Gwendolen collapsed to her knees on the braided rug. What if he was dying now, at this very moment? What if Murdoch and his army of Jacobite rebels were cheering and applauding, while the life was draining out of her husband’s body?
She had never hated her brother more. She was seething inside with a hellish rage she had not known she was capable of. She now understood Angus’s hatred toward the English after the violent deaths of his mother and sister. She felt that same darkening of her own soul, and a powerful need to fight and protect. She remembered the feel of his claymore in her hands and wished she had it now, so she could use it against her husband’s executioners.
Indeed, Murdoch was going to have to kill her if he expected to succeed as Laird of Kinloch, because when she was released from this room, she would have her vengeance. By God, she would have it. She would never forgive him for this—for the complete and utter obliteration of her happiness.
And all for the unlikely dream of a dukedom.
A key slipped into the lock just then, and Gwendolen rose to her feet. Her mother swept into the room and locked the door behind her. She barely had a chance to turn around before Gwendolen was upon her, wrestling with her for the key.
“Give it to me!” she demanded. “I need to save him!”
She had to do something. She did not know what. All she knew and felt was a wild desperation that plagued her like a demon. She could not lose him. He could not die.
“Wait!” Onora cried. “Listen to me, Gwendolen. He escaped. He got away.”
Every nerve in her body went still, then sparked anew with hope. Yet she was afraid to believe it. What if it was a lie?
“Are you certain?”
“Aye. They tried to hang him from the battlements, but Slevyn tied two ropes together and the knot didn’t hold. Angus fell into the moat and escaped on horseback. They’ve gone after him of course, but I thought you should know.”
Gwendolen turned away from her mother and covered her face with her hands. “Thank God.”
Onora waited quietly, while Gwendolen strove to calm herself and think clearly. She needed to decide how to proceed from here, and there was no point in smashing furniture. She must be levelheaded from this point on.
Swallowing hard, she faced her mother. “Where is Lachlan?”
The color drained from Onora’s face. She rested one hand on her hip and cupped her forehead with the other. “He’s in the dungeon and they have released Gordon. Lachlan is alive, but just barely.”
“Why? What did they do to him?”
“Slevyn clubbed him in the head, which is my fault entirely. I led him to that slaughter, and I will never forgive myself. Just now the gates were opened and Murdoch’s army has seized control. I am sorry, Gwendolen. I thought this was what I wanted before, but now I am filled with such remorse, I cannot bear it.”
Gwendolen eyed her with derision. “You deserve your pain, Mother, and do not bother to come to me for sympathy or absolution, because you will find none. You alone will have to live with what you did.” She laid a hand on her belly and fought back the tears she had not been able to shed through the wall of her anger, but now everything inside her seemed to be a tumbling avalanche of emotion. “He is the father of my child. Your own grandchild. Howcouldyou?”
Onora sank into a chair. “I agreed to this plan before all of that. You, yourself, resisted Angus at first. You despised him. I was only trying to help and protect you. I told Murdoch I would assist him in any way I could, but I didn’t expect that we would both grow to love our enemies.”
“You are referring to Lachlan? You think youlovehim? You don’t know what love is.” Gwendolen walked to the window and looked through the broken glass. “Why didn’t you at least tell me what was happening? You let me believe my brother was dead. You kept me in the dark the entire time.”
“I knew you would never be able to keep the secret. You’re not like me, Gwendolen. You’re not capable of lying and manipulating. The truth always shines out of your eyes, and Angus would have recognized your treachery. He is very careful of such things. Murdoch suggested that we both distract Angus and Lachlan from the defense of Kinloch while he gathered his forces. I knew I could accomplish that quite easily, but you had to do it…genuinely.”
Gwendolen whirled around. “And I most certainly did that.” She hated herself for being so naïve and gullible, that she could be used as a pawn by those she trusted most. “I am such a fool.”
Her mother stood. “No, you are not. Your heart is pure, and you trust those you love. You see goodness in people.”
“But you used that against me.”
“Aye, which makesmethe fool, not you, because I have lost my only chance at happiness. Lachlan has witnessed my deceit with his own eyes. He will never look at me after this. He will despise me.”
Gwendolen considered all of this. “As Angus will despise me.” She returned to the broken window and looked out at the hazy morning light. “I was the one who poisoned him. He will never believe it was not deliberate. Not after everything that has happened. Raonaid’s predictions have come true, and I was the one who pushed him to ignore them and send her away.”
Onora crossed to her. “Aye, but she’s the one who made it come true. She was the one who told Murdoch how Angus would die, and Murdoch believed her. He acted in a way that would be true to her prophecy, while she encouraged him and manipulated him in order to exact her own revenge and prove herself right.”
“But it did not work,” Gwendolen said. “Angus still lives.”
She sat down on the bed and said a silent prayer of gratitude.
“We all choose our own destinies,” Onora said, moving forward. “I realize that now. We all have the power to affect the future. We make it what we want. Angus did not want to die. He fought against Slevyn and he escaped.”
