Page 73 of The Cruel Highlander's Healer
“It was yer maither’s plan,” Alistair seethed. “Originally, we were goin’ to approach ye and tell ye that if ye released her, she would heal them. She kent what the tonic was all along. But then ye showed up with her.”
Alistair pointed a shaking finger over Conall’s shoulder, no doubt pointing it directly at Eliza.
“And I saw the way ye looked at her. Ye were pantin’ over her for days, nothin’ more than a dog chasin’ after a bone. When I told her about it, we kent we had a much more powerful bargainin’ tool in our midst.”
“Ye risked the life of children?” Conall said, fury rising up within him to the point of madness. “Ye were willin’ for bairns to die just so ye could get me lyin’ murderous maither out of jail!”
Alistair opened his mouth to speak again, but Conall could hear no more. He surged forward, swinging the knife wide.
Alistair raised his arm, the slash of the knife that had been intended for his throat landing on his forearm instead. Alistair grunted in pain, but Conall whirled again, swinging his arm so the knife slashed through the air once more.
Once again, Alistair blocked the blow. He began skittering backwards, using his legs to push against the grass as he tried to back away from the angry, menacing laird intent on taking his life.
“I was a coward when I imprisoned me maither!” Conall said, swiping again as Alistair moved and dodged. “I should have killed her then. Just as I’ll be doin’ to ye!”
He let out a roar so forceful his vocal cord strained. With one final slash of the knife, an exhausted and wounded Alistair was no longer able to block the blow.
Conall plunged the knife down, and this time, the point found flesh. It sunk into Alistair’s chest, burying itself all the way to the hilt.
Alistair’s grey eyes went wide. In the moonlight, they seemed to glow. The light within him flared for the briefest of seconds, before it began to dull.
“I’ll be sure to send me maither after ye shortly,” Conall snarled in the man’s face.
A gurgle sounded from between Alistair’s lips, followed slowly by a trickle of blood. Conall let go of the dagger still buried in Alistair’s chest, and the body thunked to the ground.
He stared down at where it landed at his feet. There was no movement, not even a rattle or wheeze as Alistair tried to draw breath.
Conall kicked him over with his boot, rolling the body onto it’s back. Alistair’s eyes were still open, but vacant. The man who had caused so much pain, all because he’d allowed his weak mind to be tainted by a murderous, vindictive woman, was dead.
“Conall?”
A female voice sounded from behind him, and Conall whirled.
Eliza had stepped out of where she’d hidden in the shadows, the moonlight bathing her skin in a lovely, silvery glow. Her eyes were wide, but with a jolt he realized it wasn’t because she had feared for her own life. No, she had been afraid for his.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat, not allowing himself to show even an ounce of emotion. Not now.
“We’ll leave the body,” he explained. “I’ll send someone out for it in the mornin’. Let’s get ye back to the castle, I’d like yer maither to take a look at ye.”
Eliza studied him. “Are ye alright?”
She stood with her feet firmly planted on the earth, staring at him as he crossed the clearing.
While the two men had fought, the horse that Alistair had taken from the stables had been whinnying and fighting against where it’s reins were tied off around a tree.
Thankfully, it hadn’t managed to break free. Conall approached the beast, making soothing sounds and raking his hands gently over the creature’s coat to help calm it.
It took a few minutes, but the horse began to settle, turning docile enough that he felt emboldened to turn his gaze back to Eliza.
She was still standing exactly where he’d left her, gaze expectant. It was only then that he realized he’d not answered her question.
“Aye,” Conall murmured. “I’m fine. Nay need to worry about me.”
Eliot had used the time when Conall was steadying Alistair’s horse to slink through the trees and gather their own steeds. He was leading them through the trees now, one of their reins gripped in each hand.
“Eliot and I will ride back on our horses,” he explained, gesturing to the one that Alistair had used. “Are ye alright to ride this one back? We’ll have ye between the two of us, so nay one can get to ye even if they tried.”
Eliza rolled her eyes. “I’ve been askin’ ye to let me ride a horse on me own since ye kidnapped me. Of course I can ride that one.”
