Page 78 of Highlander of Steel
Shawn thrashed, managing to deliver a sharp kick to Killian’s knee that knocked him off balance for a moment. But that moment was all he needed to shove Killian in the chest and dart to the side, running out of the cell altogether. Not bothering to fight anymore.
The wretched man was trying to escape, no doubt knowing that there was nothing he could do now but try to save his own skin.
“Daenae do this, Faither.” Murdock’s voice brought Shawn to an abrupt halt, the towering heir emerging from the shadows of the hallway. His broadsword was drawn, a sad look in his brown eyes. “Face yer punishment, as ye’ve always taught us to do. Ye can live, Faither, but ye’ll spend the rest of yer days in these dungeons.”
Shawn backed up, but Killian was there to block his exit.
“Ye’d do this to yer own faither?” Shawn muttered, his lip curled. “I’ve given ye everythin’, Murdock, and ye turn on me like this? Ye conspire withMacNairns, after everythin’ we’ve done to claim what’s ours from them?”
Murdock sighed, shaking his head. “Let me ask ye this—what did ye mean to do when I returned today?”
“I… daenae understand,” Shawn replied, yet his eyes narrowed as if he understood perfectly.
“Ye ken I drafted a peace treaty and sent it to Laird MacNairn. I ken that ye ken, so daenae try to deny it,” Murdock said, his voice eerily calm. “So, I want to ken what ye planned to do about that when I returned. I already ken ye had me messenger killed and replaced with yer own. I also ken that ye put a lock of Skye’s hair in yer threat to Ailis and Laird MacNairn. What else did ye intend to do, to keep me in line?”
Shawn seemed to falter, though Killian’s attention was split between the older man and the kneeling figure of his beloved wife. She appeared to be well enough, drawing in deep, measured breaths, but Killian didn’t care to see her bound and frightened in a filthy cell.
Deal with Laird Ainsley first, then ye can free her. She’ll nae be safe until her faither is gone.
“He already told me,” Ailis panted. “He said he’d use Skye. Said he’d do to her what he was doin’ to me if ye didnae obey.”
Murdock nodded slowly. “Aye, I thought so.” He took a step closer to his father. “It’s yer decision, Faither. Ye can live in these dungeons, or ye can die today.”
“Ye wicked imp!” Shawn snapped, lunging suddenly for his son.
Murdock ran straight into him, pushing him back with an almighty roar.
The older man sprawled onto the floor. He lay there panting, winded by the impact.
“He killed yer faither,” Murdock said, equally breathless. “It’s yer right to take revenge, but I willnae do it for ye. I hope ye understand.”
Killian gave a nod of acknowledgement.
Shawn Lyall was still Murdock’s father, regardless of how evil or cruel or twisted he was. It would indeed invite poor fortune if a son were to kill his own father, as dishonorable an act as any in their traditions.
Reaching for his own dagger, Killian kneeled, one knee resting on Shawn’s chest.
“Ailis?” he prompted.
She twisted around to look at him.
“Do ye want me to kill him?”
She hesitated, grazing her teeth across her lower lip. “I daenae want any more bloodshed, but if he lives, I worry that he’ll find a way to hurt those I care for.”
Does she mean me?
Killian knew it wasn’t the time to ask, so he turned his attention back to Shawn.
Having been raised with honor, he didn’t know how to feel about taking the life of a man who was just lying there, helpless. But then he thought of what he had seen Shawn do to Ailis, holding her head under the water, trying to make her suffer as much as possible, and his resolve hardened.
This wretched beast was no helpless being; he was just facing his punishment or pretending.
When Killian saw the old Laird fumbling at his waist, he understood that it was the latter: a ruse, a deception, the man still refusing to give up. Still, Killian pretended not to notice, waiting for Shawn to strike for the sake of honor.
As a new blade glinted in the low torchlight, flying upward to try and stab him in the ribs, he grabbed the man’s wrist and turned the blade in one smooth move. He put all of his strength behind it, driving it into Shawn’s chest.
Indeed, it seemed fitting that Laird Ainsley should die by his own blade and by his own stubbornness.
