on Agnes's hair as she gave him a soft smile—and Leo felt a bone-stirring gratitude that he'd listened to his petite outlander.

"Nay," Flora wailed and slid down the wall, her head lolling. "Nay, I… What do I do now?"

"What do we do with the likes of her?" Leo grunted and folded his arms.

At that moment, a figure burst through the door, followed by another. Laird Grierson, his son, and his man-at-arms. The latter two began to draw their weapons, but Leo merely scowled, and they froze. Meanwhile, Grierson flung himself forward.

"Mercy, mercy, Aitken… This all went so wrong, so wrong." He wept as Fergus entered the camp as well, nodding at Leo.

Leo raised an eyebrow. He'd left Fergus back at the castle to guard it. Why was he here?

"Briorn is safe. He came to warn us of the danger, of Jack, and of the foul business that was afoot. Even gave us more proof that Tasgall and some of the other elders were conspirin' against ye and begged me to help ye see reason." Fergus glanced around the room before his gaze landed on Willy, who looked green about the gills. "Perhaps ye might have spared that for yer own kin."

"Spare them—spare them. I beg ye." Grierson pressed his forehead to the dirty, bloodied floor, and Leo exchanged a glance with Fergus. "Take me life instead."

"Da, nay," Willy croaked.

Leo, however, glanced at Flora, who watched the scene with wide eyes. He pulled out his blade and leveled it at Grierson, who shuddered but remained bent.

He mimed a swing, and Flora gasped, getting up. "Please, nay. It's all me fault." She went down on her knees. "I met Jack, I brought him to the old castle, I got us in debt with him. Please—dinnae hurt me faither, please."

Leo looked at Agnes, who met his gaze with understanding and nodded. It seemed there was something left in Flora to save.

Sheathing his blade, Leo reached down and hauled Grierson to his feet, brushing off his shoulders.

"Enough death," he said.

"Thank ye, thank ye," Grierson said and went to shake his hand, but Leo stopped him.

"I have spared yer life, but understand this—ye will get yer daughter out of the Highlands on pain of death." Leo leaned in. "For ye and all yer kin."

"What does that mean?" Flora cried. "I cannae leave me home. Where would I go?"

"How about hell?" Leo spat.

"My Laird," Agnes ventured in a soft voice. "I will return to the nuns of Craeghil and speak with Sister Theresa. Explain to her what happened."

To Leo's surprise, Grierson blanched and nodded.

"I'll take Sister Theresa's recommendation for where you should send Flora. She'll know of a convent who can help with… her condition."

Leo snorted softly at Agnes's attempt to avoid calling the woman as mad as a box of frogs, but he appreciated it.

"Nay, Da," Flora snapped. "I willnae go."

"Ye must if we are to live," Laird Grierson said wearily. "Thank ye—it's more mercy than we deserve."

Fergus stepped forward and nodded at Leo. "I shall see it done." Again, he glanced around, and his face became troubled. "And see to all these poor souls."

Leo grabbed his arm and said in a low voice, "Burn Jack."

Fergus gave him a grim smile. "MacLarsen men already hauled the body away and set it to burn in a clearin'. Go home, Me Laird, and take our Lady with ye."

Agnes stood with her hands clasped together, her eyes troubled but her expression calm. She cast Flora a fleeting look of pity, so she didn't see Leo moving toward her. The gasp that escaped her lips warmed Leo's bones as he caught her in his arms and held her against his chest, striding out the door. It was an echo of the noise she made when they were joined.

Holding her tight, he moved toward Fafnir, swinging her up first, and then hauling himself up behind her. Hues of gold filled the forest around them as the sun crested the mountains.

Holding tightly on to Lady MacLarsen, the Laird urged his horse to all but fly them home.