Isabelle sucked in a sharp breath beside him. Magnus didn’t dare look at her.
“Oh, aye,” McRae said, turning his attention on her. “Did Magnus tell ye I was dead? Perhaps he was right. Perhaps Ididdie. But if I did, Magnus was the one who killed me.”
Chapter 16
Izzy transferred her gaze between Magnus and Eamon McRae, struggling to make sense of what was going on. Magnus had told her that Lord McRae was behind the attacks on the villages, the one he was trying to bring to justice. But he was also Eamon? The man who’d been Magnus’s mentor? The one who’d taken him from the monastery and brought him up?
And he claimed that it was Magnus who had caused the horrendous scar that bisected his head and neck? She shook her head, refusing to believe it.
“No,” she whispered fiercely. “No, you’re lying.”
“But I am not,” McRae said with a shake of his head. “Ask him yerself. Ask him what happened all those years ago.”
Her eyes flickered toward Magnus. His face was pale in the torchlight, his blue eyes clouded with pain and regret.
“Tell her, Magnus,” McRae urged. “Tell her how ye killed me.”
Magnus’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. A vein was throbbing in his neck and his stance was tense, jaw tight.
“Magnus?”
He didn’t look at her. Instead, he hung his head, dark curls falling forward so she couldn’t see his face.
“What’s wrong?” McRae asked, his voice all mock-sincerity. “Why do ye hang yer head, Magnus? Is it shame, perhaps?”
“Enough!” Magnus roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls of McRae’s stronghold. Anger flamed in his eyes, a deep, ferocious rage.
All around them, McRae’s men took a step forward, reaching for the hilt of their swords. But before any of them could draw their weapons, Magnus moved. With the swiftness of lightning, he slammed his fist into the nearest man’s chest, sending him sprawling onto the cold stone floor.
McRae’s expression turned into a satisfied smirk as chaos erupted in the chamber. Magnus moved like a beast uncaged, all raw power and brutal instinct. He ducked under a fist aimed at his head and landed an uppercut on his attacker’s chin. The man crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Izzy watched in stricken silence as Magnus raged against McRae’s men. She had seen Magnus angry before, but never like this. Never with such raw hatred and pent-up fury. She saw not the quiet protector who had sworn to keep her safe, but the savage warrior, a beast whose fury had been unleashed.
Who was this man? Certainly not the man who’d taken the beating that villager had given him. Certainly not the man who’d made love to her so passionately earlier this very night. Certainly not the man who’d captured her heart and held it so tenderly in those big hands of his. No, this was the man who’d so savagely beaten the blacksmith in Hodwell.
“Magnus!” she cried, but her voice was lost amongst the chorus of grunts and the clatter of boots on stone.
Laughter rang out above the noise. “Ye see, lass?” McRae called out. “Thisis yer Magnus. A beast who canna be tamed. He has fooled ye!”
Izzy watched in horror as Magnus fought. It took some time, but eventually the numbers advantage of McRae’s men won out and they managed to pin him against the wall, his strength finally waning under their combined effort.
