Page 83 of A Highland Healer Captured
The words hit like a slap. “Take him?”
“Aye.” She nodded, eyes wet, desperate. “Marcus is comin’. Tonight, before dawn. Him and men he’s gathered. He swore he’d storm the keep and put every man to the sword. I couldnae let him find Grayson here. I thought—” Her voice broke. “I thought if I took the boy and ran, I could hide him. Save him.”
Zander’s grip tightened until she gasped. “Ye poison him for months, and now ye tell me ye’d save him?” His fury shook the air itself. “Do ye hear the madness of yer own words?”
Cora’s tears spilled faster. “I kenned it was wrong, what I did before. But I love him, Zander. I swear I do. I couldnae bear to see him?—”
His laugh was a roar, black and joyless. “Ye love him as a wolf loves the lamb. Ye call it love while ye slip poison in his cup.”
“I listened to Marcus because he is me braither!” she sobbed, her voice cracking. “And when I saw Grayson suffer… I kent. I kenned Marcus was nae the man I thought. I couldnae let him hurt him anymore?—”
“Spare me,” Zander cut her off, his voice ice. “Ye had months to tell me. Months to put truth in my ear. Instead ye crept like a snake at me son’s side. And now, when yer caught, ye paint yerself a martyr.”
Her knees hit the floor with a dull crack as she tried to bow before him, her bound hands lifting. “Please. I beg ye. Forgive me. I’ll swear against him. I’ll tell ye everythin’. Only—only daenae cast me out.”
Zander’s vision blurred red. He wanted to shake her, to roar his fury until the stones themselves split. He wanted to see Marcus’s head on a spike, wanted to crush this betrayal underfoot. But more than that, he wanted to hold his son safe, to lock every door and window, to keep the world’s teeth from touching the boy again.
He felt Skylar’s presence wane, and he turned to see where she had gone. The last thing he wanted to do was get so caught up in getting Cora’s confession, that he lets Skylar slip out unnoticed. Mason had returned and was kneeling next to her. He gave a firm nod, and Zander knew instantly that his son was safe.
Skylar’s voice rose, sharp and commanding. “More cloth, quick! The blood’s slowing, but I need it packed tighter.” Her hands were already slick, and her cheeks were still flushed from the fight. He had half a mind to go to her, to kneel at her side and let her steady him. But Mason was there helping her, so Zander’s grip on Cora’s shoulder tightened.
He bent low, bringing his face close to hers. “Ye think I’ll forgive? That I’ll let ye roam these halls after what ye’ve done?” His voice was a rasp of iron. “Nay, lass. Ye’ll answer for it.”
“Zander—” she pleaded, her eyes wide, frantic. “I didnae want to hurt him. I swear on me maither’s grave.”
“Yer word is ash,” he snapped.
He yanked her upright again and turned toward the door, his steps heavy, dragging her with him as if she weighed nothing. His voice lashed like a whip over his shoulder. “Mason! To me.”
He heard Skylar say quietly,“Go! Go, I’m good.”
And then the man appeared at his side.
“Dungeon,” Zander ordered. His voice brooked no question.
Mason’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Aye.” He took Cora’s other arm as she struggled.
“Please!” she cried, heels dragging against the flagstones. “Please, Zander, I beg ye! I was wrong! I ken it now! I only wanted to protect him! Marcus is coming. Tonight or tomorrow!”
Her pleas rang down the corridor as Mason hauled her toward the stair. The sound grated against Zander’s skull, fury and sorrow and betrayal twisting his gut.
He stood alone in the solar doorway, his chest heaving, his fists clenched so tight his nails cut skin. Behind him, Skylar murmured to Katie, her voice steady, a balm against the storm. His son’s eyes connected with his, red-rimmed and wide with terror.
Zander closed his eyes and swore an oath then, silent but searing.
Marcus would nae reach these walls. Nae while I still drew breath.
His gaze cut back to Skylar, kneeling by Katie, her hands worked quickly though her cheek bore a bruise. The dirk he’d given her lay on the rug, red with hearth light. She’d defended his son when he hadn’t seen the threat at his own table.
Zander’s jaw locked. Anger, sadness, and a gnawing feeling of wanting to believe Cora, but not being able to trust her fully.
26
Katie’s blood was slick and warm against Skylar’s fingers, the copper tang riding the air above the hearth. The maid’s hair clung in dark ropes to her temple where the skin had split; every so often a soft sound leaked from her throat, not a word, just the body’s complaint at being so roughly called back to itself.
“Easy now, hen,” Skylar murmured, pressing clean linen into the wound. “Daenae fight me. I ken it stings.”
She had propped Katie on folded blankets to raise her head, turned her slightly so blood wouldn’t pool at the back of her throat, and wedged a rolled shawl against the nape to keep her steady. Her hands moved in the old ways as she applied firm and constant pressure, no fluttering. Her eyes checking Katie’s pupil size and the way they followed the flame. Her ear was bent near the maid’s mouth to count the slow, dragging breaths.
