Page 73 of Highlanders for the Holidays
Malcom stood, confused, watching the scene unfold.
* * *
“Papa,” Page cried.
Hugh was more than aware that his blood was spilling into the cold, wet earth, but he rested easily, knowing his arrow had found its mark. That was one thing the years could never wrest from him; even as his legs had slowed and his belly fattened, he could still wield that bow.
“Papa,” she cried, her lips quivering with emotion.
Hugh always loved that about her—the fact that she loved so freely, even when it wasn’t returned. Eleanore had been that way as well—up until the end.
His sight dimming, Hugh squinted up at his only daughter—the beautiful woman she had become—confused by the turn of these events. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He’d only meant to help. Hadn’t Eleanore said he would have another chance?
In that instant, the forest light took on that strange blue hue and suddenly everything seemed so very clear.
The chance wasn’t for him. It was for his heirs. As for Hugh, this would be his end. Strangely, he wasn’t afraid. He was merely cold, intensely cold…
Another pair of wide-blue eyes peered down at him, this pair over his daughter’s shoulder. “Malcom?” he said, recognizing the face no matter how old the boy was grown. “Ye’re a fine lad,” he said. These were his very last words.
“Hang on, papa. Hurry, Mal! Go get your Da,” Page commanded the lad. “You’ll find him in the stables. Hurry, now go!”
Hugh’s breath came more labored. The sound of his own breathing became amplified to his ears while Page’s voice drifted away. She was sobbing—poor, poor girl. The sound of her grief hurt his heart, which seemed to beating all the more slowly now. He heard crispy leaves rustle as Malcom dashed away.
Realizing he was nearly out of time, Hugh struggled to remove the ring from his swollen finger. This was all he could give Page now, his legacy, for she was Aldergh’s rightful heir… He managed to remove the sigil ring, pushing it wordlessly into her hand. He tried to speak, but tinny blood gushed up through his lips.
“Oh, no, no, no, no….” Page shook her head. “Papa,” she pleaded brokenly. “Oh, papa… I love you, Papa.” He heard her say this, over and over, like a litany in his head. “I love you, Papa.” He recognized the truth in her eyes—she loved him still—even after all these years—even after all he’d done. Words refused to form upon his lips and still, he opened his mouth in an attempt to speak.
I love you,he longed to say, and closed his eyes, recalling Eleanore’s words.
You will know love when ’tis returned.
With Hugh’s dying breath, his heart burst with joy.
And then he spied her—his wife—seated beside the hearth fire, dressed resplendently in velvet red, and wearing his cloak. The room was brightly lit and Hugh was no longer cold.
Hugh stepped tentatively into the solar.
Eleanore smiled at him, a radiant smile that put to shame the fire raging in the hearth. There was nothing frightening about her now. “You did not die alone,” she said, her voice like music to his ears.
“And yet I did everything you said,” he told her, still confused.
Eleanore rose from the chair and came to take Hugh by the hand, her gaze full of love as she enveloped him in her arms. Warmth and forgiveness filled him, from his head to the tips of his toes.
“My dearest love,” she said, “I never promised you longer life. I merely gave you the gift of knowing and a chance to make amends and change the hand of fate.”
“What happens now?”
Somewhere, in the place Hugh left, his daughter wept for him still. The sound lingered faintly in the back of his head. He peered back at the doorway from whence it seemed he must have come. Beyond the solar where he now stood, in what should have been the hall, remained a forest that was growing darker by the second.
Eleanore turned her hand, begging him once more to take it. “I hear tell Henry has already arrived. Shall we go?”
Henry too? The old bugger!
All trace of jealousy had fled, no longer doubting Eleanore’s love.
In another life, Hugh might have moved his mouth to ask where they would go, but he had no need of his voice. He already knew. He took Eleanore by the hand, and together they flew…
