Yes, but no one else would have been hurt.
How could she make such a choice even in retrospect? How could she have known her decisions would result in so much collateral damage? Nothing in her life had prepared her to face such incessant evil. She’d never dreamed Jameson wouldn’t care who he hurt to get to them.
Laird dropped down to sit beside her and pulled them both close. “How could ye run after them and risk yerself?”
Risk herself? She’d done nothing of the sort. She was safe and whole. Others were not.
Sorrow pierced her heart like a flaming poker. A ragged sob built up in her, cascading anguish over grief. Her fault. All her fault.
“He’s dead, Laird.” The revelation choked her. Tears flowed unchecked in hot streams down her cheeks.
For all those who’d sworn their lives for hers, she’d never imagined one doing it. Never known how sacrifice scarred the one it was given for. Or the guilt the survivor carried.
She wasn’t worth it.
“Hugh will be fine, lass.”
“But Tyrone will not be,” she rasped out, each tortured syllable like a dagger plunged into her heart. Twisted. “He pushed us out of the way…to save us. And died for it.”
“What?”
Salty tears caught on her trembling lips. “Jameson killed one of the few people in this world who ever cared about me. H-he bled out in the hall before Emmy could stop it. His last words were to ask if I was okay. Me! When he was dying…for me.” Her vision blurred, her throat ached with tears still unshed. “Because of me.”
Laird hugged her tight and pressed a kiss to her temple. “’Twas no’ ye,mo chroí. Jameson alone is to blame for all this. And he will pay wi’ his life.”
“And if he takes yours as well?” she choked out. “Will I have your death on my conscience, too?”
“I will nae die this day.”
But Tyrone hadn’t thought he would either. How could she bear knowing he’d died for her?
As if Laird knew where her thoughts had gone, he hugged her and added, “I am saddened for yer loss,mo chroí. Tyrone was a good mon and will ever hae my gratitude for defending ye. For saving ye and our daughter. Nae man could ask for a more honorable death. His sacrifice will be remembered at Heaven’s gate.”
Scarlett gulped back another wretched sob.
“And Jameson will be remembered for his deeds at Hell’s doors,” he vowed gruffly. “Ye hae my word on that.”
She nodded, though the assurance did nothing to ease her agonizing grief.
The medics tried to lift Hugh onto a gurney. Temporary bandages in place, they would take him to the emergency department. Hugh swatted them away and stood on his own. Scarlett leapt to her feet and handed Hermione to Laird.
Hurrying to his side, she took his arm. “Here, lean on me.”
Ha, he’d crush her if he did. Nevertheless he humored her and let a bit of weight rest on her arm. On one leg, he hopped to the stretcher, pale by the time he sat on it.
“Lie down before you fall down,” she commanded.
“Ye dinnae hae to worry aboot me, lass.”
“Yes, I do.” God, she was going to lose it again, but there was no keeping it together after what had happened. Scarlett threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. “I’m so sorry, Hugh. I was trying not to but I can’t…I can’t.”
“Dinnae fash yerself,” he murmured. “It disnae matter.”
“But it does. I couldn’t bear having another person to worry about,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to care. But I do. I’m sorry I didn’t show it before. Please don’t risk yourself again.”
“’Tis what family does.” Hugh’s arms tightened around her. “We give for those we love.”
Yes, they did. So many had given of themselves. Endangered themselves for her.
