The Imposter (34 page)

Devon held me
solidly in his arms, smoothing my hair and making shushing noises against the
top of my head. 

“Hush, love,” he
whispered over and over.  His breathing was labored and he shook with the
emotion of the situation.  He waited for the initial shock of the situation to
pass, allowing me to process the fact that we were both now safe, if only for
the moment.               He drew me slowly away from him and wiped my tears
away with his thumbs as he cupped my face in his hands.  His green eyes were
intense, questioning as his gaze loomed down on me, trying to figure out if I
was going to be alright.

 He smiled
slightly, “Ye did well, Kate.  Yer a braw lass.  Made me right proud.” Devon
placed a chaste kiss on my lips, and said, “We need tae go now, I canna bear
tae stay here for another minute.”  He held my hand and dragged me towards the
large sorrel stallion, hoisting me with him into the saddle. 

He settled me on
his lap and wrapped his dirty cloak around me.  The smell of his cloak caused
me to lose my last shred of composure. It smelled of horse, dirt, and Devon,
the man that I loved.  The man that had been willing to give his life for mine.
 Fresh tears burned my cheeks, as the emotions boiled forth.

As he kicked Stanley
into motion, without a second look at the scene left behind us, I shouted out,
“Wait!  You’re not just planning to leave them there are you?”

“Damn right, I
am.  Let this be a lesson to anyone that tries to separate us again.  I want
the message sent loud and clear that I doona take kindly tae my wife being endangered. 
Doona give my brother a second thought, Kate.  This is what he asked for when
he took ye from me.”

Devon cradled my
face with his hand, gently pressing my head against his solid chest.  “Ye’ve
been a braw lass today,” he said, and I knew that a slight smile spread across
his face.  “It’s alright to cry, love,” he soothed me as he stroked my matted
hair.  “Rest now, I’ll keep ye safe.  Rest, Kate.”

  “Aren’t you
going the wrong direction?” I asked, suddenly confused that Devon was going in
the same direction that his brother had been taking me. 

“No, lass.  We
have a score to settle.  I’ll not have us living in fear that ye’ll be
discovered as not being Ms. Berkshire.  My Da always said that even when the
truth hurts it is always the best path to take.”

“How much of the
truth do you intend to tell them?” I questioned, realizing now that Devon
intended to continue the journey to the Berkshire family lands.

“Enough,” he said
firmly. “Enough tae keep ye safe, and enough for them to realize that their
daughter was killed.  We owe them as much,” he said, holding me tightly against
him.  His words fell silently between us, insinuating that I would need to tell
him the truth in order for him to pass a version of the truth on to the Berkshire
family.

Silence fell
between us and I knew that Devon was thinking about exactly what he would tell
the Berkshire family.  I also believed that the truth was the best path to
take, but how could they even fathom the truth?  I was certain that Devon would
come up with a version of the truth that would meet our needs, yet still give
the family a sense of closure about their beloved daughter.

 The fact remained
that I needed to tell Devon the whole truth so that he had more than just his
faith and trust in me to work with.  Dreading the thought of explaining my
situation to Devon, I closed my eyes and let the rhythmic gait of the horse and
the safety of my husband’s arms lull me to sleep. 

***

            We
rode hard, Devon pressed ever onward through the night, intent on reaching the Berkshire
lands as quickly as humanly possible.  When he could go no further, he slowed
the horse and dismounted us both.  He carried me in his arms, wrapped up
securely in the warmth of his plaid.  We didn’t speak as he carefully set me
down and tethered Stanley to a nearby tree. 

There was a large
rock wall to protect us from the elements, surrounded by the dense growth of
trees.  I settled myself on the ground, leaning against the rock wall, too
tired to move.  Devon continued setting up our rudimentary camp, gathering
firewood and unrolling the horse’s blanket for us to sleep on.  Soon, he had a
fire crackling and he held out a hand in invitation to me, inviting me to come
sit next to him. 

Next to him on the
blanket was spread out a meager dinner of rolls and cheese, the sight of which
made my stomach rumble.  I smiled, mentally thanking Jaime for having the
forethought to stock Stanley’s saddlebags with provisions.

“Hungry?” he
chuckled, handing me a roll.  I devoured it silently, remembering that I had
been without food for quite some time.  Devon ate the other roll in silence and
handed me the chunk of cheese, which I greedily finished.

He grasped my
hand, and looked directly into my eyes, searching, imploring me to tell him the
truth.  My warrior, so strong and so fierce in battle looked wounded, hurt.  I
hated myself for doing this to him, for making him look at me this way.

“Who are ye,
Kate?  I think I deserve to know,” he said as a nervous smile flashed across
his rugged face.

I gulped, unsure
of how to begin.  Yes, he deserved to know, but how could I possibly expect him
to believe me?  I watched the firelight reflect on his dark skin, enhancing his
chiseled features in the darkness of the night.  His chestnut hair had grown
slightly since I had last seen him, and the ends were just starting to curl. 

“I’m Kate Elliot. 
That’s the easy part,” I forced the words out uneasily.

“So yer name
is
Kate?” The effect of my lies resounded in the emphasis he placed on the word
“is.”  I knew that my lies had hurt Devon, and I hated myself for not finding a
way to tell him the truth sooner.

“Yes, that much is
true.  The rest, I’m afraid isn’t so easy,” I said as I met his gaze.  “Promise
me that you will believe me, Devon.”  I implored as I looked into his green
eyes.  “I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you.”

“I promise, Kate. 
I promise that I will believe ye,” he raked his hand through his hair,
something he often did when he was unsure of how to proceed with a situation. 
I wondered what he thought that I would tell him.  I wondered if he would ever
be able to trust me again.

“I’m sorry that I
couldn’t tell you sooner.  I hated myself for not telling you, but I was so
afraid,” I cautioned as I stroked his hand, seeking to ease my nervousness. 
His touch was my anchor and his large calloused hand squeezed mine in
encouragement. I took this as an unspoken gesture that he would try to believe
the story that I was about to begin, even though he now had no reason to
believe that the words I was about to speak would hold any ring of truth. 

“I’ll do my best,”
he said, adding a small nervous smile of encouragement. He raked his fingers through
his tousled chestnut hair and settled himself into a more comfortable position
next to me by the fire.  The firelight danced across his features, and I
examined him openly, eyes tracing his handsome face, dwelling on his injuries
from today, and taking stock of this man who was my husband. 

He was so
physically strong.  Muscles rippled under his linen shirt even as he sat
relaxed next to me.  His jaw was clenched, eyebrows knit together, and although
he was trying to exude an air of calmness, of openness, I could tell from his
body language that he was nervous.  I noticed that his hair had grown slightly
since I had last seen him.  It was now long enough that he could tuck the
beginnings of loose curls behind his ears.  He was perfect and it broke my
heart to think that I my lies were the cause of his turmoil.

I wasn’t sure how
to begin.  There really wasn’t a way to sugarcoat this unbelievable story. 
“Remember when I told you about MacAllister?”

A deep groan was
the only response that Devon gave.

“Well, everything
that I told you about him was the truth, except that I left something important
out.”

Devon did not
speak, did not ask questions.  His eyes were cast down at our joined hands,
watching his thumb move slowly back and forth across the back of my hand.  It
was apparent that he was expecting bad news.

“My father loaded
me aboard a ship and we were sailing north to carry through with my betrothal
to MacAllister.  I just couldn’t go through with it.  I jumped overboard,” I
said, swallowing hard as I remembered the terror of plunging into the dark Atlantic
Ocean.

Devon’s eyes
flashed up in surprised disbelief.  “And ye swam tae shore?  Do ye ken how
dangerous that was?” he glare was intimidating; he was scolding me for my
carelessness.

“Yes, I knew.  I
actually
expected
to die when I jumped into the ocean, but somehow I
made it to shore.  Death was a better alternative than being married to MacAllister.”

“Jesus, Kate,” he
said, shaking his head in disbelief.  “I hope that I never meet yer father,
because I we ever do cross paths, I’ll kill the insensitive bastard.”

“I worried about
him for a long time.  I worried that he might be looking for me, that he might
somehow find me here,” I confessed, terror coursing through my veins as I
thought about my father and his henchmen.

“I suspect that he
probably thinks that yer dead.  Not many survive the grips of the Atlantic,” he
said solemnly.  “And if he did find ye, ye’ve nay need tae worry.  Ye are safe
here.”

Relief shrouded me
now.  Devon still wants me.  He’s going to forgive me, protect me from my father. 
I continued my story, encouraged by Devon’s remarks.

“I stumbled upon Ms.
Berkshire’s coach as when I reached the shore, trying to find someone to help
me.  They were already dead.  There was nothing that I could do for them.  My
shift was shredded from the ocean, and I took a dress from the coach.  I went
back into the forest to put it on.”  I glanced up at Devon’s face, looking for
a reaction. 

His expression was
unchanged and I dropped my eyes back to our hands, continuing to fidget with
his well boned fingers.  “Nathan found me in the forest.  I was walking back to
the coach to see if there was any food left behind.  He asked me what my name
was, and I told him it was Kate, and he assumed that I was Kate Berkshire,
and……”

“And the rest is
history,” he finished my sentence.

“I wish that I
could have told you sooner, Devon.  I wanted to tell you the truth, but I
didn’t know how.  I was so afraid that you would leave me,” I looked up, lip
trembling and searched his face for a response.

“I could never
leave ye, Kate,” he said simply.

“I love you and I
don’t want to keep secrets from you.”

“I wish that ye
could have told me sooner too,” he said, considering what I had just revealed. 
“I understand yer reasons for not telling me, I ken that ye had reason tae be
afraid.”         

“I hated lying to
you.  I wanted to tell you so badly.”  I said with sincerity.

“Yer story
explains many things.  Ye’ve been through quite a trial.  And tae be forced tae
marry me on top of it all!”

“I know it sounds
crazy, but Devon, you have to believe me. I promise you from the bottom of my
heart that it’s the truth,” I said quietly, looking up at him to gauge his
reaction.

I wondered if he
could ever trust me again.

Please, please
let him forgive me.  Let him give me another chance.

“I believe ye.  It
does sound crazy, but what choice do I have but tae believe ye?  Either I’m marrit
to a lunatic or yer telling the truth,” he responded.  “Whatever it is, lunatic
or no, I’m happy that yer here,” he said, removing his hand from mine and
placing his arm around me, drawing me closer to him.  “Please doona lie tae me
again, Kate,” he said, his tone harsh yet forgiving.  “I need tae trust ye in
all matters.”

“I’ll never lie to
you again,” I promised sincerely.  “I’m so sorry.”

We sat silently
for a few breaths, trying to process what had just passed between us.  I leaned
my head to rest it upon Devon’s shoulder, enjoying his warmth as the firelight
danced in front of me.  The contrast of my husband’s warmth in comparison to
the cold lonely ground that I had endured last night was vast.

“Frankly, Kate, I
don’t care if ye tell me that ye came from the moon.  I’d love ye just the
same.  I love you, a chuisle mo chroi,” he whispered, reaching up his hand to
cup my face.

“I love you too,”
I said sincerely, smiling as I looked into his green eyes.  “When I first got
here, I was terrified.   I wanted to escape,” I confessed, my fingers rubbing
the woolen fabric of his kilt to help the words come forth.  “But then, when I
found you, I felt hope kindle inside me, there was an immediate connection that
I felt when I saw you,” I said looking up from my fingers to meet his patient
gaze.   “I felt it the very first time when I saw you and I stitched you up in
the great hall.”

“Even though I was
a drunken asshole?” he said laughing under his breath.

“Even though you
were a drunken asshole,” I smiled, remembering our first encounter in the great
hall.

“Is that why ye
kissed me after ye finished stitching me up when ye thought I was asleep?  Or
was it because ye thought that I was sae handsome that ye couldna keep yer
hands off me, and had tae hold back from lifting my kilt and taking advantage
of me right there on that table in the hall?”

I laughed so
unexpectedly that I snorted in a very un-ladylike fashion.

“I don’t know why
I kissed you!  It
was
just a peck on the forehead!” I said defending
myself. 

“I’ll choose tae
believe that ye wanted tae take advantage of me and that’s why ye couldna hold
back from kissing me against my will.”