Page 56 of Rory

“Nope,” Harper countered. “You’re going to survive this. All of you. Even Torra.”

“Lady Torra’s dead,” Farlan reminded her. “The laird cannae marry a ghost. We shall all die here.”

“If Tasgall does this, I promise you that none of you will die,” she countered.

Rory finished cleaning the wound and looked down at her, his eyes filled with admiration, as if she’d done something special. “Tell them.”

“I’m the reason I know you live and escape the spell trap,” Harper said. “Torra MacBren is my hundred times great-grandmother. She survives this, and gets married, and has kids. Nine hundred years later, I’m her last descendent.”

“How can you be so certain ’twas her bloodline you share?” Tasgall asked.

“We saw it on the enchanted viewing scroll,” Ava said before Harper could reply. “The blonde woman with her back toward us, she was Torra. That’s why I thought I recognized her.” She eyed her. “Fine, let’s say you are proof that Torra somehow survives, maybe by jumping into another body when this place explodes. How does that prove we live?”

Trust the ex-FBI agent to come up with reasonable doubt, Harper thought. She saw Rory leaving through one of the arches, and wished she could go after him. But she needed to convince these people of the answer to their mystery.

“This place won’t explode if you break the enchantment before it collapses.” She pointed toward the window slit. “Remember, everything Laird MacBren does is because he wants you to save his daughter back in the twelfth century. It isn’t real to you, and hasn’t been for a long time, but it’s always real to him because of the magic. It brings him back to life as the man he was when he lived in the twelfth century, in the exact time he was trying to marry Torra to Tasgall to protect her from Bodach.”

“A father, frantically trying to protect his daughter from a soul-stealing goblin,” Grace murmured, nodding.

Esme hurried in, and grabbed Darro, who kissed her and held her tightly.

“Keeping Torra alive is all he cares about when he comes here, but bullying you into marrying her is his single goal,” she told the laird. “All this time you’ve been treating him like he’s been in here with you, and knows what has happened, but he doesn’t. He can’t learn, or understand, or have even the slightest clue about this place. He’s an artificial construct—a copy of the MacBren—brought to life to reenact the events before the curse. That’s all he can ever do. After he’s murdered, he’ll do it all over again, and you’ll turn him down, and everyone will keep dying. So, this time, agree to marry the girl. Go with the man. See what happens after that.”

“It couldnae be so simple,” the laird said, his mouth so tight the words sounded bitten.

“I know how crazy it sounds, but think about it,” she said. “Everything that happens hinges on two facts: the MacBren demanding you marry Torra, and you always refusing. That’s the conundrum, and the catalyst for everything that happens after the guy comes the first time. Because he’s a construct, he can’t stop what he’s doing. You have to be the one to stop refusing him.”

Tasgall looked for a moment as if he wanted to shout at her. “The chieftain speaks the truth, for ’tis naught beyond the outer curtain wall. How then may I ride away with him?”

Ava bit her bottom lip before she said, “Maybe if you agree and try, that will break the enchantment keeping us here.”

“Or the MacBren shall slay him,” Darro said flatly.

“I know you’re worried, mi vida, and it will be dangerous for your brother.” Esme held his hands in hers. “But if we don’t get out of here soon, we’re all dead.”

“All of you, you’re to remain inside the stronghold. Alec, assure my wife doesnae attempt to follow me.” Tasgall cradled Ava’s face between his hands, looking all over it before he gave her a passionate kiss. The temperature in the great hall seemed to climb before it ended and he released her.

“I love you,” Ava whispered.

The laird took her hand and pressed it over the left side of his chest. “Hold fast my heart, Wife.” He let go and strode out of the hall.

“Oh, how can we do this,” Ava whispered, her face drained of color as she stared after him.

“It will work.” Harper put an arm around her shoulders. “The watch tower is inside the stronghold, Lady A. Come on.”

They hurried through the passages together, running up the stairs to the battlements of Dun Talamh’s highest watch post. Harper kept hold of Ava as she went with her to look out at the gates where the MacBren and his thugs were climbing off their mounts. Tasgall came out of the stables with a horse, which he led up to the gates.

The garrison had driven the zombie army to the other side of the inner bailey, and the distant sounds of their fighting didn’t drown out what the two men said to each other.

“If you dinnae come with me to my stronghold and marry my daughter, I shall raze your castle to the ground,” the MacBren told him. “Aye, and cut the throats of every man, woman and child within your walls. The blood of your clan, ’twill soak the earth until it turns scarlet.”

“I shall come with you now,” Tasgall said as he lay down his sword before he mounted his horse. “I shall make Torra MacBren my wife this very day.”

“I dinnae care how much you wish fack that black haired hoor you favor–” He abruptly fell silent and stared at him. “What did you say?”

As faceless men clambered over the inner curtain wall and came rushing at Tasgall and the MacBren, a huge deluge of water doused them from above, melting them into dark puddles. Harper looked over to see Rory standing in the watch tower and holding his glowing hands up. The same glow enveloped the cloud from which the waterfall poured.

“Take me to your castle, my lord,” Tasgall said to the MacBren, smiling. “We’ve a wedding to hold, and your daughter’s life to save.”