“She has no idea how many men you’ve shot, stabbed, or strangled to death,” Sollier continued. “Women as well, I shouldn’t doubt. How many of them did you seduce first, to gain their secrets and trust?” Sollier’s gaze narrowed. “Are there any depths to which you have not gone for the British Crown?”
Though he tried to fight the feeling, a harsh wave of despair hit Alasdair. He knew that prompting the emotion was a tactic, that he was responding as Sollier wished, but the baron was right. Alasdair had done those things. He was that man.
He risked a glance at Bridget. The disgust and horror in her eyes slammed into Alasdair harder than any fist. He rocked back on his heels.
“You’re very quiet, Lochgeal.” The baron nodded to the knife Alasdair held.
He realized he’d stopped flipping the blade. He’d let his disquiet show. The baron had scored a deep blow, and he knew he had.
“Do you really want Bridget to be shackled to you for the remainder of her days?” Sollier asked, his tone almost kind. “When she wed you, she didn’t know who you are.”
No, she hadn’t known. She might have had a notion, suspicions, but she hadn’t known the depth of Alasdair’s evils. Who was he to bind her to him? He couldn’t ask her to live beside the man he was. A murderer. He had more than blood on his hands. He stood knee deep in a river of red. Bridget deserved so much more than him, but an annulment now, with her father a traitor, would leave her with nothing. Better to be the widow of a duke.
The baron stopped drumming his fingers. He took up the pistol. “I offer a way out. Salvation, of sorts. Turn away from the Crown, Lochgeal. Turn your back on the man they helped you become. I’m not going up against them. Simply leaving this all behind to start anew. A new life for us, for our family.” Sollier’s craggy features molded into the semblance of a smile. “You are family now, son. Come with us.”
Alasdair took in the pistol aimed at him. Unuttered was the price of declining, but he could never accept. A killer he might be, but a loyal one…and one who would set Bridget free. His only sorrow was that he couldn’t live out his days beside her.
His fingers tensed on the blade he held. He knew the baron would shoot in the same moment he launched the knife. He raised his gaze to Bridget, hoping with a look to tell her he was sorry.
She slammed the dragon-handle of her father’s cane down on the back of the baron’s head. Sollier sprawled across the desk. The report of the pistol was deafening in the enclosed cabin. Pain ripped through Alasdair’s left shoulder. The force of the bullet slammed him backward into the door. He nearly dropped the knife.
“Alasdair is not the monster, Father. You are.”
Alasdair blinked to clear his swirling vision. Bridget tossed her father’s cane aside. She ran around the desk. Behind her, Sollier levered himself upward. He pawed at the front of his desk.
Alasdair pushed off the door. Bridget came hurtling toward him. He stepped around her, swaying on his feet. She caught his injured arm. Pain slashed through him. Sollier brought up a second pistol. Alasdair launched the knife.
The blade slammed into Sollier’s wrist. His arm knocked back. The pistol discharged. A bullet lodged in the wall over Bridget’s head.
She gasped, her face white. The baron roared in pain. He clawed at the knife, blade so deep, the tip protruded through the back of his arm.
Something slammed into the cabin door. Alasdair dove at Bridget. He caught her and twisted, pulling her down atop him as the cabin door burst open. Agony lanced out from his shoulder, dimming his vision.
“Fiona,” Bridget gasped, squirming free of his grip.
Alasdair levered up on his good arm. He shook his head, clearing his vision enough to see Fiona and several other familiar, trusted faces. Pain rendering body and mind numb, he collapsed in relief.
“Alasdair?”
Footsteps and shouting surrounded them, but that worried, love-laced tone belonged to Bridget. A soft hand brushed hair from his forehead. Alasdair’s mind slid further toward nothingness. Gentle fingers stroked his face, the sensation offering delight even through the numbness and pain. The peace of Bridget’s touch brought a smile to his lips. Alasdair let out a long breath and permitted the darkness to take him.
