Page 75 of A Healer for the Ruthless Highlander
A sharp gasp escaped the man, his eyes wide with realization before his knees buckled beneath him. Kenneth stood firm, his breath steady, his grip unwavering. The battle was over before it had truly begun.
Leana did not immediately understand what had happened, for Kenneth moved with great skill and speed. Yet she could see the moment he struck Laird Matheson with the hilt of his sword.
Laird Matheson staggered backward and almost fell. He let out a grunt and threw his sword at Kenneth with all his might, hoping to knock him out.
But Kenneth was faster. He caught Laird Matheson’s arm and, without hesitation, drove his sword into the bastard’s chest.
Laird Matheson let out a groan just before falling to his knees in front of Kenneth, who fixed him with a cold silvery gaze.
“To punish ye for hurtin’ her. But ye’ve made this too easy,” Kenneth spat as Laird Matheson fell at his feet.
His blood pooled beneath him, mingling with Maxwell’s, and he let out a gurgle.
“Now, yer people are free from yer tyranny,” Kenneth declared, watching the man slowly bleed to death.
Relief, as well as fear, shot through Leana as she watched the scene. Finally, Laird Matheson was dead, but the fear she had felt at almost losing Kenneth had not ebbed.
This made her run in his direction, without a care in the world. Her eyes filled with tears as he turned to her and opened his arms wide.
This made her run in his direction, without a care in the world. Her eyes filled with tears as he turned to her and opened his arms wide.
She surged forward, her steps quick and unrestrained, the weight of everything slipping away with each stride. When she reached him, she didn’t hesitate—she threw herself into his embrace, her fingers clutching at his back, anchoring herself to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had been tilting beneath her feet.
His arms wrapped around her with certainty, a silent promise, his warmth pressing against her, steady and strong. The tremble in her breath eased, and in that moment, she knew—here, in his hold, she was safe.
“I was so afraid somethin’ would happen to ye!” she cried.
“Aye. I was afraid for ye too,” Kenneth murmured, wiping away her tears with his fingers.
Her heart fluttered at his touch, for she could not forget what she had heard. Even if he didn’t know it, she had already been there, cornered by Maxwell’s men, when he had declared his feelings to everyone.
Perhaps the confession they had both made when they weren’t certain whether they would live to tell the tale lay between their bodies, melting in that promising embrace, for Leana felt that everything was different… in a way.
It hadn’t been clear to her how she felt about Kenneth that morning, but the fear of losing him had forced her to face her feelings.
It was a new, strange, and powerful feeling that dominated her and prevented her from turning away from him, even when she felt other people approaching.
Among them was Jonas, who was herding the villagers away.
“I hope ye understand that Leana Beaton isnae a witch,” he boomed, “and that the words spoken against her were nothin’ more than the lies of two dead traitors.”
If there was any doubt, no one voiced it, for indeed the villagers seemed to regret believing that the young healer had evil intentions.
And though it had been a bitter moment for Leana, the knowledge that she was no longer in danger and that Kenneth was safe finally laid her fear to rest.
It was even better when she heard familiar voices calling to her, just as her heart began to race. Only then did she turn away from Kenneth.
“Leana! Leana!”
“Papa, Joanna, Irene!” she cried thickly.
Her sisters and father rode toward the castle, the pounding of hooves echoing across the open fields. Wind whipped through their hair, but the young women scarcely seemed to notice—their tear-streaked faces spoke of urgency, of sorrow left unrestrained.
Joanna gripped the reins tightly, her knuckles white, her posture rigid with determination. The horse beneath her heaved, its sides slick with sweat, its breath coming in labored huffs. She had pushed it hard, too hard, but there was no hesitation in her movements. As they neared, her shoulders sagged, exhaustion weighing down her frame, yet she refused to slow.
“Leana, me goodness! I’m so glad ye’re all right!” Irene gasped as jumped down from the horse and ran toward Leana.
Joanna and Irene threw their arms around her, showering her with kisses, while their father dismounted from his horse in time to reach them.
