Treasures of Skye (Women of Honor Book 2)

by April Holthaus

  When Kaden carried Helena into Gregor’s Inn, a young maid he didn’t recognize cried out when she saw them. An older woman came running—the cook, Mrs. Hays.

  She stopped short and her eyes widened. “Kaden, heaven help us.”

  “Aye, Maggie,” he said. “I need a room.”

  “What’s happened?” Maggie demanded.

  “She’s hurt her ankle.” He nodded down at Helena, who blushed.

  “Two years you have been gone, then ye show up with a wounded woman.” Maggie tsked, but he saw the pleasure in her eyes, and was relaxed a fraction. “Come along. I have a room on the second floor.”

  She turned and he followed her down the hallway and up two flights of stairs. She took a key from her front pocket and opened the door to a modest room with a small bed to the left and a table near the fire.

  “Set the lass on the bed and start a fire, Kaden,” Maggie said.

  Kaden complied, then began building a fire.

  Maggie pulled blankets from the chest at the bottom of the bed. “Child, ye are shivering.”

  Kaden glanced over his shoulder. Maggie was unfastening Helena’s cloak. He returned his attention to the hearth, and by the time he had a fire roaring in the hearth, two lads arrived with a tub. Kaden rose and went to the table as they placed the tub in front of the fire.

  “Ye are too kind, Mrs. Hays,” Helena said.

  The older woman tsked. “We cannae have ye catching a chill.”

  Maggie bustled out of the room as more lads appeared with buckets of steaming water.

  Kaden crossed to where Helena sat and knelt on one knee. He looked up at her. “Your left ankle?”

  Her cheeks pinked. She nodded. He grasped her left foot and unlaced the boot. Gently, he slid the boot from her foot and was relieved to find only mild swelling around the ankle. A hot bath and a good night’s rest would go a long way toward healing.

  Maggie returned, a cloth and dish of soap in hand. “Go on now, Kaden. I will help the lass into the tub.”

  Kaden grasped Helena’s other foot and removed the boot, then rose. “Are ye sure you dinnae need my help, lass?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened. “Nae.”

  He laughed.

  Mrs. Hays pushed him back a pace. “No more trouble from you, now go on.”

  He smiled at Helena, who suddenly looked uncertain. “I will be downstairs in the tavern, lass.”

  She nodded, and Kaden went downstairs to the tavern. Half a dozen men sat at various tables. He chose a table in the corner farthest from the hearth and, a moment later, a large man emerged from a door behind the counter. His gaze scanned the room and halted on Kayden. He turned, pulled two mugs from a shelf, picked up a pitcher off the counter and strode to where Kaden sat.

  He set the mugs and pitcher on the table, sat in the chair opposite Kayden, and filled both mugs with ale. He pushed one mug toward Kayden, picked up his mug, then leaned back in the chair and waited.

  Kaden drank half the ale, then set his mug back on the table, and said, “It is good to see you, Gregor.”

  “That is all you have to say after two years?” Gregor said.

  “What would you have me say?”

  “I would have you say where you have been and why you left without so much as a word to anyone.”

  Kaden released a sigh. “You know why I left.”

  “No one holds you responsible for your brother’s traitorous acts,” Gregor said.

  Kaden gave him a cool smile. “Ye know it isnae that simple.”

  “He was your brother, man. It was only right that ye believed he was innocent.”

  Did it matter that Kaden confided in the woman he loved that Liam had stolen the Faery Flag and she told his father, who then hung his own son on the word of a maid? Not a single person had ever dared mention that tidbit.

  “Your father is to blame for hanging Liam,” Gregor said.

  Kaden gave a slow nod. “He played his part.”

  “No one blames you for confiding in Rhona.” Anger flashed across his face. “She had no business telling your father what you told her.”

  “I blame me.” Kaden held up a hand when Gregor opened his mouth to reply. “The past is the past. Caeleb is laird now.”

  Gregor took a long draught of ale and set his mug down. “Are you aware that we lost over a hundred men to the Donald’s four months ago?”

  Anger whipped through Kaden. “Dòmhnall has gone mad. Why has Caeleb not retaliated? Has he no stomach for blood?”

  Gregory leaned forward and whispered, “What Caeleb has is a spy in Malcolm Donald’s camp.”

  “A spy?” In the Donald camp? Had he heard correctly? “Who?”

  “His wife.”

  Kaden straightened. “What?” He’d been gone two years and the world had gone to hell. “You’re talking nonsense, Gregory.”

  Gregor snorted a laugh. “Ye dinnae know the half of it. Malcom Donald sent her to spy on Caeleb, but she betrayed Malcolm for Caeleb.”

  Kaden was certain he’d heard wrong. “God’s teeth. Caeleb has betrayed us.”

  “Careful,” Gregor said in a soft voice. “You, of all people, understand the dangers of making hasty accusations.”

  “She’s a Donald’s spy,” he snapped.

  A man two tables down glanced in their direction.

  Kaden leaned toward Gregor. “Ye need to have a talk with your cousin. Find out what madness is in his mind.”

  “He’s your cousin, as well,” Gregor said. “You talk to him.”

  “He’s your cousin by blood,” Kaden growled. “My cousin married his mother’s cousin.”

  “He’s sane,” Gregory said.

  “A traitor cannae be trusted.”

  “Caeleb feels he can trust her.”

  Kaden fisted a hand. “Caeleb is thinking with his cock.”

  Gregory gave a slow nod. “His heart may be involved, but Caeleb is no fool. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “I thought the same thing about my brother,” Kaden whispered.

  Gregor only stared.

  Kaden finished his ale. “Caeleb had better be right.”

  Gregor lifted a brow. “Did you return to challenge his decisions as laird?”

  Nae. He’d come to stop a foolish girl from herself.

  * * *

  Helena stepped into the tub and gripped the edges as she lowered herself into the heavenly warmth of the water. The chill burrowed deeper in her core as the warmth slowly worked its way deeper. Mrs. Hayes set the dish of soap and cloth on the nearby table and Helena waited until the older woman had scrubbed her hair then directed her to rinse it before saying, “I hope it wasnae terribly difficult for ye to allow Kaden to return here after so long.”

  As expected, Mrs. Hayes looked at her in surprise. It was a gamble, but Helena felt certain it wasn't a huge gamble. The surprise on Mrs. Hayes face when she'd seen Kaden had been obvious. Her pleasure at seeing him was also obvious. Helena suspected that he'd been gone for some time, after leaving under unfavorable circumstances. That probably explained why he was living alone in a small croft. She would be much wiser to leave well enough alone; but she wasn't known for her wisdom. She was, however, known for engendering trust.

  “I know it was a risk for him to come here,” Helena said. “But I appreciate that you took us in.”

  Would the older woman tell her something that would illuminate the situation, or would she tell Helena to mind her own business?

  “Kaden is welcome here anytime.” Mrs. Hayes handed her the soap.

  Helena flashed a grateful smile. “I thank you.”

  Mrs. Hayes eyes sharpened, then her expression gentled. “Ye care for him.”

  Helena dropped her gaze, as much out of genuine embarrassment as hoping to elicit sympathy, and began scrubbing her arms. “He is a good man.” It wasn't a lie.

  “I am pleased he has found a good woman. You are a good woman?”

  Helena looked at her shyly. “I am an honest woman
.” This was a complete lie. But in this case, she wanted nothing more than to understand the man who had saved her twice in the last three days.

  “How long have you known him?” Mrs. Hayes asked.

  Helena prayed Mrs. Hayes didn't ask Kaden the same question. “Only two weeks. He saved my life.”

  Mrs. Hayes frowned, then pulled up a chair and sat down as Helena told her how she had fallen through the ice and he'd saved her. “He has allowed me to stay with him—but he has been a gentleman.”

  The older woman gave a succinct nod. “Kaden is a good man. Where are ye from, lass?”

  “My mother was a MacKinnon, but I have distant cousins that are MacLeods. I was on my way to visit them.” She feigned a sad expression. “My mother died two months ago.”

  “What of your father?”

  Helena shook her head. “He died when I was very young.”

  Mrs. Hayes sighed. “I am sorry.”

  Helena nodded and washed her feet very slowly. “Thank ye. Do you think Kaden might return home?” Another, much bigger gamble.

  Mrs. Hayes sighed. “He should. Even Caeleb would be glad to see him. I do no’ believe he desires to take his place is laird. But it matters not. He belongs here with us.”

  Laird? Her heart began to pound. Helena studiously washed her other foot. Heaven help her. She’d fallen in with the MacLeod laird.

  * * *

  Kaden climbed the stairs back to the room to find Helena buried beneath blankets, fast asleep in bed. His gaze caught on a tiny splash of MacLeod plaid against the black of her cloak, which lay across the foot of the bed. Kaden crept to the bed and picked up the cloak. He reached inside the pocket and pulled out a folded piece of plaid. He didn’t have to unwrap the plaid. He recognized the cloth that was wrapped around the Faery Flag given to the MacLeod clan by the Fae Queen.

  Blessed by the Faery Queen Titania, its magic was purported to stop wars, protect from evil, and even stop death. But its power could only be used by a MacLeod. He gave a silent, mirthless laugh. If the flag had ever been used, it was long ago, when men were honorable.

  Helena sighed and he yanked his gaze onto her. She turned over and went silent again. He slipped the flag back into the pocket and draped the cloak over the back of a chair at the table. If Caeleb MacLeod discovered who took the flag, they would be hanged. Just as Kaden’s brother had been.

  Chapter Eight

  Helena jolted awake by the screech of a black grouse. It took her an instant to realize the bird was outside the window of the inn’s bedchambers. Sitting up, she rubbed her tired eyes. Morning sun streamed into through the window.

  She frowned. Where was her cloak? Hadn’t she left it at the foot of the bed? She tossed off the covers and leapt to her feet. God help her, where was the cloak?

  “Are ye looking for this?”

  Helena spun. Kaden sat, back against the wall near the far corner, her cloak in hand.

  The hope that he hadn’t found the Faery Flag was dispelled by the raise of his brow.

  She took a step toward him. “Please, Kaden, I can explain.”

  “Explain that you’re a thief?”

  Tears filled her eyes.

  He shoved to his feet. “Christ, do no’ dare cry. Have ye any idea what Caeleb will do to you if he catches ye with this?” He shook the cloak. “The fact ye are a woman willnae matter.” His gaze flicked to her breasts, which strained against the thick linen of her nightshift, and heat flashed through her. She whirled and yanked a blanket from the bed, then hung is around her shoulders. “Caeleb will hang you,” he said when she turned. “Ye must return the flag.”

  She shook her head. “The flag is going to save me.”

  His brows shot up. “Ye are putting your faith in a legend.”

  “Legends originate from truth. Without it, there would be no hope. I must do this.”

  He shook his head. “There is always another way. We are returning this flag. But first, I want ye to tell me the truth. Why did you take it?”

  Helena sat on the bed. “I was orphaned at seven years old. At nine, I went to live at Glenwood Abbey.”

  He frowned. “Is that the abbey for lost girls?”

  She nodded. “You have heard of it. What you probably havenae heard is that Malcolm Donald recruits girls from the abbey to do his bidding.”

  Kayden’s gaze sharpened. “His bidding? What do you mean?”

  “I am trained as a thief.”

  He scowled. “Trained? As a thief? I never heard of such a thing.”

  She shrugged. “I imagine no’. But it is true. I am trained as a thief. Another girl is trained as a spy, another girl as—”

  “By God,” he burst out. “Are you saying Malcolm told you to steal the Faery Flag?”

  She nodded.

  Shock registered on his face. “Is one of the women who Malcolm trained, Caeleb's wife?”

  Helena drew a sharp breath. “How did you know?”

  Fury played across his features. “Tell me everything about Malcolm Donald.”

  They sat at the table in front of the fire while Helena finished her story. she hung her head. “If ye must turn me over to the MacLeods, I understand.”

  His mouth remained a grim line, but he said, “I am the last man to cast judgement. I am no’ going to turn ye over to Caeleb. I plan to help you.”

  “Help me? After what I have done to your clan?”

  “My clan?” His eyes narrowed. “Ye are too smart for your own good, lass.”

  Heat crept up her cheeks. His gaze seemed to pause on her mouth, but then he looked into her eyes, and she wasn’t certain.

  “I dinnae want ye to make the same mistake I did,” he said. “Malcolm has manipulated ye with lies. I swear by God and heaven, so long as I have breath in me, ye need never fear him again.”

  Helena stared for a long moment. Tears threatened again, but she fought the urge to cry and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. She drew back and her gaze snagged on his mouth. Helena licked her lips. Kaden stood, and she released the breath she held.

  “We should get an early start,” he said. “Maggie will have packed biscuits we can eat on the way.”

  Unable to speak, Helena nodded. He waited outside the room while she dressed and put on her boots, then held up her cloak for her. She turned and allowed him to settle it around her shoulders. Heat radiated from his body. Helena swallowed then turned.

  “Come on, lass.”

  They left the room and descended the stairs to the tavern. Mrs. Hays fussed over them, insisting they eat, but Kaden finally hustled Helena out to the stables. He saddled the horse in silence, then faced her.

  “Are ye ready?” he asked.

  Trepidation caused her heart to thud. “Where are ye going?”

  “Tis best for now to return to my cottage.”

  He wasn’t taking her back to Dunvegan? “What about the flag?”

  “I need time to think about how we are going to return it.”

  He vaulted into the saddle, then extended his hand to her. She placed her hand in his and couldn’t help but notice the calloused palm that clasped her hand. He was an honest, hard-working man. What would it take to win the heart of a man like him?

  Chapter Nine

  The day was by far the warmest this winter. They’d ridden at least two hours and Helena’s thighs had begun to ache. She shifted in an effort to ease the cramps.

  “Do ye need to stop for some privacy?” Kaden asked. “We still have over an hour to go.”

  That, she realized, wasn’t a bad idea. “If ye dinnae mind,” she said.

  Kaden guided Valor off the road and stopped near a group of trees. He dismounted, then helped her down. They parted ways for some privacy. Helena finished quickly and hurried back to Valor. Exposing her backside to the cold made her wish for the warmth of the fire at the croft.

  As she came into view of the horse, Kaden stepped from the trees a few paces ahead of her. Helena jerked when what she thought was a bird flew
past her ear. Kaden twisted to the side and stumbled. Birds took flight from the trees and scattered in the sky above them.

  Helena registered the arrow protruding from Kaden’s furs just below his shoulder. She tried to scream, but the sound lodged in her throat. She lunged toward him and reached his side an instant later. He shoved her back between him and Valor.

  “Kaden—”

  “Hush,” he ordered.

  Her mind snapped to attention. He was scanning the area for their attackers. Where had the arrow come from? Why hadn’t they fired more arrows? Her heart pounded. Who were their attackers? Terror gnawed at her stomach. Had the MacLeods discovered the Fary Flag missing? They couldn’t possibly know she had taken it.

  Kaden shifted and she realized he was reaching for the arrow. He broke the end off with an audible snap. He faced her. Sweat beaded his brow. His face had gone pale.

  “We must go,” he said. “Hurry. Into the saddle.”

  Helena stepped into the saddle. Kaden grasped the pommel and pulled himself up onto the saddle behind her.

  He loosely held the reins. Helena took them from him and snapped the leather across the horse’s flanks. The animal shot forward and she prayed Kaden could stay mounted until they reached the croft. His arms remained tight around her and she periodically glanced at his hands to ensure he still gripped the pommel.

  The hour’s ride seemed like forever before the croft came into view, nestled amongst the trees. Helena brought the horse to a stop in front of the cottage and dropped from the saddle. Kaden swung his leg over the pommel and nearly fell from the saddle. Helena grabbed his arm and steadied him. He smiled weakly and allowed her to pull his arm over her shoulder. She could tell he was trying not to put his full weight on her. They reached the door and she stumbled with him inside. He fell onto the bed.

  The room was freezing cold, but Helena whipped off her cloak and tossed it over the foot of the bed. Her hands shook as she removed Kaden’s fur coat. Blood spattered the front of his tunic, but he hadn’t bled much. That would change once they removed the arrow.

  Helena slid the tunic up and over the arrow, careful not to snag the fabric on the point. She urged his arms upward. He flinched as she pulled the tunic over his head. Seeing the arrow protruding from the smooth tanned muscle of his shoulder made her stomach roil. Then she caught sight of the arrowhead sticking out of his back. The arrow had gone clean through. This was good, but her head still spun. This was her fault. She should have refused his help, sent him home, no matter his objections. If he bled to death, she would never forgive herself.