There were so many things he needed to do. He had promises to keep, amends to make, enemies to vanquish.
But his body bested him, in the end. The weight of the day pressed down and down until he finally sank into a troubled sleep, promising himself that he would do better as soon as he woke. It was the one thing he could do to honor his father, after all. He had to do more, be better.
And he would start with making amends with his wife.
Ailsa’s throat burned as she swallowed down her tears.
My father is dead because of the trouble that ye brought down on our heads.
If you never had come here, he would still be alive.
Ewan’s words had been cruel, grief making him vicious. There were so many things that she didn’t know about her husband, but she did know that he was an honorable man. He would no doubt be sorry for what he said later. He might apologize for speaking to her so harshly.
But that didn’t mean that they would make the words untrue.
She’d thought it as she’d watched the distillery burn, and she thought it again now.
This is my fault.
She wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her wrist.
Yes, it was Gordon’s fault most of all, but it was Ailsa’s, too. If she denied that, she would be no better than the scoundrel who had wrought so much destruction.
She had come here seeking aid, even though she had known it would put the Buchanans in danger. She had stayed even after she’d received Gordon’s threat.
And now something was done that could not be undone. A man—a good, kind, generous man, beloved by his people and respected by his peers—was dead.
She couldn’t have said for certain how she made it to Vaila’s room. She didn’t remember the journey properly, in any case. But when she pounded on the door, her sister opened, eyes wide and hair wild, wearing just her nightgown.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded as soon as she saw Ailsa’s tears and bright red cheeks. “Is someone else hurt?”
Ailsa shook her head, unable to summon the words. Even so, Vaila looked in both directions down the corridor as she ushered her sister inside, as if searching for potential assailants that might be waiting to spring into attack.
“What’s happened?” she pressed again when they were safely inside her room. Ailsa was surprised to find that Eilidh and Davina were also there, sitting up in bed, blinking blearily.
She supposed this shouldn’t have taken her off guard. After all, hadn’t she come to her sisters when she’d been distressed? Why should they not turn to one another as well?
“I’m sorry I woke you,” she said. “I just?—”
She didn’t know how to put her roiling feelings into words, so she focused on the actions. It wasn’t what shefeltthat was important, it was what they had todo.
She looked at Vaila, her fierce, protective sister who was ready to fight any enemy that presented itself.
“You were right,” she said.
Vaila’s brow furrowed. “I was?”
“Yes.” Ailsa had determined this during the long hours she’d spent waiting for Ewan in their bedchamber, but seeing his pain had only cemented the urgency of her action. “We cannot wait for Gordon to strike again. He is evil; he will not be satisfied with having what he has already taken. Wemustfight back. We must take back what is ours and show him, once and for all, that he cannot bully and thieve his way into being a Donaghey. The castle isours.He can’t take it from us.”
Vaila watched Ailsa assessingly for a moment, then bared her teeth in a vicious imitation of a grin.
“Indeed he can’t. How do we strike back against him?”
Ailsa squared her shoulders. It felt good to have a purpose, made it feel as though the misery was less likely to drag her under its waves to drown.
“We rally the Donaghey men. Vaila, you know many of them.” Vaila nodded her agreement. “I can’t see that they would be happy with being led by a murderer. Do you think they’d rise up to aid us?”
“Aye,” Vaila said without hesitation. “They respected Father, and wouldnae stand for a cowardly poisoner as laird. They would stand with us, if we told them what we planned.”
