The Highlander's Destiny (Highland Rogues #2) - Mary Wine Page 0,86
in, his shirt splattered with blood. There was a grim look of satisfaction on his face that changed to horror when he looked at Faolan.
Cora felt something inside her shift.
“I said ye need to lay down.” Cora took charge. “I’ll drag ye if I must.”
Faolan grunted at her.
“I’ll help ye, Mistress.”
Lonn and Reece were at the door. They stood for a moment in shock as they looked at Faolan.
“Go on,” Cora told them. “Get him off his feet.”
There was a flurry of activity. Gainor ran back down the stairs, as Lonn and Cora pressed Faolan back.
The wound was worse than she’d feared.
But he gripped her upper arm and pulled her close. Pain was swimming in his eyes. “Cora.”
She held up her hand, stilling the frantic movement inside the chamber. Her belly was clenched tight in horror as she realized Faolan might be speaking his last words.
No.no.no.no…
It was something she couldn’t contemplate.
But she would not let him see her weeping.
Not if it was to be their last moment together.
“I am here, thanks to ye,” Cora spoke clearly.
Faolan’s expression was serious. “Me nieces. The lasses are so young. Protect them. From tonight’s rage. Protect them. They are but…children.”
Cora’s eyes widened with surprise. “I will,” she said. “I promise ye, Faolan.”
His grip slacked. “Go. Before someone slays them in…anger.”
She didn’t want to leave him. Cora found her feet stuck to the floor as she failed to find the strength to leave his side.
“Ye…promised, lass. Go!” Faolan ordered her.
Cora gasped. Drawing in a deep breath, she moved closer until her head was inches from his. “I love ye. Swear ye will no’ leave me alone in this life.”
“Ye are mine, lass,” Faolan said. “Now go. Ye must be the Mistress of the McKay.”
Yestin was cupping her shoulders and pulling her back. Orla had arrived with the medical supplies and the women experienced in healing.
Cora drew in a deep breath and turned around. There was a crowd clustered outside the chamber doors. Cora looked at several of the McKay Retainers.
“Take me to where Noreen’s children are!”
The men didn’t hesitate. Two of them jumped down the stairs first to clear the path while a few more fell into step behind her.
When Cora made it to the ground floor, the Retainers formed a box around her.
“Make way.”
“Clear the path.”
“Allow the mistress through!”
If she’d had time to think. Cora might have noticed she was, in fact, the true mistress of the McKay at the moment. The people in the passageways moved back to allow her to pass. They inclined their heads, offering respect.
The news that she had step-nieces was new to her, but it appeared the McKay knew of the children. Her escort made quick work of taking her to the last tower. All the way at the back of the stronghold.
Cora heard the angry voices as she arrived.
“No Grant blood will be allowed to linger here!”
“Their kin tried to murder us all in our beds.”
“Kill them before more of their kin come!”
“Clear the path for the mistress!”
Yestin had joined her party. The senior man lent his authority to the moment, and the angry group clustered inside the chamber at the top of the tower turned in response to his voice.
Against the wall, two nursemaids held onto Faolan’s nieces.
They were babies. Both looking at the crowd with wide eyes.
“Enough.” Cora made sure her voice was controlled.
“But the Grants came to take control of the McKay through them,” a Retainer argued with Cora.
Cora sent him a hard look. “They are but babes.”
“Saplings grow into trees,” someone added. This time the man was older, his voice carrying the weight of life experience. He reached up to tug on his cap when Cora shifted her attention to him. “Forgive me, Mistress, but ye do nae need yer own children worrying about these two seeking vengeance.”
Those clustered in the room looked between Cora and the Retainer.
“Vengeance would only be something they would seek if they were treated poorly,” Cora informed them all.
“Do ye suggest we leave them alive to inherit the McKay after our laird dies?”
A shaft of dread went through Cora.
Faolan might indeed die.
Do nae think on it…
She swallowed the lump that tried to clog her throat. “I might well be carrying an heir.”
There was a few nodding of heads.
“And if I am not,” Cora continued, “I would hear what Cormac Grant has to say about this night’s business. The Grants have never been so bloodthirsty.”
There was a new round of ringing from the gate. The sound spread to all the