The Renegade (Rebel Hearts, #1)

by Baldwin, Lily

  It was Maundy Thursday, which meant that in four days’ time, Laird Mackintosh would arrive at Castle Bròn. Her heart and body belonged to Nathan. She could not marry Egan, but she also could not prove that Nathan and she were officially wed, not unless she retrieved the stained sheet that she had discovered in Nathan’s room when she had first gone there to find him.

  “What a fool I’ve been,” she muttered. Despite how she tried to hold tight to her faith, it took all her strength not to despair. What if she had lost him forever?

  Her breath hitched as the door swung wide and thunderous footfalls suddenly echoed around her. Fearing that Egan had come early, her heart raced as she whirled around.

  She gasped. It was Declan. He was breathless, and a frown shaped his countenance. She slumped in her seat and watched the warriors file into the chapel. Declan held her gaze. She could tell he wished to speak to her, but he held back—doubtless because he did not want to tell her that his search had been fruitless. Declan turned away suddenly. Her gaze followed his to the shadowy outline of a man with broad-shoulders filling the arched doorway. The man stepped inside, revealing black curls and silver eyes, which narrowed on her. She inhaled sharply as Nathan thundered into the room.

  Her heart leapt at the sight of him. She wanted to run into his embrace, but the fury on his face made her falter. Her chest tightened. Now, she knew why Declan’s expression had appeared so grim. Clearly, this was not the happy reunion of her dreams.

  Wringing her hands, she started toward him, “Nathan—” she began, her eyes wide.

  But he thrust his hand out. “Nay,” he growled. “I am going to speak and ye’re going to listen.”

  His breaths came in great heaves. He closed the distance between them. Her hands ached to reach out and touch him, but his gaze bore into hers with a hardness that stole her breath. “Elora,” he began, but then he expelled a slow breath. At length, his expression softened. He reached for her hand. “Ye don’t have to marry Egan or William Grant, and ye don’t have to marry me.”

  Her breath caught. She shook her head. “But—”

  Again, he held up his hand to silence her. “Hear me out.”

  He dropped to one knee. “I swear my fealty to Clan Brodie and to ye,” he vowed. Then he withdrew the sword strapped to his back and laid it at her feet. “I pledge to ye my sword. With my life or my death, I will defend yer keep, yer people, and yer freedom.”

  Her heart swelled. Tears stung her eyes, and she let them fall without constraint. She was done holding back, especially where Nathan was concerned.

  Dropping to her knees, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He stiffened in her arms, but only for a moment. Then, he crushed her against his hard chest, deepening their kiss. An instant later, he tore his lips free. Brows drawn, he cupped her cheeks. “I...I do not understand.”

  Her tears renewed. “When Declan told me that ye left, I thought...I thought I would surely die. I couldn’t see how I could go on, knowing that ye were out there somewhere, not loving me back.”

  His eyes brightened. “Elora!” He seized her again, pressing her against him and kissed her lips with velvety softness. Then he pulled a breath away. His gaze sought hers. “I thought ye couldn’t love a man like me.”

  Her fingers gripped his tunic. “Ye’re a good, kind man, Nathan, and I love ye. I love ye with all that I am and all I hope to be.”

  Forehead to forehead, she watched as a smile broke across his face and lit his eyes with a joy that made her feel as if she was still at risk of dying, but not from heartache. Surely, she would be crushed beneath the might of her love. “I’m going to burst into a million stars right here in yer arms.”

  His eyes burned into her soul. “Ye’re as beautiful as starlight and as warm as the summer sun,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve ye.” His brows drew together, and pain flashed in his gaze. “But will ye have me, thief-taker and all?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck seductively. “I already have,” she whispered in his ear. “And there’s a sheet hidden away in a chest in yer room that proves it.”

  His face grew serious and for her ears alone, he said, “I will not force my claim because of the night we shared together. I want our marriage to be of yer choosing.”

  She cupped his cheeks between her hands. “I choose ye, Nathan Campbell.” Then she backed out of his embrace and set her hands on her hips. “Right away, in fact.”

  She turned to Declan. “Please go find the priest.” Then she addressed the band of Brodie warriors standing in the nave. “Go, all of ye, and spread the word. Nathan and I are to be wed this day, this very moment, in fact.”

  Nathan held out a calming hand. “We can wait. I’m sure ye had a special tunic in mind and a menu and—”

  “And none of that matters.” She met his gaze straight on. “Nathan, before the sun had fully risen, I vowed I would marry ye this very day.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, what say ye? Will ye have me?”

  He seized her, sweeping her off her feet. “Aye, Elora Brodie, with all my heart.”

  WREAKING OF HORSES and sweat and clad in naught but a dirty tunic, Elora stood with Declan in preparation of walking through the chapel nave, which was filled with her kin, to take her place with Nathan at the altar.

  “Hold still,” Declan said, chuckling as he plucked a burr from her tangled, unbound curls. His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “I never imagined walking ye down the aisle like this,” he said, glancing down at his own soiled clothing.

  Laughter bubbled up her throat. “We are a mess, to be sure.”

  The older man shook his head. “Nay, my lady. I meant only me.” Tears flooded his eyes as he grazed his rugged hand down her cheek. “Wearing that bright smile, Ye’ve never looked lovelier.”

  She reached out and clasped the older man’s hands. “Thank ye, Declan.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Thank ye for always believing in me.”

  He smiled warmly. “Even when ye were just a wee lass, ye put everyone else’s happiness first.” He offered her his arm. “’Tis yer turn, my lady.”

  Her bottom lip quivered as she wove her arm through his. “I love ye, Declan.”

  His eyes widened. “I love ye, my lady, but I didn’t mean to make ye cry, too.”

  She laughed through her tears. “My eyes have been dry for far too long. From now on, ye’ll see my tears and hear my laughter, and after that gorgeous man standing down there is officially my husband, ye’re going to see me dance!”

  Declan threw his head back with laughter. “That I must see.” He patted her hand tenderly. “Shall we?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. Her stomach fluttered as they started down the aisle. She locked eyes with Nathan, and when, at last, she faced him, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with all her love, all her passion.

  “Ahem.” Father Paul cleared his throat. Laughter emanated from where the villagers stood.

  Nathan gently tugged his lips free. “I think the kiss is supposed to come after we make our vows.”

  A slow smile curved her lips as she continued to keep her arms around his neck. “We’ve both broken our fair share of rules.”

  His smile shone in his silver eyes. “What’s one more,” he added with a shrug and crushed her against his hard chest, bent her back, and kissed her until her toes curled. The villagers erupted in cheers.

  Their chests heaving, Nathan pulled her upright. Then, together, they faced the priest.

  Father Paul raised a stern brow at them both, but he could not hide the smile that tugged at his lips. “Are ye certain, ye wish to wed this night?”

  “Aye,” both Elora and Nathan answered in unison.

  “We’ll be good, Father. I promise,” Elora said, doing her best to bring a touch of decorum to her stance.

  Her gaze held Nathan’s while the ceremony commenced. It was all she could do not to kiss him again and again as she made her vows. And when Father Paul a
nnounced that they were at last husband and wife, and he bade Nathan kiss the bride, her breath caught.

  Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers. With tender reverence, he kissed her, the touch a feather soft caress. Then, he drew away and rested his forehead on hers. “I can’t believe it.”

  “What?” she whispered.

  “That ye would choose me.”

  She placed his hand on her beating heart. “Do ye feel that?”

  He nodded.

  “Na—than.” She patted his hand in rhythm to her own heart. “Na—than.” And then a smile curved her lips. “My heart beats for ye.”

  Laughing, he scooped her into his arms and spun her around. “Now, can I take ye to my bed?”

  “Ahem.”

  They both turned their heads and looked at the priest. “Sorry, Father,” she said.

  “Sorry, Father,” he repeated and started to carry her back down the aisle.

  “To answer yer question,” she began and shifted her gaze to look at Tempest, “first we dance!”

  THERE WERE NO STRINGS of garland decorating the great hall. The fare on the tables was simple. Still, the great hall of Castle Bròn had never been livelier or so full of joy, graced as it was by the lady of the keep kicking up her heels and circling in a reel with her kin. And when the hour grew late, and everyone had eaten their fill, the villagers bade the happy couple goodnight.

  “Now is the hour when ye can sweep me into yer arms,” Elora said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “And carry ye to my bed,” he said in a husky voice as he scooped her off the ground.

  Their eyes locked. He carried her to his chamber and set her feet down in front of the hearth. Slowly, tenderly, they undressed each other, their gaze’s never parting. Then he swept his arm under her knees and lifted her, cradling her as he crossed the room to his bed and laid her gently down. “Ye’re so beautiful,” he rasped.

  Her heart swelled. She threaded her fingers through his black curls and pressed her lips to his. The tip of his tongue ran playfully along the lines of her mouth like a whispered caress. She parted her lips. His tongue stroked hers. She moaned softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself into him, surrendering to the passion of their kiss. Sensation spread throughout her whole body like a storm unleashed.

  His strong hands raked over her waist and hips with possessive strength. The corded muscles along his back shifted beneath her fingers as she clung to him, stroking his hot skin. His hand curved around her breast, caressing, teasing. She gasped and arched her back into his touch, needing him, wanting him. Then his hand stroked over her stomach and grazed between her legs. Her breath caught. Their eyes locked. His silver gaze burned through her as he parted her legs. Her body ached for his. Breathless, she gripped his shoulders. “I need ye,” she cried.

  “I need ye,” he echoed.

  He stretched over her, his gaze boring into hers, wild and demanding. She opened her legs wider with wanton abandon. Positioning himself between her thighs, he entered her slowly, deliberately. She cried out with hunger, wanting him to fill her. The ache within her demanded the fullness of his hard length. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Fire, red-hot, raged throughout her body. She thrust her hips against him. “Please,” she begged.

  He thrust deep and hard. She cried out, clinging to him. He thrust deeper, harder. Her body ached. Her heart pounded. Her nails carved into his shoulders. Together, they soared, reaching, climbing, needing, until they cried out, raw and wild, and found their release in each other’s arms.

  When her breaths had evened out and her heart ceased to race, she curled into him, resting her head on his strong chest. She played with the crisp black hair over his beating heart.

  “I love ye,” he breathed.

  Rolling onto her stomach. She rested her chin in her hand. “I love ye,” she replied. Her face ached from smiling, but it was the sweetest pain she had ever known. “Ye make me so happy,” she said.

  He bit his bottom lip as his hungry gaze raked over her. “I intend to make ye happy again and again tonight.”

  She squealed and pushed him away playfully, but he seized her waist and pulled her beneath him.

  “Just help me to remember one thing,” he bade her.

  “Anything,” she promised.

  A spark of mischief entered his eye. “We have to dig out that sheet from the chest and spread it over the bed to be found on the morrow.”

  Laughter burst from her lips. “Are ye protecting my reputation?”

  “With my life or my death, I have vowed to protect ye,” he said. Then his face grew serious. He stroked her cheek. “And I always will. Ye’re not alone anymore, Elora.”

  “And neither are ye,” she rasped. “Together, there is nothing we can’t accomplish.”

  “Starting with...” His words trailed off as he began a new trail of kisses down her throat stirring the fiery passion that had always burned deep within her soul.

  A passion only her renegade could ignite.

  Chapter Twenty

  Good Friday and Holy Saturday were marked by Clan Brodie with great solemnity. Nathan found himself more reflective on those final days of the Triduum than he ever had been in the past. His heart was full of gratitude for his beautiful bride, and for the welcome he had received from her kinfolk. Still, the mournful services and quiet darkness of the chapel steered his thoughts away from the joy of the present, leading him back to days of regret. Once again, he found himself plagued by the lingering shadow of a heart-shaped face, black curls, and innocent blue eyes.

  On the eve of Easter, following a day of fasting and reflection, he lay in bed with Elora. Gazing up at the ceiling with one arm at rest over his head, he held her close with his other arm while she rested her head on his chest.

  “Who is Cait?” she asked suddenly.

  He froze. His heart pounded in his ears. “How do ye know about Cait?”

  She bent her neck back to look up at him. “Last night ye said her name in yer sleep.”

  Easing her off his chest, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and rested his head in his hands. Elora came up behind him and gently caressed his shoulders and arms. “Tell me,” she bade him softly.

  He closed his eyes against the pain. “I’ve never spoken of her.”

  She reached out and gently turned his chin so that he met her gaze, and with soft insistence, she whispered, “Tell me.”

  “Cait was my half-sister.” His hands clenched into tight fists. Anger seethed inside his heart, anger at himself. He cleared his throat and blew out a long breath, trying to control the storm of emotion churning within his heart.

  If he was going to tell Elora, he knew he needed to start at the beginning. Keeping his gaze downcast he said, “My mother died giving birth to me.” He lifted his shoulders. “My father blamed me for her death.”

  She gasped. “Did he say as much?”

  Nathan shook his head. “Not with words, but...” His heart raced as he struggled to go on. “Whenever he looked at me, which was a rare occurrence, hatred shone in his eyes.” He took another deep breath before he continued. “As a child I knew his regard for me was different than the love and affection he showed my older brothers.”

  He paused for a moment, allowing his heart to be soothed by her hand gently stroking his back. “Eventually, he remarried. On my tenth birthday, his new wife bore him a daughter.” His chest tightened. “They called her Cait.” The ache in his heart became unbearable. Still, he pushed on. “She was joyful and spirited like Tempest. Everyone adored her, doted on her...even me.” His nostrils flared. “But as I grew older, eventually my resentment toward my father consumed me. His hatred for me had taken root in my heart, and I became someone not deserving of love. I was defiant and reckless.”

  “Ye were a child,” she interjected. “Every child deserves love.”

  “Aye,” he said. “But I didn’t remain a child. When I turned ten and six, I left to make my o
wn fortune as a hired sword. For nearly eight years, I partnered with a man...Brogan MacDonell.” The name came out as a snarl. For a moment, he could not speak as he fought for calm. Closing his eyes, he focused on steadying his racing heart. “Brogan was two years older than me. He was powerful and arrogant, and together, we earned a great fortune. Wanting to prove my worth to my father, I returned home and brought Brogan with me.”

  He hung his head in his hands. “He was a rake and a scoundrel, this much I knew. My brothers and father warned me of his character, but I only took their words as spite against me.” A mirthless laugh fled his lips. “But none of us, not even I, knew how treacherous a man Brogan truly was.”

  Nathan stiffened. His stomach twisted. “Cait fell victim to his charms. In the dead of night, she ran away with him. We tracked them as far as Loch Linnhe where they had taken a ferry bound for the Isle of Islay.” He swallowed hard. “But a storm overturned the boat.” The sting of tears burned his eyes as he remembered. “Everyone on board drowned.”

  “Nay,” Elora gasped.

  “Cait was but ten and four.”

  Tears flooded her eyes as she reached for him, but he gently pushed her away. “Now, ye know.” He sat straight and raked his hand through his hair.

  She drew close and placed her hand on his heart. “Ye look at me, Nathan. Ye’re not to blame for her death. The only one who should bear the weight of blame is Brogan himself, and he is already dead.”

  “Blame has been placed on my head, not only by me, but by my family. When we learned what happened, my father banished me that very day. In his eyes, I killed her.”

  “But ye didn’t!”

  He expelled a long breath. “Ye’re right. I did not kill her. But I did set in motion the events that led to her death.”

  Shaking her head, she opened her mouth as if to refute him, but he held up his hands to stay her words. “I know ye want to take that truth away from me, but ye can’t, nor should ye.” He took a deep breath and straightened. “I’ve been running from it for seven long years now. I must accept my part.” He lifted his shoulders. “I will be a better man, a better husband, and a better laird for it.”