The glen. Her glen. The loch stretched wide, gray as the sky. And the hills opposite, where lay her heart.
Returning her gaze to those gathered, she saw Rhian among them, held in Leith’s arms. Andhim. Rory MacLeod.
He’d run his calloused palm over her skin, up her leg. Urged her to open for him, and she had. With abandon.
Now, as his men deposited her in front of him, she stared into his green eyes, wild and spilling over with emotion. Rage? No doubt.
“Saerla!” Rhian cried.
Saerla looked at her sister. A thousand memories came tumbling. She and her sisters giggling together when they were young girls. Tending Ma together when she was so ill. Standing over Da’s grave. Poised hand in hand as Saerla called a Vision while her sisters’ strength held her down. Rooted. Strong.
By all that was holy, she needed to be strong now.
Here in the open, she could feel it all. The ground beneath her feet. The kiss of the air on her cheek. The flowing water and the flame that was the light.
She returned her gaze to Rory MacLeod’s, holding him. Challenging him.
Well? What is it to be?
“Saerla MacBeith,” he pronounced, “your sister the Chief MacBeith has refused to ransom ye. Your life is now forfeit.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
She would not,could not, allow herself to fall. She refused to display any weakness here before this man. She commanded her legs to hold her up, even though they trembled and threatened to give way.
She had more dignity than that. More endurance than that. She would not allow this monster—Rory MacLeod—to see her crumble.
The guards had let go of her and backed off. She stood alone on the green turf, about three paces from Rory and another five from her sister and Leith. Rhian wanted to fly to her, she could tell. But Leith held Rhian fast.
That the monster intended to end her life here in front of everyone, she had no doubt. Mayhap he would do it because Moira had, aye, rejected his offer of ransom. She did not know. Perhaps he would act out of revenge for what she had done. He certainly appeared angry enough.
At least she’d been able to see the glen she loved one more time before she died. How much worse to die enclosed by the stone structure behind her, shut away from it all. She raised her eyes to the distant rise across the way—there behind the MacBeith stronghold. The slope was swathed in cloud, but her heart knew what lay there.
She had to believe. Only when one stopped believing did all hope die.
She regretted that Rhian would have to witness this. Naught would ever be the same for her sister. It would change her beyond measure.
Sister, hold fast. No matter what happens, be strong for your child.
Rhian did not cry out again. She did not weep. She stood silent in the circle of Leith’s arm.
Saerla felt rather than saw Rory move. He stalked behind her, and it was as if she could feel the breath in his lungs and the blood in his veins. Just like when they lay together.
She had not expected that. It shocked her so that when he laid hold of her by one shoulder and drew her against him, her back hard up to the muscles of his chest, she did not struggle.
He drew not his sword but a knife. With a second spear of shock, she saw it was the same weapon she’d drawn on him.
Ah, so it was revenge he wanted. Blood for blood.
Had he told anyone what had taken place between them in his chamber? She thought not. Far too humiliating. Only they two knew he’d been inside her. That she’d tried to kill him after.
Her knees threatened to fail her then. It did not matter, because his left arm, like an iron bar, held her fast, trapped against him. His right hand brought the knife to her throat.
Rhian gasped. Not another sound broke the stillness.
Let me fly home,Saerla prayed.Let me return to the light.
She could feel the blade pressing but lightly against her flesh. Pain would come. It would be swift.
