Chapter 24
The bright sun of the morning quickly changed to a gray afternoon, and the gray light eventually faded into night. Nowhere brought comfort. Everywhere Ian turned he saw her. His chamber was too empty; the vision of Claire seated before the fire mocked him. A new chess game had been started only three days before, left to finish another night, and now to remain forever untouched. His bed still carried her scent. The chamber that had once been theirs—a place of passion, laughter, conversation, and love—was void of all.
The study had been no better, with the chairs arranged for the discussion of his accounts. Claire’s shadow could still be seen seated at the desk. His promise to see to the dower lands mattered little now. What does this one promise matter when so many have already been broken? Did I not swear to provide her a home and safety on the very day we met? Did I not swear to keep her always by my side, to be loved and cherished?
Even the grounds bore her mark. The wind carried the sounds of her laughter as she chased the wee one. The lasses bringing in freshly laundered clothing brought forth her image. She helped all, regardless of the task.
Ian stayed away from the stables. He knew if he mounted Samson there would be no stopping until he reached Douglas lands. He was trapped there on his lands, within his walls, with the knowledge she was gone. By his words, his deed left him alone.
Ian wondered how many cups had passed his lips. He knew it had been too many, and somehow they were not nearly enough. Seated in his hall, he stared at her empty seat. Not even the arrival of Lachlan could raise his spirits. He cursed Hagan for inviting the Campbell Laird to the wedding and then silently cursed Lachlan for actually coming. How dare Lachlan presume there was anything here to bring joy. The man’s audacity knows no bounds. He had brought his daughter, Dedre, in an attempt to sway the course in his marriage and had even sweetened the dowry to include grazing lands between their two strongholds.
Once such an offer would have gladly been received, as he would have had the lass. Ian kenned that Dedre had been once an object of his desire. Now he was aware of all she lacked and all she was not. Dedre may be lovely and a proper lady, but she was not Claire.
The evening meal was such torment to think on. Cerwyn voiced his displeasure at Larry not being present. Aliana and Neala would not speak to him. Tavis looked overly content, and his constant disgusting grin had lasted through the evening. Lachlan attempted to make conversation in the tense hall. Mairi refused to leave her chamber as she was too distraught over Claire’s absence.
Ian sat in the hall, late in the evening, under the pretense of being a companion to the two other lairds. In truth, Ian was too drunk to stumble up to his chamber and too sober to face Claire’s ghost again. Another cup of whiskey burned down his throat, and he wondered how long it would feel like his soul had died.
The noise from the main doors wasn’t enough to rouse his concern. He assumed it was Nolen and his men returned from their hunt. Ian refused to notice anything until Neala screamed. The housekeeper’s face paled as the tray of dirty dishes fell from her hands.
He followed the direction of the housekeeper’s stare and saw the pair enter the hall with a few of his men trailing behind. If Ian lived to be a thousand years of age, the sight of Claire would stay burned in his mind. Her gown, what showed from under the cloak, was but shreds stained with blood and mud. Her sweet face was dark and bruised, her eye swollen shut. Her lips were also swollen on one side and marred with dry blood. Her movements toward the table were unsteady, yet full of purpose. The sword in her right hand was aimed forward at Tavis.
Hagan was no better, far too pale and barely on his feet as he moved by her side. His sword was in hand for attack. The wound to his side was visible due to the blood that had soaked through the improvised bandages. Ian wondered for a moment how the two were even capable of motion. His head was too clouded by drink. Why are they like this?
Claire knew if she stopped, even for a moment, she would not start again. The ride had been a blur of pain, fatigue, and worry. Their purpose was the only thing that mattered: saving the clan, its people, and then getting out of there. She held tight Hagan’s promise that they could leave when they were done. There were men in the hall she did not recognize, but she didn’t care. Hagan commanded the men to seize Tavis, that there was danger to all from this man. The men who entered the hall at their backs moved quickly to flank Tavis’s sides and remove the laird’s dagger. Tavis stood before her, the man who was responsible for everything: the attack he authorized, the plot to kill the people, and the act that left Ian bound to a tree, the act that forever changed her life. It was easy for her to hate Tavis and rewarding to see the fear in his eyes. Claire stopped directly in front of him. “You look surprised to see us.” She caught his gaze dart to the main door. “I wouldn’t bother looking for Nolen or his men. They won’t be coming back.”
“What is the meaning of this? How dare you accuse me of wrongdoing? I am a guest within these walls. Am I not to be joined with this clan in marriage?”
Hagan answered the charge. “There will be no marriage. You sought only to claim what is nay yours.” With short, pained phrases he explained how Tavis wanted only the mines he had already illegally possessed.
“You would believe the words of this man and his whore of a cousin?” Tavis challenged to all within the hall.
The insult meant nothing to her, but she would make certain everyone understood the risk to the clan’s safety. “These aren’t my words. Nolen explained it all to me before he died. You assumed I knew and that I had figured it out. That was your first mistake. I hadn’t, and I didn’t know. But I do now. Now everyone knows.”
Claire pointed Nolen’s blade straight to the heart of Tavis. “Nolen’s mistake was in waking me up. He should have killed me when he had the chance.” The feel of a small triumphant smile crossed her broken lips as she saw Tavis grow pale. “Your mistake was in not sending enough men to kill us.”
“So you would kill an unarmed man, a laird no less, with no proof other than your lies?” The man struggled against the two men who held him with no success.
Do I want to kill him? Yes, but there would be no honor here, only cold-blooded revenge. Not a place I want to go.
“There is plenty of proof should any bother to seek it. And no, I’m not going to kill you. There has been too much death by my hands already today.”
Claire turned away from Tavis and pointed the sword directly at Ian. She was too numb to notice the dark circles beneath his eyes and too full of her own pain to see his. The room started to spin, and Ian’s face blurred. She spit out, “As for you, Laird, I am done saving your ass.”
The room broke out into a deafening roar as Hagan fell to the stone floor. She tried to reach him; he had promised to take her away. The movement proved too quick for her weakened state. Claire was oblivious to the fact that she was falling or the hands that caught her before she crashed to the floor. For the second time that day, she knew only darkness.