Page 60 of Married to the Icy Highlander
Arthur had always been fast—he hadn’t become Laird through lineage only. But neither had Neil. He was larger and agile on his feet, and unlike Arthur, whose movements started to become sloppy in his rage and desperation, he was fighting with a very specific purpose in mind.
He didn’t know how long it went on, but his sword arm felt like it would fall off by the time Arthur started to tire, the drink in his system seeming to catch up to him. Eventually, he was presented with an opportunity—a window of opening—and his sword struck true.
The blade pierced through Arthur’s chest and came out the other side. A wet, gurgling noise of surprise was the only sound he made before his sword fell from his hand. Arthur sagged forward, lifting his hand and bracing it against Neil’s shoulder, staring deeply into his eyes. But there wasn’t so much as a shred of remorse as the light started to leave his eyes. No, only surprise that he had somehow deluded himself into thinking that he was beyond death’s reach.
No man was.
After Arthur had taken his last, long, rattling breath, Neil pulled his sword back, letting him fall unceremoniously to the floor.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and he heard swords being drawn as he wiped the blood from his blade and slowly turned to face Arthur’s man-at-arms.
“Ye deserve a better laird.” The man-at-arms seemed unsure whether he should attempt to avenge his Laird or stand aside. “Ye can make peace when ye find him. But if anyone dares to stop me on me way out, they’ll meet the same fate as yer Laird.”
Sure enough, not a single soul stood in Neil’s way as he left the castle. The few servants that he passed darted to the side, plastering themselves against the walls.
There would be a huge mess to clean up after what he had just done, but there was an even more pressing matter that he needed to attend to first.
The entire journey home, Neil had been rehearsing what to say to Ceana by way of apology. No doubt she was going to attempt to throw him out on his arse, and perhaps he deserved that a little bit. But he did know that it needed to be done. She had every right to be angry with him for the way he had spoken to her.
He couldn’t even remember the last time he had felt the need to apologize to someone for anything at all.
He was weary and exhausted by the time he reached the castle, and he lumbered inside. He could have easily collapsed onto a comfortable chair in front of a warm fireplace, but if he was incredibly lucky, perhaps Ceana would join him after he had apologized to her properly.
She was right. She had always been right. He should have trusted her. He should have told her what was going on from the beginning, but he had been so afraid of anybody finding out about Jeanie’s true lineage, so worried that it would go wrong or somehow would backfire on her.
For so long, his daughter was all he had. He loved her dearly, even if he wasn’t the best at showing his emotions.
He knocked on Ceana’s door, not in the least bit surprised that it was closed.
“Wife?” he called, expecting to be ignored, and he was. “I need to talk to ye.”
He reached for the doorknob, surprised that it turned without resistance, and walked inside. He was the Laird, and this was his castle, after all. She could yell and scream all she liked, but they were going to have this conversation face to face, not through a door.
But she wasn’t in her room.
It didn’t look like she had been in her room in quite some time if he were being honest.
He moved toward her bed, noting that the trinkets he used to see on her bedside table—like her father’s pocket watch and a comb that her brother had carved out of some wood—were no longer there. A strange feeling coiled in his gut.
She hadn’t left him, had she? Certainly not. They had taken vows, and while he had been terribly bullheaded about the whole thing, she was a trustworthy woman.
He sat on her bed, and a folded piece of paper shifted beside him, sliding down to his thigh. Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it, wondering if it was another letter from his brother.
If there’s a son, I’ll bring him to you in due time.
His heart sank to his stomach. Every part of him felt cold and heavy as he read and re-read the note so many times that the words blurred together. It didn’t make sense…
“She didnae leave forever… did she, Faither?” a small voice asked from the doorway.
Neil quickly crumpled the letter in his fist, hiding the evidence that Ceana had indeed left them for good. How was he supposed to tell Jeanie something like that?
His daughter walked into the room slowly, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. She fidgeted with her oddly clean skirt. There were no grass stains or smudges on it. Not a single hair on her head was out of place.
He had never seen his daughter look so presentable in her life. He had thought that it was what he wanted, but if he was being honest with himself, it was more than a little unsettling.
“Nay,” he replied, guilt gnawing at him. “She didnae leave forever, and yer faither is goin’ to bring her back.”
Jeanie’s chin wobbled, and she ran across the room and threw herself into his arms, her own wrapped around his neck so tightly that it was almost hard to breathe for a moment.
