“Your pardon, my laird,” Fergus said. “I think you should hear what the lad has to say.”
Alex glanced to his brothers and his sons. He knew Fergus was upset about Finlay’s situation. Could he really be objective? Connor, Loki, and Brodie all nodded at him, so he decided to listen. Besides, there was something about the boy that called to him. “Speak up, lad. Your name first.”
“My name is Gillie, and Finlay sent me here because I was assigned as Kyla’s protector.”
His words came out in a rush so fast that Alex could hardly understand him.
“My real name is Gilleasp, but everyone calls me Gillie, Finlay promised me that if I helped him he would bring me to Grant land to live because I don’t want to live with the Buchan anymore but I helped Finlay with the horses and we got Kyla out and he has her behind the waterfall and I’m to bring you to them and then he offered to take me with him to Grant land.” He let his breath out and stared up at Alex. “Are you truly Alexander Grant, the one who fought at the Battle of Largs?”
“I am, lad. Now tell me why I should believe you. How do I know Buchan did not send you to lead me into a trap?”
Gillie whispered, “Och, I almost forgot. Finlay said to tell you Inga and Uncle Geordie both helped him,” the lad paused. “And he said to give you this. Kyla said you would know them.”
Fergus took something out of the lad’s hand and handed it over to him. Alex opened his palm and stared at the necklace of pearls, the same ones he’d placed around his wife’s neck before they married. Maddie had told him she had given them to Kyla.
Chapter Seventeen
One of my all-time favorites. The one chapter that makes me cry. Every. Single. Time…
“Are those pearls not the ones you gave Maddie?” Brodie asked.
Alex nodded.
“You’re certain?”
“Aye.” He held the clasp up for Brodie to see. “I had the jeweler engrave it with FMG for Father MacGregor, who gave me the idea. Maddie adored him.”
He placed the pearls in his sporran and said, “Brodie, Jamie, you’ll come with me. Jamie, choose ten other guards to join us.” He saw Nicol out of the corner of his eye—the man had ridden up to speak with his son. “You, too, Nicol.” He then turned to the lad and said, “Gillie, take me to my daughter.”
Gillie took the reins of his horse and was about to turn around when he stopped. “Oh, Finlay said I’m to warn you that Kyla was beaten bad. She does not look too good…my laird. That is, I hope you’ll be my laird.”
Alex motioned for him to continue, and they headed into the forest, leaving the lines of warriors behind. She was alive. That was all that mattered at present. He needed to see her for himself.
“She’s a strong lass like her mother and sire, Alex,” Brodie said. “Remember that.”
He nodded, unable to speak due to the huge lump that had found its way into his throat. They hit a meadow and Alex waved to Gillie to speed his horse into a gallop.
It felt like they rode for an eternity, though it had to be less than an hour, before Gillie led them to a burn. They followed it as it widened, and a short time later he heard the musical sounds of the waterfall nearby. Alex said a quick prayer that this was indeed Kyla and Finley and not a trap. If his daughter was indeed safe, Gillie would be joining Clan Grant soon.
Gillie tipped his head back and whistled a bird call. Within seconds, Finlay stepped out from behind the waterfall, carrying Kyla in his arms. He could see the tears rolling down the lad’s face and his gut clenched. Had they come too late? Was she gone? Her eyes were closed, but her color, what he could see past the bruises and swelling, was not the worst he’d ever seen.
Dismounting, he pulled on his inner strength not to fall to his knees, instead moving over to stand in front of Finlay, who’d stepped into the grass, still clutching Kyla to his chest.
“Is she alive, Finlay?”
Finlay nodded. “Aye, she still breathes.”
“Are you alone?”
“We have not been followed.”
Alex reached for his daughter, but Finlay stepped away from him. “I would like to, my laird, but movement pains her terribly.”
Alex stood back and nodded, his eyes traveling across his daughter’s beautiful face. It was covered with purple and blue marks, one eye was badly swollen, and her lips were cut and scabbed. As his gaze traveled the length of her body, fury built inside him like a raging fire.
He’d experienced a fury like this once before, when he’d watched a depraved bastard take a lash to his wife’s back, but this was different. Now, he was older and more capable of controlling his fury, channeling it into vengeance. This was fury that would turn him into a predator, a cat that would pace around his enemy until he had the bastard just where he wanted him.
They had done this to his daughter, the one who had been strapped to his chest as a bairn, her giggles and blue eyes ensuring she had a special place in his heart all her own.
