Page 31 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
Nay! I shan’t faint! Ragnall is coming. I’m not going to die. We are meant to be. Husband and wife.If she said the words over and over, it would make them true. She just needed to hold on, and to believe.
But Calder was tying a loop in the other end of the rope and throwing it over one of the slimmer pieces of stone. “’Ye’re no better, are ye—whoring yerself tae a man who thought ye was a servant? Dinnae tell me ye was behaving as a decent wife should, or I shall let yer guts spill as I send ye over, and the crows shall peck at ye all the sooner.”
A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. He meant to push her over the battlements and leave her hanging there? What barbarity was this?
“’Twill hardly be the same as Broderick’s wrath, but I’m sure ’twill be close enough that Ragnall will ne’er forget.”
Flora could no longer speak but her questioning eyes drew Calder to continue, and he uttered each word with relish.
“Broderick hung them by the feet, letting them swing a full day.” Calder gave a wicked grin. “They were nae naked, but they might as well hae been, for the skirts o' both were aboot their heads and they were bare beneath. Vanora was free enough with her favours, Broderick reasoned, that she deserved nae modesty in death. ’Twas said they called tae each other until near the end.”
Calder’s mouth twisted again, in a horrible semblance of a smile. “At last, Broderick had them swing the ropes outward, so that the lovers’ skulls cracked on the granite, and they left two streaks of blood that took a whole winter tae wash away.”
Flora squeezed shut her eyes and took her mind away again. She didn’t want to hear any more. The story was too terrible. A story Ragnall had lived with all his life.
She couldn’t begin to imagine the treatment he must have endured from his father, nor the taunts he'd received until he was strong enough to silence them with his fists.
How much resentment had grown within him, knowing his mother’s tragic end? Whatever his feelings over what had happened, ’twould be little wonder if he feared for his own wife’s trustworthiness.
She swallowed down her shame.
Had she ever behaved in a way that would make him trust her?
Not that it mattered anymore—for she would never see him again. There would never be the chance to let him believe she might truly care.
She felt Calder nudge against her back, and the rush of wind at the embrasure. It would take but one push and she’d be gone.
She ought to send up her prayer, now, before it was too late, but she couldnae frame the words she might speak to the God she hoped soon to meet.
Instead, she saw Ragnall’s face and a single thought filled her mind.
I love him.
Chapter14
Approaching midnight, Hogmany
Every part of her ached—especiallywhere the rope had rubbed—but Flora gave herself over to the softness of the bed in which she lay, to the comforting warmth of the tender hands on her skin and the familiar musk of the man who whispered low.
“Tell me if anything I do hurts ye, but dinnae move.” Firm, assessing fingers ran over her ribs, then her legs and arms, gently bending each joint. “If ye’ve anything broken, I cannae take the chance o’ making it worse—and ye look as if ye’ve been tae the devil and back.”
When Ragnall reached Flora’s collarbone, she winced. Her neck felt raw where Calder had cruelly wrenched.
“Aye, ’twill be sore, ma poor lass.” The hands moved to cup the back of her head, raising her to take a sip of warm broth. “But, ye’re strong, and will soon heal. Nae more harm shall come tae ye, Flora, for the bastard as did this is answering tae the Almighty for his sins.“
Dead?
The wind had been ferocious on the battlements, and she’d been filled with horror, but she'd been aware of the door breaking and men's shouts. Something had moved swiftly through the air, thrown at great force, and she'd caught a glimpse of Calder as he went over. His features contorted with fury, he'd scrabbled at the blade in his neck, then reached for her—to save himself or to take her with him she couldn’t say.
His scream had carried away in the gusting storm and with it her world had faded to black. Aware only dimly of being carried, she’d been too numb with shock and cold to feel anything other than the desire to surrender to those strong arms transporting her from the terror of the night.
She took in the face above hers: the laird of Dalreagh, with his dark curls and piercing blue gaze, and the small cleft in his chin beneath the stubble.
“Aye, ye’ll survive, and thrive, Flora Dalreagh. I promise ye that.” Taking her palm, he brought it to his lips, then to his cheek. As he gave her the faintest of smiles, her heart lurched.
She wanted to press her face to his neck, to inhale his scent and be held close, knowing that she’d ne’er be let go. She yearned for him—this man she’d spent so long running from, whom she’d misunderstood from the first. He’d come to speak for her and to save her, but his sense of honour alone would have guided those actions, regardless of the way she’d treated him.
She needed to tell him how wrong she’d been. That she wanted to make right the wrongs; that she wanted them to try. Would he be able to forgive?
