Beauty and the Beastly Highlander by Kenna Kendrick
Chapter Twenty-Two
Having her father there was better than Etna could have ever imagined. Not only had she missed him, and his presence was a welcome change, but his visit also gave her the chance to watch him teach.
Though her father had taught her everything she knew, she had never been there when he was teaching another child. Now that Etna had followed in his footsteps watching him with Malina was the greatest lesson she could ever receive from him. It was like learning from a master, and she made sure to make a mental note of everything that he did.
And though she had seen him around children many times, Etna had never realized just how good he was at interacting with them, perhaps because back then, she had been a child, too. Now, as a grown woman, she watched him play and run around with Malina with an energy that never seemed to exhaust itself—which was impressive in itself, considering his age—and she could see that Malina already adored him.
“How do ye do that?” she asked her father, once he and Malina had settled down, and she was reading the pages Dougal had instructed her to read. “How are ye so good with her? She absolutely hated me when I first came here.”
“Aye, that may be the case, but she loves ye noo,” Dougal said. “Ye only have to realize that a bairn is just a person. A wee person who likes to run and break things, but a person nevertheless.”
Etna laughed at that, shaking her head at her father. “Was I like that, too?”
“Och, aye,” her father said. “If anythin’, ye were worse. There was na bringin’ ye home if ye were out playin’. Ye were covered in mud all the time, too. Yer maither . . . she would get so angry at me for lettin’ ye get dirty. But ye liked it so much, I didna have the heart to stop ye.”
Every time her father spoke about her mother, his tone softened, and his gaze seemed faraway, as though he lost himself in the memories. Etna had never seen a love like that between her parents, and she wanted the same for herself. She wished that she would be lucky enough one day to love and be loved like that.
Could I ever have that with Finley?
It was a strange thought. Finley was the first man with whom Etna had ever had anything even resembling a relationship, and she couldn’t decipher her own feelings. All she knew was that she enjoyed spending time with him and couldn’t leave him. She was drawn to him, almost bound to him by sympathy and respect that she had only recently discovered she held for him.
What does love feel like?
“How did ye ken that ye were in love with Mama?” Etna asked. She had never stopped calling her Mama, as though her death had forced her to linger in the past. “Ye married for love, did ye na?”
“Aye,” her father said, and there was that distant look on his face again. Etna wondered if it was just as painful for him to talk about her mother if she should perhaps stop asking him those questions, but as sad as Etna herself got whenever she thought about her, her memory also brought a smile to her face. She wanted to remember her. It was the only way to keep a part of her alive.
“Ye ken, Etna,” her father said with a small shrug. “When the time comes, ye always ken.”
Weel, I sure ken nothin’!
But before Etna could ask anything else, her blood froze in her veins when she heard a scream from the courtyard. It was a shrill, heart-breaking scream, one that lingered in Etna’s ears despite lasting only a few moments.
“Brigands?” she asked, exchanging a hasty glance with her father.
Na . . . na, it canna be. Finley was so certain that his attack would succeed. Did the brigands make it here?
“I dinna think so,” her father said. “It doesna sound like there’s an attack.”
“Malina, stay here,” Etna instructed, and the little girl, her eyes wide and fearful, nodded fervently. “Nothin’ will happen to ye, I promise.”
“But I’m scared,” Malina said, her gaze stuck onto the window as she tried to look outside, into the courtyard. “Will ye stay here with me?”
Etna made Malina look at her, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s only scary noises,” she said. “Faither and I will go and stop it, ye’ll see. And then we’ll be back before ye even ken that we’re gone.”
With a kiss on Malina’s head, Etna rushed out of the library, Dougal following close behind. When they made it out into the courtyard, the first thing that Etna saw was Arlene, standing by the steps and clutching onto her chest, her face pale and her entire frame shaking.
The commotion in the courtyard made it difficult for Etna to see what had upset Arlene so terribly, and it took her a few moments to notice Finley making his way through the crowd. She had never seen him so angry before, his brow furrowed and his face stormy, flushed red from his fury.
And then she saw that he was dragging a man behind him, holding him by his shackles.
No, not a man.
Lochlan.
“Stop it!” Arlene shouted, just as Dougal grabbed her, steadying her on her feet. “Finley, stop it, right noo! Ye’re hurtin’ him!”
Arlene looked frail, as though she would faint at any moment, and Etna feared that her heart couldn’t take what she was seeing. Lochlan was stumbling behind Finley, trying to catch up with his relentless pace, his wrists and ankles bound with chains, as though he was not Finley’s brother but a common criminal.
Etna saw that Finley’s lip was split, dried blood caking his mouth when they came closer. Finley’s face was a mask of resolve, but Etna could see it crumble in the way that his jaw twitched, hands faltering for a moment when he tugged on the chains.
“What are ye doin’?” Etna shouted at Finley, rushing up to him and stepping in front of him to stop him. “What have ye done, Finley? What have ye done to Lochlan?”
Finley looked as though he hardly heard Etna, but at the mention of Lochlan’s name, he diverted his gaze to him, watching him with disgust for a moment before he spat on his face. With one last growl, he pushed him forward, and Lochlan lost his balance, falling to his knees in front of him.
“Etna, make him stop!” Arlene shouted. “Please! I canna handle this.”
Etna looked at Arlene, who had all but fainted in Dougal’s arms, her legs no longer supporting her.
“Finley, stop!” Etna demanded, grabbing his arm and trying to make him look at her. “What are ye doin’? This is Lochlan . . . it’s yer brother. And yer grandmaither, look . . . look what ye’re doin’ to her.”
Finley glanced at Arlene, and though his rage didn’t subside even for a moment, he pulled himself away from Lochlan. Etna breathed a sigh of relief. Lochlan was far from being safe, but at least Finley wouldn’t hurt him any further while their grandmother was right there, watching.
“What happened?” Etna asked, trying to get something, anything out of him. But Finley didn’t respond to her. Instead, he remained quiet, fingers curling into fists as he watched him bow his head silently.
It seemed to Etna that she wouldn’t get an answer from him, so she approached one of his men, asking him the same question. When the man hesitated, Etna asked another, determined to get an answer.
“It was Lochlan who gave the information to the brigands,” the second man told her, albeit reluctantly. “When the Laird found out, he became furious. I have never . . . I’ve never seen . . .”
The man’s voice trailed off, and Etna couldn’t help but wonder just how furious Finley had been at his brother to render a warrior speechless. But Etna couldn’t possibly believe that Lochlan had done such a thing.
Though she couldn’t claim to know Lochlan as well as Finley, or all that well at all, she knew enough about him to be certain that he wouldn’t betray Finley. If there was one person in the world apart from Malina who adored the man, it was Lochlan. Every time he spoke about Finley, his eyes shone, and his lips curled into a smile. Etna couldn’t believe for a single second that he was responsible for all the attacks. She couldn’t believe that he would do that to Finley.
“Finley,” Etna tried again, laying her hand on his shoulder. “Are ye certain it was Lochlan? That doesna sound right, does it? Why would Lochlan do such a thing?”
“I dinna ken why he did it,” Finley said, and his voice was a low growl, unlike anything Etna had heard from him before. He sounded like a wild animal, ready to pounce at any moment. “Ye’ll have to ask him that. All I ken is that he did it, and I’ll kill him for it. And I’ll kill anyone else who helped the bastard.”
“Finley, ye canna be serious!” Etna said, her heart pounding in her chest at those words. “Ye’re na thinkin’ straight! Ye’re agitated, ye—”
“I ken what I’m doin’,” Finley said, and before Etna could say anything else, he nodded at his men, and two of them stepped forward, grabbing Lochlan by the arms and hoisting him up. “Take him to the dungeon,” he said, and his men obeyed, dragging Lochlan behind them.
“Finley, he’s wounded!” Etna said, just as Finley began to walk away, ignoring her. “Please! At least send the healer to him, I beg ye! He willna last the night if ye leave him there, in the cold. Let the healer look at his wounds.”
“Why do ye care so much about a traitor?” Finley asked, his head snapping around to look at Etna. “Do ye na ken what he’s done? He’s responsible for all the lives we’ve lost.”
With that, Finley disappeared into the castle, seemingly unwilling to hear another word from Etna.
But Etna couldn’t simply allow Finley to treat Lochlan in such a way. He would die in that dungeon, she knew, if they just left him there with no help, and she couldn’t allow that to happen.
And then there was Arlene, who looked as though she was about to expire, too. Etna rushed to her, helping her father pull her onto a bench and sitting down next to her, fanning some air at her face with her hand.
“Etna,” Arlene said, her hand weak as she rested it on top of her own. “Ye must stop him. Dinna let him kill Lochlan.”
“I willna,” Etna promised, just as two servants helped Arlene to her feet and took her inside the castle, leaving the rest of the courtyard in shocked silence.
Etna didn’t know what to say or what to do. She was frozen in place, her hands trembling after what she had seen, her stomach twisting at the thought that Lochlan could die by his own brother’s hand.
“Faither, I must do somethin’,” Etna said, standing from the bench but then not knowing where to go and lingering in that spot. “What . . . what can I do, I dinna ken—”
“Lass,” Dougal said, his voice surprisingly calm after what they had witnessed. He pulled her back onto the bench, forcing her to sit down for a moment. “There is nothin’ that ye can do.”
Etna refused to believe that. There was always something that she could do, something that someone could do to fix a situation, and she refused to think that there was no way to stop Finley from making the biggest mistake of his life. Etna had no doubts that it would destroy him, especially if he would find out that Lochlan was innocent.
How could anyone live with that? How could Finley live with the burden of his brother’s blood on his hands?
He had killed a person he loved once before, and it had almost been enough to ruin him and his clan, and that was done in self-defense. Killing Lochlan in cold blood was something that Finley would never manage to overcome, no matter what he thought in that moment of fury.
And then, of course, there was Lochlan, who didn’t deserve such a fate.
“It’s best to leave noo, lass,” her father said, pulling Etna out of her thoughts. “There’s nothin’ that ye can do. It’s better for both of us to leave and head to Edinburgh noo. There is na point in stayin’ here.”
“I willna leave, Faither,” Etna said, her voice steely with resolve. She wouldn’t abandon Lochlan, and she certainly wouldn’t abandon Finley. He needed her, too. He needed her to stop him, even if he didn’t know it.
“I think it’s best—”
“I willna leave,” Etna repeated, this time rising from her seat once more and crossing her arms over her chest. “I refuse to. Noo is hardly the time to be thinkin’ about Edinburgh, Faither. I must . . . I must speak to Arlene. I must find a way to stop all this, or Lochlan will end up dead, and it’ll be just as much on me own hands as on Finley’s.”
Her father raised his hands up in surrender, taking a step back with a sigh. Without saying another word, Etna rushed into the castle, deciding that it was best to find Arlene first and try to find a way to pull Finley out of his madness.
It’s one thing after another. When will it stop? Finley canna have a moment of peace.
As much as Etna thought that he was making a grave mistake, and as angry as she was at him for acting without having all the evidence—something that she took for granted, as she refused to believe that Lochlan was the real traitor—and for beating Lochlan into a bloody pulp, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for Finley. Life threw tragedy after tragedy at him, and he couldn’t get a break from it.
But what if . . . what if Lochlan is the traitor? What if Finley is right?
Etna had believed once that Finley was a murderer, and it turned out that she had judged him too quickly, without knowing all the facts. What if she was doing the same with Lochlan? What if she was letting his charming exterior and his apparent kindness to distract her from the truth?
She didn’t want to make the same mistake again, but she also didn’t want to accuse another man of doing something that he hadn’t done. Etna had learned her lesson with Finley. Lochlan would be innocent in her mind until he was proven guilty.
I must speak to him. I must hear what he has to say.
