But O’Connell and his outlaws hadn’t survived this long by being stupid. They knew when they were outmatched. O’Connell spat into the dirt and then tossed aside his sword, the other outlaws following suit. Seeing their allies deserting them and not willing to die for such a cruel lord, McRae’s men did the same.
“Good,” Isabelle said with a nod, her voice steady. “Now back away from my man and my dog.”
Magnus’s heart nearly burst at her words. His Isabelle, his warrior queen, had just claimed him as hers in front of everyone.
As the men backed away from Magnus and Snaffles, Isabelle kept her blade pressed against McRae’s neck. Her eyes were still hard, her features set with an iron resolve that Magnus found intoxicatingly beautiful.
From around the bend, Emeric and the Order suddenly came running. Emeric had a cut above his eyebrow but other than that, appeared unhurt. Seeing how the villagers had taken control of the situation, he nodded.
“Take McRae and his people into custody,” he ordered his men.
The Order members moved swiftly, tying the hands of McRae’s warriors behind their backs. The villagers cheered as the criminals who had brought fear and destruction to their homes were now subdued.
But McRae, seeing his empire crumbling before him, did not go so easily. He looked around wildly, his eyes blazing with fury and something like madness. “No! I will have justice!”
In a sudden movement he jerked free from Isabelle’s grasp, and, with a primal scream that echoed through the clearing, launched himself at Magnus.
Magnus stood his ground as McRae came at him like a bull, his rage giving unexpected strength to his twisted frame. He struck Magnus hard across the jaw and then again in the stomach. Magnus grunted and they both tumbled to the ground, McRae on top, pummeling him with blow after blow. Magnus took it, making no move to defend himself.
“Why willnae ye fight back?” McRae roared, his voice ragged with desperation. “Fight me!”
Magnus coughed, tasting blood. He could see the madness in McRae’s eyes, the desperation of a man who has lost everything. And he took no satisfaction from it.
“Nay,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I willnae fight ye. I’m sorry, Eamon. I’m sorry for what happened to ye. I’m sorry for what ye became. But I’m done taking responsibility for yer actions.”
McRae drew back, surprise flashing in his eyes, followed by something else—a raw, desolate recognition. The fist he’d raised to strike Magnus again faltered and dropped to his side. He studied Magnus for a long moment, his breath ragged and heavy. Then, slowly, he sat back on his heels.
“I did what I had to do,” he said finally, his voice a hollow echo.
“But it cost ye everything,” Magnus replied, looking up at the man who had once taught him so much about life and duty.
McRae was silent, staring at his hands as though seeing them for the first time. Then, without a word, he crumpled inwards like a puppet with its strings cut. His shoulders shook with silent sobs.
Despite all this man had done, despite all the pain he’d caused, the sight of him broken and defeated made Magnus’s heart clench. He climbed onto his knees and gently squeezed McRae’s shoulder.
“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s over now.”
“It will never be over,” McRae whispered. “Not for me.”
Two of Emeric’s men approached and McRae didn’t resist as they grabbed him under the arms and hauled him tohis feet. Tying his hands behind his back, they led Lord Eamon McRae away like the common criminal he’d become.
Magnus sighed, surprised at the hollow feeling inside. Seeing McRae like this did not bring the satisfaction he’d expected. Only sadness. Only regret for what might have been. He climbed painfully to his feet, wincing and groaning. For a man with such physical limitations, McRae could still pack a punch.
He strode over to Isabelle who’d been staring wide-eyed and frozen as the fight unfolded. He put his hand over hers where it still gripped the knife.
“Ye can let that go now, love. It’s over.”
She blinked and looked up at him, her face pale with fright.
“Easy, lass,” he said, gently taking the knife from her grip and tossing it away. “Ye are safe now. We areallsafe now.”
Isabelle let out a long breath and closed her eyes. Her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably, all the fear and tension she’d locked away suddenly flooding out. Magnus folded her into his arms and held her tight.
With a cry, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. “I thought I’d lost you,” she murmured. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Ye’ll never lose me,” he replied, stroking her hair. He pushed her to arm’s length and looked her up and down. She seemed unharmed, just shaken. “Did ye mean what ye said just now? When ye said ‘my man and my dog’?”
Snaffles, who’d trotted over with Magnus and had been sitting patiently by Isabelle’s side, now whined and waggedhis tail. Isabelle sank onto her haunches and hugged the dog, letting out a long, heartfelt sigh of relief.
