The MacKinnon’s Bride(100)
“O’er what?” Iain asked. “Whatever it is, it canna possibly be so terrible that we canna mend it together. Is that no’ what you always told me, Glenna?”
He felt her nod against his shoulder.
“What has he done?”
“Naught,” she cried softly, rising to her feet and wiping her face with her sleeve. “Naught as yet,” she clarified. “But I dunno what he’s going to do. He’s so angry, Iain... and he loathes ye!” she disclosed.
Iain’s brows lifted in stunned surprise. He rocked backward upon his heels. “Me?”
Her expression was filled with sorrow. “Aye, Iain, but he does!”
“I dinna understand.”
“Oh, Iain,” she whispered brokenly. “Iain, my love...” She shook her head and placed a hand upon his shoulder. Her next words left him dumb. “Lagan isna your cousin, ye see... he isna me son.”
“Nay?” he asked, reeling from the weight of her words. “Surely you jest?”
She shook her head. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
His mind grasped her words, and his heart believed her, for he knew well enough that she would never speak but in truth. “But who then? Who is he?”
She reached out to touch his jaw, cradle his chin. “Your brother,” she whispered.
The blow of her words to his mind was not near as staggering as that to his heart. “Impossible!” he exclaimed at once, his face screwing with disbelief.
“Nay, but ‘tis true,” she countered, her brows lifting. “Och, but, Iain, dinna ye see?”
This moment he saw nothing. Nothing was clear.
Nor could he think to speak.
“’Twas no’ your birth that took your dear mother’s life,” she told him, “but Lagan’s, instead, love.” She nodded sadly, her eyes pooling once more with tears. “Lagan is my sister’s son,” she avowed, her hand trembling upon his face. “God forgive me, Iain, but I swear it on my soul! He is your brother, in truth.”
chapter 31
The gathering darkness obscured his vision, but Lagan scarce slowed his pace, even when the silhouette of a small child darted out before them.
“Lagan!” Malcom cried. “I couldna find him! I couldna! I looked but I couldna!”
“Hush, Malcom!” Lagan commanded him, reining in much too recklessly before the frantic child.
It was obvious to Page that he was afeared, and she suddenly didn’t feel any more at ease than he sounded. Her heart leapt as the horse snorted and kicked in protest, nearly striking Malcom’s little shoulder, and she held her breath until the animal came to a full halt—held her tongue as well, for she didn’t wholly trust Lagan. She would have risked anything for Malcom’s sake, but she was beginning to sense that something was very wrong.
Lagan dismounted quickly, and Page’s sense of unease only intensified as she watched him immediately lift his crossbow from its carrier. But she scarce had time to consider his actions, for he made them clear enough at once.
“I dinna believe in wastin’ time,” he said, and aimed the weapon at Malcom. “Get yourself on the horse, Malcom,” he commanded the child.
The answering look upon Malcom’s face twisted Page’s heart. In the dusky twilight, his face seemed to turn ashen before her eyes. His innocent green eyes widened in grown-up comprehension and then slanted sadly like those of an old man. “Lagan!” he cried woefully. His little-boy eyes welled with tears.
Page started to dismount at once, to go to him, but Lagan turned to her and commanded, “Stay!”
She froze when he turned the weapon upon her—a momentary lapse, for God’s truth, she was no fearless warrior! It took her an instant to recover herself, and then she was heartily grateful the weapon was no longer trained upon Malcom.
Bolstering her courage, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “What is it you hope to gain from this?” she asked him contemptuously. “What could possibly be worth harming your own cousin? Jesu, he’s naught but a child!”
“Cousin?” he asked her, his words fraught with bitterness. “Nay, he is my nephew! But I wasna given a choice o’er what he should call me. Well, I dinna want him now! He can go to the devil, where I’m gain’ to send his da, as well!”
“I... I do not understand,” Page said.
“I dinna have the time to explain it to ye!” He turned the weapon upon Malcom once more, dismissing her. “Get yourself on the horse, brat.”
With the canopy of darkness descended almost fully now, Malcom stood deeper within shadow, unmoving. Though she could no longer see his face clearly, she felt her heart wrench for the grief she knew he must be feeling. She knew he must be terrified. Knew he must feel confused.