Page 80 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

“Father’s whittling knife? Really?” Hugh asked, coughing a bit.

He tried to sit up, but Ellen pulled him back down.

“Hardly need anything too fancy to kill the likes of ye,” Rob said.

The very words chilled him more than the river had. Was he really going to kill his brother? Yes, he was. Hugh had tried to take everything from him—his wife, his child, his future. He still might accomplish it, too, if Kenna could not be warmed back up. If Kenna lived, he knew he would come to regret his decision. It would haunt every moment of his existence. But if Kenna died, he would not be given another chance to seek justice.

Rob raised the blade and rushed forward, fueled by rage and pain, unlike anything he had ever known. Then, suddenly, his entire body hurt. He was laying on the floor, his father over the top of him, Murtagh and Jacob each straining to pin down his arms. The knife was gone, thrown somewhere across the room the moment that his father had tackled him.

“What… the… devil… is going on here!” Laird Lovat shouted as he struggled to contain Rob, who wanted nothing more than to shove his father away so that he could destroy Hugh with his bare hands. “Rob, enough!”

For some reason, his father’s voice cut through his mind when all other reason had failed to do so. Rob stilled, breathing heavily.

Laird Lovat cautiously sat up, removing a bit of pressure off of Rob, though Murtagh and Jacob both still held his arms. His father surveyed the room, taking in the blood, and mud, and scattered papers and asked again, “What the devil is going on here?”

“Rob gave Hugh this gash! Ye saw him just now; he is like a wild animal,” Ellen cried.

Rob laughed, feeling sick to his stomach. Was this woman really going to make this his fault?

“Rob, did ye do this to yer brother? Is that from a sword?” The Laird’s voice was oddly calm, as if Hugh only had a lightly bloodied nose and not a fairly deep gash going across his body.

“Aye, I did. Hugh pulled his sword first. I canna help it that he isn’t very good with it. Ye are better at archery, aren’t ye, Hugh?”

“That is enough!” Ellen screamed. “Laird Lovat, please lock him up! He is crazed, he is mad. Please, I do not wish to see him any longer.”

“Not a great archer though,” Rob continued. “When he shot on the camp, he missed. He was aiming for Kenna. Bet that pissed ye off, Ellen—to find out that he failed ye.”

“Shut up!” Ellen screamed.

“So, ye had to do something else. Ye stitched—” Rob stopped to laugh. It came out harried and crazed, but what else could he do? What was this absurdity that was now his life? “Ye stitched rocks into her cloak and then pushed her into the river and then drew a sword on me when I tried to go after her. She could be dead right now, ye ken. She could have died in the forge of all places.”

Murtagh and Jacob both pulled their grips from Rob’s arms, but he was too exhausted to move. He just lay there, shaking, feeling the rage that had been carrying him dissipate into sorrow and fear.

“Jacob, go to the forge. And tell someone to fetch the healer.”

“Laird Lovat, please, this is such a lie! We were at the dock trying to help Kenna, trying to tell her that everything was going to turn out alright, but she wouldn’t listen! Rob saw her jump and now is blaming us fer it because he is upset and—”

“Enough,” Laird Lovat said. “I will hear nothing more ‘til Jacob returns.”

Time passed, but Rob couldn’t for the life of him decide how long it was. Why had he come after Hugh? Why hadn’t he stayed with Kenna? Had he really thought Hugh would be capable of escaping when he was wounded so? At least then he would have been able to hold Kenna if she died. He would have found out that she was dead while he was on his feet, not collapsed on the floor like a pathetic fool.

A few jaunting footsteps began to echo down the hall and then Jacob, breathing heavy, was back in the doorway.

Laird Lovat looked at Jacob. “Well?”

“What Laird Rob said...” Jacob shifted, his eyes darting uncomfortably over to Hugh. “Well, it seems to be true.”

“And Kenna?” his father asked when Rob couldn’t find the words.

“The Lady was with the healer. They were bringing her inside, sayin’ she was warm enough to be moved.”

Rob felt the breath he had not comprehended he was holding release. Then, he felt his father’s firm grip on his arms, and he was hoisted to his feet.

“Father, I—” Hugh started.

“No. Dinna say a word. Ye tried to murder a woman, a noblewoman of yer own clan, fer reasons I canna think to comprehend. Because she is still alive, I’ll give ye both yer lives. I’ll send the healer to ye, Hugh, so that ye can be patched up. Ye’ll both be able to sleep here, in this castle, fer one more night. Then ye will leave. And ye will never come back.”

“No!” Ellen cried out. “Please, we will never—”