breath to expel his fear. Then, clenching his jaw, he held the claymore aloft in both hands, stealthily advancing toward the source of the sound.
The screams after that were bloodcurdling and full of agony, driving him to abandon caution and hurtle down the path.
What he saw made him skid to a horrified stop on the leaves. Lying on the path, several yards ahead of him, was Archibald Scott. Or what was left of him.
Surrounding him were five growling wolves. Their maws dripped with blood. Archie, barely alive, had been mauled by the beasts. His throat was bitten. His arms were shredded. His belly was slashed. His blood was everywhere.
On instinct, Colban immediately rushed forward, bellowing and swinging his claymore to frighten the beasts away.
The wolves snarled and snapped, but they slunk off into the trees.
As they disappeared into the mist, Colban looked down at the mewling villain and wondered if he should just let the wolves have the monster. After what he’d done, Archibald Scott deserved a brutal and lingering death.
“Please,” Archibald rasped out through his damaged throat, lifting one shaky hand. “Don’t let them have me.”
Colban might not let the wolves finish Archibald. But if the fool thought Colban would save him, he was mistaken. The man deserved to die. And considering the extent of his injuries, Archibald was beyond saving.
“I’ll grant ye mercy on one condition.” Colban hunkered down beside him. “Ye tell me the truth.” He unsheathed Hallie’s dagger. “Did ye touch Ian?”
“Nay,” he said, coughing up blood. “Nay.”
“Ye swear it? Not once?”
“Nay.”
Colban nodded in relief. At least Ian had been spared. He hated to think of all the other lads who had suffered at this brute’s hands.
Then Archibald’s eyes got a glassy, faraway look, and his lip curved up in a smile that bared his bloody teeth. “But ’twould have been sweet, aye?”
Disgust and rage gave Colban the strength to finish the monster. One carefully placed thrust through Archibald’s throat, and the villain’s life gurgled out quickly on the path.
For his own safety, Colban had to begin counting the moments. He had blood on his hands. Everyone had witnessed his agitation when he’d arrived at Rivenloch, his insistence on finding Archibald. Hallie and Ian had seen his determination when he’d gone after the wounded man. All evidence proved Colban was the killer.
But he couldn’t just leave the body to the wolves.
He didn’t want Hallie to see her husband like this.
And he shuddered to think Ian might stumble upon Archibald’s remains. It would be better if the lad thought Archibald had simply run away.
There was only one thing he must do, even if it took up precious time.
Half an hour later, sweat dripped onto his cheek as he wiped a grimy forearm across his brow. The wolves hadn’t returned. And using his sheathed sword as a makeshift spade, he’d managed to gouge a hole in the forest floor, deep enough to bury Archie’s remains. He covered the body with earth and leaves, disguising the grave. Then he rocked a small boulder over the remains to keep the wolves from digging them up.
He stabbed the dagger into the ground beside the boulder as a sign for Hallie, so she would know he’d kept his vow. Then he dusted off his hands and came to his feet.
He would leave now and never return. Colban an Curaidh would be no more. He’d change his name, go someplace far away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d started over, been given a second chance. This time, however, the new beginning wrenched bitterly at his heart.
If only things had worked out differently, Colban could have been the one wedded to Hallidis Cameliard of Rivenloch. He could have been the one playfully sparring with Brand and Gellir, marveling over Ian’s inventions, charming Isabel. He could have been The One.
With a self-indulgent sigh, he began kicking dirt and leaves over the trail to cover the blood.
Then, in the distance, he heard a sound. Someone was coming.
Cursing his luck and snatching up his claymore, he fled down the path, leaving behind his name. His destiny. And the woman he would love forever.
Knowing what she knew now about Archibald Scott, Hallie didn’t waste a moment. Once Ian was safely deposited beside a warm hearth at Rivenloch with plenty of maidservants to fuss over him, she slipped out in pursuit of the monster.
If Colban didn’t find Archie, she’d scour the woods until she did. She wouldn’t suffer the fiend to live.
Along the way, she tormented herself with