Page 72 of The Lone Wolf's Bride

The Campbells and MacLeods together had driven the Grants back to their own lands, without their laird, for Lachlan Grant lay pale and stiff under the snow, with a blade through the heart, courtesy of Duncan. So, for now at least, an uneasy peace prevailed but at a terrible cost, for Ilene was not the only grieving widow at Cailleach. Far too many men had been lost to the fight at Mallach Moor as the clan had gone to the edge of defeat. She tried to be strong for the sake of those around her but the weight of Murray’s loss pressed on her so badly that she thought she might be going mad with it.

In a chill dawn light, with eyes raw from crying and barely able to put one foot in front of the other, she pulled on her clothes in a daze and headed outside. The cold didn’t matter, the ache in her chest didn’t matter, nothing mattered any more. When Murray had first left Cailleach all those years ago she had been forced to think of him out there somewhere, cold and alone. And here she was again with the same pain to endure. Life had come full circle, the man she loved was gone.

The snowstorms had given way to a clinging dampness and this morning, a dense fog had taken hold, rising off the loch and turning the air deathly and silent, as if the whole world was suffocating.

Ilene walked to the bridge, barely able to make it out in the fog. Staring down at the frigid grey water rushing underneath, Ilene remembered Murray standing there when he had first returned, so fine and handsome and trying to gain her trust. Why had she not seen then how he ruled her heart? The pain of seeing his face in her mind cut her in two.

The shrill shrieking of crows made her spin around in alarm. Slow hoof beats sounded across from the other side of the bridge, muffled in the mist. They were coming closer and closer, but still, she could not see a horse. Then slowly, a figure emerged, shrouded and dark-faced. Ilene felt no fear. If she was dying of a broken heart and this was death come to claim her, then it was a mercy. The figure was almost upon her now and she gasped as suddenly the breath went out of her.

He threw himself off the horse and was on her before she could speak, pulling her into a rough embrace, mouth desperately claiming hers.

Murray flinched as she grabbed hold of him tight.

‘I told you I wasn’t finished with you yet,’ he said.

Chapter Thirty-Two

They sat before a roaring fire in Ilene’s chamber as Murray tried to chase the chill from his bones. He had told her not to question him until he was ready to talk, and she had not, she was just so happy that he was safe. Looking deep into the fire he started to speak and would not meet her eye.

‘Ilene I have something to tell you that will cause you pain and make you hate me again.’

‘I could never hate you, so whatever you have to say, just say it.’

‘When I was hurt and I managed to put my shoulder back in I was almost dead with the pain. I saw someone coming towards me out of the snow, it was Aidan.’

Ilene gasped. She knew what was coming, for if Murray was alive then…

‘I must have passed out for a few moments and when I came too, he was there, still sitting on his horse, bent over as if he was asleep. For a moment I thought he was frozen onto that horse. I remembered I still had my knife in my belt, so I took it out and went over to him and pulled him down, ready to end him. Then I saw it – a stomach wound, Ilene, a terrible mess which could only end in a slow, agonising death. I’ve seen such wounds enough times to know that he had no hope of living.’

Ilene fought the tears that threatened to come.

‘I thought about seeing him so many times in the last few months, and each time I did, the hate in my heart would grow. It was like a beast inside my breast, vicious and black.’

‘So you killed him?’

‘Honour demanded it.’ He looked down at his hands, rubbing his palm with his thumb. ‘But I didn’t do it, because of what he said to me as I stood over him. ‘Wait,’ he said, ‘I must know, is she safe, is she happy?’

‘Oh, Murray.’

He would not look at her as he carried on speaking, in a detached way. ‘He made no plea for mercy, did not beg for his life. He just said the same thing over and over. ‘Is she safe, is she happy?’

‘And what did you say?’

‘Aye,’ I said, ‘she is happy, I’ve kept her safe, and I always will.’ I knelt beside him as the snow fell all around us and he told me that he loved you, had always loved you, but that he was weak and gave you up at his father’s order. He never knew about the child Ilene and …’

‘You told him?’

‘No, what good would that do a dying man? But, much as it pains me to say it, the way Aidan spoke of you, well, I think it may have made a difference. He might have found some courage, defied his father and done the right thing by you. When I told him he should not have attacked Duncan, do you know what he said? I was glad to do it for if we’d won I would have got her back.’

‘Murray, that’s awful. What did you do?’

‘Nearby there was an overhang of rock, jutting out over a narrow ledge, forming a shelter of sorts, so I dragged him over to it with my good arm and then got in and pulled him in after me. It was hard as he was heavy, and my fingers were numb with the cold. In the end, I might have only prolonged his suffering, but what I meant to do was to show mercy and ease his passing, for your sake, so that you would not hate me.’

‘I could never hate you, Murray.’

‘Ilene, he died in the night, cold most likely took him. It almost took me too. I lay there thinking, if it is my time then at least I can leave this world with a clear conscience. When it came to it, I felt some measure of pity for Aidan, for all the life before him he would not live, for the love he lost by leaving you. The only reason I ever hated him was because you loved him.’

She sobbed and Murray stood up.

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