Page 91 of When the Laird Conquers

Lip curled, Edwin drew a pistol and grabbed Agnes with his free hand, pulling her to him before pressing the barrel against her temple. “Bring the bastard. Now. Try my patience, and I will leave you a widower.”

A gasp tore from Samson’s throat, his eyes bulging in horror. “What are you doing, Edwin? Put that pistol down at once!”

“If you think I will ruin my life and prospects for a bastard, a wretched girl no less, then you are sorely mistaken,” Edwin snarled. “Every other woman over the years agreed to get rid of her bastard, but not Christine. Oh no, she was determined to destroy me. And what is worse, she was not even worth tupping. You should watch and learn, Brother. You should never let anyone or anything take away your power or the things you want.”

“Edwin!” Samson cried, his mouth agape. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

“This is who he is, Lord Samson,” Agnes said thickly, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. “A monster.”

Edwin pressed the barrel of the pistol harder against her temple. “Hold your tongue. You sound just like her.” He drew in a harsh breath. “Now, someone fetch the bastard, or I will kill all of you!”

A blur flashed through the air, a whistle of wind cutting through the sound of Edwin’s labored breaths. One moment, the pistol was against Agnes’s temple; the next, it hit the grass with a hefty thump.

Puzzled, Agnes glanced down… and saw the gleaming blade of Gordon’s sword buried in Edwin’s forearm.

Edwin howled as Gordon withdrew the blade. “I will have you hanged for this! I will have all three of you shot! That bastard child, too!”

Gordon struck again, driving his blade through the arm that held Agnes. The second Edwin released his grip, Agnes darted forward, away from him.

“The Court will hear of this,” Edwin seethed. “They will… come for you, Laird Buchlann. They will… make an example of you and… your wife.”

Gordon smiled darkly. “Nay, Duke. No one will hear of this. No one will remember yer name.”

With that, he lunged forward and drove the sharp point of his sword straight through Edwin’s chest. The blade slid through him as if he were made of butter, his eyes flying wide, his mouth opening to retort, but nothing escaped except a wet gurgling sound.

As Gordon withdrew the blade, Edwin’s knees gave way. He landed hard on the grass, stared up at Agnes as if he could not believe what was happening, and toppled forward with a heavy thud.

The threat that had loomed over Agnes since Lizzy’s birth was gone. The man who had killed her beloved sister was gone.

Gordon turned to Samson. “I daenae want to have to hurt ye too.”

“I didn’t know he was… like that,” Samson hurried to say, his hands held up in surrender. “Truly, I had no notion of what he had done. He told me we were coming here to retrieve Elizabeth for good reasons, not ill. I would never, never, have joined him if I had known the truth.”

Agnes went to her husband and leaned into him, the weight on her shoulders easing as he put an arm around her. “I believe him, Gordon.”

Although Samson had proven himself to be a rather good thespian, his reaction to the pistol could not have been fake. But it was Edwin’s speech that had truly convinced her.

“I truly thought I was going to bring my niece home to be raised at Pembury,” Samson continued. “He said such awful things about you and your sister. I thought you were the monsters, but I can see that I was mistaken. Please, allow me to make this right.”

Agnes frowned. “He killed my sister. How can that ever be made right?”

“I cannot do anything to remedy that,” Samson agreed, his face falling, “but I can inform the constables that a wild animal attacked my brother when we got lost in the Highlands. I shall tell them we were stalking deer when he was set upon. That way, you can be safe here. Our niece can be safe here. No one will ever pursue you again.”

“And I suppose it doesnae hurt that ye’ll be the new Duke of Pembury,” Gordon said wryly.

Samson flinched. “Yes… Yes, I suppose I will be.” He shuddered and looked down at the body on the ground. “Well, I hope that I will be better than the last.”

“Let us hope so,” Agnes muttered.

Samson looked back up, suddenly shy. “Do you think that I can meet my niece? Not today, of course, but… another time? I should like to get to know her, if that would be agreeable to you.”

“Another time,” Agnes replied. “For now, I would like to go back home.”

Gordon held her closer to him. “Our home?”

She nodded and peered up at him with a tired smile. “Where else?” She paused. “Although I think I am quite done with cèilidhs for one day.”

“As am I,” he said softly, before lifting her onto his horse and leading her away.