The words didn’t feel real to Alys. Although an hour had passed since the MacKinlochs had freed the prisoners and driven out the remainder of her husband’s men, she felt an overwhelming fear. Smoke billowed into the air from the fires set by the MacKinloch men, and her husband’s body was left to burn.
No longer would she be enslaved within a marriage to such a monster. Never again would he use her body, blaming her for her barrenness. She was free of Robert, but she didn’t know whether to weep for joy or fear anymore. Where could she go now?
Her maid Jeanne had tried to lend support, taking her hand and murmuring words of comfort. But Alys couldn’t find any words at all to reply. Laren MacKinloch came up beside her, offering the comfort of silence.
“I’m glad he’s dead,” Alys whispered. “I just . . . don’t know where to go now.”
The woman touched her shoulder. “Do you have family you could return to, perhaps in England? We could arrange an escort.”
Alys shook her head. “I have no one.” It wasn’t the truth, for her father was still alive. He’d gloried in the service of King Edward, commanding troops wherever Longshanks desired English forces. A man born and bred for the battlefield, her father had arranged her marriage to Lord Harkirk as a means of securing a strong alliance. No doubt her father would arrange another marriage to further his own interests, if she dared return home.
She stared into the forest, turning over the problem in her mind, when a sudden motion caught her attention. It was the older girl she’d freed several weeks ago before Robert could have her killed. Alys had been forced to disguise her as a boy, shearing off her hair, but the ruse had worked. She’d hidden the girl in the forest in an abandoned shelter.
Alys hurried toward the trees, signaling for the girl to come forward, now that the battle was over. The child clutched her arms as she saw the fires and the dead soldiers. Fear overtook her face, but Alys reached out her hand to the girl.
But the girl had stopped and her attention was fixed upon the prisoner Alys had freed. Her eyes filled up with tears, and she began sobbing.
The pieces suddenly came together, and Alys made the connection as she looked over at Finian. His gray eyes held shock and disbelief as the girl ran to him, and he caught her in his arms.
The child was his daughter. She had to be.
Thankfulness transformed his face as Finian smoothed his hand across the girl's shorn hair. He he held his daughter and then glanced over at Alys. She managed a nod, answering his unspoken question that yes, she had saved the girl’s life.
But she wasn’t prepared for the way he was looking at her now. The intensity of Finian’s gaze moved past her boundaries, in a silent message of gratitude. Though she wanted to shrug it off, an invisible bond seemed to draw her closer to him.
To distract herself from the unexpected muddle of feelings, Alys started explaining what had happened. “I bribed one of the soldiers to help me get her out.” When she heard herself speak, she was talking too fast.Calm yourself.
“I disguised her as a boy and let my husband believe she was dead,” Alys finished. Feeling guilty, she added, “I didn’t know she was yours.”
Finian kept his arm around his daughter, but he came forward and took Alys’s hand. His palm was cold, reminding Alys of the icy night he’d endured, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “There are no words to say how grateful I am.”
She could make no reply, for her cheeks were burning. He was staring at her as if she’d given him back his life, when all she’d done was protect a child. Like any woman would have done.
The girl sent her a smile, snuggling against her father. But when Alys studied Finian again, she saw the pain in his face, the glassy stare in his eyes. And she recalled the lashes he’d endured at the hands of the soldiers. He needed someone to tend his wounds, to give him care and shelter.
From behind her, she heard footsteps. Then she turned and saw Laren MacKinloch. “Lady Harkirk will need a place to live, now that the fortress is gone,” the woman said to Finian. “Will you provide her with an escort?”
“Anywhere she wishes to go.”
Alys acknowledged her thanks, but her greater concern was his physical health. At a closer look, she saw that his hands were still shaking. She drew close to Finian and whispered low. “Your wounds . . . you need to tend them.”
“Later,” he promised, holding his daughter’s hand.
But if they waited too much longer, his back might grow swollen, his body becoming feverish. Already she could see the signs of exhaustion, and Finian needed rest more than all else. As her eyes passed over him, she glimpsed an angry burn upon his arm. Though it was an older scar, it must have hurt him badly.
When she stared back at the fortress, she realized that it could still shelter them for a night or two. The fires had not touched the tower but were isolated to the outer structures and walls. They could prevent it from spreading further.
She went to the MacKinloch chief and pleaded, “Will your men put out the fires? I want to stay here in the tower for a few days more . . . until I’m ready to leave.”
Alex didn’t look pleased by her request. “There are many who would rather see it burned to the ground.”
She lifted her face to meet his gaze. “After I’ve gathered my belongings, I’ll set it ablaze myself.” It would be a fitting end to watch the four years of captivity go up in smoke.
But for now, Finian needed a place to heal, and it was the best she could do.
“I’ll give the orders,” Alex said.
“Willmydabeall right?” Iliana whispered.
