Page 46 of A Wife for the Highland Wolf
“I daenae ken what ye’re talking about. Ye’ve lost yer mind.”
“If I have, tis me, the gate guards and a double handful of warriors, to say nothin’ of the villagers, I’ll wager our captives are as ‘mad’ as the rest of us.”
Murdoch sharpened his tone. “Have ye nae disgraced yerself enough yet, uncle? At least preserve some shred of honor and be honest, now that ye have been caught.”
Arthur stood frozen for a long moment, then did the last thing Murdoch expected. He laughed. The sound was cutting, bitter and mirthless, a hollow manic laughter, but laughter all the same.
“Honor? And what good is a life of honornephew, when it gains ye nothin’, save a life in the laird’s shadow, bowin’ and scrapin’ to men who should be yer equals, or bowing to ye?”
Gordon stepped forward. “Faither, what are ye sayin’?”
Arthur made a derisive noise. “Daenae act as if ye dinnae ken, when I did it all for ye, Gordon.”
“I dinnae ken, and I daenae understand what ye’re meanin’. Faither…”
“All me life, livin’ in the shadow of me elder brother, calling him heir, then calling him laird…as if an accident of a few minutes made him me true elder or me better! He never was, but I’d had to bow and scrape to him all the same. I’d hoped that when he died, that would give me a chance to prove me own worth. But then his wife bore him an heir, and ye lived to adulthood. Worse, he dinnae perish before ye reached an age where ye could claim the lairdship, or before ye wed a lass of yer own.”
Arthur’s voice was thick with bitterness and a rising edge of madness, as if his mind was fraying with every word he spoke. “Yer birth ensured I’d never be laird, especially when ye wed. I had to do somethin’ if ever I or me son was to have a chance at the title we should have had from the beginning.”
Arthur’s eyes were filled with a hatred so bright that Murdoch was stunned he’d never witnessed it before. “I couldnae move against me brother, but I dinnae have to. And then ye…ye never loved yer wife, even after she bore ye a son. I thought an attack on the road might rid me of all three of me problems, but I was sure ye’d at least lose the brat, weak and helpless as he was. I was sure ye’d save yer wife first, for the sake of the alliance, if nae anythin' else.”
Murdoch felt ill. His uncle had conspired to see Finn, his precious son, murdered. He’d suspected Arthur was trying to kill him, but never imagined that his hatred and desire for power ran so deep.
Arthur spat at him, his voice thick with venom. “I thought the contract would get ye out of me way. – I’d kent before ye evensearched it out that the Knox girl was married. But ye had to go and find that little brazen wench of yers and convince her to actually allow ye to court her!”
“Why nae destroy the contract, if that was the case?”
“Because it was a way to force yer hand! I dinnae think ye’d ever have a chance of getting’ any wench, nae even a tavern whore, to wed ye! Nae after I went to the effort of makin’ it seem like ye killed yer first wife!”
So, his uncle had been the force behind those rumors. He must also have been the one who moved the bodies of the slain attackers, so it would appear that Murdoch had lied about bandits on the road.
Murdoch hadn’t thought he could feel any more betrayed than he already had, but the way the words felt like taking a hard blow to the gut proved him wrong.
Gordon spoke before he could. “Why? Why would ye do this, faither? To plot the murder of yer own kinfolk, and one of them yer laird…how could ye ever consider such a thing?” His cousin’s voice was rough with anguish as he confronted the man they’d once both looked up to.
“For ye!” Arthur’s voice rose in volume, his expression wild. “For ye, and yer sister and yer children! Ye deserved better than bendin’ yer knee to someone who was only yer laird by an accident of a few minutes at birth! Better than bein’ always in yercousin’s shadow. With Murdoch and his son out of the way, ye could have been laird!”
“I never wanted to be laird.” Gordon’s jaw clenched. “I never wanted the title, nor the responsibility, just as I never wanted to wed or sire children. As laird, I’d have been expected to take a wife and continue me line, and I was never interested in doin’ such a thing.”
He shook his head. “And to involve a lass like Lydia, who came here in good faith…”
“Who cares about some upstart wench from a nothing clan! What does it matter if she was caught up in it! It would only have further tarnished Murdoch’s reputation and make it easier to have him removed from the lairdship and exiled, if nae dead!”
Arthur’s eyes gleamed with poisonous malice, like a snake about to strike. “If Murdoch died, ye could take his son as yer own bairn.” Arthur snarled. “Tis nae as if the lad would remember any part of it. He’d have taken ye as faither easily enough.”
Gordon looked as if he’d been slapped. “Faither, ye cannae be serious…”
“I did it for ye! For ye to have the prestige I never gained, the recognition ye deserve!” Arthur scowled. “All we need is for Murdoch to be out of the way!”
Murdoch had been watching Arthur grow ever more frenzied. He was therefore not surprised when Arthur suddenly drew a blade and lunged at him. He was shocked as Gordon stepped between them. “Faither, nay! Daenae do this!”
The two grappled briefly, then suddenly Gordon reeled backward and slumped against the wall. A red stain bloomed on the upper part of his shirt.
“Gordon…” Arthur’s voice broke, grief mingling with the madness in his eyes. “Ye bastard, ye’ve forced me to kill me son!”
He lunged at Murdoch once more, but Murdoch was ready, his dirk drawn in favor of fighting in the closer quarters. He grappled with his uncle, adjusting his balance easily as Arthur strove to push him backward.
Arthur was strong, his madness and grief giving him even greater strength, but he was still no match for Murdoch. His insanity-driven attacks were straightforward, powered by brute strength alone.
