Page 122 of The Speed of Lightning
He caught sight of Rory on the deck, sword drawn, aimed, and then—plunged forward. Terror ripped through him as he screamed, still too far to reach her. Then the boat shifted, andhe saw the truth. It was Ragnall who clutched his hands to his chest as Rory wrenched the sword free. Ragnall who staggered backward and hit the rail, plunging into the loch. Freya’s scream split the air.
Calum hit the shoreline as the boat veered swiftly away. He dove into the freezing tide, arms and legs burning as he swam. Ragnall floated face down, and Calum rolled him over, the man choking, spitting water and blood. Arms and legs screaming, he swam back to the beach, hauling his father-in-law out of the tide.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? YOU AULD HORRIBLE FOOL, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”
Ragnall’s face twisted with agony, his eyes darting wildly as if he saw demons circling. “The…inheritance. He wanted…inheritance.”
Calum jerked him up by the shoulders, shaking him. “Rory?”
Ragnall nodded weakly. “He said…said he’d make me…Laird of Tioram.”
Confused, he eased the man back on the shore, ripping his kyrtill off and forcing it against the gushing wound. Every heartbeat mattered. The longer Ragnall lived, the more of their plan he could tear from him. “What inheritance? Speak, man!”
“Freya’s mother’s inheritance.”
Calum’s mind seized on the name, panic rising. “Amie Godfrey—Amie Godfrey! What was her inheritance?”
“MacRuari.” Ragnall’s jaw locked with pain, blood bubbling at his lips. “Her name was…Amie MacRuari. The king’s first wife.” He coughed, spitting red into the sand. “Lands…left to Freya. On her marriage…she inherits Amie’s lands…Garmoran.”
Calum’s blood froze. His thoughts scattered like leaves in a gale. “What are you saying?”
Ragnall’s gaze rolled, terrified, as if he were staring into the abyss. “She’s no’ my daughter—I’ve said it, I’ve said it.”
Cold dread gripped Calum’s chest. “Whose daughter then? Who is her father?”
Ragnall clawed at the air, his eyes glazing. “John… the King of the Isles. The fruit of a night…with his wife after divorce. When she was exiled…to Iona Nunnery.” His voice dropped, hoarse. “I took the bairn. Kept her. The king paid me…to keep her hidden.”
Ragnall began to shake. “If Rory marries Freya. Promises Jura for me. Tioram for me. Lands for Rory…” His lips worked barely forming words. “Rory betrayed me…wants Tioram, Jura, everything. Dómhnall, Stewart…”
Calum pressed down firmer on the wound, the kyrtill soaking. “What did they do?”
“Killed the king.” The words tore out in a gasp. “Rory and Dómhnall plot. Rory gets more lands in Argyll from Dómhnall for helping…Stewart…new Council of the Isles with his loyalists…and Ardtornish.”
Calum was dumbstruck. The sheer scope of the scheme left him reeling.
“I suspect Freya… Storyteller.”
Calum went rigid. “What do you mean?”
Ragnall’s breath rattled. “Must keep quiet… must no’ anger Stewart… we lose everything. We followed her. We know. Rory will use it—to force her hand.”
Ice flooded Calum’s veins. “Rory is taking her to Ardtornish. He means to drag her before the new Council of the Isles, to threaten her with exposure. He thinks he can coerce her into marriage, claim her lands, claim her.”
Ragnall managed a jerky nod. “Aye.”
A bitter laugh escaped Calum, sharp and raw. “He will not. Our marriage is consummated. He willnevertake Freya from me.”
Murdoch and David came stumbling down the shore, gasping for breath. They dropped to the sand beside him, eyes wide at the sight of the dying chieftain.
Ragnall’s ruined face twisted into a smile. With trembling fingers he clawed at his shoulder, dragging free the chieftain’s brooch. He tossed it into the sand at Calum’s side. “I name you my heir… Get MacDonald.”
Blood surged through Calum’s veins. “GetMacDonald? Not save my Freya? Not a thought for the daughter who still loves you as her Papa? Still only yourself?!” Contempt dripped from his voice, feral rage surging back to the surface. “You vile, godless traitor.” He ripped his hands from the wound, letting the man’s life spill out unchecked.
Ragnall’s gaze broke, eyes rolling wild, as if staring into horrors only he could see. He writhed against the pebbles, voice rising in a final, broken cry. “Oh God… oh God! No! Dinnae take me—no! No!”
Calum stared down at the lifeless body, chest heaving, every nerve ending on edge. The man was gone. Ragnall MacSorley—chieftain, traitor, fool—was gone, leaving behind nothing but riddles and ruin.
Murdoch looked at him, his eyes hard. “Rory’s taken them?”
