But this arrival reminded Ewan of the significant wall that rested between him and any such idyllic future.
The blood on Iain’s shirt was as clear a reminder as any.
“Are ye well, Iain?” he asked the messenger, who gave him a chastising look for even asking. Iain was James’ uncle, and the two were cut from precisely the same cloth. Iain McGregor would have insisted he was well, even if he was clutching his own innards in his hands.
Indeed, the older man batted a hand like Ewan was being foolish for even asking.
“Aye, o’course. Gordon sentthreemen.” His tone suggested he thought this was a woefully inadequate number. He turned back to the Laird. “They yet live, I’m sorry to say, but I left ‘em all bleedin’. An’ I sent some of the lads down to patrol the area, lest they think they ought to try comin’ back.”
“Good man,” the Laird said. “Now, head yerself down to the infirmary and let the women fuss over ye for a bit.”
“Ach,” Iain said expressively, though he looked pleased enough to submit to said fussing which, Ewan knew from experience, would include being plied with food.
There were worse ways to be repaid for doing one’s duty.
Ewan looked over to Ailsa as his father picked up the piece of parchment that Iain had brought with him, brow-furrowed. There was a small smudge of blood on one side.
Ailsa, by contrast, was so pale that it looked as though all the blood had left her face. Ewan felt the strangest urge to cross the room and scoop her into his arms.
He couldn't, though. Wouldn’t.
Instead, he returned his attention to his father’s face.
“Gordon has demanded that we return the Donaghey sisters to him,” he said, voice grim.
“On what grounds?” James demanded, standing, his hand on the pommel of his sword, which he always wore in deference to his role. “Does he really think we’d give over innocent lasses to be murdered?”
If anything, Phileas’ expression grew even grimmer at this.
“Nay. His claim is that he plans to marry Ailsa.” He slapped the paper down on the table. From this angle, Ewan could clearly see the mark of the Donaghey family seal. It was one further spark added to the towering inferno of Ewan’s rage.
“Marry?” Vaila was on her feet now, too. “What? No.”
And Ailsa…
She was staring at the middle of the room, at nothing, as if she was doing whatever it took to stop herself from… what? Weeping? Screaming? Ewan would hardly have blamed her if she’d done either of those things. But instead she just breathed, then blinked, as though coming back to herself.
“What else does it say?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
Ewan’s father looked like he regretted having to speak any more. But Phileas Buchanan was an honest man to his core.
He pressed his lips into a grim line. “He says that if we dinnae release ye back to him, he will be forced to attack us to secure the hand of his future bride.”
CHAPTER TEN
There wassilence in the Great Hall as Laird Phileas read the letter aloud.
Has there ever been silence in a Great Hall before?Ailsa wondered. It was all she could manage to grasp at that moment. She felt numb, nearly as numb as she’d felt when she’d found her parents’ bodies. This horror wasn’t the same, and the detached part of herself recognized that, but it was horror nevertheless.
Finlay Gordon had murdered her family. And now he expected her to marry him, or else the bloodshed would continue.
“Absolutely bloody not,” Ewan declared, standing, his fists clenched.
It was telling, Ailsa thought, that nobody moved to gainsay him for swearing, not even his mother.
“There’s more,” Phileas said grimly. “Gordon is demanding the return of all the sisters.”
Eilidh paled, and it was this—the sign of her sister’s distress—that made Ailsa move to act. She stood, though rather gracelessly, nearly knocking over her chair in her haste.
