Page 113 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
Rhys finally dared a glance at Amara. She stood silent, her face pale and stunned.
Callan continued. “He told me six years ago what I should’ve kent all along. That she’s never been a Murdoch. That her maither —”
Rhys’s voice cracked like thunder. “Say another word about her, and I’ll gut ye.”
Callan ignored him. “— was beddin’ yer councilman behind closed doors. Leighton, I believe it was, but it was probably more than just him. Couldnae manage to keep her legs closed.”
Rhys staggered back a half step, stunned. The sword tip dropped slightly.
He relished.
Rhys turned toward Amara fully now. Her face had gone utterly blank. The color gone from her lips. She looked as if she might crumple to the stone floor.
Callan shrugged. “Why do ye think she was always so soft-spoken? So gentle? She never had a Murdoch’s fire. But now itmakes sense, does it nae? She was never mine. Did just as that one did, right when she arrived at O’Donnell Keep — open her legs,” he pointed a crooked finger at Amara.
Rhys’s eyes flashed between Callan’s and Amara’s. She looked like she was going to be sick.
He straightened, and caught Amara’s hand and squeezed.
“Enough,” he said, voice hoarse. “Come. We’ll ride back, and ask Finn and Leighton ourselves.”
Callan chuckled darkly. “If he’s still alive.”
Rhys whipped around. “What?”
“Oh, aye,” Callan said easily. “Finn sent word ahead of yer arrival,” his eyes flashed over to the parchment that rested on the ground beside his chair. “Warnin’ me ye were comin’.”
Rhys’s blood turned to ice.
Amara gasped. “Nay — Finn wouldnae —”
Callan cut her off. “Ye think yer cousin hasnae already started? This plan has been in place for months. Ye think he waited around for yer word, O’Donnell? While ye’ve been out here huntin’ for closure, yer castle’s probably already in flames.”
The words slammed into Rhys like a blade.
The forest ambush. Finn’s strange behavior. His absence. The way he’d slithered back into the keep like a ghost, offering no explanation.
It all fit.
Too well.
“Ye’re lyin’,” he said, but it didn’t sound like truth. It sounded like desperation.
Callan raised his brows. “Am I?”
Rhys stepped forward again, raising his sword.
Callan didn’t flinch.
“Killing me will cost ye more than ye think,” he said, low and triumphant. “Ye waste time here while yer people bleed… while yer daughter… bleeds. While yer walls fall. All for this wretch learnin’ the truth about her sinner of a maither. Finn was right to doubt ye. Ye're weak.”
Rhys’s sword pressed forward ever so slightly. He wanted to strike. To silence that filthy mouth, and gut him like the rabid dog he was.
But behind him, Amara’s fingers trembled in his.
“Rhys,” she said softly. “Please.”
And that was what did it.
