Deception of a Highlander

by Madeline Martin

“Blair will take a while to get settled,” she replied, her voice husky.

  Grinning like a rogue, Kieran swept Mariel into his arms and carried her across the great hall.

  “Kieran!” She glanced furtively around the open room. “Someone might see.”

  “Then let them. I am no ashamed of ye, Mariel.” His brow furrowed with the sincerity of his words. “Never could I be ashamed of ye.”

  • • •

  Mariel lay awake while Kieran napped beside her. His skin was slick with the exertion of their lovemaking. The hard lines of authority on his face smoothed out under the relaxation of his slumber, and she found herself struck with his youth. He could not be older than five and twenty. Still older than she, but not old enough for the level of responsibility upon his shoulders.

  The setting sun cast streaks of gold across his cheek, accentuating the dark black stubble shadowing his jaw. She stroked his face and savored the rasp against her palm. He grunted once, but did not turn away.

  There was only one thing she could do. Only one option. Her stomach churned. After dinner, once everyone was in bed and they were completely alone, she would take action. She would do what must be done.

  This would end tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kieran’s mouth watered at the trencher of roasted meat before him. The smoky tang of crisped fat overpowered the burning grease from the light sconces around them.

  Mariel stood by his side in a pale blue dress that made her skin look like cream and roses. He brushed the curve of her lower back with his fingertips before settling into the chair at the head of the hall. A possessive gesture he knew would not be missed.

  He loaded his plate with more portions than usual, eager for a solid meal after two days of being too busy to sit and enjoy his food.

  “That’s quite an appetite ye’ve got there, Laird.” Colin gave him a bawdy grin from across the table. “What would a man need to do to work up such hunger?”

  Kieran threw him a dark look in silent warning to still his tongue.

  Mariel turned toward Colin and grinned. “Clearly you wouldn’t know. Your portions look rather meager.”

  Laughter filled the table and easy conversation resumed without the suggestion behind Colin’s jest.

  Kieran smiled to himself. He could not have chosen a more remarkable woman to be his wife. All he had to do was convince her of that. His gaze swept over the ample curve of her breast and desire pulled at his groin.

  The convincing would be fun.

  An unnatural silence filled the room and drew his attention away from Mariel. A warrior staggered past the long tables of the great hall. Dirt streaked his clothing and blood dripped from a tangled mass of blond hair. Hamish.

  Kieran leapt to his feet and would have run to him, but the lad was surprisingly quick and already stood at the head of the table.

  Hamish grimaced. “The MacLeod’s are attacking.”

  Kieran uttered a quiet curse. With Hampton threatening Blair and Dougal, this was the last thing he needed.

  Shoving aside his irritation, he looked out at his gathered clan. These attacks were not uncommon, and his people knew what was needed. “The MacLeod’s want a fight, and I plan to give them one. Let’s send them crying back to their wives, aye?”

  The clansmen cheered and rose without question to obey his command. He looked down to where Mariel and Blair sat at the table and addressed them. “Round up all the women and children and get to the cellar.”

  Blair stood and made her way to the nearest table to obey his command, but Mariel faltered, her wide gaze fixed on him.

  “Kieran—”

  “Mariel, go!” he ordered. Relief swept over him as she jumped from the table and ran after Blair.

  He turned to Hamish and noted the large gash over his brow. “Staunch that while we talk.”

  Hamish ripped off a piece of his leine and tied it tight over the wound. Brilliant red bloomed against the dirty fabric. If Kieran was going to get information out of him, he’d have to do it soon before the lad passed out.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “Angus and I were standing guard at the cliffs when the MacLeods attacked us from behind. They were verra quiet. Impossible to hear approach. They killed Angus first and left one to fight me.”

  Angus had been one of Kieran’s best warriors. His presence would be missed, but grieving would come later. Right now, Kieran needed numbers, facts.

  Hamish continued. “I was able to defeat him and slipped away.” The lad clenched his jaw. “I know it was cowardly to do, Laird, but I knew I couldna defeat them on my own. Instead, I rushed back here to warn ye so we could get the women and children to safety.”

  “Nay, it was wise of ye to do so, Hamish,” Kieran said. “I would have done the same in yer position. There is brave and there is foolish. To attempt to fight them all would have been foolish. How many were there?”

  The MacLeods had been causing trouble for years, and the attacks had grown bothersome. Every so often, they would send a handful of armed warriors to Caisteal Camus to cause problems.

  Hamish’s mouth set in a grim line, and he regarded Kieran with a hard gaze. “At least two hundred from what I saw, Laird.”

  Kieran kept his face impassive, refusing to let the boy see his shock. The MacLeods had never sent an army of that size before. He would have to round up every able body he could find.

  God help them. This was going to be a war.

  • • •

  Mariel followed Blair down the dark, winding stairwell. The echo of dozens of feet shuffling against the stone stairs came at them from all angles of the small enclosure as the MacDonald women and children snaked their way toward safety.

  Several sconces lined the walls, but the glowing light did little against the oppressive black. The odor of dank earth met them with an icy blast that burned Mariel’s nostrils and stung her throat. One by one, their footsteps fell silent as they descended to the soft, natural floor of the cellar.

  Their arrival was met with a darkness so thick, it pressed against her eyes. A torch flared to life somewhere behind her and bathed the room in brilliance.

  Mariel fought the cold rush of fear. A solid iron and wood door had been propped open, revealing a stone cell with rusted manacles embedded in the wall and graying rushes strewn upon the floor.

  Was this where traitors were taken?

  She turned her back from the sight and busied herself with calming the children. An idle mind would return her thoughts to the impending battle above and the dismal future that doubtless awaited her if all did not go as planned.

  “It’s miserable, isn’t it?” Blair’s voice was quiet beside her in the dim light. “I used to hate having to come down here when I was a child.”

  “Did you have to come often?” Mariel asked, scanning the faces of the women and children. They did not appear frightened, as if this were normal to them.

  “Far too often. The MacLeods launch attacks on us frequently and have done so for over one hundred and fifty years.”

  “Why so long?” Mariel asked, alarmed.

  Blair smoothed the hair from Dougal’s brow and patted his cheek. “According to legend, a MacDonald warrior killed a MacLeod laird by accident. Obviously, the MacLeod’s did not believe the act was unintentional, and the clans have been fighting ever since.” Her smirk indicated how she felt about the feud. “It’s one of the reasons I prefer to live away from the castle. I am not surprised there is an attack the night I return.” Blair’s hand squeezed Mariel’s arm gently. “Don’t worry. It will be over within the hour.”

  “Take up yer arms, lasses!” Innes’s cry echoed from the curved staircase.

  The old woman’s hair flew wild around her face, and a battle axe glinted in her fist. “This isna an ordinary attack. Hundreds of MacLeods storm our shores. We must defend our homes.”

  Activity exploded around Mariel. Women secured smaller children into the care of older ones. Cries
filled the air while mothers and grandmothers left the room and arguments broke out among women who wanted to go and were told they should not.

  Amid the commotion of bravery and fierce protection, all Mariel could focus on was Kieran and what needed to be said. She must find him.

  “I have to go,” she said.

  “To fight?” Blair’s brow furrowed.

  “I have to see Kieran.”

  Blair considered her for a moment. “That’s not a good idea, Mariel.” She pursed her lips. “But I don’t think you care if it’s a good idea or not. Come back quickly, aye?”

  Mariel nodded and raced up the stairs. She shoved through the heavy doors of the cellar and left safety behind her. Chaos roared around her as men, boys, and several women rushed about with weapons brandished. Shouts rang out, giving orders and securing positions.

  And then she saw the very person who could help her above all others. “Colin,” she cried and ran in his direction.

  His surprise turned to a frown. “Mariel, ye shouldna be here. Get down in the cellar with the others.”

  “I can’t,” she gasped. “I need your help. I have to see Kieran.” Several people bumped into her as she waited for his response. None was given. “I’m going to find him with or without your help,” she added defiantly.

  The corner of his lip quirked up in a lopsided grin. “Ye always know how to get what ye want, dinna ye?” He pressed a dirk into her hand. “If ye are going to be out, ye may as well be protected.”

  Mariel accepted the blade with a forced smile. Once she was done with Kieran, Colin would doubtless regret his trust.

  Colin led her through the throngs of people to the inner walls of the castle where a blast of cold wind stung her cheeks and made her eyes water.

  Desperate now, she scanned the warriors until she saw Kieran’s proud stance in the distance. Her stomach knotted. Fear spiked her fluttering heart.

  He stood at the apex of the wall. The moon etched shadows on his face, lending a darkness she had never seen in him before. His voice was strong and commanded authority as he called out orders with a confidence that would not be questioned or ignored. He looked every bit the barbarian leader she had been sent to kill.

  His dark eyes fixed on her and suddenly his expression became all the more dangerous, if such a thing were possible. He moved forward with a quiet strength, his taut body graceful as a predator as he stalked toward her.

  His fist darted out and grasped Colin by the leine. “What the hell is she doing here?” he growled.

  Colin shrugged. “Ye know she would have found ye anyway. I simply made her journey quicker and less dangerous.”

  Kieran shifted his glare to Mariel. A man bumped into her and knocked her off balance as he ran to where the men gathered along the wall of the castle. Kieran steadied her and narrowed his eyes.

  Perhaps this had not been a good idea after all.

  Colin had disappeared and they were alone. Now was the perfect opportunity.

  Mariel’s heart turned to ice in her chest and the words she needed to say grew thick on her tongue. “Kieran…”

  She swallowed her fear. If she did not tell him now, she might not have the courage to do so again.

  She would tell him…everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mariel stared into Kieran’s enraged glare with more courage than she felt. Her pulse raced and left the blood pounding in her ears. “Kieran, I—”

  “Do ye have information on the battle?” His dark look rippled her confidence.

  Mariel pursed her lips and shook her head. “No.”

  His gaze bore into her. “Then this is a discussion that can wait.”

  He turned to go, but she grabbed his elbow. “Please,” she begged. If she didn’t tell him now, she may not be able to do so later.

  He pulled back from her, a deep frown evident on the hard lines of his face. “I havena got a minute, Mariel. I’ll be back before dawn. We can talk then.”

  The lie hung in the air between them. Mariel knew the fight would take him past morning and time was a luxury she did not have.

  “You have no idea how important this is.” She drew herself closer to him.

  “And ye have no idea how dangerous it is to be out here. Get downstairs with the women.”

  Her voice trembled with desperation. “Let me fight alongside you.”

  He gave her an incredulous look. “Ye dinna know what ye say. This is no a fight for a woman like ye.” He glanced over his shoulder into the darkness and turned back to her. “Ye need to leave. Now.”

  “I need to tell you—”

  “Ye need to learn yer place as a woman and listen when yer man speaks to ye. I’m telling ye to go into the cellar with the rest of the women.”

  Mariel gaped at him, her pride shriveling under the weight of his words.

  He caught her around the waist and jerked her against his hard body. “Damn it, Mariel, dinna ye understand?” His hand cradled the back of her head, and his thumb braced against her cheek. “I love ye too much to see ye hurt.” He pressed his lips against hers in an urgent kiss that left her reeling.

  Before Mariel could react, a clash of swords rang out behind Kieran. He shoved her back toward the castle entrance. “Go and dinna look back!”

  He turned toward the sounds of battle but stood his ground in front of her. Defending her.

  Dozens of men leapt from the darkness and clambered over the castle walls with swords brandished and crazed looks upon their faces. Mariel stood in place, her mind stunned in horror. Their battle cry rang out over the force of the wind and sent a chill of fear racing down her spine.

  Ahead of her, Kieran’s body tensed as the mass of men swarmed toward the line of MacDonald warriors who waited at the ready.

  There were so many men attacking and far too few defending.

  The forces collided with the deafening dissonance of clanging metal and low curses. Her feet were immobile, transfixed as she watched a man with wild hair lunge at Kieran. The wicked blade of his battle axe swung with frightening accuracy.

  Mariel tensed in preparation to rush forward in Kieran’s defense when a large hand caught her around the waist and forcefully pulled her back.

  • • •

  The scent of rose mingled with the heavy copper odor of blood, and Kieran knew that despite his warnings, Mariel remained. He flexed the muscles of his arms as though making himself larger would create a stronger barrier between the hell in front of him and the woman he fought for behind him.

  Icy wind howled through the battle and added an ethereal element to their world of pandemonium. The moon was a sliver of light in the black sky, hiding her face from the horrors that ensued below. Energy pulsed in the thin air as warriors wrestled in a macabre dance that dictated who lived and who died.

  Many would die that night.

  Kieran tightened his grip on the pummel of his sword, his palm molding against the smooth leather. The smell of unwashed body pulled his awareness to the massive man in front of him. The MacLeod warrior’s shout rose above the sounds of battle as he charged Kieran in a spray of spittle. Kieran deflected the impact with his blade, his hand vibrating with the force of the man’s blow.

  Had Mariel made it to safety?

  Kieran chanced a look behind him and saw nothing in the darkness. A path of fire seared along the side of his arm, and he realized his mistake too late. The MacLeod’s dirk caught Kieran in his moment of distraction.

  Kieran roared in anger at his foolish error and brought his blade down on the massive shoulder of his attacker. The dirk clattered unseen beneath their feet and left his enemy with only one good hand to wield his sword.

  The fight was already won and though they both knew it, the man did not back down. His sword jabbed awkwardly at Kieran who shifted out of its path and swung his blade with lethal precision at the man’s thick neck.

  Kieran pushed onward, spurred with battle-induced energy. One by one, his foes fell be
fore his feet. Men who would see his people harmed if they were not stopped.

  Alec fought at his right, tirelessly wielding the two-handed long sword with its black-purple blade made almost invisible against the darkness of night. A stocky man barreled toward Kieran with a bloodied axe hoisted overhead. The blade came down and Kieran feinted to the left and succeeded in swiping the man’s feet from beneath him. Kieran leaned over him for the kill when another MacLeod rushed upon him from the right.

  Before Kieran could react, a blade flashed in the miniscule light of the moon and caught the attacker in the chest. The MacLeod crumpled toward the floor. Colin stepped from the shadows and gave Kieran a nod. His sudden arrival meant only one thing.

  Mariel was safe.

  A steady calm washed over Kieran, shifting him from protector to warrior. The chill of the wind faded away and his vision heightened, seeing clearly into the inky night for the first time since he’d seen her on the battlefield. Every sound filtered through his mind from the low hum of an insect to the ring of metal on metal. His muscles moved with purpose and with the accuracy of well-honed instinct. The stone floor beneath his feet was slick with blood, yet each footstep was anchored and sure.

  They would vanquish their enemy. They would be victorious.

  His men were succeeding in driving the MacLeods back from the walls of the castle and onto the lawn of its perimeter.

  Perhaps he had not lied to Mariel after all. Perhaps he would be home before dawn. No sooner had the thought entered his mind than a fresh wave of MacLeods descended upon them, well rested and hungry for blood.

  • • •

  Mariel cradled Coira’s little body in her lap in an effort to offer both comfort and warmth. The lights in the sconces had consumed all the oil and burned out hours ago. The frigid darkness enveloped them, leaving them vulnerable to the echoes of battle overhead.

  The clash of swords and shrill battle cries were not so frightful. Those sounds had ceased to unsettle. The horrors that assaulted them came from the meaty thunk of a blade as it caught flesh, and the groans of men as they took their last breaths. The clammy air of the cellar grew thick with the silence of fear and sorrow as time ticked by, one slow minute after another. Younger children wept against their mothers’ breasts, their questions long since quieted. The women and older children remained stoic, their faces blank as they attempted to block out the cries of the dying.