Page 82 of A Highland Healer Captured
The girl flinched. Her hands twisted in his grip, then stilled. When she spoke again, her voice was low, ragged. “It was Marcus.”
The name landed like a blade to the gut. Zander’s stomach heaved, his grip tightening until Cora winced. “Another lie,” he said, flat, his pulse hammering. “Marcus is dead.”
Her chin jerked up, desperate, pleading. “He’s nae. He came to me months past. Alive. Breathing. He swore he’d been spared.”
“She’s nae lyin’ about Marcus,” he heard Skylar’s now soft voice from over her shoulder, followed by a warm hand pressed against his back. “If it’s the same man from the carts?—”
Cora’s head bobbed furiously. “He’shere. It washim.She met him, Zander.”
Zander’s vision blurred red. Marcus. The man he’d cut down in his rage, the man who had vowed to kill Grayson with his last breath. Heknewhe had slain him. He remembered the weight of the blow, the silence that followed.
He snarled, shaking Cora once. “Ye lie.”
“I swear it!” she cried, tears bright in her eyes. “I thought it a blessing, to ken me braither still lived. I was glad—aye, glad—” Her voice broke. “Until I saw the truth.”
Zander’s jaw clenched. “Speak plainly.”
Her words spilled, frantic now, as if the telling might save her. “He bade me slip herbs in Grayson’s draught. Told me it would only weaken, nae kill. That it would make ye desperate, make ye heed him when he came with his demands. I listened because… because I’d loved him. Because I didnae understand why he had to die.”
She swallowed hard, tears streaking her face. “But then?—”
“Then what?” Zander barked.
“Then he told me the truth,” she whispered, voice barely carrying. “That it wasnae our father who led the strike on yer gates that night. That it washim. He boasted of it. Said he’d come to take what was his—land, power, vengeance. He—he laughed when he said he’d sworn to kill yer bairn. Me brother. Me own blood. I—” She broke, choking on her breath. “I kennedthen what kind of man he was. Cruel. Mad. Worse than our faither ever was.”
Zander let go so suddenly she sagged against the wall. His hands curled into fists at his sides, trembling with rage. His heart thundered, a beast pounding in his chest.Marcus alive?The thought was poison itself.
“I killed him,” Zander muttered, half to himself, the memory burning like a brand. “I cut him down.”
Cora’s tear-streaked face lifted. “Ye thought ye did. But he’s nae. He’s come, Zander. As he said he would.”
He loomed over the girl, his shadow long in the firelight. “Ye watched me boy suffer. Ye watched me son gasp for breath while ye stood at his side.”
Cora sobbed, shaking her head violently. “I didnae ken it would be so cruel! I stopped for a while. Then ye brought the healer and Marcus made me continue. I thought— I thought if ye saw him get better, ye’d send her away. He said he would come to ye to offer aid. I thought he meant to bargain, nae tokill. I swear it!”
Her words cracked like kindling, but they gave Zander no heat. He could scarcely see her for the fury in his eyes. His son. The only good thing left from a marriage of convenience, the only soul that mattered in this blackened world.
And she—this girl he had taken in, fed, clothed, defended—had been poisoning him under his own roof.
“Ye ken what ye’ve done?” he said, low and terrible. “Ye’ve made me son weaker than he had to be. Ye’ve near buried him for yer braither’s madness.”
Her sobs grew louder, shoulders heaving. “I kent it was wrong. I kenned. But he’s me blood, Zander! He found me, and I— I was glad. I mean I thought he was dead! I wanted to believe— Before I kent otherwise, everything had gone to shite.”
“Blood means naught if itpoisons,” Zander cut in, voice a snarl. “Blood that vows to kill a bairn is nae blood at all. It’s rot. And ye carried it into me house.”
Cora dropped to her knees, shaking, clutching her hands together as if in prayer. “I beg ye. Forgive me. I was blind. Foolish. I didnae want to harm him. Saints, Ilovehim, Zander. I swear I do.”
Zander’s breath came harsh, ragged, fury beating in his skull. He looked down at her and saw the orphaned girl he’d taken in.
He dragged a hand down his beard, forcing himself to think, to breathe. Marcus alive. Skylar had been right to see danger where he hadn’t. And Cora… she had been the knife slid between his ribs, hidden and smiling.
His voice came low and hard. “What was it tonight? What did ye mean to do standin’ over my son’s bed?”
Cora shook her head violently. “I was nae goin’ to harm him?—”
“Ye’ve already harmed him!” Zander bellowed, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. Katie whimpered at the force of it, and Skylar shot him a look sharp enough to cut. He dropped his voice back to a growl. “What was the plan?”
Her knees buckled, but he kept her upright. Her lips worked, fear in every line of her. “I meant to take him away,” she whispered finally. “To run.”
