I pushed my trembling legs harder, ignoring the protest of muscles unused to such desperate exertion, but a sharp pinch in my side forced me to slow my pace, my chest heaving as I tried to draw enough breath to continue my flight. From behind me, a crunch of leaves exploded in my ears. I screamed and whipped around as Gordon emerged through the thick forest, his face a mask of cold determination. I lurched backward, turning to run, but fingers closed around my arm with crushing strength. Another scream tore through the silent clearing as he shoved me so hard the world tilted sickeningly before I slammed into the earth, driving the air from my lungs.
Before I could draw breath to cry out again, Gordon jerked me over and was atop me, his weight pressing me into the damp ground. His thighs straddled my waist, pinning my arms to my sides, and the wild triumph in his eyes made my blood freeze in my veins.
“Ye’ve led me a merry chase, lass,” he panted, his breath hot against my face. “But it ends here.”
I bucked beneath him, twisting my body in a futile attempt to dislodge him. “Get off me!” I snarled, summoning anger to combat the terror that threatened to paralyze me. “Munro will ken what ye’ve done! What ye and yer wife did to Isabella and the bairn!”
A flicker of something—was it regret?—passed across his features before his expression hardened once more. He reached to his side, and my heart stuttered as he drew a dagger, its blade gleaming wickedly in the filtered sunlight.
“I’m nae a murderer!” he said, his utter belief in his own goodness apparent in his vehement tone. “I do nae want to kill ye, but ye do nae leave me a choice!” He pressed the tip of the dagger lightly into my chest, so it just pricked. Still, my heart raced harder at the thought of the dagger plunging into my chest and ending my life. “Ye were an unexpected problem, appearing as ye did at the castle, bringing Munro slowly back from the brink we took so long to push him to. He was meant to topple over it, nae start caring about his clan and life again.” He stared at me accusingly. “Ye caused that,” Gordon grunted then. “And to make matters more problematic, ye—” he waved the dagger at me, “I hear ye claim to hear ghosts that give ye messages to aid the living they loved.” He stared hard at me. “’Tis nonsense, but I can nae let ye live, stirring hope in Munro and gaining support, admiration from the clan I mean to lead.”
My mind reeled at his words, even as I managed to free one arm. My nails found his cheek, raking down the weathered skin and drawing blood. He hissed in pain but didn’t loosen his hold.
“Killing me will nae stop the truth from coming out!” I cried, praying this was true. “Too many have heard the dead speak through me. They will tell Munro. He will listen.” God’s blood, let it be so.
Gordon’s laugh was bitter as he caught my wrist, slamming it back to the ground with enough force to make me cry out. “I will smother the stories and the hope, and nae one will question me, or yer unfortunate accident. Ye are mad! And I will ensure that anyone who claims to believe what ye said is called mad as well.” He nodded, as if he was making himself believe his own desperate words. “And Munro will return to the grief-stricken laird who does nae care to keep his title. He will be devastated at yer betrayal with his best friend.”
I thrashed beneath him, tears stinging my eyes at the futility of my attempts.
“Ye’ll nae get away with this,” I panted. “’Tis too late. Even if he believes James and I conspired against him, he still has come to care for the lasses once more!”
Gordon shook his head, and his gaze turned hard as steel. “Nay. I will see that he does nae lean on the lasses.”
“Will ye kill yer own nieces as ye killed yer nephew?”
Gordon filched and gripped my chin so hard that pain lanced along my jaw. “I did nae kill my nephew,” he hissed.
I didn’t know what to make of his claim, as it sounded genuine, and before I could attempt to sort out my thoughts, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Do ye ken what it’s like to want something yer entire life and watch it given to another? I should have been laird when my brother died. It was my right. It had always been that way in our family. The lairdship had always passed from one brother to another, so Idid nae care so overly much that Leif was laird for a time. He was sickly, and I kenned well he did nae have long to live. And Magdalene was willing to wait for her time to reign as the lady of Ross stronghold. All was going according to plan! Leif was getting sicker more quickly than we even expected, Munro and Isabella had only lasses, and she was scairt to have more bairns, and even Munro’s mama took ill and died, so we would nae even have to contend with her as the bothersome widow.”
Gordon rocked back for a moment, his weight coming off me, but then he instantly pressed forward once more. “And then Leif changed who the lairdship went to behind my back! Sickly Leif! Weak Leif. I was astonished when he died, and the council and my nephew called me into the great hall to reveal how my own brother had betrayed me!”
“He must have seen yer rotten core!” I hissed as I bucked. “He surely kenned ye would nae make a good laird!”
Gordon raised the dagger higher, its blade transforming from steel to liquid fire in the golden light. His face showed a strange mixture of determination and regret, as if he truly did wish there were another way.
“It should have been simple,” he said, and I could hear the sorrow in his tone. “The lairdship was taken from me by betrayal, and the ladyship was taken from my beloved. She could nae stand it,” Munro muttered, “and I could nae deny her. So we plotted to slowly gain support for me to be laird. A battle lost that Munro should have won. A winter where sheep died, and the food stores ran low. The clan would grow angry, and it would be directed at Munro. We were putting the plot in motion, and then—”
“Isabella got with child once more,” I whispered.
“Aye,” he said, the word sounding broken. His eyes shone with sudden tears. “Magdalen was certain Isabella carried a boy, by the lowness of it or some such thing. I thought all was lost forthe lairdship then.” Munro shook his head. “Even if discontent grew in the clan, if there were an heir, he’d simply be given the title as Leif had given my birthright to Munro. I’d only ever be the man who guided the laird. I gave up the hope, but Magdalene—”
“God’s blood,” I whispered, everything that had happened coming together in my mind. “Magdalene killed the bairn, and ye did nae ken.”
“I love her,” he said simply. “I would die to make her happy.”
“Ye killed to make her happy,” I said, remembering Isabella’s whisperings in my head.
“Nay, I killed to protect her. We did nae ken Isabella had walked up to Pike’s Point. We went there to talk privately. Isabella overheard Magdalene trying to persuade me to resume our plan after the bairn had died. She threatened to tell Munro, and she accused Magdalene of killing George. And then—” His voice broke.
“Magdalene pushed Isabella off the cliff,” I said, seeing it in my mind.
His glistening eyes met mine. “Aye,” he said. “I caught her, but I knew if she told Munro what she’d heard, he would believe her about George and put Magdalen to death. So ye see, Murieall, I do nae want to kill ye. I have to.”
In that moment, with death hovering above me in the form of Gordon’s blade, I thought not of my carefully constructed plans that had crumbled to dust, nor of the curse that had led me here. Instead, I thought of Munro and the lasses. Their infectious laugh. Munro’s gentle touch. His honor buried deep. His big heart that had suffered so much loss. I had come to love despite all my intentions to the contrary.
And in my desperation, I did the only thing I could think to do.
“Isabella!” I screamed, her name tearing from my throat with all the force my body could muster, echoing through the silent woods like a prayer, like a summoning, like my final defiance against the death that seemed certain.
