Page 117 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
“Leighton,” she gasped.
The older man lay against a stack of blankets, his tunic soaked dark with blood. His arm was bandaged, but the skin beneath was angry and hot. Mabel knelt beside him, pressing a cloth to his forehead.
“Hold him here,” Mabel instructed.
Amara slid down to the floor and took his hand.
Leighton blinked slowly. “Me lady…”
“Shh,” she said. “Save yer strength.”
He gave a weak chuckle. “Nae much left of it, I’m afraid.”
“What happened?” she asked, adjusting the cloth on his brow.
He exhaled. “Finn. And half the guard. He waited ‘til ye and the laird left… turned on us like a fox in the henhouse.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why did he do this to ye?”
Leighton didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted upward, somewhere far away. “I suppose he’s after somethin’…” he said eventually.
“Did ye… Did ye ever love me maither?” she asked quietly.
That snapped his attention back to her. “What?”
“Finn told me faither…” Amara swallowed. “That there was an affair. That I wasnae his daughter. That I… that I was yers.”
Leighton’s expression shifted — confusion, then horror, then a sudden sharp bark of laughter.
“Lass,” he coughed. “Nay. Nay, nae ever. I did have much respect for yer maither, aye — She became a dear friend. A voice of reason amidst the warring clans. But nay, nae ever like that.”
“Then why —?”
As if the realization slapped him across his face, Leighton’s features fell, and he shook his head.
“Finn’s faither, Rhys’s uncle, was passed over for the lairdship quite late in their youth. Anyone with two eyes could see that the elder Adams brother hated Rhys’s faither for it. Threw the man off the council when he came into power, he did. Rhys’s uncle clearly passed that hatred down like an heirloom to Finn. The lad never stood a chance from it, I’m afraid. I suspect Finn hasbeen plannin’ this for quite some time… if nae his own plan, it’s definitely his faither’s plan that he’s taken charge of.”
Amara’s throat tightened. “So he lied.”
“Lied?” Leighton looked toward the ceiling. “Lady Amara. It seems that he did much more than that. He single-handedly orchestrated this entire situation with but one seed of doubt.”
Amara’s hand was still resting on Leighton’s chest when she felt someone watching her.
She turned slowly, gaze drifting past the chaos of the shelter, and found Mabel sitting on a low bench near the back wall. A bandage roll sat idle in her lap, her hands unmoving. Her expression wasn’t stern like usual, nor tired like most around them. It was pained.
Amara stood, dusting her skirts, and made her way over.
“Mabel?”
The woman blinked and looked up, offering a strained smile. “He’s lucky ye found him when ye did. Thank ye for yer help, Lady Amara.”
“I’m glad I found him. Ye were… busy,” Amara said, her eyes floating around the space at the wounded, Mack was busy in the far reaches, and realized then that Mabel must have been watching them for a while.
“Aye,” the woman said blandly.
“Can I help ye with more of the others?”
Mabel’s eyes just dropped to her hands.
