When Gilbert’s laboured breathing signalled that the contest was nearing an end, Alan did not play or draw it out any longer. With a kick, he crushed the man’s knee, sending him to the floor. Hardly winded himself, he shoved The Cameron sharply on to his back and pressed his sword to the man’s neck.
But before he ended this miserable cur’s life, he looked to those who mattered most to him in the room. To make certain they knew, no matter the outcome for him, they mattered. His mother. His father. His brothers.
Sorcha.
She met his gaze unflinchingly and a slight smile lifted the curve of her lips. He kenned what those lips felt like on his skin and against his mouth. He smiled back.
When Brodie placed his hand on her arm, telling Alan she would be protected no matter what happened, Alan looked down at the man under his sword.
‘Burn in hell.’
He leaned his weight down and thrust the blade through the place where a man’s heart should be. A gasp and then a long hiss of breath escaping was the last sound the man made before dying. The silence erupted then, with screaming and yelling as Gilbert Cameron died before them. Releasing the hilt of his sword, he left it in place for all to see.
‘Take him.’
Alan did not know who called the order, but he found himself grabbed by many hands and dragged down the corridor. He would face the consequences of this act, but he would never regret ending the man’s life and his reign of terror. Never.
And, even if Sorcha could never be his, she would not be Gilbert’s either. She was safe, Brodie would see to that and no one would naysay The Mackintosh in that. Alan did not fight back and found himself not harmed as they locked him in a small chamber along the hallway there.
* * *
Some time passed with many people rushing along the corridor past the chamber. He heard bits and pieces, names whispered and yelled, as the commotion raged there. Well, he had killed their chieftain, so he expected that there would be confusion and questions about who would lead them. He was not certain if his actions would speak to his father’s fate. Or the man he would always call father.
Alan was standing by the door when it opened. Of all those who it could have been, she was not the one he expected.
‘Alan,’ his mother cried as she rushed to him. ‘Are you injured?’ She began rubbing her hands over him, seeking any wounds.
‘Nay, I am well, Mother.’
The enormity of the things they needed to speak about was crushing and they stood looking at each other for some long moments.
‘Mother...’
‘Alan...’
He took her in his arms and held her, wishing he kenned the words that would ease the terrible shame and choices she’d faced for him. And now, everyone had heard the tale.
No matter that she had been faithfully married to Robert Cameron and bore him two other legitimate sons. No matter that she had raised the child born of violence and horror with love and caring. No matter that she had suffered such a thing and had to face the scorn of those closest to her. Alan worried that none of those qualities and manners be remembered now and only. Gilbert’s shocking words would be.
‘Thank you,’ he finally whispered. ‘I just wish that you did not have to suffer such a thing.
‘Robbie gave me the hope I needed,’ she said, wiping her eyes as she leaned her head against his chest. ‘His love never let me lose heart. He taught me how to love.’
‘You must have hated me.’ Surely, a woman who’d suffered such an attack and then borne a child from it would have harsh feelings for the result of her shame. And yet... He’d never had a clue of his origins from either her or his father.
‘You were mine, Alan. Always first in my heart. And he claimed you before everyone as his. Neither of us ever felt anything but love for you.’
‘I would speak to him, to Father, before...’
He did not ken what he faced, but he hoped he would have a chance to make his peace with the man who’d raised him. So much made sense now and he had questions that no one else could answer. But the sound of a number of people approaching the chamber made Alan wonder if his fate was now at hand.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hours passed and still the questions came. She answered each one as carefully, completely and truthfully as she could. Some of the elders did not want to believe her words. Others nodded at her revelations and knowledge. Brodie remained at her side, watching over the interrogation and asking his own questions when she missed some bit that she’d told him already.
Her back hurt and her head throbbed by the fourth hour. Her voice grew hoarse from talking so much, but if that was what Alan needed to defend his actions and prove The Cameron committed treasonous acts against his clan, she would continue.
‘The lady has agreed to remain here to provide you with what you need, but she is exhausted and needs food and time to rest,’ Brodie announced then. ‘She has travelled many miles for some days to bring her evidence before you.’
