His Judas Bride (29 page)

He huffed, softly this time, his fingers edging over her cheek. “Worse? Not ones for doing things by quarter halves, are they, your family? And here was me thinking that I’m not nice.”

“Oh, you are. If you did but know. Knew everything.”

“So?”

“Lachlan was a slave. That’s why, in my father’s eyes, his son is dispensable.”

“Christ. Really? I thought you’d maybe just tell me he was between four and five.”

So much for wishing he’d hurl plates. Maybe the silence was deafening, but she would not wish it broken by that. Not now, now the feel of his fingers teasing the knots and kinks in her hair, helped master the chills sweeping her body, making it hot and cold. And his proximity made her feel safe in ways she could not afford now she came to the border of this, the worst bit of what she must say.

“All right, Princess, so it’s worse than that. Do I have to guess this is to do with where the boy is now?” He furrowed his brow. “Wait a minute…”

“When…when I demanded to take Kertyn’s place, my father made him take mine. He said if a McDunnagh set foot beyond the pass, he’d see to it I never saw Arland again. Kertyn…Ardene…I couldn’t let their fates be the same as mine.”

She swallowed the aching knot. She had put more than herself in his arms, perhaps not physically at this moment, she saw with a horrible start, but she had put her heart and if he put her aside, right now, when this was so difficult anyway…

“But it’s worse than even that. Why my father did it. In the first place, that is. Locked me up. I didn’t just disgrace him. He had plans for me. Plans he went to a lot of trouble over. Plans he was prepared to commit murder for.”

His body tightened. His brows too. He must know. He must guess now. The absolute treachery of what had lain in his arms. And this, this would finish it.

“To marry you.”

“To—”

While she knew she shouldn’t, the look on his face was such she couldn’t look. It was unpardonable of her to hope that soft plaid, hard muscle, worn tunic, would let her put her head against it like this, clasp him actually, while bits of her broke inside. But where else was there for her to go when she had long feared such bits being broken?

“All right. All right, Princess.”

She felt his breath soft against her hair and his heart hammer against her ear and didn’t see how it was all right. He eased her further onto the bed, gathering her up, as easily as if she were a child, his fingers still stroking her hair, his voice rumbling against it.

She had no idea of what he said. Just that this was over. And it was over with him holding her in a way she could not fight, for all it was her desire to. If she was to choose a man, a man she could be right with, it would be him. Because what other man, who had lost as much as he had, could behave like this?

If only there was a way somehow to make this right, then just maybe she could be with him.

“I’ve got an idea. A way out of this.”

Across the wasteland of her mind, a light shone. Why not? After all she had come here, hadn’t she? She raised her chin higher, looked at him there, the peat-light flickering across his finely chiseled cheekbones inches from her own.

“What if I was to go back to my father?”

Her mind raced. It was risky of course. As today had already shown, anything involving her father was. But if she did this…

“If I was to pretend? Bring him here. As promised. You could be waiting. And that way…that way…” She could hardly bear to think it, let alone say it. The brilliance of what she suggested stunned her. “Everyone would be safe.”

“Hell, Princess.” Had she said she wanted him to go in the guise of herself, while she waited with his men, he could not look more astonished. “While I’m open to suggestions right now, but with what you say about him, wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

Yes, it would. But because it wasn’t any greater a danger than she’d already faced—so long as her father didn’t realize she’d been compromised. Why? It was a brilliant idea.

“Provided you…trust me that is.” She could barely utter the words, appreciating, as she did, he might not, which was why she was fully aware of the delicate blush tingeing her features.

He bent his head. He covered her mouth with his. So he must have. It was a kiss of such blinding sweetness, a kiss that told her all she wanted to know about that. She parted her lips. Her fears vanished in that heated second. He would not kiss her like this unless he meant it.

She was trembling when he finally released her. His sensuous lips curled faintly as he regarded her.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“But—”

“I swear. I think for now, a kiss is good, don’t you?”

She thought so too. Finally some things were within her reach after all.

Chapter Fourteen

“Callm, are you aff your bloody head?”

Possibly. But Callm still stopped midway across the moonlit yard to ponder the advantages of punching Wee Murdie’s jaw. True. If he sent him sprawling into the snow, the silence would certainly be bliss. But he hesitated when the man was taller than him. A few inches. Even so. Besides he never punched people for pointing out the truth.

“I said
if
,
Murdie. Are you going deaf there?”

Wee Murdie’s boots squelched behind him through the slush. “No. I’m not. And I’m not doing it.”

It was something Callm had always been a bit jealous of. The fact Wee Murdie was faster than he was. In the space of time it took Callm to turn his head back again, Wee Murdie stood in front of him. Callm didn’t know he could walk backward like that or had eyes in the back of his head that enabled him to do it without walking into anything either.

“Not this time. You can get somebody else. You think I’m letting you out this glen on your own? Over her?”

Callm hesitated. He tilted his jaw. “That’s nice of you. But I’m a big boy now. A few McGurkies certainly think I can take care of myself. I don’t need you holding my hand.”

Wee Murdie’s eyes blazed. “But what about the rest of us if ye fail? You’re not superhuman ye know. You’re just pig-headed swine enough to think ye are. Over a woman.”

Callm huffed out a breath. Yes. This was, wasn’t it? And not just one. Did Wee Murdie have any idea of the hour there it had taken him to get Kara to fall asleep? Christ, he had nearly fallen asleep himself. Might have, were it not for all that surged within him. The awful, jarring knowledge about this. About everything.

The last thing he wanted was her coming out here insisting on knowing what he was doing. Her knowing he didn’t trust her. Trust her? As he did a bent arrow. Or that little idea she’d had about how to lure her father here to put this right. Everything. Arland, Morven. Morven most of all. This was his battle.

“Do you need me to tell you what to do if I fail? You’re Brotherhood men aren’t you? Glen guardians. This isn’t Brotherhood business. I dug the hole here. Not you or anyone else. Now I have to sort it. However I can.”

“Then go to the old bastard and damn well tell him ye married her. Demand the wee lad as her dowry.
If
she is telling the truth—”

“What the hell do you mean
if
? Do you think I’m that taken up with her, I’m incapable of proper judgment and I don’t know that she is? Is that it?”

Of course he wasn’t, or he’d never have landed in this damned mess with her. He saw that now. The pity was he hadn’t seen it before. Or rather, having seen it he’d acted on it.

“No. But that old bastard will dance a jig. Finally, an alliance with a clan prince.”

Well, the old bastard would. But when Callm thought about how that alliance had once nearly been forged, he couldn’t allow it.

“Do you think I want to be jigging alongside of him now? Hell, Murdie.” He cocked his chin. “I’m fussy who I dance with. Anyway he had an alliance with a clan prince. It wasn’t good enough. Do you think I can afford to let him sit on our doorstep any longer, trying to anticipate his next move? Well? Do you want to know who put our people in jeopardy? I did that.”

Anyway, the marriage was a sham. A woman and her child. Who the hell was he to get in the way of that? Kid himself he meant something?

He whistled softly. Maybe the cur was like Kara, able to take care of herself, but he didn’t want Dug coming further than the first few hundred yards. Not this time. It would be easier though if Dug had headed for the cave, when he left her behind hours ago. Instead she’d turned up here, whining to be admitted.

“Look, just you all make sure he doesn’t set foot in Lochalpin if I don’t come back. That way you won’t have to carry out any messy orders, will you?”

In the freezing frost-lit air, the words were surreal. So surreal they threatened to choke him as thoroughly as the bracing cold. But his mind was frighteningly clear. Despite everything that was going on inside his head right now, he still shuddered to recall the things Kara had told him, to think of anyone ever touching her again. Hurting her. And they would.

Of course she’d no idea how stunned he’d been. About that. About everything. When it came to acting, he was every bit as good as her.

“She’s got this look.” He swallowed, trying not to recall that either. If he recalled it he’d go back inside the castle, to the bed where she lay and he’d never leave her again. And that was ridiculous when his mind was in a dark place.

“Aye. I know. I’ve seen it. I think we all have. And that’s how I want you to get one of the others. Snosh, Eck—”

“You’re the one man she won’t get around.”

“I wouldn’t bank on it, Callm.”

“Hell, Murdie, just think of me. The last thing I want, if I don’t come back, the very last thing, is her falling back into that old bastard’s clutches. You either escape with her, or you do it. Now…”

He set his boot in the stirrup, determination stiffening his spine. What shamed him most, was to think of the times he’d brought her to pleasure. Of course that first time, she’d been playing with the same fire as himself. What happened after that, those days in the cave, it had just been easier to make love to her than face his own uncertainty about her, about the fact he felt she lied, about how he was getting in over his head. If he’d known, a woman who had been hurt like that, he wouldn’t have done it. How could he have conflicted her so she enjoyed what she probably hated? Probably made her feel worse about her son? Because he knew perfectly she hadn’t pretended.

As for trying to hand her down that corridor to Ewen, even if he knew it was safe? He would never have done that either. He sweated thinking about it.

Her and that cracked-brained scheme of hers too. Put things right? No. He did this. Because if anyone had jeopardized his people, it was him.

He pulled himself up in to the saddle. “And don’t you, any of you, tell her where I am. I don’t want her hopes raised for nothing. She’s been through enough. Look, I’ve lived by my wits a long time. I won’t exactly be alone.”

“Neither will ye.” The voice rasped across the yard.

Oh bloody hell, the last person he wanted to see out here. He turned his head slowly. He had no idea it could be so hard not to flinch.

“Ewen?”

“Weel, it’s not Ewen’s ghost, although it’s a wonder.”

Great. Callm bared his teeth. The last time he’d seen Ewen had been in the carnage in the great hall. Ewen still had the burst eyebrows to prove it. Callm had spent ten minutes patching himself up, after he’d tucked Kara up in blankets and made up the fire, trying not to admire just how beautiful and peaceful she was lying there with her hair spilled over her face.

Ewen, staggering across the courtyard drunk, seeking reparation for the assault and the broken candelabra, wasn’t the send off he envisaged. Christ. Or needed.

“What do you want?”

“I’m coming with ye.”

“What?”

He could do without this. It had been a long few days and it wasn’t over yet.

“Te get mah bride, Kertyn. Or Ardene. Whatever one will have me. Do ye think you’re the only one with the right to one roond here?”

Callm didn’t. He didn’t imagine Kertyn or Ardene would be doing anything less than drawing straws about it either.

“Get mah horse.” Ewen gestured to the stable boy.

Callm glanced around wearily. He didn’t want Ewen. But he didn’t want noise and fuss either.

“Is this wise?”

“How is it not? Mah horse, laddie.” Ewen gestured again. “Who commands this glen?”

“You do. But if you do, do you think it’s wise to come alone? Because that’s how I’m going. This is my business.
She’s
my business.”

“Oh, I’m certainly not coming alone, brother. No. I’ll be having some of your men for bodyguards, seeing as all mine have buggered off.”

Yes. Just what he didn’t need. Ewen on a mission of mercy. But what other choice did he have?

* * *

Kara’s eyelids flickered open. Soft woolen fibers tickled her nose. When she considered this, and all the times there had been nothing to stir for, nothing to open her eyes for, and now… Hearing a clanking in the hearth, she shook her head to clear it. How could she forget what she had dreamed of last night?

Today was the day she drew a step closer to getting back Arland. And it wouldn’t be like last time.

“Sir?”

She flicked her eyes open fully, running her tongue around her lips to moisten them. Her gaze froze. Ulla. Archibald Kelty.
And
Big Murdie. She closed her eyes and shook her head. True, she was tired and shaky from yesterday. In fact, every bone in her body ached, along with her head, which didn’t just ache, it felt as if someone pounded on it with steel hammers. But to hallucinate?

“For God’s sake, girl, what were ye told? A herd of coos would be quieter on their feet than you.”

“Aye. And make less of a muck’in all. I dinnae know what the point of making breakfast was. All that trouble all day yesterday to make supper and look what they did with it.”

Kara clutched the blanket against her breasts and pinged her eyes back open. Mortification knotted her throat. How embarrassing. She admitted it. She would have felt on a more equal footing if the floor hadn’t been littered with broken crockery and she wasn’t in a state of undress.