The Thorn & the Thistle

by Julie Moffett

  “He’s a cursed Englishman.”

  Rolf took a step forward. “Who is trying to save your miserable life, I might add. Look, I’ve been patient long enough. You’d be wise to listen to her. Now put the dagger aside and let Farrington go.”

  Robbie pressed the knife tighter against Farrington’s neck. “Dinna come any closer Englishman. I’ll slit his throat from ear to ear.”

  “Didn’t you hear what she said? Don’t be a fool, Kincaid. The truth is that this man is not worth one minute of your life. Let the court deal with this and we can all walk away from this honorably.”

  Robbie shook his head. “No’ this time. All my life the English have cheated me from what I wanted. No’ any more. I want justice for my da, for Megan’s father and brother and all the friends and kin o’ mine this vile man has murdered. This time I’m going to take what I deserve.”

  “Please, Robbie. Rolf is trying to help.”

  “Rolf?” Robbie repeated astounded. “Is that what ye are calling him now? Saints above, Meggie, dinna tell me that ye have actually come to care for the Englishman.”

  Megan met his eyes. “I love him, Robbie, and if ye’d give him a chance ye’d see what a good man he is.”

  Robbie laughed in disbelief. “Love? Och, Englishman, ye are good. How hard was it to seduce an innocent like Megan?”

  Rolf scowled. “You know, Kincaid, you are making it very difficult for me to want to save your skin.”

  “I dinna need your help, Englishman.”

  “Stop it, both o’ ye.” Megan’s cheeks stained red. “Rolf has been good to me, Robbie. ’Tis jealousy speaking for ye now. Can’t ye see ’tis time to put all our hate and mistrust behind us? I’m asking ye to do so as my kin and my friend. Killing Farrington is no longer the answer. We’ve finally a chance at a future, a peaceful one, for all the people o’ Gairloch. For ye, too, Robbie. Don’t let this horrible man steal the last o’ your dreams.”

  Robbie looked at Megan before his eyes softened. “All I ever wanted was ye.”

  Megan swallowed back the tears. “But don’t ye see? I’m giving ye another chance at life—a life ye can fill wi’ new dreams and wee bairns o’ your own. I beg ye to see reason, Robbie. Put down the knife and let Farrington go. He’ll be served his justice in the court, and ultimately in the eyes o’ God.”

  Robbie kept his eyes on her face for a long endless moment. Then he cast the dagger aside with a sharp flick of his wrist. It clattered against the stones of the hearth and lay still.

  Farrington gave a broken sob of relief, looking over his shoulder at Robbie as if he couldn’t believe it. Then he rose to his feet, steadying his trembling legs by placing both hands on the mantle. Blood still oozed from the gash on his neck, dripping onto his robe.

  “I did that for ye, Meggie. For a new beginning for all o’ us.”

  Before she could answer, Farrington suddenly whirled around. Horrified, Megan saw he held a pistol in his hand.

  For an instant he aimed it at Rolf, smiling.

  Then he turned and pointed it at Robbie. “You wretched heathen.” His voice raised in a screech. “How dare you hold a knife to my throat?” With a twisted snarl on his face, he fired the gun.

  “Nay!” Megan screamed in horror as smoke from the pistol spread across the room.

  Robbie staggered back a step and then crumpled to the floor with a startled look on his face. With a howl of anger Rolf lunged forward, slamming into Farrington and sending them hurling to the floor. They landed atop a small table near the hearth, crushing it to splinters and sending candles and papers scattering across the room.

  Screeching, Farrington smashed the pistol into the side of Rolf’s temple. Rolf grunted as blood steamed from the gash and into his eye. He swung his fist, connecting with Farrington’s jaw in a bone-thudding crunch.

  Snapping out of her shock, Megan flung herself to Robbie’s side, cradling his head in her lap. She gasped in relief when she saw he was still breathing.

  “Hold on, Robbie. Ye are going to be all right.”

  She heard Edwin shout a curse, and looked up just in time to see his hand close over the handle of Robbie’s dagger.

  She screamed. “Rolf. He’s got Robbie’s dagger.”

  Rolf rolled sideways, grappling for control. Megan could see he was at a disadvantage because Edwin had the knife in the hand directly opposing Rolf’s crippled appendage. Rolf could only press down with his forearm, trying to keep Edwin from lifting his arm. Both men’s faces were twisted in pain and concentration.

  Megan set her cousin’s head on the floor and looked around for something to use as a weapon. He eyes fell upon a heavy brass candleholder. She lifted it and ran over to the men. The men had begun grappling again and she waited, trying to get good shot of Farrington’s head or hand. Just as she thought she had one, the door flew open and a burst of fire and heat blasted inside, taking her breath away.

  Coughing and gagging, she staggered to the door and closed it. “The house is on fire,” she screamed.

  At that exact moment, a piercing cry filled the room. Horrified she stared in shock at the two men, an invisible hand clutching her heart. Rolf and Edwin lay in a heap of bloody and tangled limbs. It was impossible to determine where one man started and the other ended.

  “Rolf? Rolf, are ye all right?”

  Afraid of what she might discover, she dropped to her knees beside the men. She heard a groan, and then saw Rolf struggle out from underneath Farrington. His clothes were ripped and blood dripped down his face from the cut over his eye. But he was alive.

  Sobbing, she flung herself into his arms, pressing her tear-stained cheek against his face. “Och, Rolf. I feared I had lost ye.”

  He held her to his chest. “I’m all right. But Farrington is dead. It looks like he found his justice after all.”

  “Meggie?”

  She untangled herself from Rolf’s embrace. “Robbie. Don’t move. We are going to get ye out o’ here.”

  “Meggie...I...”

  She smoothed back the hair at his temple. “Don’t talk. Save your strength.”

  “I willna be going anywhere.” He grimaced in pain.

  “O’ course ye will. As soon as we get out of this godforsaken house, I’ll get a healing salve and ye’ll be feeling like yourself again in no time.”

  “Nay, Meggie...no’ this...time.” His hand fell from his abdomen.

  Megan gasped in horror at the gaping wound near his stomach. The blood was gushing out from an ugly ragged hole, staining crimson the material of his white shirt.

  “Oh, my God.” She pressed her hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. “We’ll get ye some help right away.”

  “I fear ’tis too late this time, Meggie.”

  “Nay. I’m no’ going to let ye die.”

  He smiled. “Ye were always...tending...to my hurts.”

  “And ye always came out the better.” She held back the tears. “This time ’twill be no different.”

  He coughed and then winced in pain. “It will be different this time. What happened...to Farrington?”

  “He’s dead. He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  “I wanted...so much... to kill him.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. “I know. But ye are no’ a murderer, Robbie. Ye are a kind and gentle man.”

  He managed a weak smile. “The Englishman...mayhap I was wrong about him. He can’t be that vile if ye love him...so.”

  A sob caught in her throat. “He’s a good man, Robbie. I’ve been honored to know two such men.”

  Robbie grimaced, his face twisting in pain. “Then ’tis one more matter to be settled. Tell the Englishman...to come closer.”

  Megan looked over at Rolf with a stricken expression. Rolf rose and stepped closer and knel
t beside the Scotsman. “I’m listening.”

  “Ye should know...that I am...the Black Wolf.” Robbie winced in pain from the effort of speaking. “Robert MacLeod is dead. I...took his place. Ye have...vanquished...me.”

  Megan gasped in shock at his words. “Nay, Robbie. Don’t say so. ’Tisn’t true.”

  Robbie reached up and grasped her hand with surprising strength. “Dinna argue wi’ me, Megan MacLeod. Let me give ye... one last gift.”

  Tears began to spill down her cheeks in earnest. “Please Robbie, don’t do this.”

  His breathing was labored, but he managed to squeeze her hand. “I’m doing it for ye, Meggie... for us. For our... dreams.”

  “Nay, Robbie.” Megan held back the sobs forming in her throat. “Ye never gave up your dreams. ’Tis what I always loved best about ye.”

  A spasm racked his body and his face turned ashen. “Meggie.” She could barely hear him. Do ye think I’ll be able to...dream in heaven?”

  She bent her head down placing her hand against his cheek. “I’m certain o’ it, Robbie. ’Twill be a beautiful place.”

  He looked up at her and for a fleeting moment she saw the young and innocent boy he had once been.

  “Be good...mo ghraidh.” He squeezed her hand once more and then his hand slipped from her grasp.

  For a moment, Megan could only stare at his still form. Then uttering a heart shattering cry, she collapsed on top of him. “Nay, Robbie. Ye can’t leave me too.”

  “Megan.” Rolf grabbed her under the arms and lifting her to her feet. “We have to leave at once.”

  Smoke filled the room.

  “Nay, I can’t leave Robbie here.” She looked at him with a panicked expression on her face. “Please, Rolf, don’t make me leave him.”

  He nodded. “All right, I’ll take him. But first you must climb out the window. Hold onto the drape and I’ll lower you to the ground.” He directed her to the open window and tossed one end of the heavy velvet drape he tore from the wall out the window.

  “Hold on and climb down.” He braced his booted feet against the wall beneath the sill.

  “How will you get out?”

  “I’ll think of something. Go on now, Megan. We don’t have time to argue.”

  Seeing the grim look on his face, she swallowed her doubts and began her descent. When she reached the bottom, she tugged twice on the drape. She felt him respond with a pull, and then it went slack in her hand.

  Moments later an explosion came from the room. Looking up, she saw smoke pouring from the window.

  “Rolf,” she screamed. “Where are ye?”

  After an agonizing minute, Megan saw him appear in the window. She gasped when she saw he had Robbie’s body slung over his shoulder. Wobbling, he sat on the edge of the window and then hoisted himself down, hanging from the sill with one arm. After swinging for a moment, he let go, dropping to the ground.

  Megan raced to his side, sobbing in relief when she saw him sit up, rubbing his backside. His clothes and face were black with soot and he was nearly unrecognizable. But he was alive and he had brought Robbie with him.

  She threw herself into his arms, kissing his cheeks. “Rolf. Do ye know how much I love ye?”

  He coughed and then drew her close with one arm, wincing as she leaned against his rib cage. “Despite everything, we’re going to be all right, Megan MacLeod.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “Just as I promised you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dusk had fallen by the time Rolf finally returned to Castle Kilcraig. There was still much to be sorted out, but first, the injured required attention and the dead needed burying. After that, it would be up to him to see that the healing process began in Gairloch. But for now, he needed to settle some unfinished business of his own.

  On his way back to the castle, Rolf had stopped at the lake for a quick dip to cleanse himself of soot and blood. The water had been damn near freezing, but it was also invigorating and helped to clear his mind. He definitely wanted a clear head when he faced Megan.

  Entering their bedchamber, he found her sitting alone in front of the hearth. She was staring into the fire, her expression sad and pensive. He detected a new but weary maturity about her. A white wool blanket lay loosely draped about her shoulders and she clutched one edge of it between her fingers.

  He saw that she, too, had bathed. The blood was gone from her hands and her dark hair lay shiny and unbound across the blanket. She looked up at him when he entered, but said nothing.

  Unbuckling the sword belt from his waist, he set it aside and walked over to the hearth. Kneeling, he added several squares of peat to the fire, stirring them until they caught. When he finished, he stood, holding out his hands to the warmth.

  “Do you wish to discuss what has happened?”

  He heard her draw a heavy breath. “Aye. Sit down, Rolf.”

  “First, I want to give you something.” He walked over to a small wooden trunk and knelt down on one knee. From a small pouch around his waist, he pulled out a key. Inserting it into the lock, he opened the trunk and lifted the lid.

  Megan gasped when she saw what he held in his hands. “The cloak o’ the Black Wolf. Ye kept it after all.”

  “Yes, I kept it. A part of me longed to destroy it, but something held me back. Now I’m beginning to understand that this cloak is more than just a symbol of Scottish resistance. It is a part of your heritage, perhaps much like the sword your father buried with your brother.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek as he placed the cloak in her hands. “There will be no more killing in Gairloch. I know that no matter what I do, the legend your father created will live on. We must now find a way to reconcile that legend with the opportunity for peace.”

  Megan lifted the cloak to her cheek and closed her eyes. Her hair tumbled over her face shadowing the tears that now fell freely.

  Rolf knelt down beside her chair. “I am truly sorry about what happened. If only I had stopped Farrington earlier, both Robbie and your uncle might still be alive.”

  She brushed aside a tear with her fingertip. “’Tis no’ your fault. I don’t blame ye for what happened.”

  “I still can’t help wishing there had been a different outcome. There was no need for further loss of life. Megan, you’ve lost your entire family. What can I possibly say that will make you feel anything except bitterness toward me...toward my countrymen?”

  She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes grieved and brimming with tears. “I will learn to live with my pain. We all make decisions that affect our life. ’Twas Geddes’ decision to stand up to Farrington, ’twas Robbie’s to seek his revenge, and ’twas mine to become what I’ve become.”

  “Megan—” he began, but she interrupted him.

  “Don’t stop me now, Rolf. ’Tis time to bring the truth out into the open...to finish the unfinished between us. There is something ye must know about me.”

  He put his fingers against her lips. “If this is about the Wolf, you can consider it a closed matter.”

  She reached up, grasping his fingers and pulling them aside. “Ye once asked me to speak only the truth wi’ ye. Well, Robbie lied as he lay dying. ’Twas no’ him who became the Black Wolf after my da died.”

  Rolf stood, walking over to the hearth and leaning his elbow atop the mantle. For a long moment he stood before he turned to face her. “Do you know what happens to people who admit to treason, Megan?”

  She blinked, surprised by the tone of his voice. “What do ye mean?”

  He kept his gaze steady on her face. “You should know that I am duty-bound by my honor to report those who confess to treasonous activities against the crown. Robbie Kincaid has done such a thing by admitting that he became the Black Wolf after the death of your father. Now that he is dead, the resis
tance has no leader, no rallying point. My duty to bring the Black Wolf to justice has been fulfilled. As far as I am concerned the matter is closed.”

  “But—”

  “I said the matter is closed. The Black Wolf is dead. There will be no more Scottish resistance in Gairloch nor will there be another dishonorable English landlord to disturb the peace. It all begins anew right here, right now. With us.”

  Megan stood, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. Her thick dark hair hung in graceful curves over her shoulders. “Ye know, don’t ye?”

  Rolf reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder. “What I know is that as the last surviving MacLeod, you will act on behalf of your deceased father and for the clan by agreeing to accept the land grants and pardons in exchange for the cessation of all hostile activities against the crown. My search for the Black Wolf has ended.”

  She regarded him with disbelief. “Have ye no wish to punish me for my actions?”

  “You acted with honor and courage, putting the welfare of your clan above your own life. There is no shame in that. And there is no shame in what we feel for each other.”

  She glanced back at the fire, the fringe of her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. “But everything is so helplessly tangled wi’ us. Betrayal, deception and lies. ’Tis what we’ve based our relationship on.”

  “Did you lie when you said you loved me?”

  She shook her head. “Nay, ’twas no’ a lie.”

  “I love you, too, Megan. We’ll start with that. It will give us a chance at a new beginning. I won’t pretend it will be easy. It won’t. We need to give ourselves time to heal—to forgive each other for what we have done and to learn to trust each other. But when we are ready, we’ll have something to build on—a foundation of love and respect.”

  They sat in silence for some time before Megan turned to him, leaning forward in her chair. She held out her hand.

  Rolf took it, his warm fingers circling around hers. It was a gesture of peace—Scottish to English. Now they could move forward.

  “Will ye promise me something, Rolf St. James?” The expression on her face was both tender and wistful.