Page 145 of Bride of Ice
Ian likely didn’t understand what had happened. As far as he was concerned, his sister had thrown a dagger at Archie, who was only trying to protect him from Colban.
He prayed the lad had not been exposed to Archie’s dark intentions. Prayed he’d been spared the monster’s perversions.
But he could tell Hallie had recognized the nature of his sin. Her shaking might well be rage.
Their unspoken agreement then—the message Colban and Hallie exchanged in the course of a glance—was that they wouldn’t reveal Archie’s villainy to Ian. Not only was it too twisted for the innocent lad to comprehend. He wouldn’t believe them. Wouldn’t believe such evil could exist in a man, let alone the man he’d trusted and called his friend.
“I’ll…go look for him,” Colban said, surreptitiously tucking Hallie’s bloodied dagger into his belt. There was no need to leave evidence behind.
“It should be me,” Hallie countered, urgency in her eyes. “He’s my husband.”
That was exactly why it shouldnotbe Hallie. He couldn’t expect her to kill her own husband.
“Nay,” he said. “Ye’re shiverin’ like a lamb. I’ve got thick Highland blood. Ye just keep Ian warm, get him to safety.”
He could see she wanted to argue, but she kept quiet for Ian’s sake.
But when Colban swept up his claymore and buckled it on, the lad frowned in concern. “You w-won’t hurt him, will you? He was only trying to k-keep me safe.”
Meanwhile, Hallie’s fierce and frigid gaze sent Colban an entirely different message. Not only did she want Colban to hurt him. She wanted him to hunt down the demon and send him back to hell.
Colban deflected Ian’s question. “Don’t worry, Ian. I’ll find him. He was injured. He can’t have gone far.”
Though his words reassured Ian, for Hallie, they held the promise of retribution. He meant to keep that unspoken vow.
“Go on now,” he said to Ian. “Get out o’ your wet things before they… What was it? Crystallize.” He winked at Ian.
Ian’s eyes lit up at the fact that Colban remembered one of the scientific words he’d taught him.
But the moment of camaraderie was fleeting. After all, the last time Colban had seen Ian, he’d abandoned the lad without a word of farewell. Now he’d threatened the man Ian called friend. He hadn’t exactly proved himself worthy of the lad’s trust or affection.
Colban let his gaze linger on the two siblings for a moment. Long enough to preserve their faces in his heart.
Ian—safe and whole, with his innocence, God willing, preserved.
Hallie—grateful yet melancholy. As if she knew. As if she realized he was not coming back.
Then he set aside his regrets and turned his thoughts to vengeance as he followed the trail of blood into the forest.
Archie felt almost gleeful.
It might be delirium. But in spite of the throbbing in his thigh, in spite of the dreadful stains of blood and wool grease on his expensive trews that no amount of scrubbing was going to erase, he felt as happy as a lamb.
He’d escaped.
Never before had he attempted such a bold and daring act.
Geoffrey would be so impressed when Archie showed up at his door—the Old Cock, sporting a fresh pair of velvet trews, his newly won freedom, and a dashing scar on his thigh.
He lifted a trembling hand to wipe away the sweat that kept dripping into his eyes. He’d left his cloak behind, and the mist was thick among the trees. But he strangely didn’t feel the cold. Not at all.
Perhaps it was the glow of success warming him.
Once, he tripped over a root on the path and fell hard onto his hands and knees. A sharp burst of pain shot through his thigh, and his vision grew foggy. He moaned, incapacitated, fighting the strong desire to surrender to a sudden weariness and agony. To lie down on the path and rest a while.
But a vision of his fierce, cold-eyed wife—whom he was convinced might miraculously rise from the loch in pursuit, tracking him to the ends of the earth—compelled him onward.
Ignoring the ache in his leg and the stinging in his palms, he limped along at a feverish pace and tried to focus on his next course of action.
