by Emily Royal
“It matters not, English bitch. I’ll be rid of you and Tavish shall be mine. He won’t hesitate to kill the savage when I tell him what she’s done. A few soft words, a gentle tear on my cheek, and he’ll be mine again.”
“I’ll never be yours,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
“Tavish… my love!” Margaret’s voice softened, losing the harsh tones of hatred.
“Return the child to his mother, Margaret.”
“No.”
Tavish moved out of the shadows towards the woman holding the child. “'I heard everything, Margaret.”
“I-I was merely playing a game, my love.” Her voice grew plaintive like a child caught torturing an animal who pleads for mercy.
“I ken that, and now the game is over. Hand the child back to his mother. Then we can be together again.”
“Together?” Margaret whispered. “Like we were meant to? Before that whore came between us?”
“The whore means nothing to me,” Tavish replied. “Hand back her bastard.”
Sharp knives shredded Elyssia’s soul at his cruel words.
Margaret smiled. “You promise we’ll be together?”
“I promise.”
She lowered the child into the cot. Elyssia reached out to him, and with a scream of rage, Margaret leapt towards her.
“Elyssia!” Tavish roared. A white-hot slice of pain tore into her arm as she fended off her attacker. Margaret’s slight body displayed inhuman strength, and Elyssia thrashed her head to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade which sliced towards her face.
“Die, you whore!” Margaret screamed. “He’s mine!”
She drew her lips back, revealing sharp teeth, and raised the knife, ready to plunge into Elyssia’s heart. A scream of triumph burst from her lips, which morphed into a screech of pain. Hot red liquid spurted from her neck. She dropped the knife and clutched her throat with both hands and staggered backwards.
“Curse you all to hell!” she cried, the words turning liquid as she choked, sending scarlet droplets into the air before she fell onto the bed and lay still.
The man behind her stood transfixed, holding a knife aloft. The blade, small enough to fit in a man’s palm, had a slight curve. The handle was made of bone into which three emeralds had been set among an intricately carved pattern; a pattern etched into Elyssia’s mind as surely as it had been carved into the bone by the craftsman she had visited as a child. It was the knife Elyssia had given Tavish as a token of love for saving her life when they had first met; the knife he’d scarred her face with when he had taken her prisoner two years later.
The knife with which tonight he had slit Margaret’s throat.
He advanced on Elyssia, and she screamed, pulling the child to her.
“Don’t hurt us!”
Dropping the knife, he bent his head over Margaret’s body. His huge frame shook as he lifted his betrothed into his arms. The door slammed against the wall, and two men burst into the chamber. Richard’s eyes flashed in the light, but it was Duncan who moved forwards.
“What’s happened?”
“She tried to murder them!” Tavish croaked before he threw his head back, a deep wail bubbling inside his throat until it erupted into a howl of despair
“Oh, Margaret. Margaret! How did it come to this?”
His body shook with sobs, and he clung to Margaret’s body, oblivious of her lifeblood soaking into his nightshirt.
“Tav…” Duncan laid a hand on his shoulder, but Tavish shook it off.
“Let me grieve for her. I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with her. What happened to my gentle Margaret?”
His words cut into Elyssia’s heart. Wounds which drained her hope. The child let out a wail as if he understood his father had forsaken them. The air in the chamber grew thick, choking her with the realisation of love lost—a love that had never been hers.
“Come away, Lyssie.”
Richard, her beloved brother. They had shared their mother’s womb, their childhood, and their mutual love for Alice. He held out his hand, and she took it. Her body shook with despair, which deepened with each word of love Tavish uttered as he cried for the woman who had wanted her dead. The woman who, over the past year, had tried to destroy her.
Richard’s embrace was a pale shadow of Tavish’s strong arms, but it radiated love—the love of a brother more steadfast and unwavering than any other.
“Lady.”
Duncan’s hand drew her back, his eyes full of sorrow and understanding.
“Don’t listen to him. Grief drives away all reason. He mourns her now, but he’ll recover. They were destined for each other from childhood—their marriage arranged by Tavish’s father. He knows not what he says.”
“No, Duncan, ‘tis too late,” Elyssia replied. “Only at the edge of despair do we reveal ourselves. Pain and loss strip away the barriers and inhibitions which prevent us from revealing our feelings. Whether he knows it or not, he’s speaking the truth.”
“He loves you, lady. I know he does.”
Tavish’s sobs had subsided, but he still clung to Margaret’s body.
Elyssia shook her head. Soon she would be gone, parted forever from the man she loved but whose heart had always belonged to another.
Chapter 28
Elyssia pushed the needle through the tapestry she was making as a wedding present for Alice. The picture was taking shape. Reds and golds depicting falling leaves—the image with which she had comforted Alice over the years and soothed her when her damaged body threatened to convulse and shake. It would serve as a reminder of Elyssia and Richard when they were gone.
Margaret’s body had been buried in a quiet ceremony in the forest. Only Tavish, Callum, and a handful of others had attended. The two brothers had returned arm-in-arm across the courtyard while Elyssia watched, alone in her chamber.
The morning after the burial, Elyssia had returned to her chamber to tend to the baby and had encountered Tavish holding the child in his arms in the very spot where he had killed his betrothed. Mumbling an apology, he had returned the child to his cot and hurried out in his eagerness to be rid of her.
Whenever he was near, her treacherous body tightened with need, her heart following in its wake. But soon she would be gone. The day after Alice’s wedding they were leaving for de Montford Castle—Richard, Elyssia and her child, along with their half-brother Conall and the barbarian girl.
Once free from his influence, the pain would recede, even if it could never fully be extinguished. But a dull ache was better than the searing agony of heartbreak.
She would be content with the love of her son and the knowledge that Alice was happy.
Finlay doted on Alice and followed her everywhere. He tended to her at the table when the clan gathered in the hall for the evening meal, and even sang to her, ignoring the ridicule of the clansmen. His desire to make Alice smile surpassed any shame at his lack of talent for ballads.
That very morning Alice’s laughter had echoed across the courtyard, accompanied by Finlay’s voice and the thud of hoofbeats as they prepared for a ride in the mountain air. Not even as children had Elyssia heard Alice laugh so much.
She would miss her. Alice had been her main responsibility, the one reason she had for living until the birth of her child. But Alice had another to take care of her now.
A deep scream cut through the silence, and a sharp pain jabbed at her thumb as her needle slipped. The scream was that of a man.
Finlay.
Moments later, Isla burst through the door.
“Come quick! Your sister’s had an accident.”
Pushing her chair aside, Elyssia raced out of the chamber and followed Isla.
A small crowd had formed outside Alice’s chamber which parted as they saw Elyssia, pity, and horror on their faces.
Alice lay on her bed. Finlay leant over her, clutching her hand, soft cries shaking his body. Her right leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, as was one arm. Scarlet st
reaks marred her face, her lip torn where she had bitten it.
“Alice! What happened?”
“Lyssie,” Alice whispered. Lorna lifted her broken arm, and she screamed.
“Forgive me!” Lorna cried. “I can do nothing. Her injuries are too great.”
Was this what happened as soon as Elyssia relinquished her responsibility? Had she handed her beloved sister over to a man unworthy of her?
“Finlay, what have you done!”
The young man lifted his face. Tears smeared his cheeks.
“Forgive me… she… she had a seizure! She wanted to ride, to feel the wind in her hair…”
“You fool!” Elyssia cried. “I’ve told you not to let her ride too fast. Why couldn’t you take better care of her? I thought you loved her!”
“I do. I love her more than my own life and wish I had fallen instead! You think I don’t regret this?”
“It’s not your body which lies broken and shattered as the result of your foolishness!”
“Lady, I must protest,” Isla cried. “It was an accident. Alice may yet recover.”
Lorna shook her head, the motion almost imperceptible, but it told Elyssia more than any words could. Alice already knew. Despite pain etching furrows across her forehead, her eyes glistened with sorrow, resignation, and acceptance.
Pushing Finlay to one side, Elyssia took Alice’s hand and kissed it. “Oh, Alice! Why did I let you go?”
“Lyssie,” Alice whispered, “we all deserve freedom in the end. You deserve it, and so do I.”
“Look at what it’s done to you!”
“I made my choice.” Alice smiled, her eyes dulled with pain. “Even if only for a few days, I have been happy with the man I love.”
“But your life, Alice. You have so many years ahead of you.”
“None of us know how long we have, Lyssie. It’s up to us to make the best of our time, to make wise choices, be happy and follow our hearts."
“Oh Alice, what shall I do without you?”
Alice’s fingers squeezed Elyssia’s hand, the gentle pressure weakening as her life essence began to fade.
“Find love, Lyssie. Give my nephew a name and be the best mother you can to him. Conquer your anger and break the cycle of vengeance.”
Her body spasmed and a cough erupted from her throat.
“She’s not long for this world.” Isla crossed herself and fell to her knees.
“Alice…” Elyssia whispered, “I’m so sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry, Lyssie,” Alice smiled. “Be happy.”
She pulled Elyssia close.
“Be happy with him.”
Another spasm racked her body, and she cried out in pain as a pulse of blood erupted from her shattered leg.
“Finlay! Don’t leave me!”
“No,” Elyssia snarled as he drew near. “You took her from me, do not deny me her last moments.”
Strong hands took her shoulders and pulled her back, and she came face-to-face with Richard, his eye blazing with anger.
“How dare you condemn that young man when his only sin has been to love her. Are you so selfish as to think you’re the only one worthy of her love?”
She struggled, but he held her firm.
“Go to her, Finlay. Ignore my fool of a sister whose jealousy hampers her judgement. It’s you Alice wants.”
“No!” Alice cried. “I want you all beside me.”
Shame flooded Elyssia’s heart. After condemning Tavish for treating her as an object he could lay claim to, she had treated Alice in the same manner, denying her the one thing she wished for—to be in the company of the man she loved at the moment of death.
“Forgive me, Finlay.” She wiped her soaked face.
“Come, dearest, let us comfort her.” Richard knelt beside Finlay as he leant over Alice and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Elyssia joined the two men Alice loved most, and the three of them linked hands.
“Thank you, my love.” Alice’s lips lifted into a smile. The pain in her eyes began to dissipate, the pale blue strengthening as she took the first step on the path to peace. Her chest rose in a single breath before sinking, the muscles relaxing as the air left her lungs for the last time. Her body grew still, her face radiating peace as she took her leave of the people she loved.
Salty tears stung Elyssia’s eyes, but she refused to wipe them, clutching onto her sister’s lifeless hand as if it would bring her back.
A large hand touched her cheek.
“Come away, sister dearest. There’s nothing you can do for her now.”
“I can’t let her go.”
“Yes, you can. Her soul has departed. Alice was an angel sent to bring light into our lives and teach us to love and be strong. Now she has returned and resides with her fellow angels in heaven.”
“Oh, Richard, what shall I do?”
He kissed her on the forehead and held her close.
“Honour her last wish, Lyssie. You owe her that.”
Chapter 29
Snowflakes danced in the air, forming spiral patterns before settling on the ground, a light dusting of white. The people shivered, their layers of coarse wool insufficient to keep out the cold completely. Winter had arrived at Glenblane.
Tavish stood apart from the party as Richard de Montford lowered his sister’s body into the grave with the help of three others—Duncan, Arran, and Finlay. The young clansman’s face had grown thin in the days since Alice’s death, his features shrunken by grief. The previous night he had dug her grave, driving the spade into the ground, his strength almost inhuman as he battled against the frozen earth, issuing curses at the Almighty with each stroke.
Finlay recited a prayer, but his voice cracked. Clasping his hand, Richard began to speak, his sharp English tones slicing through the air, growing stronger as he recited a brief eulogy.
Elyssia stood at the head of the grave, holding the baby in her arms. After her sister’s death, she had withdrawn into herself, staring into the distance as if she were no longer there and ignoring Tavish when he spoke to her.
Anything would be better than the blank silence. He would even have welcomed it if she had raged at him or blamed him for Alice’s death. But she didn’t acknowledge him at all, and he was unwilling to force a response from her. He had forced her enough.
The only creature she had reacted to, save the child, was her brother. She took her meals in silence, alone in her chamber, where Isla told him she ate barely enough to sustain a bird.
It was as if now Alice had gone Elyssia no longer had a reason to live. After everything she had endured to protect her sister, in the end, Alice had not been killed by enemies or by cruelty. A simple accident had killed her while enjoying her freedom, after she had, at last, found love.
How cruel fate could be!
As Alice’s body disappeared into the earth, Richard threw a fistful of soil into the grave. Elyssia joined him, and he took her hand.
She broke her silence, uttering a prayer for Alice.
“Dearest sister, may you find peace at last away from a world that never understood you. Now you are free—free to fly. Go with my blessing and take your place among the angels, to watch over us. You made me a better person. You showed me how to love and taught me that forgiveness conquers vengeance. Forgive me, dearest Alice, for not taking greater care of you. I pray that you’ll watch over your nephew, and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to ensure he grows to be a better person than his mother.”
Her voice broke, and she began to cry. Small whimpers turned into painful sobs, and she opened her mouth and howled at the sky, desolation, and futility cutting through the mountain air.
Richard handed the baby to Isla and pulled Elyssia into his arms, muffling her sobs in his cloak. Her body shook, and she drew her hands into claws, digging her fingers into her brother’s arms while she screamed—broken at last.
Tavish wiped his eyes. From the first moment he’d lain eyes on her—under the power of the s
adistic Allendyne—she had never exposed such raw emotion. Even when she had been beaten and tortured, when he had discarded her, called her whore, she had remained strong.
The sight of her now, bent and broken, speared his soul with shame. He motioned to the onlookers to disperse. They moved back, leaving the siblings to comfort each other and issue their final farewell to Alice.
At length, her cries subsided. Richard continued to hold her, resolve and determination in his expression. Tavish had thought him a weakling, but Richard drew strength from Elyssia’s despair. When the stronger of the two siblings was in need, he showed himself to be worthy of his sister.
Stroking her head, he placed a kiss in her hair, the warm gold colour a shade lighter than his.
“Hush, Lyssie, my love. Alice would not wish to see you thus. She would want you to be free of grief and strong for your son.”
“Oh Richard!” she cried. “I cannot bear life without her.”
“I know, Lyssie, but we must.”
“I want to go home, Richard. I want to leave.”
“Take counsel from your heart, Lyssie. Remember Alice’s last wish.”
“I have no reason to stay.”
“What of him?”
Tavish’s skin tightened at Richard’s last word, and he held his breath, willing her to answer, yet also dreading it.
“He only ever saw me as a means to an end, Richard. Someone had to pay for what Papa did to his sister—and I did pay. But I’m nothing now, Richard, nothing without Alice. An unwed whore with a bastard child—the world will always view me as such. Though I may be worthless, my son deserves better. To Tavish, my child is the bastard he placed in the belly of his enemy’s daughter as vengeance for the murder of his sister. He will never see him as anything else.”
Her words drove a knife into Tavish’s heart. Did she view herself as nothing?
Aye. And he had none to blame but himself.
Tavish approached them, and her body stiffened.
“Elyssia…”
She lifted her head and shook it from side to side.
“No,” she said, her voice flat. “You’ve taken everything from me. Can you not leave me in peace?”
