Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,114

self-doubt.

How could she have been so blind? So oblivious?

How could she have missed what was going on in her own household? Right under her nose?

And how would she ever manage to protect her clan if she couldn’t even shield her little brother?

The signs of Archie’s debauchery had been there in front of her all along. The way he preferred the dark. And silence. And pleasuring himself. The way he shriveled in revulsion when she touched him.

Then there was his curious affinity for Ian. He’d been spending more and more time with the lad. Alone.

Her stomach suddenly heaved. She stopped on the path, waiting for the nausea to pass. She wasn’t sure what was making her more queasy. The sickening idea of what Archie might have done to Ian. Or the growing evidence, afflicting her more acutely each day, that she was with child.

She had to admit, having her husband dead would solve her problems where the babe was concerned. With no one alive to know otherwise, the clan would accept that the child was Archie’s.

As she hung her head down, staring at her boots and waiting to recover, an improper thought slithered tantalizingly at the back of her brain.

Once Archie was gone, what was to stop Colban from marrying her?

For a brief, glimmering moment, the idea sent a thrill of hope through her. To be wed to the father of her babe felt like providence.

But she quickly locked that idea away. She dared not let false hope consume her. She’d done that before.

Besides, too much time had passed. Surely Colban had found another lass by now. And Hallie had to at least feign to be stricken over Archie’s death.

Meanwhile, she meant to make certain he was dead, to ensure the devil would never exercise his vices again.

Her stomach settled, and she continued down the path, wondering if Colban had found Archie or if she’d need to kill him herself. It wouldn’t be a pleasant task, but after what he’d done to Ian, it wouldn’t be difficult.

She focused on the leaf mulch, following the trail of blood droplets. They were growing closer together, indicating he had either slowed his pace or was losing blood at a faster rate. But when she entered the place where the path snaked through a stand of oaks, the blood trail suddenly disappeared.

She flinched in surprise, not by what she saw, but by what she didn’t see. Where was he? Where was Archie?

She narrowed her eyes at something else leading off into the trees. Bloody tracks. The paw prints of wolves.

Hallie gulped. Had wolves attacked Archie?

It wasn’t like them to come out in the middle of the day. But Archie had been bleeding. And he’d smeared himself with that disgusting wool grease. The hungry winter wolves could have mistaken him for a wounded sheep. They might have killed him in a blind frenzy.

She scanned the trees. No yellow eyes peered from the woods. The wolves had retreated. Yet there were no signs they had dragged the body away with them.

Then her eye caught on something familiar by the side of the path. Her dagger. It was thrust into a patch of freshly dug earth that had been hastily disguised by leaves and covered by a great rock.

Her breath caught. It was a fresh grave.

Hunkering down, she reclaimed her dagger, wiping the soil from the blade with her sleeve.

He’d done it. Colban had done it.

The truth sent a shiver of relief and gratitude through her. Colban had kept his word. The champion had saved her little brother from a monster. He’d rescued her from an unbearable marriage.

But at what cost?

Now Colban was a murderer.

He didn’t dare return.

She choked back the hard lump in her throat and sheathed her dagger.

This was why she never clung to hope. No sooner did it take root in one’s breast than savage fate showed up to pluck it out by those roots.

She decided to break the news quietly to Ian first. There would be time later, after Colban had an ample few hours to flee to safety, to tell the rest of the clan.

Upon her return to Rivenloch, she hunkered down beside him at the hearth, dismissing the maidservants to speak with him alone. Gently, while the fire softly crackled, she told him Archie was dead, that Colban had buried him in the forest.

She expected Ian to burst into tears or explode with rage.

He did neither. Instead, he nodded his head. “Where’s Colban?”

“Gone.”

“You have to find him.”

“Listen, Ian.” She had to explain

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