Page 83 of Laird of Wrath

“So what?” he retorted. “I was supposed to let me family die? I was supposed to give me life?”

“I would gladly give me life for the clan,” she declared.

“Ye never had to face it,” he scoffed. “Ye never had to look yer enemy in the eyes and dare defy him under threat of death. Do ye think that denyin’ him in front of the whole clan put ye at risk? Ye could have sent him away a hundred times, and he still wouldnae be able to harm ye.”

“That isnae true,” Rhea said, though she didn’t sound entirely certain.

The truth was that she couldn’t know for sure. She was better guarded than Reggie, that much was true. But she doubted that Laird Barclay would have so much trouble getting to her if he really wanted her dead. Or at least, not that much more trouble than he would have with Reggie.

“Ye daenae ken him like I do,” Reggie argued. “Ye ken nothin' about him.”

“I ken that he’s a terrible man,” Rhea said firmly. “And I ken that ye’re nae. Reggie, please… please tell me ye didnae do what he asked ye to do.”

Reggie’s gaze immediately fell to the ground between his feet. Guilt flashed across his face, and for a moment, he looked pained, as if it was torture to even consider everything he had done.

“Of course I did,” he muttered with a weary sigh. “What else could I have done? Refuse?”

“Aye!” she cried. “Of course!”

“I couldnae,” he insisted. “Besides, I… I tried to do as little harm as possible.”

“What did ye do?” she demanded.

Reggie fell silent, as if the mere air he was breathing was enough to choke him.

Rhea approached him once more, backing him up against the curtain walls, and he looked up nervously to check if there were any guards there. There weren’t. No one could hear him but Rhea.

“I… I was the one who cut the strap off the Laird’s saddle,” he admitted. Rhea thought back to the day she and Callum had ridden together, when he had fallen off his horse. “I was the one who told that lassie to rob ye. And I… I was the one who put poison in the Laird’s drink.”

Shock doused Rhea like a bucket of ice-cold water. A chill crept through her as she stared at him. It was as if she was staring at a stranger, not someone she had known for a whole year. It was as if he had transformed right before her eyes, turning from a man she respected, even liked, to a man she abhorred.

“Ye could have killed him,” she gasped. “Ye could have… ye could have killed him, Reggie. How could ye?”

It was the only thing on her mind. Callum could have died, and Reggie would have been responsible for it, and yet he accepted none of the blame. He was nothing but a coward, a traitor. She couldn’t understand how he could put the entire clan in such peril.

“I told ye, they threatened me,” he said. “Please… please, me Lady… please daenae tell the Laird.”

Rhea scoffed, already turning around and stepping away from him. “Surely, ye jest. Of course I will tell him. He needs to be informed immediately.”

“Nay, please, I?—”

A gasp sounded behind her, and she turned back just in time to see Reggie collapse to the ground.

At first, she didn’t know what she was seeing. It was dark there, the only light coming from the torches on the curtain walls.But then, in the half-light, she saw it—an arrow sticking out of Reggie’s chest.

She gasped, terror gripping her in its cold, merciless fist.

She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move as a figure emerged from the shadows, fully cloaked. She watched helplessly as the figure drew a dagger from its cloak and drove it straight into Reggie’s heart.

Only then did she regain her voice, a scream tearing from her throat.

She didn’t have time to run.

28

The screams cut through the festivities like a knife.

Callum had only just made it to the courtyard after meeting with his councilmen—at least most of them. Some of them were nowhere to be found, most notably Reggie, who had been missing all day. And now, in the middle of the chaos, he didn’t know what was happening.