Victoria Roberts - [Bad Boys of the Highlands 03]

by To Wed a Wicked Highlander

  “I still donna understand. Why are ye wearing the MacLeod tartan?”

  “Your father is a verra cunning man. Your husband would ne’er suspect the MacKenzie now that he has wed ye. The daft fool even sent a score of his men to Lewis to keep the MacLeod under control. The MacLeod tartan colors suit our purpose, solving two problems with one solution, so to speak.”

  Sybella seethed with mounting rage—mainly at herself for being such a fool. And with the MacKenzie man’s declaration, she found herself clenching her teeth. She knew that when she was crossed, her temper could be almost uncontrollable. God help her. Her chest was going to burst. The MacKenzies may want the stone, but they also had another goal: to destroy Alex. They wanted him to purposefully destroy the MacLeod. Her marriage was a mockery, only a pretense to do her father’s bidding. And having the truth confirmed before her very eyes…This was not what Sybella had agreed to.

  She felt as if her breath was cut off. Her own father. Colin was right. The man would do anything to get back this stone. Had she been blind all of these years? She’d believed her father was a true and just man. She shuddered when she thought of what her poor mother might have thought of this situation. The woman would be so ashamed. For the first time in her life, Sybella was thankful for her mother’s passing because this whole scheme would surely have broken her heart.

  Although Sybella did not currently hold Alex in a favorable light, she could not stay the feelings that he stirred within her. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, her husband was right. He didn’t trust the MacKenzies, and in truth, her clan was no better than the bloody Campbell that Alex had talked about.

  She was furious and her nostrils flared with anger. But she had come here with an intention, and she would get all of the answers she sought. A pulsing knot within her demanded more.

  “Ye said that ye shot at me in the woods so that the MacDonell would keep me within the walls of the castle. He did. I donna understand why ye would take another shot at me upon the parapet.”

  “Your father was making it easier for ye to find the stone. And I didnae say I was aiming for ye upon the parapet, my lady.”

  Fourteen

  Before Alex broke his fast, he sought the captain of his guard in the bailey. The words John spoke were not exactly what Alex had expected to hear first thing in the morn. When his eyes widened, John confirmed what Alex already knew.

  “He is dead,” repeated John. He leaned back casually against the wall. “Ian found him this morn.”

  “Did he say anything about the MacLeod or anything at all?”

  “Nay.”

  “’Tis of little consequence. Break your fast and then gather some men. We travel to Kintail. When I tell the MacKenzie of the threat upon his daughter, I will use our alliance as a means to take the MacLeod’s head. The MacLeods of Lewis will nay longer be a problem to the MacDonells or the MacKenzies. And King James will be pleased that there will nay longer be constant turmoil on Lewis.”

  John turned and walked away as MacGregor approached Alex. “Any word?”

  Alex shook his head. “The man is dead.”

  “Verra unfortunate.”

  “I didnae need for the archer to speak to know his orders were given by the MacLeod. Even though the MacLeod wars with the MacKenzies and I donna agree with the way the MacKenzies killed innocents, the MacLeod made a grave error in judgment by aiming to kill my wife. Sybella is a MacDonell, and I protect my own. We ride to Kintail to speak with the MacKenzie. One way or another, I will have the MacLeod’s head.”

  “I will ride along with ye. I donna necessarily want to leave Rosalia and Lachlann to travel to Lewis, but I will support ye in any way I can,” said MacGregor.

  “Ye have my thanks. Let’s break our fast and then I’d like to leave with much haste.”

  Sybella was already seated at the table when Alex walked into the great hall. He took his seat beside her and noticed that she played with her food. She sat with a worried expression on her face, and he sensed that she was disquieted from last eve.

  “How do ye fare this morn?”

  “I am a wee bit sore but nae nearly as bad as yester eve.” She kept her eyes down on her trencher.

  “MacGregor and I travel to Kintail after we break our fast. My cousin will be able to assist ye if ye need anything.”

  Her eyes widened and her expression darkened with an unreadable expression. “Kintail? Why?”

  “There are matters I need to discuss with your father.” He took a drink from his tankard and could feel Sybella’s stare drilling into him. When he turned his head, she continued to keep him under silent scrutiny.

  She leaned in toward him and lowered her voice. “Ye cannae travel to Kintail.”

  “What do ye mean, I cannae travel to Kintail? Why? Will ye miss me, Ella? I know it has been a while since I joined ye in your bed.” He scanned her critically and beamed approval.

  Biting her lip, she looked away. “Please, Alex. I donna…feel safe with that man in the dungeon. Ye leave me alone and unprotected.”

  “Ye nay longer need to worry about him, lass.”

  A shadow of alarm touched her face. “What do ye mean?”

  “He’s dead.” She flinched and seemed to have trouble looking at him. “Listen to me. There is naught more to fear. I will try to return this eve, but I must ride to Kintail and speak with your father about the MacLeod.”

  She paled.

  ***

  Alex continued to speak, but Sybella only half listened as she struggled with her conscience. She stirred uneasily in the chair, and the nagging feeling in the back of her mind refused to be stilled. She would have to guard her own actions as well as his. One wrong move and her father might make another attempt on her husband’s life. She had no choice. There was no time to falter. She needed to decide quickly where her loyalties lay.

  As she sat at the table, her nervousness slipped back to grip her. She tried desperately to force her emotions in order. No matter what her husband’s feelings or her own were toward the MacKenzies at the moment, she and Alex were as one—husband and wife. She only knew one thing for certain: she was determined to make her mother proud. And deep down Sybella couldn’t live with herself if she knew her mother wouldn’t approve of her actions.

  Nervously, Sybella moistened her dry lips. “Alex, when ye see Colin, would ye be so kind as to deliver a message for me?”

  “Of course.” He placed his elbow on the table and leaned in close. “And what message might that be?”

  Uncertainty made her voice harsh and demanding. “Could ye tell my brother that I will do as he asks?” She paused. “He asked me to make something for Anabel.”

  “Aye. Is everything all right? Ye seem…troubled.”

  “Nay worries, Husband.” Giving him a slow, secret smile, she understood exactly what she had to do.

  Sybella, Rosalia, and Aunt Iseabail walked the men to the bailey. Sybella watched in awe as Ciaran lifted his hand and caressed his wife’s cheek. He lowered his head and his lips pressed against Rosalia’s, tender and passionate. It was somewhat hard to believe that this was the same man who supposedly killed the Campbell laird. She mentally corrected herself: the bloody Campbell.

  Ciaran pulled away and tucked a piece of hair behind Rosalia’s ear. “Tha gaol agam ort.” I love you. He ruffled Lachlann’s hair. “I will return with much haste. And ye, my little lad, will see to your mother.” When he stepped away, he winked broadly at Rosalia.

  “Ella.”

  Sybella’s private musings were quickly interrupted. She surprised herself when she turned and embraced Alex without any hesitation. “Please be careful, Husband. And donna forget to tell Colin what I told ye.”

  Alex’s strong arms continued to hold her, and she briefly closed her eyes. She was hesitant to admit it, but his touch felt wonderful. Sybella breathed in his spi
cy scent and sighed. She couldn’t understand how she could feel comforted by the very man her kin wanted to destroy. This was the same man who had been a sworn enemy of the MacKenzies for so long. And from what she had seen, there was no justification whatsoever for that stance. Alex portrayed nothing but kindness and compassion, whereas her own kin…She was disgusted at the thought.

  Her family had woven so many words into their verbal web that Sybella wasn’t sure what was right or wrong anymore. She could only trust the one person she had always depended upon—herself.

  Sybella pulled away, and for a long moment, she simply looked back at her husband. She suddenly felt like the breathless girl at the waterfall. Her eyes portrayed what she already knew she felt in her heart. Praise the saints. She was falling in love with him. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but the admission was dredged from a place beyond logic and reason. And the worst part was that she gave the man no reason to trust her. His own wife.

  She had to try to make amends.

  Alex wrapped his arms around Sybella’s waist. “I should return by this eve. I will try to make haste.” His voice lowered and his mouth curved into an unconscious smile. “And I will deliver your message to your brother.” He paused longer than necessary, and she wasn’t sure if he wanted her to say something. He looked around uncomfortably, and then his eyes met hers. “I will miss ye, Ella.”

  Before she could respond, she watched his broad back turn and he swung up onto his mount.

  “Aunt Iseabail, I leave it to ye to make sure my cousin and my wife donna get into mischief.”

  Aunt Iseabail waved Alex off. “Those two are the least of your worries. Ye should be worried about what trouble I get them into, Nephew.”

  He again met Sybella’s gaze, and a deep, unaccustomed pain formed in her breast. “Dia leat,” she said under her breath. God be with you.

  She had to find that bloody stone.

  Sybella quickly made her excuses to Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail. She opened the door to Alex’s chamber, thinking her husband’s room might be a good place to start. When a pang of guilt washed over her, she immediately pushed the feeling aside. In order to have a future, she reminded herself that she needed to correct the past.

  She walked over to the stone fireplace and lifted the portrait of Alexander’s father. A chill shot down her spine when she touched the painting. If a bolt of lightning had struck her where she stood, she wouldn’t have been surprised. She rubbed her fingers along the rough stone wall where everything felt solid, secure. Nothing shook in its place.

  She approached the giant bed with its tall corner posts and ran her fingers over the blankets. Every time she had been close with Alex had been in her own bed, and she wondered what it would be like to sleep—or not sleep—in his. He was a powerful laird. She couldn’t help but remember him as he touched her, satisfied her. She hungered from the memory of his mouth on hers. In spite of the task at hand, thoughts of him intruded.

  She shook her head, hurtled back to earth as reality struck.

  “Find the stone, Sybella,” she said out loud. She lowered herself to the floor and felt for an indentation or anything that moved under the bed. “Find the stone and put an end to this madness once and for all.”

  She stood and brushed off her skirts. “Of course this couldnae be an easy task,” she said, tapping her finger to her lip. “Where would ye keep something like that, Husband?”

  Sybella looked around the room but nothing stood out at her. She moved the table by the bed and even looked underneath. She opened Alex’s trunk and searched through his clothing. Absolutely nothing. If he wouldn’t keep the stone in his chamber, where would he keep it?

  She remembered Colin’s words.

  The library.

  Placing her ear to the bedchamber door, she first listened for anyone who might be in the hall. She stepped out and closed the door. With hastened steps, Sybella made her way to the library. Colin was probably right. A hollowed-out book was a great place to hide the stone.

  She made it to the library undetected and quickly closed the door. The last thing she wanted to be was disturbed. She approached the first shelf and picked up a book, fingering through the pages. It was just a book. She pulled out the next one and unfortunately had the same result. By the time Sybella had searched through some of the larger tomes, she realized she should have given up some time ago. The stone was obviously not in the library.

  Something clicked in her mind.

  Surely Alex wouldn’t hide the stone in the dungeon. The last place she wanted to be was there. She kept that revelation stored in the back of her mind. If she had no choice, she would be forced to check there—as a last resort, with all options exhausted. She cringed at the idea of returning to that unsavory pit of hell.

  Sybella rubbed her brow. There was a lot of space to cover in this castle, and worse yet, she searched by herself. What if she couldn’t find the stone? She refused to think about that and hastily made her way to Alex’s study, his private domain.

  With its masculine touches, the room reminded her of him. The MacDonell crest hung on the wall behind a large wooden desk, and a shield with matching swords hung on the opposite wall. When she spotted another shelf lined with books, she held hope that maybe her luck hadn’t run out yet.

  She picked up the first book and flipped through the pages. She was so frustrated that she wanted to scream. All of the books were simply that. Books. She ran her fingers behind the MacDonell crest and didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. At this rate, her search was going to take forever. She walked to the opposite wall and ran her hand behind the shield and swords, hastily pulling back her finger when a sharp blade cut her.

  Damn! Sybella sat down in the chair behind the desk and looked for something to wrap her finger. Why were the smallest cuts always the worst? She placed her finger to her lips and rifled through Alex’s desk. What was this? She pulled out a flask and sniffed the contents. Her suspicion was correct. She briefly wondered if this was the infamous MacGregor ale that her husband had spoken about. There was only one way to find out.

  She brought the liquid to her lips and let the fiery concoction burn its way down her throat. Plagued with a coughing fit, she replaced the ale in the drawer. Let the men have their drink. Her stomach could barely tolerate it. She pressed both hands over her eyes as if they stung with weariness. Praise the saints. What if she had overlooked something where she’d already searched? Her task was quickly turning into a nightmare.

  Leaving Alexander’s study the way she had found it, Sybella walked out into the hall. Time was most definitely not on her side. It was almost time to sup, which meant Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail would be in the great hall. Sybella suddenly found the perfect opportunity to act like a thief in the night.

  Sybella reached Rosalia’s room and knocked on the door. When no one answered, she ducked inside. Seeing Lachlann’s little tunics made Sybella cringe. What kind of person had she become to resort to this? She was not this type of woman, and guilt slowly crept back to plague her.

  If she didn’t find the stone, Alexander would not be safe. Once she delivered the stone to her father, the man would have no choice but to call off his minions. She still found it hard to fathom that her sire had tried to kill her husband because she had yet to deliver the stone. With a steely resolve, she realized there was no question. She had to do this. Failure was not an option.

  Following the same ritual as in Alex’s chamber, Sybella searched under the bed, checking for anything that moved or was out of place. She moved the table, checked behind the tapestry, examined the stone fireplace. Not a damn thing. With frustration mounting, Sybella opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

  She jumped.

  “What are ye doing in my chambers, Lady MacDonell?”

  ***

  “It seems nae long ago when I rode by your side to free my cousi
n,” said Alex.

  MacGregor rode up beside him. “I was thinking the same. Why do ye think these cowardly men target our women, MacDonell? The bastards have nay honor and donna fight like men. They hide behind the skirts of a lass and use our women as pawns.”

  “Things arenae as they once were. I wonder if His Majesty will eventually send his men into the Highlands. The MacKenzie seems to think that if the MacLeods arenae brought to heel, the king’s guard will travel to Lewis. I donna understand how there can be peace when clans such as the MacLeods of Lewis and the bloody Campbells are about.”

  “We are Highlanders. We administer justice the way we see fit. That is the way of it. And the MacLeod will be judged verra soon. The king cannae see fault with that.”

  “I hope ye’re right. I grow tired of men who would do anything only for the purpose of political gain.”

  MacGregor chuckled. “I donna think that will ever change. ’Tis verra much the way of it.”

  As Alex rode to Kintail, his mind kept turning to Sybella. The woman was everything he’d desired in a wife, except the MacKenzie part, of course. She was kind, especially to Aunt Iseabail. And the lass was definitely not afraid to put him in his place. He found her honesty refreshing. Even when the MacLeod’s man had tried to harm her again, the woman hadn’t cowered in the corner in tears.

  He was also particularly thankful that Sybella no longer counted sheep beneath him. In truth, he’d rather enjoyed their last couple of encounters. Who would’ve thought? He knew he had started to favor the lass, and perhaps his bonny wife was actually softening toward him as well.

  John reined in his mount beside Alex. “The last time we dealt with the MacKenzie, ye shackled yourself with a wife. I cannae help but wonder what ye will bring home with ye this time, my laird.”

  Alex glowered at his friend. “I like ye better when ye donna speak. I think ye forget your place. Mayhap I need to remind ye.”

  John laughed. “Aye, I would love to see ye join us in our swordplay. Howbeit it seems ye have been practicing your swordplay more with your bonny wife than your own men.”