The thought alone made her stomach turn. She had always been afraid of him. That was why she listened. Why she kept her head down and did as she was told, even when it sat wrong in her gut.
She had never been independent. Every choice, every step, every word had been filtered through his wishes. To others, he was strong, decisive, the man who held their lands together. To her, he was both a wall and a cage.
But as much as she acted on her fear, she also honored him. He was her father first, before the title, before the commands. The man who taught her to ride, who checked the latch on her door at night, who carried everyone’s burdens on his shoulders. And he was the Laird before anything else.
That meant duty. That meant the clan came before her.
She respected that. She respected his commands, even the ones that wound her. So she stayed silent for now. She obeyed. Not just because she was afraid of what he would do if he found out, but because part of her still believed he knew best. And betraying him, even by thinking it, felt like betraying the very name she carried.
“The loch. Yer uncle and his daughters. It wasnae the ice that took them. It was yer faither.”
Isla jumped away from Duncan. As soon as her hand tore from his, he erupted in a fit of coughs.
With her heart pounding in her ears, she searched the cottage for water. She found a pitcher in another room and smelled it, ensuring the water was fresh before bringing it to him. He did not drink much, only enough to wet his lips.
As she placed the cup on the stool by the hearth, she almost did not want to return to his side. His voice carried to her either way.
“Yer faither planned the accident for months.”
Isla whipped around, not wanting to believe his words. However, he did not have the eyes of a man who was lying.
“I kent of his plans, but I didnae say anything until it was too late. I sent word to the former Laird MacDonnell that morning. I hoped he could stop it. Then I heard word of what happened.”
She did not realize she was still holding the pitcher until it slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. The crash echoed through the room and reverberated in her head long after it faded. Her breath came in short bursts.
Her father couldn’t… He shouldn’t be able to…
The thought bounced over and over in her hand, useless and sharp.
His own brother, his sister-in-law, and his nieces. All of them, gone by his design. Why would he do it? For land, for power, for some old wound no one ever spoke of?
Isla could not believe it.
The words sat wrong in her chest, too cruel to be true. She glanced at the door, ready to run out, to find air, to find proof. But her feet felt heavy, rooted to the floor by fear and the weight of what she’d just heard.
“Why did he do it?” Her voice was hoarse, as if she had switched places with the sick man.
“For the title.”
Her legs almost gave way.
Her father had murdered his brother to steal his title?
No.She couldn’t believe that her father was capable of such evil.
“I daenae believe ye,” she said, shaking her head.
“Ye ken yer faither is a greedy man,” Duncan said with a firm look. “And in his greed, he has done a great evil.”
How could she believe her father killed his own brother, her aunt, and her cousins just for a title? And worse, he engaged her to the son of the man whose death he was responsible for.
“Why would ye tell me this now?”
“Forgive me, me Lady.” He tilted his head back with the last of his strength and closed his eyes. “Yer cousins… two little girls… I have grieved them every day of my…” His head lolled to his shoulder.
She cupped her hand over her mouth and nose, stumbling back as if he were decaying.
The room shrank, and the dust particles in the air doubled. Her mind was a hazy cacophony. Her senses only returned when she burst out of the cottage into the lantern-lit streets.
