Jack’s gaze flicked to Michael, almost tender. “I saw ye there,” he said softly, “alive among the wreckage, and I thought ye were me reward. God was givin' me a bairn for the one I never had with me own wife.”
Connor felt his stomach twist as the truth spilled like poison into the air.
“God gave me a child,” Jack whispered fiercely, “to mend what yer faither broke.”
Michael staggered back a step, shaking his head. “That cannae be,” he said, tears shining. “Me da… me life… it was all a lie?”
Jack reached for him, then stopped, his hand trembling. “I loved ye,” Jack said, voice cracking, “I still do.”
Connor’s eyes never left Eva, her face pale, eyes wide with fear. He felt the burn of rage claw at his chest, begging him to strike Jack down where he stood. He tightened his grip on the sword, knuckles white, forcing himself to breathe. He could only hold back because Michael stood between vengeance and ruin.
“Let her go,” Connor said again, softer now, dangerous as a drawn bow.
Jack glanced at Eva, then back at Connor. “When me son comes home with me,” he replied, bitterness thick in his voice.
Michael shook his head fiercely. “I cannae,” he said, “I daenae even ken who I am.”
The camp crackled with tension, guards shifting uneasily as Connor’s men closed in at the edges.
Connor took a careful step forward. “This ends now,” he said, eyes burning.
Jack’s blade wavered as doubt finally crept into his gaze. But that doubt soon disappeared, and madness took over.
Eva met Connor’s eyes, silent strength shining through her fear. That look anchored him, steadied the storm within. He would bring her home, or he would die trying. And as the fire popped and the forest held its breath, Connor knew that blood and truth would both be answered before the night was through.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“The McLarens daenae deserve happiness,” Jack snarled, spittle flying, “ye steal lives, kill wives, and then ye expect joy as if God owes ye aught.”
Connor’s jaw clenched as he listened, his gaze never leaving Eva. “Yer quarrel is with me faither, and he is gone,” Connor said, “leave her out of yer madness.”
Jack shook his head wildly, rage loosening his hold without him noticing.
“She’s part of it now,” he shouted, “she’s the future ye were promised, and I’ll see it burn as mine was.”
In that moment, his arms swung wide in emphasis, and Eva twisted free with a gasp. She bolted across the clearing, skirts flying, straight toward Connor.
Connor lunged forward, catching her against his chest and dragging her behind him in one swift motion. He turned his body between her and Jack, sword flashing up in warning.
“Stay back, Eva,” he said tightly, not daring to look away from Jack. He felt her trembling hand clutch his back, alive and real, and his fury sharpened to steel.
Jack roared in frustration as the prize slipped from him.
“Coward,” he spat, advancing a step, “takin' Michael from me now is folly.”
Connor planted his feet, blade raised, eyes cold. “Take another step, and I’ll end this,” he warned, his voice low and lethal.
Michael moved forward then, anguish written plain on his face. “Da, stop this,” he pleaded, “this has gone too far.”
Jack wheeled on him, eyes blazing. “Too far?” he shouted, “I buried me wife with me own hands, and ye say too far?”
Connor felt Eva press closer behind him, her breath quick against his back.
“Michael owes ye nothin’,” Connor said, forcing calm into his voice. “And neither does Eva.”
Jack’s laugh cracked, sharp and broken. “Yer faither took everythin’ from me,” he said, “So I’ll take everythin’ from ye, his eldest son.”
Jack lunged suddenly, blade flashing, and Connor met him with a ringing clash of steel. The impact jarred his arm, but he held firm, driving Jack back a step.
