by Tarah Scott
“If you’re a Douglas, how did ye come to live with the Donalds?”
“We moved in with the Donalds four years ago. We were living at Glenwood Abbey. Malcolm quickly offered Gwen a position in the castle. She didnae let me go with her though.” A strange looked passed over her features.
“Why?” Caeleb asked.
“Gwen said we couldnae trust the Donalds. She said I was safer at the abbey where the other lasses would watch after me. I am a grown-up lass. I agreed—but only because she promised that soon we wouldn’t have to run away anymore.” A wistful light entered her eyes. “We left Maggie’s because Gwen found a place for us to live where we could be safe. She said the Donalds were a mistake, though.”
He watched the girl. “What kind of mistake?”
She shrugged. “Malcom said she had to make right her mistakes.”
“Did he say what those mistakes were?”
“Only that she had lied to him.”
His heart pounded. “Did Gwen tell ye to say that?”
She frowned. “How could she do that? She wasnae there when Malcolm asked me.”
“Ah,” he said. “Of course, you are right.”
Caeleb couldn’t imagine what they had gone through. He had never worried about where he would live, or what he would eat. Things Gwendolyn worried about every day in order to keep her and her sister safe. This child was why Gwendolyn had been so secretive and unwilling to trust him. Still, had she told him, he could have protected her. Damn Douglas. Known to travel and fight beside the king, he’d abandoned his children. Illegitimate or not, they were still his blood.
Caeleb smiled at the girl. “Thank ye, Arabelle, for telling me the truth.”
“Will you free my sister?”
She stared with hopeful, innocent blue eyes.
He smiled. “Are ye hungry?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Manas, take Arabelle to the kitchens. Have Moira warm up some of her roasted beef.”
“Aye, my laird.”
“And my sister?” she asked again.
“Soon, lass.”
Manas held the door open and waited for Arabelle to follow. With a smile and a curtsy, she left.
The words love conquers all rattled around Caeleb’s head. If love conquered all, could it also forgive?
Chapter Seven
A sconce in hand, Caeleb strode down the corridor to Gwen’s cell in the dungeon. So, Malcolm Donald was Gwen’s master. What had that master required of her?
Hadn’t he once followed orders that had been criminal?
When Caeleb first became laird, his laird, the Earl of Lewis, had commanded him to raid a village where they believed the inhabitants had aided MacLeod enemies. Too late, Caeleb discovered the truth of their innocence. He had lived with that wrong the last two years.
Had Gwen betrayed him? Aye, in some way, she had. But how much? What were the lies she’d told Malcolm Donald that Arabelle spoke of? How many lies had she told Caeleb? Had she lied when she said she loved him?
He stopped outside her cell, lifted the bar and opened the door. Torchlight illuminated Gwen, huddled in the far corner of the room. She hugged her knees tight against her chest. Her head was buried in her arms.
His heart thumped. “Gwendolyn?”
She lifted her head. Her eyes were red with crying.
Caeleb placed the sconce in a holder near the door, then crossed to her, and sat on the ground across from her. “What were the lies ye told Malcolm?
She drew in a sharp breath. “Ye found my letter.”
“Letter?” he started, but she cut in.
“Nae, that doesnae make sense. The letter explained everything. Ye wouldnae be asking if you’d found it.”
“What letter?”
“My sister,” Gwen said. “She is well?”
“Aye. She is in the kitchens with Manas and Moira. What letter, Gwen?”
The letter, she explained, was hidden beneath a stone near the hearth. He would know she was telling the truth, for it would still be there. She’d written about how she told Malcolm that Caeleb intended to attack Castle Borthal in five days.
Caeleb frowned. “You told him—”
Then he understood. If Malcolm took enough men with him to lay in wait for Caeleb’s attack on Borthal, then Karthmere, the closest Donald stronghold, would be left vulnerable and Caeleb could attack, perhaps even take the castle. That would mean all-out war. Malcolm had waylaid them without provocation and killed over a hundred MacLeods. Didn’t that mean war?
Caeleb watched Gwen. “Did ye betray me?”
“Malcolm had Arabelle. But—” she swiped at a tear “—I couldnae sacrifice you and your men. Not even for Arabelle.”
“What did you tell them?” Caeleb prompted.
“I told him only that ye had left with fifty of your men. That, he already knew. Then I left the letter in the great hall warning that he intended to attack.”
“You wrote the letter?” This was more than he’d hoped. So much had happened, so must deceit, that he hadn’t known what to think. Gwen had warned them, she had saved their lives. There was nothing more anyone else could have done. Nae, that wasn’t quite true. She could have told him everything.
She added in a rush, “I even tried to warn you myself. I told everyone I was going to visit Lana MacLeod. I rode with your men to her village, but didnae go to Lana. I slipped away and tried to find ye.”
Caeleb stared in surprise. You risked your life and set out on your own to find me?”
Gwen nodded. “I am no’ a good tracker. I was forced to return to Lana’s village.”
“Why did ye no’ tell Tommen?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t know what he would do. With you—” Gwen swiped at tears. “I am so sorry, Caeleb. I never would have given Malcolm even the lies I did if he had not held Arabelle captive. He promised that once I completed this awful assignment, he would release her and we would be free. ‘Tis why I wished to leave. I just wanted my sister so that we could live out our lives in peace. I dinnae expect ye to understand or even forgive me, but before you cast your judgment, please know that I meant it when I said I loved you—but that matters not.”
Did she really love him, or was she trying to avoid the noose?
“Something you dinnae know,” he said. ”I received a message that you would be at the village.”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed. “That explains why Malcolm left so quickly.”
“What do ye mean?” Caeleb demanded.
“Maggie told me that when Malcolm left Arabelle with her, that he immediately left. The dog,” she said with a growl. “I will kill him.”
Caeleb blinked and couldn’t help a small laugh. “That message is the only thing he did I’m thankful for.”
She turned her fierce look on him. “What do you mean?”
Caeleb took her hand. “Gwen, you should’ve told me everything. But despite that, when you learned what Malcolm planned, you didnae just leave us to fend for ourselves. You took action, even put yourself in danger.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “Over a hundred of your men died.”
He nodded. “But you had no hand in that. Even had you told me the truth, we couldn’t know Malcolm planned to attack. I’m no’ certain we could have done anything to prevent their deaths.” Caeleb regarded her. “Will you tell me everything you know about Malcolm?”
She nodded. “Everything.”
“I will protect you, Gwen,” he said.
“I don’t deserve your protection.”
He stood. “There is a young lass who does need my protection. She’s waiting in the kitchen and is anxious to see her sister.”
Gwen looked up, eyes wide with wonder. “You would do that?”
“Come.” He held out a hand and gave her an encouraging smile.
She hesitated, then laid her hand in his. Caeleb pulled her to her feet. She fell into his arms and sobbed into his shirt. Caeleb let her cry until, at
last, she pulled back and looked up at him.
“Will ye exact revenge for your men and take Karthmere?” she asked.
His blood burned hot. He wanted badly to raze the castle to the ground and kill every last man inside. But…
“There might be another way. A better way.” Caeleb stared into her eyes. “Will ye help me?”
Surprised flickered across her face, then her eyes lit with determination. “Anything.”
Caeleb yanked her close and kissed her.
When he broke the embrace, his blood pounded through his ears and need had tightened his whole body. “I love ye, Gwendolyn. I never stopped loving you. I understand the sacrifices ye made to protect your sister. It must have been hell to jeopardize her to save my men. That sacrifice…” He drew a deep breath. “Thank you.” She gave a small sob, but he continued. “I understand your desire to run away. But you dinnae have to run anymore. Ye have been searching for a place to call home. This is your home—if ye will have me.”
She didn’t reply.
“Must I kneel?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I am nothing more than a humble housekeeper.”
“Who married a laird.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes again. “Yes.”
Caeleb kissed her again, as he planned to do many, many more times in the future.
###
The Treasures of Skye
Women of Honor
Book Two
Tarah Scott and April Holthaus
Chapter One
Isle of Skye, Scotland
1321
There are things in this world some say are invaluable. Time, happiness, and love being among the most sought after. But to Helena, the gift of story was the greatest gift of all. Stories, legends...fables, live forever. And in the darkest hours, they might even change one’s life.
The snow-covered ground reflected a dazzling glow against the sun. For hours, Helena had walked without a village or a croft in sight. The sun as her guide, she kept a northerly course. When a rainbow of iridescent colors painted the darkening sky, flickering stars appeared and still, she encountered not a single soul.
A bitter, westerly wind brought with it freezing snow. Pulling her fur cloak tighter about her, Helena clutched close the satchel she carried and trudged forward, head down, blocking her frozen cheeks from the squalls of heavy falling snow that made it impossible to see more than twenty feet in front of her.
With each step, regret and sorrow weighed more heavily on her shoulders. But stopping or turning back would strip her of her dignity. Everything she had done, everything she believed in would stand for nothing. No matter what happened, she would live the rest of her life with the knowledge that she’d changed her fate and had fought for her freedom.
The snow tapered off and Helena slowed. Despite her determination, her legs felt as if she slogged through mud and her back ached with fatigue. Her toes—never mind her toes. She’d stopped feeling them two hours ago.
The distinct scent of burning wood stopped her in her tracks. Her heart began to pound. Where was the smell coming from? She whirled in an effort to locate the source. A stronger whiff stopped her. She turned left and started walking. Soon, the trees thinned and, across a flat, snow-covered field, she spotted a flicker of light amongst trees that bordered the far side of the field.
Bless the saints!
Helena quickened her pace. The flickering light grew in intensity. Please, she prayed, be kind to a stranger.
She neared the trees and discerned the shadow of the small cottage where shone the light. Helena abruptly skidded. She flailed, found her balance, and stopped. She looked over her shoulder at the snow-covered expanse. Nae, it couldn’t be. Carefully, Helena took one step, then another. A loud crack sounded beneath her. She froze. Sweet God, this was no field. She stood on ice.
Helena glanced at the trees. Given the distance of trees and the steady slopes encircling around her, she’d crossed half a mile of the frozen loch. Her heart thundered. Trees were thirty feet away. The shore would be closer than the trees. If she trod carefully, she might make it back safely.
Slowly, she inched toward shore. Frigid air curled in front of her with each labored breath. She halted, heart pounding.
“Just a little farther,” she whispered.
Suddenly, the world flew above her as the frozen ground tilted. Helena shouted. Then the cold swallowed her.
Chapter Two
Kaden pulled aside the fur curtain and gazed out the window of the croft. Yesterday’s storm, which had left them covered in snow, had begun again. Tall drifts had accumulated in spots around the small croft. Just his good fortune. The snowfall was the worst he recalled in his lifetime. After being gone for two years, what had induced him to return?
He knew the answer. The ambush of his clansmen a month ago by the Donalds.
But the men were no longer his men. His cousin Caeleb had taken Kaden’s place as leader of the MacLeod clan two years ago. Which is why returning had been foolish. He was no longer a member of the MacLeod clan—much less their leader. Never again would he stand with the men he’d grown up with or fight alongside them. Especially those who’d died at the hands of the Donald dogs.
Anger flared, as it did too easily these days. Had Jacob MacKinnon betrayed them to the Donalds? Did Caeleb suspect the MacKinnon? Had Caeleb planned to fight? The questions bounced off the inside of Kaden’s skull. So many questions and too few answers. None of it was his business anymore. He’d given up the right to demand answers the day he’d betrayed his brother.
Curse his father for hanging his youngest son, Kaden’s only brother. Curse this damn feud that had embroiled the clans of Skye for an entire generation. And curse this bloody storm. Once the story ended, he would leave. Isn’t that what he did best? Leave, when things became difficult?
A fierce down-draft blasted through the chimney, causing the fire to dance wildly on the logs. Kaden released the curtain and turned back toward the room. His gaze caught on the sparse stack of logs stacked in the corner. The wood wouldn’t last the night.
Kaden grabbed his boots from near the hearth and sat on the bench. He laced them, donned his fur, then piled on more fur to cover his head and neck. Like a large beastly bear, he pushed open the door and stepped outside.
He waded through knee-high snow around the building to the shed in the back. He pulled the cart from within the shed, then slung the rope over his shoulder and continued toward the trees. Thankfully, his brother had long ago replaced the cart’s wheels with wooden slats.
With care, Kaden kept between the frozen shore of Loch Haven and tree line of the forest as he pulled the cart to where he’d stacked a load of wood. The remaining wood in the cottage was the last of that which he’d stacked near the shed. He reached a tall, snow-covered mound and dug through to the logs, then filled the cart. At last, the cart full, Kaden grabbed the rope and began to retrace his steps. His teeth chattered, and his nose had long ago turned numb. A rumble, then a woman’s shriek broke the eerie silence. Kaden stopped. A woman? Out here? Impossible. Another scream was followed by a loud splash of water.
Kaden dropped the rope, then ploughed through the snow like a battering ram against the knee-high wall of snow between him and the loch. An instant later, he spotted the break in the white surface of the snow-covered loch. His heart lurched. It might already be too late.
He halted at the cluster of saplings that marked the water’s edge, dropped to his knees, then onto his belly. Snow collapsed in around him. He fanned his hands out around him, as if swimming, and shoved aside the snow as he wiggled onto the ice. Twice, he looked up over the snow to ensure he was on course, snorting out snow when it filled his nose.
The snow abruptly opened up to the break and he thought for one horrible instant he would slide into the dark water. He threw his hand out and caught his palm on the edge of the broken ice. His legs swung to the side, but then halted. Kaden plunged his arm into the frigid water. C
old pierced bone-deep. His fingers closed around an arm. He dragged the woman up onto the ice and shimmied back toward the shore. God’s Teeth, her soaked fur cloak and thick skirts made her weigh as much as an ox. They reached the shore and he dragged her off the ice, his breath coming in labored gasps.
Kaden shoved onto his knees and was startled when he glimpsed the woman’s curves. When he’d grasped her thin arm, he thought her a young girl. He pressed two fingers to the pulse point at the neck and cursed. No heartbeat. He placed an ear against her chest. Through the thick fabric of her bodice, a faint heartbeat thumped against his ear. He whipped off his coat and quickly wrapped her in the coat. Stinging cold whipped across the exposed flesh of his neck. He lifted her limp body in his arms and started back toward the croft. By the time he reached the cottage he was shivering.
He unclasped her cloak and let it drop to the floor, then hoisted her over his shoulder and threw back the blankets. Kaden started to lay her on the bed, then stopped. Her dress would soak the blankets. He had to remove the dress. Kaden hesitated, then shook off his worry. Her anger was preferable to her death. He slid her down into his arms, sat on the bed, then fumbled with the laces of her bodice. He cursed. His large fingers couldn’t grasp the tiny, wet knots. He pulled his dagger from its sheath and cut the tight lacing. Her bodice expanded. He slid the knife back into its sheath, shimmied the skirt up her thighs then, careful to keep his gaze on her face, dragged the dress up and over her head.
Eyes tightly closed, he grimaced at the press of her soft flesh against his fingers, and cursed the pulse of his cock as he twisted and laid her on the bed. Kaden opened his eyes, glimpsed creamy white breasts in the instant before he yanked the blanket over her. Quickly, he covered her with several more blankets, then shed his furs and added enough logs to the fire that the room would soon be as warm as a midsummer’s day. He draped her dress and cloak across the bench near the hearth, then returned to the bed.