Page 87 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander
“If I’d kenned ye would marry a fat English lass, perhaps I might have let yer other wench live in the first place.”
Ava swallowed.
What?
She waited for Brodrick to react. To show the same shock. Instead, he turned around and said something to Darach. Words she couldn’t hear.
At once, Darach reached for Flora and Margaret and ushered them out of the Great Hall.
“What did ye just say?” Brodrick asked, taking another step closer.
“Ye heard me, did ye nae?”
“Blake…” Brodrick inched forward, rubbing his temple.
Ava could see it. The shock forming on his face. The disbelief that laced his voice. The anger bubbling beneath his slow, deliberate steps.
“Blake, did ye have me first wife killed?”
“Yer faither made me promise him. He wanted ye to marry a girl from our clan. He didnae care about making peace. But ye…ye were young and hopeful. Ye thought marrying the daughter of our enemy would solve all of our problems. I warned ye repeatedly, did I nae?” Blake sneered.
Brodrick shook his head. “So ye killed her?”
“Would’ve killed the bairn too if it had been a boy. Nae in me lifetime will a MacMungo whelp become Laird of Clan MacDunn.”
Ava could tell Brodrick didn’t need to ask further questions. He could put the other pieces together on his own.
“Ye had me daughter kidnapped and me wife killed,” he said.
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. One Blake didn’t deny.
“Poison is a very powerful tool, is it nae? She was weighin’ ye down. Stayin’ married to her would’ve meant losin’ our alliance with the other lairds. Nay one wanted to do anything about it, so I took it upon meself.”
Ava tried to pull at the arm around her neck, but Blake held on even tighter, bringing the knife from her back and onto her neck. She pulled again and felt the knife graze her skin. She felt the warmth from the blood and she knew it had drawn blood.
“It was all goin’ so well. Until ye brought her,” he grunted, squeezing her hard enough that she gasped. “I thought ye’d finally come to yer senses and marry a nice MacDunn lass. But ye had to go and fall for this fat wench instead.”
Brodrick took another step closer, an expression Ava had never seen before resting on his face. He looked calm, but it wasn’t the normal calm.
“Ye ken what’s worse than a MacMungo whelp? An English whelp. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen! I should have killed the wee girl when I had the chance.”
It was not even the usual calm that comes with anger. She could see it, clear as day, on his face. Rage.
Pure, unadulterated rage.
“At least the only thing we had to lose with Davina was the alliance. Ye marryin’ an English wench would mean tarnishin’ yer lineage forever. Ye might be ready to lose yer destiny because of some fleetin’ love, but I cannae let ye.”
Ava swallowed. “You have it all wrong. We do not plan to get married.”
“Who said ye could speak!” Blake snapped.
With one fluid motion, he shoved her aside. She stumbled back and fell to the floor, her head hitting one of the stools in the hall.
Her vision grew hazy, and she felt pain explode across her skull. She could no longer see much, but out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Brodrick. Despite her pain, she could see him throw a dagger straight at Blake’s shoulder before the man could fire his gun.
She could see him charge towards the older man and slam him onto the floor. She could see him deliver blow after blow to Blake’s face.
She watched through the pain as Blake slowly stopped responding to the punches, his face growing bloody by the second, and watched Brodrick pull the dagger out of his shoulder and drive it right into his heart.
