Page 82 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
A cruel, feral grin touched Murdoch’s lips. “Then ye’re weaker than I thought ye were.”
Struan locked eyes with Isolde and gave her a small nod, hoping what he saw in her eyes was a flicker of recognition. Murdoch grinned at him. But before he could do anything more, Isolde threw her head back and connected with his already shattered nose. A strangled gasp burst from her father’s throat as he stumbled backward, fresh blood flowing freely down his face.
Struan acted in time, rushing forward and drawing his sword in one fluid movement. Murdoch’s eyes widened and his face paled as Struan drove his sword into his throat. He pushed it deep, the point of his blade scraping the stone wall behind him.
Murdoch sank to his knees gasping and gurgling, fingers clawing at the blade in his throat. With one final glance of fury at his daughter, he fell onto his side and lay still.
Struan rushed to Isolde and pulled his dagger from his belt, quickly sawing through her bindings. He clutched her shoulders and searched her up and down for wounds.
“Are ye all right?” he asked. “Are ye hurt?”
Though tears rolled from her eyes she shook her head. “Nay. I’m fine. I’m all right.”
Struan pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her to him as relief flooded his veins. Stepping back, but still holding her shoulders, he searched her once more. He saw no blood or any evidence of wounds. She truly was all right.
Isolde stared down at her father, a blend of confused, muddled emotions on her face. He couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. Grief? Relief? Some combination of them all?
“Are ye ready?” he asked and took her by the hand.
She hesitated for a moment before tearing her eyes away and offered him a shaky smile but a firm nod. They made their way through the castle and to a secret passage that led them to the forest outside again. It wasn’t until they had made their way through the forest and around to the front of Moy Castle that Struan realized things had gone the way he had hoped. Murdoch’s soldiers were dead, and his own men were raising their arms in victory, their cheering echoing through the night.
“Are ye all right?” he asked gently.
A wondrous smile touched her lips and she nodded. Struan realized the look on her face was of a woman who knew she was truly and genuinely free.
“I’m all right. I’m very much all right,” she said. “Let’s go home.”
“Aye, wife. Let’s go home.”
EPILOGUE
Three Days Later…
The great hall was filled with music and laughter. The buzz of conversation was loud but everywhere Isolde looked, all she could see were smiling faces. Most clan members had gathered to celebrate Finlay’s liberation. She had still not met him because he had been asleep almost the whole time in the healer’s chambers. According to Struan, he was looking much better now and the color had returned to his cheeks.
What will he think of me after what me faither did tae his family and himself?
Skirts swirled and people twirled, dancing to the lively tune the musicians were playing. The atmosphere in the hall was festive, joyous, and standing alone in a corner on the far side of the hall with a cup of wine in hand, Isolde couldn’t help but smile as she took it all in.
“So, ye’re me new sister-in-law, then?”
Isolde turned to see Finlay standing before her. A couple of inches shorter than Struan, Finlay was lean and trim with rich black hair and dazzling green eyes. His smile though, sparkled and shone just like his big brother’s. He was slightly gaunt and pale after his ordeal and though fading, she could still see the bruises that marred his skin. But none of what he’d gone through had been sufficient to dim that bright light inside of him.
“I am,” she said, her face growing warm as she made a small curtsy. “I am so happy tae see ye. Struan’s told me so much about ye.”
To her surprise, Finlay looked at her, then scoffed and pulled her into a fierce hug. Isolde laughed but returned his embrace and together they laughed. After a couple of moments, he stepped back and took her hands in his, staring intently into her eyes.
“I’m told ‘twas yer help that allowed me braither tae come fetch me,” he said.
Isolde’s cheeks flushed. “I wouldnae say that?—”
“Me braither certainly daes,” Finlay said earnestly. “He says without ye, there wouldnae have been a rescue at all.”
“Oh, I’m nae sure that’s true.”
“I’m sure ye ken me braither’s nae one tae exaggerate,” Finlay said. “If he says ‘tis true, I tend tae believe him. Without ye, I wouldnae be standin’ here right now.”
Isolde lowered her gaze to the floor and felt her cheeks grow uncomfortably warm. She certainly didn’t feel integral to Finlay’s rescue. All she had done was tell Struan how to get into the castle undetected. And then after that, she had gotten herself captured by her father, forcing Struan to rescue her. It made her heart swell to hear he thought she was helpful.
