Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I t had taken them two days to reach the Chattan lands—two days during which Hugo had dreaded the moment their journey would come to an end and they would have to face the reality of their situation.

On the way there, the tension surrounding their party was so thick and heavy that it suppressed everything else. There were few conversations amongst the men, fewer still among Abigail, Hugo, and Domnhall, and now that they were standing on the top of the nearest hill, overlooking the castle and the small chapel where Abigail was supposed to be marrying Finnian, a chill spread through Hugo’s chest at the thought that she would be near that man again.

He could use that dread. He could take it and mold it into the kind of rage that would help him slay anyone who stood in his path.

“Are ye ready?” Domnhall asked Abigail as the three of them stared out into the distance. Castle Chattan was a large building, the kind that was made as much for splendor as it was for defense, and perhaps that was what had brought the clan to this—amassed debts, resorting to violence to get what they wanted.

“As ready as I can be,” said Abigail.

“If you don’t wish to do this?—”

“Nay,” Abigail said, before Hugo could finish his sentence. “Nay, I will dae it. Is it time?”

“Almost,” said Domnhall with a nod. “I… well, I shall give ye a few moments.”

As he headed back to his men, where they were all camped nearby, Hugo turned to look at Abigail. It was one of the nicer days they had had so far, with only a few clouds marring the morning sky, and Hugo was mesmerized by the way her deep, golden hair seemed to shine under the light. Her eyes, though, lacked their usual shine. There was no mirth there, there was none of that joyful mischief he was so used to seeing.

Abigail looked older than her years then, reminding Hugo more of Evangeline than she did of herself. Even when she smiled at him, there was only so much it could do to erase the fear etched into her features.

“I wished tae tell ye, too, that if somethin’ happens?—”

“It won’t,” Hugo said. He had heard what Abigail had told Billie, but he didn’t even want to think about the possibility of something bad happening to her. It would mean that he would have failed. It would mean that he would have failed her , and Hugo would never allow such a thing to happen.

“Please,” Abigail insisted, two firm hands gripping his shoulders. “Listen tae me. Should somethin’ happen, I want ye tae ken that I truly love ye, Hugo. An’ I want naething more than tae be yer wife. It would make me the happiest lass in the world tae be yers.”

“You already are,” Hugo said as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips, the gesture barely more than a mere brush. “As I am yours. I will do anything to protect you, Abigail. I will even give my own life.”

“That is what I fear,” said Abigail, her voice small, barely audible over the breeze. Before Hugo could say anything else, Abigail crashed into him, pulling him into a crushing hug and burying her face in his shoulder. Within moments, the fabric of his shirt clung to him, wet with Abigail’s tears. “Please, promise me ye will be careful. I dinnae want tae lose ye.”

“I’ll be careful,” Hugo assured her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and burying his face in the crown if her head. “I promise, ma cherie . I promise.”

When Abigail pulled back from him, she hastily wiped the tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hand, letting out a short, humorless chuckle. “Forgive me, I didnae mean tae cry.”

Hugo shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Never apologize for this.”

Behind him, there was the sound of a throat being cleared politely and Hugo turned to see Domnhall looking at them expectantly. Hugo nodded, but then turned back to Abigail, brushing the knuckles of his fingers over her cheek.

“So, it is time,” he said.

“So it is.”

Neither of them wanted to move. Neither of them wanted to face the reality of what they were about to do, but they had no other choice. The longer they stood there, the more difficult it seemed to move away from each other, and so Hugo took a deep breath and pulled Abigail towards the others. There stood three men, some of Domnhall’s finest warriors, ready to accompany Abigail to Castle Chattan along with Hugo.

“I thought I was only meant tae have one escort,” Abigail said.

“Aye, but we willnae let only one o’ us accompany ye,” said Domnhall. “That would be terribly unwise. An’ Hugo refuses tae let ye stray from his sight, so he will come with ye, too.”

Hugo gave Abigail a tentative smile as she clung onto his arm, her relieved sigh a testament to how much his presence mattered to her. There was not much he could do other than try to protect her from harm and give her this comfort, but at least it was better than nothing.

“Are the men ready?” Hugo asked and Domnhall nodded, summoning the three men.

Patting Hugo on the back, Domnhall said, “We’ll be nearby. The moment we see any trouble, we will come.”

Hugo had no doubt about that. He simply couldn’t help but wonder if four dozen men would be enough.

He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps they should have waited for the king’s decision; if perhaps they had made a mistake, after all.

Walking to the chapel felt as if Abigail was walking to her own funeral. Domnhall had sent a messenger ahead to tell the brothers when she would arrive, and everything was ready. Despite how she felt, Abigail still held her head high and her expression blank, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Niall and Finnian were both vultures. They were waiting for anything she would give them that they could exploit.

Before Abigail knew it, they were approaching the small stone building. It stood near the castle, but outside its walls, surrounded by a lush forest that seemed to stretch into the horizon. Around the walls, wildflowers bloomed to paint an idyllic scenery.

It was as though the land itself was mocking her.

The only thing that kept Abigail upright, even as her knees threatened to buckle under her, was Hugo’s solid presence never leaving her side and she was grateful for it. Without him, she didn’t know if she would have made it all the way to the last step.

It was only when they approached close enough to see Niall and Finnian that Abigail also saw all the other men surrounding them. They were soldiers, she knew, and they were all armed, their hands hovering over their swords as they remained vigilant, waiting for a battle.

The two brothers greeted Abigail with twin smirks, satisfied and smug. Their dark eyes were filled with mirth at seeing her, and she could only imagine the image she made—her mouth twisted in a snarl, her hands clenched into tight fists by her hips.

“Ye said there would be nay bloodshed,” Abigail reminded them. “Why dae ye need so many men if ye willnae spill any blood?”

“We also said ye should come alone,” Finnian said. “An’ yet ye have brought four men with ye. We were right tae nae trust ye.”

Abigail narrowed her eyes, but it was nothing they hadn’t expected. Domnhall and Hugo had warned her that Finnian and Niall would make sure to have their forces ready and they would expect the same from their side.

Next to her, Hugo didn’t speak, but Abigail could practically feel the disgust and hatred rolling off him in waves as he glared at the other two men. The other three who accompanied them stepped closer, forming a protective shell around Abigail in case Finnian and Niall gave the order for his men to attack.

But Abigail knew they wouldn’t; not yet, at least. Finnian still wanted to marry her, and he wouldn’t jeopardize that by attacking before their vows were said.

I will never marry him. I will never give him what he wants.

“Go inside,” Finnian demanded, but Abigail was quick to shake her head.

“Nay,” she said. “I willnae dae anythin’ until ye’ve brought me faither here. I wish tae see that he is alive an’ unharmed.”

Finnian rolled his eyes, but Niall raised his hand, gesturing to his men. After a few moments, two of them pushed through the small crowd and as everyone parted around them, Abigail saw that they were half-carrying her father between them, dragging him closer.

A sob caught in her throat, half-formed and silenced before it had the chance to tumble past her lips. The sight of her father, beaten up, bloody, and bruised was so shocking that Abigail’s legs finally gave out and Hugo barely caught her, steadying her before she could fall to the ground.

Her father, along with her sisters, had been the one constant in her life. She could always rely on him. She could always expect him to be there for her.

He was the only parent she had known.

And now there he was, hurt by the same monsters who wanted to hurt her and Hugo and everyone else she loved.

“What have ye done tae him?” Abigail demanded as she stared at her father. Blood dripped from his split lip and his left eye was swollen shut, bruised all the way down to his cheek. His clothes were torn, his arms and torso marred with cuts, some of which were still bleeding. It seemed that they had been torturing him right up to the moment they left for the chapel and Abigail’s stomach churned as she imagined everything he had gone through.

“Abigail,” her father said, his voice quiet and weak, barely reaching her. But then a new bout of energy invigorated him and he stood a little straighter, eyes wide as he shouted at her. “Why are ye here? Dinnae listen tae them, Abigail! I dinnae care what happens tae me, let them kill me! Run!”

Taken aback by her father’s sudden outburst, Abigail didn’t know what to do at first. She froze, her lips parting as if to speak as she stared at him in horror, until she finally regained her wits and shook her head vehemently.

“I willnae leave ye here with these beasts,” she said. “Never!”

“Then ye only have one choice,” Niall said as he gestured at the chapel door.

“Nay!” her father screamed, thrashing as he tried to escape the grip of his captors. A third soldier approached him swiftly, though, his fist connecting with her father’s face with a sickening sound.

“Faither!” Abigail shouted and she would have rushed to him had it not been for Hugo stopping her at the last minute. She couldn’t bear to watch her father like this. She couldn’t bear to hear his labored breaths as he tried to stand straight once more, his gaze seeking her even as he tried to fight the pain. “Let him go. Let me faither an’ Hugo go an’ then I will go inside.”

There were too many men surrounding them. Abigail counted at least two dozen and she was certain there were more, waiting just past the tree line. Hugo and the three soldiers would be condemning themselves to a swift, meaningless death if they attacked now. Abigail had to buy them some time. She had to wait for Domnhall or, if they were lucky, for reinforcements to arrive. Jumping into a fight now would be foolish—detrimental, even.

Finnian and Niall exchanged a quick look before Niall nodded to his men. The two who were holding her father brought him over to where she and Hugo stood, but Abigail barely had the time to breathe in a sigh of relief before Finnian lunged at her, grabbing her arm and dragging her away.

At the same time, his men attacked all at once, overwhelming Hugo, her father, and the three soldiers who had accompanied them. Though they drew their swords, there was nothing they could do as Niall’s forces swarmed them, six men for each of them.

There was no fight. There was hardly more than a short scuffle as they were all subdued, and Abigail screamed, arms and legs flailing as she tried to throw Finnian away from her in a desperate effort to free herself.

But what would she do then? She could hardly fight almost thirty men alone. She could hardly fight even one of them.

“Ye said ye would let them go!” Abigail screamed petulantly, the injustice of it all choking her up even if she had always known Finnian and Niall wouldn’t keep their promise. “Ye said ye wouldnae hurt them. There was a deal!”

“I dinnae care about the cursed deal,” Finnian hissed, his grip tightening on Abigail’s arm to the point of bruising as he shook her. “Ye should have wedded me weeks ago! This is all yer fault.”

As he spoke, he began to drag Abigail towards the entrance to the chapel. Behind her, Abigail could hear Hugo’s screams as he tried to put an end to this, but when she turned to look at him, one of the soldiers brought the handle of his blade hard on the back of Hugo’s head, quieting him in an instant.

Abigail watched in horror as his head lolled forward, as if no longer supported by his neck. With a groan, he lifted his head slowly—or at least tried to. It seemed to pain him to move, wincing and looking pale, but that didn’t stop him from calling out to her once more.

“Dinnae hurt them,” Abigail said, breathless. Suddenly, she realized how easy it would be for Niall and Finnian to kill both her father and Hugo. There was no one who could save them. Domnhall was too far and for all Abigail knew, he would be overwhelmed by Niall’s men. No other help had come. Their only hope now was Abigail. Maybe if she did as she was told, if she followed Finnian’s orders and went along with his plan, then he and his brother would find it in them to show mercy.

Is that too foolish o’ a thought? Are they capable o’ showin’ mercy?

“They will both watch ye as ye are wedded tae me,” Finnian said through gritted teeth, his face hovering only mere inches away from Abigail’s. His features were contorted with rage, and it was then that she knew for certain that no matter what she said, no matter what she did, Finnian would never let Hugo live. He and Abigail had disgraced him far too much to allow it. “An’ ye will all ken to whom ye truly belong.”

Outside, battle cries rang through the clearing where the chapel stood. From the sound of it, Abigail could only guess that her previous estimations were correct—Niall did, in fact, have more troops with him, and they had come into contact with Domnhall and his men.

When Abigail looked over her shoulder at Hugo as she was being dragged to the altar and he was forced into one of the pews next to her father, the look he gave her, open and raw with defeat, shattered what was left of her heart.