At the Highlander's Mercy

by TERRI BRISBIN

  This was more than clan against clan—this was a personal matter between him and his foster son and one that he must deal with face to face. He gathered his commanders and made plans to go to Keppoch.

  And he would take enough men to finish this once and for all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lilidh glanced at the door for the hundredth time since her return. Nervousness raced in her veins as she waited for Rob’s arrival. How would he confront her about her virginity? Would they be lovers again this night?

  From his words, she knew that decision was up to her.

  And from the way her body felt right now—arousal and excitement pulsing through her, a slow and easy throbbing in all the places he’d touched last night—she wanted him again.

  More than before.

  Her perceptions about what could exist between them had been based on her naïve knowledge and hearing of tales, but now her body understood the call of this intimate experience. And the promise of more.

  Shaking herself free of the ever-increasing longing within her, Lilidh decided to take a look at another document for clues about how things went so badly between her father and Rob’s. After discovering where the servants had moved things to in this much-larger chamber, she settled at the table and began reading some of the older documents—letters between their fathers.

  Thinking back to what had happened, Lilidh tried to piece the events together and compare them to the letters. Nothing explicit in the letters explained the circumstances—Rob’s request for her hand or his shaming disavowal of their love—but those kinds of details would not be for these letters, which could and would be read by others. Many nobles and chiefs and lairds did not read, so their communications were read to them by clerks or others.

  Still, even the gradual increase in hostility in these letters did not feel right to her. Rob said his youthful stupidity was to blame for his actions. If that was true, why did her father refer to other matters between them in sending Rob back to his father? Why did Rob’s father not question it?

  Digging deeper into the box, she discovered a small parchment, folded and undisturbed. Tucked inside another as it was, she almost missed it. Opening it—the seal had already been broken—Lilidh discovered that it was addressed to Rob, not the laird.

  And it was from her mother!

  Why had her mother contacted Rob? From the date, she realised it was not long ago. Just before her betrothal to Iain MacGregor was finalised. Reading on, Lilidh felt her mouth drop open at its content.

  One sentence long—My husband is about to formally accept Iain MacGregor’s suit for Lilidh’s hand in marriage.

  Nothing else but her mother’s signature, written in her own hand, which Lilidh recognised.

  Lilidh leaned back against the chair and considered the significance of this missive. Although no opinion was given, it was clear that her mother was questioning the match. Why else send something like this? And that she let Rob know of it after four years’ separation and an ugly ending was stranger still.

  Her heart sank as she also realised that Rob had known about her coming marriage and done nothing. Her mother had given him an opportunity to address the situation—matured and past his youthful stupidity, as he’d called it—and he had chosen to do nothing about it.

  Laying it aside for now, she continued to look through the other letters there, hoping for some explanation. Certainly these were only one half of the story—her father’s replies and opinions—and she had no way of knowing what Laird Matheson had written or written back …

  After reading several of them, all she knew was that something more had happened between Rob and her father to cause this breach. His father clearly stood behind him, illegitimate or not, but he viewed this as a personal matter and not one to bring their clan loyalties into play.

  So, how and why had it led to the clans breaking their alliance?

  The footsteps coming down the corridor and the sound of his deep voice speaking to the guards ended all thought about letters and contracts, though she was able to slip the letter from her mother into her gown before losing the ability to think completely. For each second that passed before the latch lifted, her body readied for him. If she thought what had happened between them would be once for memory’s sake, she knew now she was wrong.

  She wanted him for as long as she could have him.

  Even as his prisoner.

  Even with no promises past this time together.

  No matter the outcome—she wanted him.

  Lilidh stood as Rob pushed open the door; the hairs on the back of her neck tingled as did her breasts as she watched him enter. Her breath caught as their eyes met and he smiled at her.

  ‘Good evening, Lilidh,’ he said, as he closed the door behind him. ‘How do you fare?’

  ‘You sent someone to look for Isla that day?’ He took a step closer and her breath stopped.

  ‘Aye. I hoped Symon had not …’ He paused then and gave her a strange look. ‘Are you well?’ Another step closer and her body ached.

  ‘Well?’ Her thoughts scattered as her mind filled with memories of his mouth, his hands, his …

  ‘I did not know last night. I did not have a care for … your innocence.’ He stood only one more pace away from her now.

  Then his words sank through the haze of arousal and she understood what he was asking her.

  ‘I am well,’ she said. ‘Very well.’

  He crossed that last step and took her in his arms. His mouth possessed hers as she’d hoped he would and she lost herself in the sensations of being held by him, surrounded by his strength, his heat, his desire. Only the crinkling sound of the letter tucked inside her gown as they embraced broke into the anticipation. Rob released her as he heard it, too.

  ‘What is that?’ he asked, watching as she withdrew it from her gown. ‘You found something?’

  She wished she’d never seen it. In spite of her body’s immediate reaction to him, she wished she could have remained blissfully ignorant of her mother’s attempt and Rob’s lack of action. Lilidh held it out to him and he took it.

  Rob unfolded the parchment and was surprised to find his name at the beginning of it. Short—only one sentence—it took him no time to read it. The signature surprised him even more.

  ‘What is this?’ he asked, disappointed that she’d backed away from him as he’d read it. ‘Where did you find it?’ He’d never seen it before, yet it seemed to have been written months ago.

  ‘In the box,’ she said, pointing at it. ‘It was wrapped in another letter.’

  ‘I have never seen this before, Lilidh,’ he explained, handing it back to her. ‘I give you my word.’

  He could see her trying to decide if she should believe him or not. Again, noises in the corridor, whether the guards were leaving or others arriving, he knew not. Either one was unacceptable since the walls were not a barrier to words spoken.

  ‘Will you walk with me?’ he asked her.

  They could speak freely on the battlements. He could read nothing on her face, but at her nod, he found her cloak and put it around her. Lifting the latch and nodding at the guards, he escorted her up the stairs, moving slowly and allowing her time to climb at her own pace. In what seemed now to be their custom, they silently walked the perimeter before stopping before the ruined tower.

  But now, when there were so many matters to discuss, he waited on her.

  ‘Had my mother written to you before?’ she asked, her gaze intent on his face as she waited for his answer. He gave her the truth.

  ‘Never. And I never received that letter.’

  ‘It was in your father’s documents, in a small package filled with other personal letters from my father.’

  He shook his head. He’d never seen it until she just handed it to him. So, his father kept it from him. Did he think Rob would do something to interfere with the marriage? The letter was dated months—nigh to a year—ago, but just as things began to fall apart between the Ma
thesons and the MacLeries. A precipitous time for both the clan and for his father.

  ‘Why would your mother send something like that? And send it to me?’

  ‘I know not,’ she said with a shrug. ‘We never spoke of you after—after you left. Oh, once when the idea of a match to Iain was raised, she asked if things were truly irreconcilable between us.’

  ‘Did she oppose the match?’ he asked, walking around her. He did not like her exposed to the winds or possible dangers here on the battlements now.

  ‘No. She spoke in favour of it after meeting Iain. He was older, but was a kind man to me.’

  Hearing her speak of her husband, dead or not, twisted his gut. It mattered not that the man had not claimed her—he’d married her, something Rob had not done and could not do. ‘So, my father kept this from me?’

  ‘If you never received it, then I think that’s the only plausible explanation.’

  She smiled then and he felt a great weight lifted off him in that moment. Though the existence of this letter troubled him for other reasons, she could not give him the answers he needed about it.

  Lilidh began to walk then, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back, into his arms. They had something else to discuss before returning to his chambers. Something that would tell him about what she was thinking when it came to what had already happened between them and if anything further would.

  But first he pushed the hood of the cloak back and tangled his hands in her glorious hair. Easing her towards him, he tilted down and touched his mouth to hers. She sighed at the contact and he breathed it in. Her lips opened to him and he sought to possess her mouth. She was ravenous in returning the kisses, giving as good as she got, until they broke away, breathless and panting.

  ‘Why did you not tell me the truth?’ he asked, kissing his way down her chin to her neck. ‘How? How were you still untouched?’ Rob paused and met her gaze. Pain lay there. Embarrassment. Humiliation. Shame. Then she turned her gaze away.

  ‘Iain did not wish to,’ Lilidh began to explain, but her voice shook and her lips trembled. ‘I displeased him.’

  ‘Did he tell you that?’ he asked, lifting her chin so he could see her eyes. ‘What did he say?’

  She pulled free of him then, turning around, taking a step away and then facing him, as though arguing this through in her head and changing her mind with every thought. He grabbed her shoulders to stop her. ‘Just tell me what he said to you.’ ‘He said nothing. Not a word. He just never touched me. He would come to our bed and sleep and leave in the morning. No matter if I was willing, if I offered …’ She gasped, then looked horrified at what she’d admitted to him. Then she said something that made his blood boil and the urge to kill rise in his veins. ‘My father said I should not expect him to … because of my … injury.’

  ‘Lilidh, listen to me,’ he said softly, easing his grip on her, but drawing her closer. ‘I was a fool to say such things to you. Iain was a fool. Your—’

  He stopped himself before revealing exactly what role her father had played in these matters. Clearly, Connor had overstepped, but Lilidh adored him and would be further devastated to discover his role in these private and humiliating débâcles. Rob would not be the one to ruin that for her after he’d ruined her life already.

  If there was one thing he could do for her before sending her back to her family, it would be to let her know that she was not unwanted or unlovable. Her injury was no worse and better even than many battle injuries he’d seen. The healer never said it would change her life in any way, except for the pain that she would have to endure. So, why did her father use it against her as much as he had?

  She shivered under his hands and Rob knew he should return her to the warmth before the good of walking was undone.

  ‘Come,’ he said, turning her around towards the doorway. ‘Let us—’

  It happened so fast, he had no time to react or resist.

  Lilidh screamed, pushing him away and twisting her body. He felt the piercing, burning pain, but not the weapon or the enemy. Had Lilidh struck him? The force of it threw him against the wall of the tower and his head hit the stones.

  Everything began to swirl around him, the dark, the light, Lilidh, screams, yelling until he could do nothing but follow the darkness down.

  The last thing he did was to grab hold of her cloak.

  ‘She is mine,’ he called out.

  Then … darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lilidh saw it only at the last moment. Too late to keep him from harm. She’d pushed Rob as the bolt whooshed towards them, but not hard or far enough. But the impact took him the rest of the way down and his head hit the wall.

  She screamed for the guards, screamed out his name and then tried to get to him from where she’d fallen. Of all the times for her leg to fail her! Then he grabbed her cloak with his bloody hand. His men reached them then, pulling her to her feet and trying to drag her away from him.

  ‘She is mine,’ Rob rasped out. Then, horribly, he lost consciousness and his hold on her.

  Tomas took charge then, calling out orders to this one and that, and soon she found herself carried over someone’s shoulder down to Rob’s chambers. Rob was half-carried, half-dragged in and placed on the smaller bed that was more easily approached. When she went to try to see to his wound, wherever it was, another guard pulled her away with an order to remain sitting.

  With another bulky man standing between her and Rob, she could see nothing. Several servants arrived, including Beathas, to whom she called out. Everyone ignored her except the guard Ranald, who blocked her from rising from the chair. Tugging her cloak off, she waited for some sign that he was not dead.

  Who had done this? Were they aiming at Rob or at her? Who would have known they would be up on the battlements, or had this been a random attack, one foreshadowing her father’s arrival? She thought on the path of the bolt and where they would have been if she’d not reacted at the last moment. Who was their target?

  ‘It came from the north forest, Tomas.’ She said it loudly enough to be heard over the cacophony of voices and orders echoing in the chamber. ‘Search the north.’

  Then, a terrible thing happened—the door opened and a tearful, sobbing Lady Tyra came running in, with several maids following. Sparing a fleeting glance in her direction, Tyra ran to Rob’s side—and no one stopped her. She was his betrothed, after all, with more standing here than Lilidh had. And, as the future lady here, respect paid to her now would be a well-spent thing.

  ‘Rob! Rob! Speak to me,’ she cried out, falling to her knees at his side. ‘Beathas, where was he struck?’

  Clearly she’d been abed when the news arrived to her, for she wore only a shift with a bed robe over it. Her hair flowed around her like a fiery curtain as she moved, the flames in the hearth reflecting off the red and gold hues in her hair.

  Before Beathas or anyone could answer her, a loud curse rent the chamber. ‘Dear God, get off me!’

  Lilidh pushed up from the seat, only to be held there. Rob was alive! From the complaining and cursing, he was more angry than hurt at this point. She peeked around Ranald’s girth and saw him climbing up from the bed. He said something more quietly to Tyra, who left the chamber more quietly than she’d entered.

  No matter how much she’d like to ascribe good intentions to the lady’s actions—as Rob’s betrothed she should—something about Tyra made Lilidh suspicious. Though her brother Symon was odious and dangerous, Tyra reminded Lilidh of a serpent, hiding in the tall grass, waiting to strike. Chills tore through her as the lady walked past her to leave the chamber. The dead blue eyes that stared at her in that moment frightened her more than Symon had or could.

  Ranald moved aside—Rob’s command to do so was shouted loudly enough for her to hear—and then she could finally see him. Other than the blood on his hand—well, and the bolt still sticking out of his side—he seemed more angry than hurt.

  ‘Rob,’ she said, ‘you are h
urt.’ Beathas reached for him, but he waved her off.

  ‘I should be dead,’ he replied and everyone in the chamber went silent. ‘If you had not pushed me, I would be dead.’

  She could not respond then, so many emotions racing through her mind and heart. He would have died. Tears burned her eyes and throat then, but she refused to let them fall. Whatever was between them was not for others to see.

  ‘I but tripped,’ she said, trying to sound calm and uncaring.

  He stared at her as he allowed Tomas and Beathas to remove his leather jacket and shirt to find the head of the bolt. She dared not look away, even when Beathas grabbed it and pulled it free of his flesh. She may have gasped. She may have startled. She did not look away.

  Tomas left Rob and came to her side then, forcing her attentions to him. ‘Lady, you saw it come from the north?’ he asked, crouching down to speak to her quietly.

  ‘Aye, Tomas. When I glanced up, I saw it against the moon in that last second. From the north.’

  ‘Look at this, Ranald. Tomas,’ Rob said. ‘The markings on this.’ Rob held the bloodied bolt out to them. ‘I have seen this man’s work before.’

  She waited to learn more, but he sent the men off with whispered orders as he allowed Beathas to bandage the wound. Then he dismissed the healer and the last of the servants and Lilidh knew he would leave, too.

  ‘Perhaps they were aiming for me?’ she said, trying to lighten the horrible tension within her. He could have died—should have, if the shooter’s aim had been better or if she had not intervened.

  ‘I doubt it, Lilidh,’ he said, walking to her as he pulled a new shirt on and tied the laces. Grabbing his jacket, he faced her. ‘The man who made that bolt is from Lairig Dubh.’

  She lost her footing and fell to the chair, shaking her head as she landed. ‘That is not possible, Rob. They would not—’

  ‘Not what, Lilidh? Try to kill me and head off any meaningful resistance on their arrival? Send some watchers with orders to take a shot if they got the opportunity? Tell me, since you know your father’s methods so well, would he not order such a thing?’