Page 408 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“I care not whether you live or die,” Hockley added.

Iain looked again at Victoria and let the sword slip from his grasp. His intended victim jumped to his feet and hammered a fist into Iain’s belly.

“Nay!” Victoria cried as Iain hunched over with the effect of the blow. Another blow caught him beneath the jaw, sending him onto his back.

Iain blinked up into Hockley’s face. “Why did you not leave me with Robertson?”

“Tie his feet,” Edwin commanded.

“I will come for her, Hockley.”

Victoria hurried to Edwin’s side. “You swore no harm would come to him.”

The statement fell into a deep pool of eerie silence that washed over Iain like ice water.

“Do not do this,” he whispered.

“Return to your mount.” Edwin said.

Iain shifted and the drawn swords closed in on him.

“Iain.” Victoria stepped forward, but Hockley grabbed her arm.

Iain looked up at her. “Why did you wait until now to use my name?”

“Do not come for me.”

“I will.”

She shook her head. “I want to return with

Edwin.”

Iain looked at Hockley. “She is willing to sacrifice herself to the likes of you to save me.” Resentment welled up inside. “But I have had enough of selfless surrender to last a lifetime.” Long buried memories of his mother’s sacrifice wrenched hard on his gut.

“She has made her choice,” Edwin said.

Impossible, was the word Iain wanted to shout, but instead forced the only words he could believe,

“She would lie to save me.”

* * *

How long since she’d left? Hours, days, weeks? Iain gave a mirthless laugh and, closing his eyes, leaned back in his chair in the great hall, keeping a tenuous grip on the mug balanced on the chair arm. Life had become one long, gray existence. Fate had used her most powerful of weapons and turned a single moment into a time without end.

He would not—could not—forget that moment engraved in time.

The look, carved like stone on her face.

His heart, lost in her good-bye.

Iain squeezed his shut eyes even harder against the memory of Victoria’s final words.

“Edwin offers me freedom.”

The memory brought with it the vague recollection of a meadow, her fingers tracing circles on his clean, white shirt…the sense that he had stepped into his father’s life. Iain opened his eyes, the vision in front of him of his father standing in the great hall, his relentless gaze fixed on Lily. Iain’s grip on the mug loosened, and he watched it crash to the floor.

The quiet of the great hall descended upon him. He looked up to find Thomas and Liam staring at him as they did all too often these days. Iain reached for a mug of ale belonging to one of his comrades. His muddled thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a guard reporting a visitor at the gate.