Ivor nodded, a real smile coming onto his face for the first time. “Ye’re right. I’m sorry, me love. I never meant to seem like I was underestimating ye. I ken yer made of stronger stuff than that, I just…I hate to imagine ye in pain.”
Eithne leaned over and placed a gentle kiss against his lips. It was their first since separating. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure what waited for them once this whole business with Rory was over. Still, for now, she was just genuinely thankful to have Ivor back by her side.
Myrna looked shaken at the mention of their old home. “So then,” the girl said, “What does this mean for our plan?”
Jonah put his arm around her, and they all turned to Ivor. Ivor snorted and shook his head. “I’m nae the one in charge anymore,” he said, nodding to Eithne.
Eithne blinked, then realized they were looking for an answer.
Mither. Faither. Killian. Neal.
“It means,” she said, fire in her voice, “That our wait is over.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Return
Once again, Ivor found himself approaching Castle Kinnear. This time, he did not sneak – he wore an outfit stripped from one of the guards, his face obscured, and walked apace with Jonah at his side. Eithne and Myrna followed behind them, their hands bound with ropes as the men led them along.
The place looked…blighted. The grass seemed less green and the sky less blue, as though the curse that MacDuff had cast over this place was having some surreal, magical effect. There was no life here, not anymore. Blood still stained the ground, though the corpses had been removed since he was last here. The burn that ran nearby still was patterned with red in its waters.
I wonder if the blood of Eithne’s clan will ever really wash away.
He glanced back at her and at her sister. Both Kinnear girls were staring straight ahead, their eyes vague as they deliberately didn’t focus on anything surrounding them. Ivor grimaced. He couldn’t blame them.
The view got worse the closer that they got to the castle. The flag of Kinnear had been torn from the castle walls but not burned – it lay in the mud, torn and tracked, stepped upon like nothing. Above it now hung the colors of MacDuff, branding Eithne and Myrna’s home as his own.
Ivor scowled. “Garish fool,” he muttered. “I’m sorry that ye lassies have to see this.”
“Nay,” Eithne replied in a mumble. “I’m glad. It makes what I have to do easier.”
Ivor nodded. He recognized that hardness in her voice. It was the same as the one that filled his mind when he rode into battle. It was odd to hear it in a woman’s voice, especially his gentle, lovely, Eithne, and it sent a chill through him. At the same time, though, he couldn’t be any prouder of her if he tried.
He didn’t ask her if she was sure. He knew that she was. Her determination radiated from her like light from the sun.
“Our home,” Myrna whispered quietly. “Look what he’s done to it.”
“It’s nae our home anymore,” Eithne told her quietly. “Dinnae forget that.”
Ivor nodded and looked ahead. A group of guards was approaching. He nudged Jonah. “Ye’re up, lad.”
Jonah swallowed but nodded. Ivor had to admire the boy. Everything he knew had been turned on its head, yet here he was on Ivor’s side, working to put it right. Ivor knew he shouldn’t really get involved, but he found himself hoping that young Myrna found it in herself to forgive him.
The guards reached them. “Halt!” the men said. “Who goes?”
“I do,” Jonah said in a practiced cold voice. “Or cannae ye eejits recognize the heir to yer own Lairdship?”
One of the guards stammered in surprise. “Jonah Reilly? Who is that with ye?”
Ivor grunted. Jonah rolled his eyes. “Walter MacDonnell, of course. Who else? He was attacked ye ken. This wee spitfire here stabbed him right in the face and throat.” He dragged at the rope, causing Myrna to stumble forward.
It felt strange to wear the clothes and name of a traitor, but it was their easiest way forward. Ivor knew that Walter had been about his age and height. So long as he kept his face covered and didn’t speak much, his disguise would remain intact.
“Aye, and I’d do it again,” Myrna snarled. “Me only regret is that he still lives. I should have plunged the knife deeper.”
Ivor forced himself to make an angry grunt in response.
The other guard looked behind Ivor. “God above. Is that Eithne Kinnear ye have there? And the other lass her sister?”
