The Renegade's Heart (25 page)

“I will do no such thing.” Isabella retorted.
“For if I do, you will set out to retrieve it and you are in no
condition for such a quest. I have eyes in my head and I can see
the truth of it.”

Stewart snorted, evidently seeing sense in
this argument.

Isabella rode her horse in circles around
Murdoch, her course making him dizzy. “You will apologize to my
sister, and show honor to her husband by bringing him with care to
Kinfairlie’s hall. You shall beg my brother’s forgiveness before we
retrieve the relics – for they are all together.”

“Amen,” Stewart said softly. “Some soul in
this matter finally speaks sense.”

“No,” Murdoch insisted. “We shall not go to
Kinfairlie together. I will not step into the lion’s den. You
presume much about your brother’s response.”

“I know him!”

But Murdoch was skeptical. He feared that
Isabella’s brother would not hear his plea quickly and he had
precious little time to waste. It was a week’s ride to Seton Manor
and only a fortnight until the new moon. He fixed her with a
determined glare. “You will tell me where the relic is, and I shall
collect my brother’s property. When Stewart is safely on his way
home, then and only then will I surrender to your brother’s
justice. Tell me where it is.”

“No,” Isabella replied. “It is
her
plan to see you condemned, I am certain of it, and must be part of
her ploy to claim you forever.”

Murdoch did seize the horse’s bridle then.
“What did you see?”

“I saw the Fae queen who would claim you.”
She reached out and seized his wrist, pushing back his glove. “The
one who put these marks upon you.” She regarded him with curiosity.
“Tell me, can she claim you more readily if my brother executes
you? Does she pick her victims from the dead?”

“Does she know that you saw her?”

“I do not know. I fear I gasped when I saw
the orb.” Isabella winced. “It was not, perhaps the wisest course,
but it is done.”

That chill seized Murdoch once more. “What
orb?”

“The one with a dying heart trapped within
it.”

Stewart crossed himself and turned away,
though Murdoch knew he still listened.

“Her entire court disappeared in the blink of
an eye and the strangest wind arose.”

Murdoch turned away, bile in his throat. He
could not believe Isabella had put herself at such risk.

Actually, he
could
believe that she
would act on impulse to correct what she perceived to be a
wrong.

But she did not know the powers of the
Elphine Queen. She did not guess what price she might pay. She did
not understand how vengeful that Fae queen could be.

Murdoch had to ensure Isabella’s welfare.

Even now, he saw the Fae gathering on all
sides, their eyes glinting with either malice or anticipation, and
felt a chill emanating from the ground. Isabella could not be safe
within this forest, not so long as the Elphine Queen hunted
him.

He held fast to the horse’s reins and made
one last appeal. “Tell me, Isabella, tell me where the relic is
hidden.”

“I will not,” Isabella replied. The woman did
not back down from a fight, that much was certain. She stood in her
stirrups as if to dismount, much to Murdoch’s horror. “Lift Rhys
into my saddle and I shall walk back to the hall.”

“You will do no such thing!” Murdoch declared
with heat. “You will ride for Kinfairlie, you will ride there now
and without delay. You will accompany your sister to the hall, and
you will arrive there before it falls dark.”

Isabella lifted her chin. “I will not abandon
Rhys here.”

“He will not be harmed,” Murdoch
insisted.

“I will not abandon
you
here,” she
added softly.

His lady was cursed stubborn. “You have no
choice, for I will not go with you and you are not safe here.”
Murdoch gestured after the departing party, when she opened her
mouth to protest again. “Go see your sister.”

“You promised me...” Isabella began to chide
and Murdoch lost his temper.

He would say whatever was necessary to see
her safely away.

“I used you, exactly as you first imagined,”
Murdoch said, interrupting her. “I gained information from you and
there was no other intent in my mind than that.” Isabella stared at
him with dismay. “And if you imagine that my intent was honorable,
then that was your error. The sole thing I desired of you was news
of the location of the relic, and since you will not tell me of
that, I have no further need of your company.”

He cast the reins at her and slapped the
flanks of her horse hard. Given the scent of blood, the beast was
only too happy to race down the road.

“Murdoch!” the lady shouted, but even she
could not halt that steed. “You lie! You
lie
and this matter
is not done between us!”

And that, Murdoch feared, was the truth of
it.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Stewart chuckled. “A fair attempt, lad, but
she sees through your fabrication well enough. Perhaps it comes of
being able to see the Fae.”

Murdoch sobered at that. “I would have the
lady forget me.”

“I fear ’tis too late for that, lad.” Stewart
peered at the younger man. “Is she right? Is it a curse that has
haunted this journey?”

Murdoch nodded. “I did not think you would
believe me, if I told you the truth.”

The older man nodded. “Fair enough, lad, but
I have witnessed enough in my time to know that not all is seen by
all eyes.” He cleared his throat. “I know you mean well to send the
lady away, but she is not fooled by your hasty lie. I would dare to
suggest to you that such spells as the one that snares you can be
broken – by both persistence and affection.” Stewart held his gaze.
“It is not without reason that the bards sing of the power of true
love.”

Despite the cold that crept through his body,
Murdoch found encouragement in the older man’s words. “I have
thought that the Lady Isabella might be my salvation,” he admitted.
“The thought of her does keep the darkness at bay.”

Stewart nodded. “It is best a man follows his
heart in such circumstance. Even in failure, the intent then has
been honorable.”

Murdoch frowned. “I was wounded when the
Elphine Queen took me into her abode, Stewart. The wound festered
and I was fevered.”

“The wound the earl spoke of,” Steward mused.
“You are not lamed because it was healed by the Fae.”

Murdoch nodded. “She has threatened to return
me to that state should I spurn her.” He sighed and met the concern
in Stewart’s gaze. “Shall I bind my lady’s fate to that of a man
who might be lamed?”

“You do not know that!”

“It is much to assume a woman would still
accept a man in such a state, had she the choice.”

Stewart pursed his lips as he considered
this. “And you will never know unless you ask her.” He arched a
brow. “I think the risk a small one, lad.”

Murdoch surveyed at the fallen knight and his
men, considering Stewart’s advice. Despite himself, he felt a new
surge of hope, a hope that he could triumph over the Elphine Queen
with Isabella’s aid.

He knew then with clarity what he must do.
“You must leave Kinfairlie, Stewart. There is a storm brewing and
no telling what shall result from it. Already the boys have learned
what they should not. Take them and depart immediately for Seton
Manor.

The older man gave Murdoch a quizzical
glance. “What will you do?”

“I ride for Kinfairlie.”

“Into the lion’s den,” Stewart said with a
smile.

“To beg the forgiveness of my lady and her
assistance, for she holds the key to all.”

Stewart grinned and clapped his hand on
Murdoch’s shoulder. “Oh, lad, I am glad to know that you are indeed
your father’s son.”

They embraced, then parted, though only
Murdoch feared it might be for all time.

* * *

Just the recollection of the sight of Rhys’
blade swinging so close to Murdoch’s gut was enough to make
Isabella feel faint.

Murdoch had not looked hale, even the hue of
his flesh changing to grey. His eyes were so dark that one could
not discern the blue and he had not fought with his usual vigor.
Indeed, it had seemed that he could scarcely even lift his own
blade.

Isabella did not doubt that Murdoch had sent
her away for her own safety. As much as she admired that impulse,
she was not prepared to stand aside.

How could she retrieve the relic herself?
Would that break the spell?

She caught up to Madeline and the others just
before Kinfairlie village. Madeline was clearly frightened and she
held her baby tightly. Dafydd was bound to Rhys’ saddle, though he
did not cry. He appeared to share some of his father’s grim
determination. A maid rode one horse and held the reins of the one
bearing Dafydd, presumably because Madeline did not dare to halt so
that the boy could be untied. The other two horses stayed close to
those with riders, although their reins trailed on the ground.

“Isabella!” Madeline exclaimed. “Why are you
outside the gates?”

“I went for a ride. I was returning when I
heard you cry out.”

“There are brigands in Kinfairlie’s forest!
You should not be alone.” It was a mercy that Madeline was
sufficiently upset to have no further questions.

Isabella asked questions of her oldest sister
instead. “What happened? Are you well? Are you injured?”

“We were attacked on the road. Where is Rhys?
And Trahern? And the boy Norton?” Madeline’s tone rose higher as
she scanned the empty road behind them. She reached out and
clutched Isabella’s hand. “Tell me what you saw. What happened
behind us?”

“I do not know,” Isabella lied. “I heard you
and I saw you, so I followed behind. I am certain that Rhys will be
fine.”

Madeline gave her a look, one that indicated
that her sister knew that was only part of the tale. She looked
back at the road behind, and swallowed. “I must get the children
inside the hall, and see the horses tended. It is cold and becoming
late. Bronwen, will you ride ahead and ensure that all is made
ready for us?”

“Aye, my lady. Will you give me the
babe?”

Madeline shook her head. “She is warm where
she is. Take Dafydd with you. He will like the stables and the
ostler may remember him.” She slanted a determined glance at
Isabella. “I would speak to my sister alone.”

Isabella recognized that her moment of
reprieve had passed. Madeline had calmed enough to discern that
there was more to the tale – and Isabella’s older sister had the
look of a woman who would have the truth and soon.

* * *

Rhys awakened when the stars were appearing
overhead. His nose hurt and there was blood caked upon his face.
His head throbbed and his cautious fingertips found a lump on the
back of his skull.

Beyond that, he was uninjured.

He heard a groan and moved toward the sound
with some care. It was the mercenary Trahern, similarly bruised.
The cut on his shoulder had been only a flesh wound and it already
closed.

The older man grimaced. “A pox upon thieves,”
he said, pushing himself to a sitting position. “The lot of them
should be rounded up and executed.”

“But it seems we have not been robbed,” Rhys
noted.

Trahern scowled. “Simply beaten. I thought
Kinfairlie was a safe holding.”

“As did I,” Rhys concurred. “And we have paid
for our assumption.”

Another groan revealed the location of the
squire Norton. “I am sorry, sir,” he said at the sight of Rhys. “I
tried my best.”

“And you fought well enough. We were
surprised and beset from all sides.” In truth, Rhys blamed no one
but himself. On the one hand, he wished he had sliced the vagabond
in half when he had the chance. On the other, Isabella’s concern
for the man made him wonder if he might have come to regret doing
so. He did not expect to change his view of the bandit in the
forest of his own volition, but Madeline had been known to urge
Rhys to a new perspective.

He glanced toward the distant keep of
Kinfairlie. “I only hope my lady is well.”

Trahern coughed and winced, holding his gut
as he eyed Rhys. “And you, sir? Are you hale enough?”

“I shall survive,” Rhys admitted, his gaze
darting over the shadows of the forest. All was quiet and still
there. He did not doubt that the bandits were well-hidden, or that
they would know this forest better than he. It would be a fool who
would seek them out at night.

Daylight, however, was another matter.

Indeed, a desire for vengeance already burned
within him. They three were alive and not so badly injured, but the
matter could have ended much worse. And Madeline! Never mind the
children. If any of them had borne a scratch, Rhys would never rest
until the villain was brought to justice.

Rhys looked again at the keep of Kinfairlie,
its windows lit even at this hour. He feared that Madeline was
frightened and guessed that if she were well, she would be watching
for him, despite the hour. He had best hasten to the keep to see
her worries set to rest.

Why had the thieves let them live and keep
their possessions? Had they stolen the horses? Did they simply not
want to compound their crime by killing? Rhys doubted that
Alexander’s court would exonerate them either way. Even as thieves,
they could be executed for humiliating the laird’s guests.

But more importantly, how did Isabella know
the brigands?

* * *

There was a tremendous fuss over Madeline’s
arrival, and much concern over the assault in the woods. Isabella
found it difficult to refrain from sharing what she knew – although
no one seemed to expect that she knew any detail more than
Madeline, she was irked that they insisted upon calling the deed a
robbery when there had been no theft.