“They are nae my friends if they condone the murder of the woman I love.”
James’ quick retort, firmly said, elicited a satisfied nod from Lachlan. Turning his eyes back to the dirt toad, Lachlan once again resumed his duty of looking out for any danger. But James had more to say. He needed them to know just how serious this was for him.
“I came in search for ye because I kent it would be a fight to set her free. I kent that I would need yer help in getting her out of here alive. But if I had nae been able to find ye, I would have returned and fought to get her out alone.”
Lachlan and Aila’s eyes spun to meet his. He looked at them both squarely, his gaze unwavering to match his determination.
“I would have lit the castle on fire, I would have waded through a river of blood to get her out, regardless of whose it was. Iloveher.” James pounded against his chest, where the depth of that truth sat heaviest. “I have loved her since I was a lad. She is the only one for me. Without her, my life does nae matter. So aye, I will do all that is required to set her free, nay matter the cost.”
“Ye really do love her,” Aila answered, a small smile on her lips while tears gathered in her eyes.
“Aye,” James agreed, his voice softer. “I really do love her.”
The trio rode on in silence, each contemplating his declaration and what may lie ahead. Several minutes passed with only the sound of the horses to fill the cold night air. When James looked over at his riding companions, he foundthat Lachlan was already studying him. Or studying his horse, at least.
“If ye had told me that there was a horse out here who would outrun Knight, I would have called ye daft. I have never seen a beast move with such speed. How did ye make it run so fast for ye?”
James shrugged, patting his horse’s neck again.
“I told him the truth—that we have to save Taryn. He did the rest.”
Lachlan huffed in surprise, but let the matter drop. James knew it was Lachlan’s way of trying to ease the tension, an olive branch of friendship. In any other circumstance, James would have jumped at the opportunity to question a Kincaid about horses. But with the sky giving way to the first of the dawn’s light, there was no time for such conversations.
They rounded the bend and crossed into McGregor territory, the snow-covered trees thinning out as small thatch roofed houses started to appear. Mountains, stony and proud, rose from the ground, cutting into the sky, concealing the rising sun behind them. But James knew they were quickly running out of time.
“Where is everyone?” Lachlan asked, studying the houses. “There are nay fires in the chimneys, nay early risers getting a start on their chores.”
James’ eyes scanned the outskirts of the village, slowly starting to see what Lachlan had already spotted.
“Perhaps they have all gone. It would nae surprise me to find the clan abandoned yer Laird for making such a foolhardy decision. Perhaps this will be easier than we think.”
Lachlan sounded confident in his assessment of things, relaxed even. But James’ eyes had only grown wide, fear lit anew.
“Nay. I have seen this before,” James told him. “The villagers only leave their homes and beasts this early for one of two reasons; a great feat or an even greater terror.”
“Terror?” Aila questioned. “What do ye mean?”
“A public execution.”
The words tasted vile against James’ tongue. He had never known such horror as he let himself realize that Taryn was going to be executed with the dawn. That was only minutes away.
“We must make haste,” James shouted, already kicking his horse into a dead sprint. “They are going to hang Taryn.”
Riding as fast as his horse could carry him, James zipped through the village and down the familiar path that would take him home. He had ridden this road hundreds of times, venturing towards the castle for training or a feast. But it had never seemed so impossibly long before now.
Willing the sun to slow its ascent, to give him time to get to Taryn, James pushed on. A terrified mixture of murmured prayers and curses fell out of his mouth the closer he got to the courtyard. He didn’t bother looking back to see if Aila and Lachlan had kept pace. He would make it to Taryn. He would save her from this undeserved fate, and then let the consequences come as they may.
A rumbling thrum of excitement came from the air in front of James. He was horrified to see so many villagers lined up and waiting to see the death of who had once been their beloved heir. That the Baron had been able to twist things so far, to make Taryn into his scapegoat so completely, rocked James to his core. But the rush of terror that he felt at seeing the crowd, bodies crammed in next to each other, was nothing compared to the pang of dread that rang through him at the sight of the scaffold.
Wooden and fresh, the nails still gleaming from the blacksmith anvil, was the worst thing he had ever seen. At least, that was what he thought until he got closer.
“Och, nay,” Aila muttered in horror. “We are too late.”
She and Lachlan skidded to stop beside him, both horses panting.
“How are we ever going to get to her?”
Lachlan studied the crowd, so thickly packed that there was no space for anyone to slip through. They would have to push and shove people out of their way. James had already deemed that would take entirely too long. His mind was racing, trying to find a solution, to do anything that would get Taryn out of the courtyard and as far away from this crowd as he could.
A terror unlike anything he had ever known before ran through him at the sight of Taryn standing on the scaffold. His heart stopped, as did everything else inside of him.
Faint sunlight streamed in from behind her, making her golden hair glow as if it were a halo instead of the knotted mess it was. She looked angelic, eyes closed, hands folded demurely in front of her, entirely too innocent to be standing in front of the knotted noose dangling from above her.
The rope swayed in the morning breeze, taunting James, mocking him for not getting to Taryn sooner.
“How could he do this? Her own uncle,” Aila questioned. “Just standing there as if it were completely normal, completely right to kill her.”
James didn’t bother answering. He didn’t have an answer to give. And he feared that if he did dare to open his mouth, the bile that had risen up from his stomach would be the only thing to come out.
It was a harrowing scene; Taryn positioned within a hair’s breadth of the noose, Laird McGregor standing to one side wearing a grim but determined expression, and the executionerin black. Behind the trio, a morning dove called out its greeting, but James couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heartbeat. Or perhaps it was the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.
