“T–the man told me that he loved me, wanted to marry me, wanted to take me away to where we could both live happy lives. But”—she sniffed—“that he had little coin.”
On a curse, the earl seized her garb. Knuckles white, he hauled her to but a breath before his face. “What does his lack of coin have to do with Dáire’sdisappearance!”
Imag’s throat worked in frantic swallows. “He said Lord Ardgar would pay gold for your child once it was born.”
Veins popped on the noble’s brow, angry, dark purple lines tinged with red as his eyes narrowed to merciless slits. “You sold my sonto our enemy?”
Face stained with tears, her breath stumbling out, she shook her head. “The man I loved swore the babe wouldna be harmed. He explained that once Lord Ardgar attacked and seized your castle, ’twould be simpler if youhad nay heirs.”
“Did you ever care about the horrific life you sentenced Dáire to?” Lathir demanded. “Care that because of your selfishness and greed, for years he was mistreated and suffered daily at the handsof a monster?”
“He suffered?” Fresh tears flooded her cheeks. “I swear I never knew, my lady. As I said, the man I loved assured me the babe would be well cared for.”
Lathir’s hand tightened around the hilt of hersgian dubh, aching to draw it, to serve justice. “And where,” she hissed with disgust, “is this man you loved? Why are you notwith him now?”
“Once I had given him the babe, he took it away and never returned. Terrified Lord Torridan would discover what I had done, I made up the story that Dáire had died at birth and I had buried him. Please, my lord,” she whimpered. “I beg of you, have mercy on me.”
“Mercy?” the noble roared. “Guard, take Imag to the dungeon where she is to remain for the rest of her miserable life!”
Fear flared in her eyes. “Nay, my lord. Please do not letme die there!”
“Punishment you deserve after sentencing my son to a life in Hades!” he roared.
The guard reached for her.
Face ashen, with a cry, she bolted throughthe open door.
The guard ran into the corridor. “She has run up to the turret.” His mouth flattened. “She willna escape, my lord,that I swear.”
Against the fading slap of boots down the hallway, Lathir secured her dagger, rushed to the entry.
A distant doorthudded closed.
Moments later, a scream sounded fromthe courtyard.
Lathir ranto the window.
Imag’s body lay sprawledon the ground.
Jaw tight, Lathir angled her jaw. “What anger and heartbreak you have caused with your duplicity. Mayhap God can forgive you, butI never will.”
Fists clenched, Lord Torridan stepped up to her side. “Amen.”
* * * *
Hours later, seated in the chair beside Kieran’s bed, his chamber illuminated by candles and the flames in the hearth, Lathir drew the blanket tighter around her. The tension thrumming through her far from eased by the scent of new rushes or the soft crackle of the fire.
Rónán—nay, Dáire McKelan—as the eldest son of Lord Torridan, was first in line to become the next Earl of Torridan. Had it not been for the healer’s treachery, they would have wed.
Heart aching, she stared at Kieran. And Dáire’s younger brother could have married thewoman he loved.
The door scraped open. Expression weary, Lord Torridan entered, paused. “’Tis late. You should be abed.”
“After today’s events, I doubt ifI could sleep.”
“Indeed.” On a tired sigh, he walked over. “Has my son tried toopen his eyes?”
“Nay.”
