So they’d planned it all out for her, Jamesy and Uncle Harald, sitting in the circle of men deciding who would go to Tordenet, who would return to Castle MacGahan, and, likely, what poor fool would take on the burden of wedding Bridget MacCulloch.
She reached again for her bag, remembering as her hand closed around the bottle that it was already empty.
Too damn bad, that.
“So, we’re in agreement, then?” Jamesy reached for her hand to help her to her feet, drawing back as she stood up beside him. “You smell like a draughthouse. What’s wrong with you?”
“I hurt,” she confessed simply.
Her body, her mind, her heart. They all hurt. And of the three, she was sure that only her body had a chance of recovering.
“Och, Bridget.” Jamesy tried to pull her close but she pushed away.
His pity only made it worse. Especially since he had no idea what he pitied her for.
“As to any agreement—” She stopped, feeling the tears welling up from deep inside, waiting until she could force them back down. “Decide what you will for me. I no longer have any care how I spend my days.”
Without Hall at her side, one day would be no better than another anyway.
Thirty-five
CASTLEMACGAHAN LOOMEDahead of them, the portcullis lifted in welcome so that the gates resembled a great mouth opened wide, waiting to swallow them at their journey’s end.
“It’s good to be home,” Eric laughed as he rode next to Hall, his eyes shining with his excitement. “I feel as though I’ve been gone for a year.”
Considering how short a time Eric had been wed, Hall understood why his friend was so eager to return.
For him, though, it was the beginning of an end he didn’t relish.
His work here was done. There was no more reason for him to remain at Castle MacGahan. Chase Noble was settled, so he’d paid back his debt to his Faerie friend to see after his son’s welfare. Fenrir was safely returned to his prison, and Torquil MacDowylt no longer threatened the future of Mankind. The task set him by Thor was all but complete. Once a place of safekeeping was decided upon for the scrolls, all that had brought Hall here would be finished.
All his missions completed, and what did he have to show for it? Indebtedness to two Faeries, and a broken heart. Little wonder his father had refused to carry the mantle of Thor’s Rock.
Days like this, he’d gladly have given it up himself.
“I hope you’ll no take personally my leaving you behind?” Eric’s wide grin spoke of his excitement.
“Go. Else we’re likely to have your fair Jeanne running out to meet us.”
Eric’s horse broke into a gallop and within minutes several other men, including their good laird, Malcolm, spurred their mounts to follow suit.
Off to one side, Hall spotted Bridget riding alone. He’d worried over her health for the past two days, though Jamesy had assured him she was recovering. It was only that, even from a distance, she seemed different. Her silence, the way she carried herself; nothing spoke of the vibrant, untamed warrior he’d come to know.
He turned his horse toward hers. Thanks to her brother’s constant hovering, this was the first chance he’d had to speak to her alone. Yet as he drew his horse up next to hers, he floundered for something to say.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice flat and dull.
Under any other circumstances, he’d have described her as defeated.
“What’s next in your life, Bridget MacCulloch? Now that your revenge is complete.”
“Is it?”
Of course it was. She’d done what she set out to do. “Torquil MacDowylt is dead.”
She sighed deeply, staring into the distance. “So he is. But was it truly he who killed my father? Or was it the Beast? The Beast that still lives, there in the bag that you carry at your side.” Bridget lifted a hand to brush her hair back from her brow, a movement that carried the frustration she obviously felt. “Once again I came so close, and once again I failed. In so many ways.”
They rode into the gate, traversing the tunnel in silence to reach the castle bailey, teeming with excited, happy people.
