His Judas Bride (24 page)

“Really, brother?”

Of course an enemy chief’s daughter was valuable. But an enemy chief’s disgraced daughter? If that was somehow known, to more than Ewen. And it must be. Her heart pounded. She
was
right about this, wasn’t she? While it made it more imperative she reach the gates, how was she to do that past these empty, darkened windows? Silent corners where, if the castle was empty… Her foot hovered.

Ewen came another step closer, so she could see the moonlight glinting on the spittle beading his beard. “In competition with her for that honor, am I?”

“What honor is this?”

“The honor of mesmerizing you?”

Judging from the way the Wolf stood, his head bent, the wind lifting his soft hair in the burning torchlight, it was very obvious that the only thing mesmerizing him was Satan’s girth.

Ewen had reached the bottom of the stairs now and his gaze fixed itself on Kara with a great deal more hungry speculation than previously. Kara did not know what to do. If she knew what was in these corners, if she had not lost everything, at least, she would not inch that step, that one she meant to take toward the gate, into the Wolf’s moonlit shadow instead.

He eased the last bit of the girth free. “Did you get my message?”

Ewen rubbed the back of his neck. “Aye. Aye I did. About half an hour ago, it was. From Big Billy Kelty.”

Kara very much hoped that silly whimper didn’t come from her. Messages
had
been sent on the way here. She just hadn’t thought it was to Ewen McDunnagh, of all people. So now she’d edged like this… Her chest constricted so, it strangled her breath.

The Wolf raised his head. “And was it agreeable to you?”

“Christ, but that’s good of ye to ask, Callm. You dinnae usually when ye help yourself te mah things. The castle. The woman.”

Her scalp froze. The clink of steel was short inches from her face. She couldn’t for a second believe it. Or the hand that descended on her arm. These men, these few Brotherhood men, whose hatred of her couldn’t have been more evident had they hung placards around her neck saying “That Woman’s a Bitch”
stood in a steel ring around her.

The Wolf’s fingers tightened on her forearm. “Hell, Ewen, just you be thankful, it’s not your life.”

“Oh. Right.” Ewen clenched his fists. “Take offence ’n all, why don’t ye? Over a cursed, damned, traitorous—”

“Excuse me? No. Stand still, Princess. He’s not going to hurt you. Piss and wind is just about as much as he is and ever has been.”

Piss and wind? Maybe that was so but the veins on Ewen’s face bulged. “Ye know damn fine what Ah mean. Threatening
me,
lord of this glen no less, with your bully boys.”

“Well, lord of this glen no less.”

As if he felt the tremor that swept her in that instant, the Wolf’s grip intensified, so then what she next felt was his heart, beating against her ear. A little disjointedly as if he was nervous, although she would never have thought it, when he spoke.

“Have you ever thought you’d be a lord of nothing at all without them?”

Run. That was what Kara desired to do. Not because she felt like a trapped wild animal. Piss and wind was not who she battled here, although the toes of his leather brogues edged into her visibility.

“Wouldn’t ye just like to know?”

No. With his height, lean strength, and cool unflappability, the Wolf was who she battled here. She might have been that snowflake there, melting on the blurred sea-green, grimy wool of his plaid, considering what incinerated her in that instant. Men. Men didn’t defend her like this. And when she thought about what she’d come here to do, what he must know about, how could he?

A tidal wave of shame ripped through her. Not just him either. Without a single word being said, her heart twisted. She wasn’t fit to stand in his shadow was she? She tried to move away but his grip intensified.

“No. What I’d like to know is whether you’re going to keep us standing out here, while we all freeze to death. Or do you want us to go somewhere else, because believe me, we will.”

“No.” Ewen stabbed his finger past Wee Murdie. “Whether it’s safe, for her to come in, with your piddling four men and yourself to protect her is what you’d like to know.”

The Wolf huffed an exasperated breath. “Five. It’s five, Ewen. When are you going to learn to count?”

It was not the thing to say to Ewen, if the way he had to be fended off by Big Murdie, was anything to go by. “Well, four, five, or six, how do ye not just take a dander up the stairs with them then and find out? Eh?”

Kara’s heart clattered against her ribcage. Go up these stairs? No. She couldn’t. And if that betraying whimper escaped her, truly it was because she couldn’t put her faith in anyone helping her here. So it was the wrong time to feel the Wolf clasp her bound hands.

“Hell, Ewen, here was me thinking you’d never offer. Do you hear that, Princess? We can go indoors.”

* * *

“It’s a wee while since you used this place, Callm.” Ewen cleared his throat. “But the door certainly opened all right earlier.”

Earlier? Kara pushed away the recollection of the way the Wolf’s fingers had squeezed hers all the way up the stairs, along the dimly lit corridors, to here. When they were brothers, there was no real trick in him knowing the castle was empty. The man was a gambler. Supremely self-confident about his ability to read any given situation. He could just as easily have misread it. Then where would she be?

Until she saw what was behind the door the Wolf now shouldered, how could she know?

“Bothered yourself did you, to arrange all I asked for?”

Asked for? Kara’s palms sweated. Oh God, what was that? Had she turned her attention better to finding out when she’d actually stayed in the castle, she might know. But this bit of the castle was one she had never been in.

“Aye. There it goes now. Look, it’s just needing a good shove.”

As if she were the same.

“Everything’s inside. Exactly as ye asked for. Who am I to disobey you?”

Kara swallowed the gulp. When it was vital she didn’t appear too interested she didn’t want to crane her neck. But, now the door had opened a crack, she would feel happier if she could see inside.

What had he asked for? A rack? Charcoal brazier? All the kinds of things that were likely in a situation like this, if he wanted to find out the truth of why she was here. Pincers? Thumb screws? How would she say she had left him because she meant the McDunnaghs no harm? How could she say anything at all when whatever she said wasn’t exactly likely to be believed?

If only he had not defended her, her throat would not clench, her pulse not flicker. But he had so she must hope. The door shuddered wider, even as she thought her stare forced it.

“Let’s hope that’s so.” The Wolf drew back. “Because let me tell you something, Ewen, about what’s going to happen, if it’s not, the day I’ve had, it will be you that’s—”

“I told ye. Are ye not listening? The castle awaits. Of course should anything no’ be to your liking, ye can always let me know. What will I be doing but sitting in mah hallowed throne room, awaiting your command. Rest assured I will sort it for ye.”

The laugh might have sent a shiver scudding down Kara’s spine, were a good half dozen not fighting for possession of it already.

“Get after him.” The Wolf turned to Big Murdie as Ewen’s footsteps echoed uneasily back along the corridor. “Snosh, Eck, maybe the castle is empty. But check it over. You two, stay right here. Guard the door.”

He transferred his ice-cool gaze to her, and she wished he had not. Especially when talking about doing such things as guarding the door forced a consideration of what might be taking place behind it.

Although it might have helped matters considerably if her hands were not tied, if she’d had something like a skirt to clutch, Kara held up her chin.

Whatever was in that room, she must meet it. Maybe it was nothing. What was straw made for, if not for clutching though? Right here. Right now. A whole handful as she stepped forward into the room itself. It…
It
…

“So?” Callm creaked the door shut. “It’s what you asked me for.”

Actually no, she didn’t ask for this. Not Ulla spending the whole day polishing the dishes the peat-flame now gleamed on. And not a table, chair, stool, kist, and candelabra all laid out for her either. This was not what she asked for, nor was it expected. Which was why her first reaction, to turn to him in surprise, was arrested by panic.

Her throat, having dried, now crisped. A cracked husk. She was but dimly aware that he picked himself off the doorjamb.

He did not mean to continue this charade, as if she were simply an unfaithful wife, did he? Firstly riding out his fury, as if nothing had happened. It would not be the first time such a thing had occurred. It did not make sense. Wouldn’t he have taken her to the cave for that? Although, of course, she had escaped from there.

Did her very thoughts inspire him to step toward her in that second though, iron bands of foreboding cinching her chest, as he next gripped the ties of the cloak?

He started to untie it. “Your dues.”

What was there to conclude, when there wasn’t even the chance of the merest fumble on his par, unlike earlier? Except her whole body stiffened, her gaze veiling, as she drew it back from the pretty silver dishes. The crystal flagons. It had taken years for her to learn to deal with men like him, to fight every humiliation. And what had it taken him to undo that oppression? That abuse? Five minutes in the castle yard.

The effect on her was unquantifiable. Something she could not allow when his very stillness breathed danger.

He tossed the cloak onto a stool. “Sit.”

Anger burned in her blood that she had thought him different from these others. The suspicion sneaked it was probably why he had defended her in the yard, battering her defenses, so when she did finally walk in here, they would already be swirling in an ebbing tide.

She jerked up her chin, her throat so tight she could barely speak. “Where?”

“Well.” The air of visceral annoyance dropped away from his manner and he gave a weary sigh. “Where do you think?”

As if in answer, she spied a bed with ornate posts and covered in dark mulberry. Whatever else she was doing, she was not sitting on that. She held her chin higher. On this occasion he wasn’t making her either.

He gave another sigh. “Hell, what about you use some of the imagination you were so clearly born with and stop having me do all the work? The day’s been long and hard enough.”

She suspected the day wasn’t the only thing. Indeed she was burningly aware of it. In their bonds she clenched her hands into fists.

She wouldn’t obey. Not if wild horses dragged her around the castle yard. It wasn’t her idea to marry him. A vow was only a vow if given willingly. In her heart she had known she was never going to be his wife. He would find the truth of that if he came any closer. She was burningly aware of that too.

He reached behind him and dragged into view another piece of furniture. A chair. He set it there between them without taking his eyes off her once.

“Christ, Princess, what did you think I was meaning?”

Well. What was she meant to think he was meaning? But a chair? A chair was not what she expected.

As for sitting on it… She cleared her throat. A chair was no more a reprieve than that bed was, considering the things she knew of chairs. And its position there in the center of the room was greatly to be considered.

But her legs shook. Shook so badly, with all of this, even as she willed them not to, she could not stand here all night, especially with her hands still tied.

“Assuredly.” After all, she thought as she walked around it, settled herself down, what mattered most was that she close that little rift he’d opened in the yard. “So, you don’t mean to rape me then?”

It would be better to know. Then she would know what to do about it. The softly lit room, the peat-fire smoking in the hearth, the amber and cherry red flagons on the table, had all been planned in advance. Certainly he didn’t do all this to be nice.

“Rape?”

She moistened her lips. “Yes.”

“Certainly not on a chair. They don’t tend to lend themselves too well to the act.”

Swifter than a panther, he sprung, blocking her way, even before she shot to her feet. “But first time for everything, you try getting out that damned chair once more.”

Who said she was? And yet the chair did seem to break her return journey, instead of the floor, which she might otherwise have graced in shock.

So? She’d managed to obtain an answer to her question. That brought her to what she was going to do about it.

“But of course.” She pried her shocked lips apart, attempting to speak with as much decorous cool as she could muster. After all, if this was a battle, she had just conceded the grand total of two salvos. How stupid was that? A man hardly needed the scent she was weak. She’d already given him that glimpse in the yard. “Your command is my wish.”

Was it? She could tell, the way his finely chiseled face tautened,
hell
was the word he raked for.

“Well, isn’t that good to know? Because so far, you could have fooled me.”

“Not my intent, I am sure.”

He shifted, a darker shadow across her. “You know about such things do you?”

The answer depended on what he was asking, which was why, when she knew not just to her bones about such things, but more besides, she bit her tongue.

After all, if he ever discovered about Morven, God knew what he’d do. It would be nothing she had not experienced before. Or would normally stand idle about. But stronger than that was the distress that claimed her over his defense of herself in the yard.

A hardened smile played. “No? Well. Whatever you might think right now, my desire is simply to untie you.”

Untie? She tried not to fidget. On what level of stupid did he think she belonged? His fingers were curved over the arms of the chair. “So I can have my hands free while you rape me. That’s good of you.”