Page 103 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

Elspeth staggered to her feet, nearly bent double. She hobbled forward and dropped to her knees beside Magnus’s body.

“Nay, nay, nay,” she whimpered. “Get up. Get up, me love.”

Magnus lay still, his eyes staring at nothing.

Tears ran down her face, and she twisted to look up at Hunter. “What have ye done?” she choked out.

He met her gaze. “He would have killed Willow and Daphne. Would ye have still loved a child-killer?”

Elspeth didn’t seem to have heard him. She only shook her head, staring down at her dead lover.

“Ye say that a wife and child willnae affect how ye care for yer clan,” she whispered. “But what if an enemy threatens yer wife or this new child of yers? What if they kidnap them? What then? How many more people must we lose?”

“I cannae do anything to bring back the people who died in the war all those years ago,” Hunter responded, his voice tight.

He caught sight of his mother in the front pew, hanging her head. Skye’s arms were wrapped tight around her. Lady Pilbury had gone pale and stared at nothing.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at Daphne.

“But I can remind ye that there has never been a war since. I have fulfilled me promise. I have been a good laird. I’ll continue to be a good laird.”

“And yet me man is dead,” Elspeth whispered.

There was no answer to be given, not now while she was in her grief.

Hunter briefly closed his eyes. Elspeth simply sat where she was, staring blankly at Magnus’s body.

After a moment of painful silence, Daphne cleared her throat. “I have something to say.”

The guests shifted to look at her. Hunter dragged his gaze up from Magnus’s body to glance at her.

She breathed in, adjusting her grip on Willow. The little girl was still cowering with her face hidden. Gingerly, Daphne handed her to Lady Pilbury, who wrapped her arms protectively around her.

Then she stepped around Magnus’s body and moved to where River lay crumpled at the bottom of a wall. She carefully picked up the little bundle of fur. It was impossible to tell whether the fox was alive or not, but she cradled him to her chest as if she were sure he was.

Then she turned to face the congregation.

“When me daughter was born, I made the choice to stay in England,” she said quietly, but her voice still carried across the chapel. “I chose to keep Willow away from her father. I see now that I did the right thing. I cannae be responsible for more deaths. And if any of ye here today have thought that yer Laird would betray ye or forget ye because of me, I…” She shook her head. “I willnae forgive meself. He never would, ye see. I’ve never kent a finer man than Hunter, or a better laird. Forgive him for breaking his oath. Ye willnae find a better leader, nae if ye waited for a thousand years. See him for what he’s done and for what he’s lost, and ken that he did it all for ye.”

Absolute silence fell over the chapel.

Hiding her face, Daphne turned away. She didn’t look at Hunter. Snatching up Willow again, she turned on her heel and ran out of the chapel, the doors banging shut behind her.

CHAPTER 24

“I daenae want to go back,” Willow protested. “I want to stay here. This is home. Ye said so.”

“This was never home,” Daphne responded, a little more sharply than she intended.

She grabbed a handful of linens and stuffed them into a bag. If she packed quickly, they could leave before dark.

There were still tear-stains on Willow’s face. She would have nightmares about today; Daphne knew that. The nightmares would hopefully fade with time. Children were resilient, after all. Willow was more resilient than most.

The horror of it all lingered in Daphne’s mind. She could see the terror on the guests’ faces. She could hear Elspeth’s wail.

Nobody had mentioned what had happened to Elspeth. There was no sign of her, of course, and Daphne knew the maid would not be punished. But would she ever recover?

Daphne let out a long, shaky breath and straightened up, swallowing hard.