His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell (the beginning after the end read novel .TXT) 📕

"Aye. They have done that, lass." Colin studied her taut features and knew she suspected the news the missive held, as well as the significance of a refusal of ransom. "Your father and brother are dead."

"Nay, 'tis not so." She snatched the message when Colin held it out to her.

Lady Mary's scribe had a flowery hand, but Storm managed to decipher her words, and her heart seemed to pound its way out of her chest as she read. "Lord Eldon and his son and heir met with a fatal mishap as they journeyed here from France. There is neither love nor blood tie twixt his eldest daughter and myself. Hence, I refuse to pay any ransom for the girl who has no doubt lost all honor. Do not think to send thy requests to Lord Foster, for he and his son and heir met the same fate as the Eldons. As they traveled as a group so, too, did the Verner twins. My stepdaughter has none left to champion her. I give thee leave to do with her as thy please. Lady Mary Eldon."

All gone! her mind whispered even as it fought to reject the news. With surprisingly steady hands, she lay the missive on the table before her, her hands palm down on either side of it and her gaze riveted to the words that seemed to run together. Slowly she rose to her feet, although she did not know why. There was no place to flee to escape such tidings. One hand rested on a knife, and with a swiftness that prevented any intervention, she grasped it in both hands. A cry that chilled her audience broke from her as she plunged the knife into the parchment, pinning it to the table.

"I will kill that hell-born bitch," she cried as she started to race for the door, the red haze of a vengeful rage filling her mind, a rage that momentarily held back her grief.

Although everyone in the room moved to catch her, Tavis reached her first. She fought his hold as she spat her hate for Lady Mary in a low, icy voice. Thinking her hysterical, he slapped her. She went still and he released her, staring worriedly into her wide eyes. His look changed to one of amazement as she slapped him back.

"I was not hysterical," she hissed, but then her eyes fixed upon the red mark on his face and she gasped, one small hand covering her mouth briefly before it moved to touch the mark her slap had left upon Tavis's face. "Oh, Tavis," she whispered in a shaky voice as her grief began to flood through her, drowning her rage. " 'Tis not ye I wish to strike."

"I ken that, Storm, but ye wouldnae get near the woman."

She closed her eyes against a wave of pain and slowly sank to her knees. "All gone. They are all gone. What shall I do? There is no one left. I am all alone. All alone. Sweet God, I cannot bear it."

For a moment Tavis stood helpless before the depth of her grief. He had never heard a woman weep so, the sobs tearing through her, threatening to shake her apart. It hurt him to see her in such pain, but he did not stop to examine why as he stooped to lift her to her feet. His arms folded around her in an attempt at comfort when she fell against him, clinging tightly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Phelan approach, his small face pale and awash with tears.

"She has me," he whispered. "Ye still have me, Storm. Tell her that, Tavis. She's not all alone."

Tavis smiled weakly at the boy. "Aye. She'll ken that when she has spent her tears, laddie." He picked Storm up in his arms, not minding how she clung to his neck, her tears soaking him. "I'll take her to her room. Ye can come to see her when the worst has passed. Go to Colin, laddie," he added softly.

After a last look at Storm, who was still helpless in her sorrow, Phelan raced to Colin. That man's arms were ready to receive him, for Colin was fond of the orphaned Irish boy. Silently, they all watched as Tavis left the hall, Storm's weeping the only sound until it faded completely.

"What will ye do with us now, m'lord?" Phelan asked after a moment, his teary eyes fixed upon Colin.

Leading the boy back to the table and handing him a tankard of ale, Colin sighed. " 'Tis hard to say, lad. Are there no relations left ye can go to, turn to for aid and shelter?"

Phelan shook his head. "The Verner twins' parents died two years past. Their land will now go to the crown, to be allotted as the king sees fit. 'Tis nay a one in Erin, which is why I came to Hagaleah. Matilda Foster may still live, but she is but a child of eleven or twelve years. There is naught that she can do. Storm's half-brothers are e'en younger and in Lady Mary's control now. Uncle Roden's mistress, Elaine Bailey, has fled to the south to elude Lady Mary. We could go to her, for she would shelter us, but 'twould bring her trouble, of that I am sure, and she is unprotected."

Colin sighed as he rubbed his temples. "Curse it. Ne'er had a lass handed o'er to me afore. 'Tis a problem, for I cannae send her to Hagaleah despite the lack of ransom."

"Nay, ye cannae," Iain agreed. "We have seen how they treat her. E'en if we could get Tavis to agree to it, it would sit ill with our own people. 'Twould be as if we cut her throat with our own hands."

"Aye, and I owe the lass my life. That binds me to watch o'er her." Colin shook his head. "I maun think on it. There be no rush." He smiled crookedly.