A servant who was standing behind the squire rushed forward, and they tried to pry her from Liam’s arms.
“What has happened?” the squire shouted. “Give her to me!”
Liam was trying, but his body didn’t want to release her. Somehow, it knew that once they took her from him, the bubble he’d sealed them into would burst, and the terrible reality he’d been ignoring would come crashing down around him.
“Unhand her this instant,” the squire’s manservant said in a cold, hard voice. It was his lack of emotion that jolted Liam into compliance. The demand was a simple one. Nothing unusual. Nothing earth-shattering. Just a normal request like it was any other regular day.
One by one, Liam’s frozen fingers uncurled, and then they took his beloved Cora away. In the dim light of the manservant’s candle, he watched his world fade into the darkness as they carried her deeper into the house.
Liam remained on the doorstep, unblinking as rivulets of rain coursed down his face. Everything felt muffled and slow and terribly wrong. Like a helpless insect trapped in amber, he stood frozen in place. It felt safe, somehow, like he’d found a way to exist between one second and the next. If he didn’t move, then he could pretend the world wasn’t moving, either. Every gust of wind would cease. Every drop of rain would hang suspended in the air. And the agony knocking at the back of his mind would remain locked out forever. He’d never have to acknowledge or feel it. But Liam didn’t get what he wanted; he’d already learned that. The world kept turning, and his treacherous heart kept pumping, every beat like the worst kind of betrayal. It felt wrong that he was standing there, terribly, achingly alive, when she...
“Squire McLeod!” An angry shout came from beyond the garden gate. The dull thud of horses’ hooves and the sound of a carriage rolled up behind Liam. He didn’t turn around to look because nothing mattered but that long stretch of hallway and the woman who’d disappeared into the gloom.
“There he is.Just the gutter rat we’re looking for.”
Liam barely recognized the voice of John Brady, Margaret’s husband, right before he was seized by the neck and shoved against the hard stone wall of the house. He didn’t resist, only vaguely aware of the craggy rock scraping against his forehead and the cruel grip of the old man’s hands. One of the paving stones near his foot had a small crack, Liam noted dully. A tiny weed had somehow taken root, reaching toward the sun. John Brady was hissing accusations in Liam’s ear, but he barely heard. It wasn’t until the heel of the old man’s boot crushed the tiny weed into a pulp that Liam seemed to notice what was happening.
“Let him go, Mr. Brady,” another man said in a cool, clipped tone. “I’ll handle this.”
The grip on Liam’s neck loosened, and he turned to face the two men.
John Brady’s mouth was stretched over yellowed teeth, twisted in malevolent fury. Beside him stood the town magistrate, whose reputation preceded him. Tall and whip-thin, the man was like a frozen pond in the dead of winter, cold and unforgiving.
“This is him, Magistrate.” Spittle flew from John Brady’s wrinkled lips when he leaned into Liam and hissed, “Youkilledher.”
Liam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stave off the tidal wave of pain rising inside him, but it was no use. He had, hadn’t he? He’d killed her. It was all his fault. He’d killed his beloved Cora. A keening, wild sound erupted all around them, like a tortured animal in a snare. With an odd sense of detachment, Liam realized it was coming from him.
Squire McLeod appeared out of the gloom with tears coursing down his doughy, agonized face. “What has happened to my daughter? My sweet girl. What did you do to her?”
I killed her.Liam began to shake, unable to speak past the sound bleeding from his throat.She’s gone forever, and it’s all my fault.
Fast as a lightning strike, the magistrate shoved Liam against the wall and snapped restraints on his wrists. Then he gave him a hard shake. “Quiet, you.”
“Squire McLeod,” John Brady said. “I have reason to believe this man killed my wife, Margaret. The servants found her at the bottom of the stairs, and her jewelry was stolen. This man violated my wife. On more than one occasion. He murdered her.”
“No.” Liam struggled with the iron on his wrists, trying to focus. He felt disconnected from his body, like he was watching through a hazy dream. “That isn’t true.”
“Shut your lying mouth, you filthy swine,” John hissed. “My servants are loyal to me. They saw you sniffing around my wife’s skirts whenever I was out of town.”
No, that wasn’t right. Liam tried to push away from the wall to face him, but the magistrate gave him another warning shake. “Is it true?” he demanded. “Did you rob and kill Margaret Brady?”
“No,” Liam said in a broken voice. “I w-would never do that.”
The magistrate, who’d been searching his pockets, suddenly yanked out a glittering jeweled necklace. “Oi! What’s this, then?” He held it within inches of Liam’s nose.
Liam stared at the sparkling necklace in confusion. “I don’t—”
“Margaret’s necklace,” her husband sputtered in outrage. Something cracked the back of Liam’s head. Pain lanced through his skull in sharp, agonizing pinpricks of light. From the corner of his eye, he could see John Brady shaking his heavy walking cane with a demonic glare. “You filthy thieving son of a wh—”
“Here, now, Mr. Brady,” the magistrate said harshly. “I’ll thank you to leave the punishment of this man to the law. He’ll get what he deserves.” He turned Liam around to face them all.
“Mr. O’Connor.” There was a dazed, haunted look on Squire McLeod’s face, as if he hadn’t quite absorbed the enormity of his daughter’s death yet. “What happened to my Cora?”
Liam struggled to speak past the pain ripping through his heart, his lungs, his head. The horror of that night loomed over him like a guillotine. “I’m sorry,” Liam said brokenly. “We were in love, you see.”
“Hugh McLeod’s daughter in love with a stinking peasant?” John Brady cackled like an evil specter. “The man’s delusional, clearly.”
“We were running away to America.” Liam forced himself to continue, for the sake of Cora’s devastated father. He deserved to know the truth. “Cora’s horse slipped in the rain and she... She fell. I tried to save her, but... It’s my fault, you see.” He could barely breathe around the shards of glass that seemed to be lodged in his throat. “It’s all my fault.”