Highland Ruse: Mercenary Maidens - Book Two

by Martin, Madeline

  But a wary part of him worried touching her would break a fragile spell and replace the relaxed beauty at his side with the spoiled noblewoman.

  It was more than just Elizabeth, though. He was more aware of everything. The sigh of the wind against his cheeks, the blaze of the fire against his back, the delicate slosh of waves from the loch, even the burning hunger in his empty stomach—everything was sharper. As if the fog in his mind had lifted.

  He lay there for a while, giving in to the quiet of his body, and reveling in the world of feeling more than he’d felt in far too long.

  Elizabeth shifted at his side and sat up. Their shared heat immediately chilled. While the night was not a cold one by any means, he missed the warmth of her against him.

  Her eyes settled on him, and she gave him the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. It was filled with a tender kindness and affection—and meant only for him.

  “You’re awake,” she said.

  He tried to prop himself on his arm to look at her, but his muscles felt liquid with weakness. Elizabeth put a hand on his shoulder and eased him back. “Don’t sit up yet. You’ve been several days without food.”

  The clarity he’d experienced only moments ago faded and left him disoriented.

  How had he not eaten for several days?

  “You’ve been very ill,” she offered in explanation. Her touch lingered on his shoulder, comforting.

  “We all were.” The words burned as they rasped from his throat.

  Elizabeth drew her hand from him and lifted a bag of food. “We all recovered quickly. I think you—” Her lips pursed, and she stopped herself. “Here.” She held out a chunk of bread. “It will help you feel better.”

  He took it from her. “Ye think I what?”

  Her gaze slipped away, and he knew something was wrong.

  Elizabeth seldom turned her gaze from anyone.

  The yeasty scent of the bread pulled at him. He took a bite while waiting for her to reply. The crust was hard and flaky, the inside pliant and moist. His mouth watered, and a hunger unlike anything he’d known before slammed into him.

  “I think you were most affected because of the valerian root you were taking. You had more nightmares. I think it’s the valerian that’s causing those as well.”

  She offered him a flask of ale, and he washed down the bread lodged in his throat. It all mingled in his stomach like a comforting balm.

  Already he was beginning to feel better.

  Elizabeth held the empty vial toward him. He pushed himself onto his arm and sat up to reach for it.

  She pulled it back with a frown.

  “Kaid, I think this is what is causing your nightmares. And I believe something happened to you, to Donnan, to people you loved. I think it has to do with why you took us.” She was speaking faster now, like the words had been swarming in her head and she finally had a chance to say them. “Please tell me.”

  Her eyes implored him, and her fingers closed over the empty vial.

  The world spun around Kaid for a brief moment before settling into place once more. A breeze swept through the surrounding forest and sent the leaves chattering amongst themselves.

  She was right. He needed to tell her.

  The sound of hoofbeats came in a muted clopping, the kind made on wet forest earth. Kaid turned and found Donnan on the back of a horse with Leasa in front of him holding another bag of food clasped in her hands.

  They’d expected to stay several more days.

  For him.

  Donnan grinned at him. “Glad ye could finally join us. We’ve missed yer charm.”

  “If I werena so intent on eating this bread, I’d knock ye for that,” Kaid said with a grunt.

  Donnan laughed and slid from the horse. “Aye, that charm.”

  He helped Leasa from the horse.

  “Are you feeling better?” she asked.

  Physically, he hadn’t felt better in ages. But deep inside the hurt of an old wound had ripped fresh.

  Donnan’s grin wilted.

  “We need to tell them,” Kaid said. He shifted his gaze to Elizabeth and found her watching him with a terse expression.

  Donnan led Leasa over and motioned for her to sit beside Elizabeth. “I think we should have told them from the beginning,” he said.

  Kaid nodded. Donnan had indeed said as much, and deep down Kaid had known it as well.

  The time had finally come to tell the women why he had taken them, and why he would hold them for ransom.

  Chapter Nine

  Telling the story would be like reliving the nightmare. Kaid knew this before he even began.

  His gaze drifted toward the wavering surface of the loch, where the moon was mirrored in a grotesque image of itself, smeared and swollen.

  He let his mind slip back to a place it constantly flicked away from, that fateful gray morning in December. The wind had been so bitter and ruthless, breathing left his throat and chest raw. Spirals of smoke from controlled fires puffed throughout the outlying village near Ardvreck Castle where Kaid had stood guard with several other MacLeod warriors.

  “It happened half a year ago.” He did not recognize the hollowness of his own voice. “Our alliance with the MacKenzies had always been a fickle one, which often broke down in minor battles. But never had we suspected an attack to be on so great a scale.”

  The invasion had started with a woman’s single scream. High and shrill in the thin air, and quickly cut short.

  A woman. Not a man, or an armed warrior who could have defended himself—an unarmed woman from the village.

  “When they came, it was not entirely unexpected,” Kaid continued. “We’d had several MacKenzies come from time to time and lay minor attacks on the castle. Laird MacKenzie must have sent every one of his men that day. But the attack did not come to the castle. It was on the village.”

  The MacKenzies streamed from the surrounding woods in a tidal wave of men, their roars deafening, even from where Kaid stood. He didn’t hesitate, nor did the men around him. Blood charged through his veins, his confidence overflowing with the surety of power and training.

  Together, they ran from the castle, trusting several remaining warriors to stand guard while they lashed against the enemy to offer protection.

  “They were simple villagers. Unarmed.” His words came out strained and hoarse.

  Kaid paused and took a deep drink from the flask of ale at his side and wished it were whisky or wine, preferably valerian—anything to dull the memories. The very ones he would need to let wash over him and, for once, not fight.

  He did not look at the women or Donnan and instead kept his focus on the loch. He could not bear to see the emotions etched on their faces as his were so indelibly etched on his heart.

  Chaos.

  The world was in chaos.

  Fire licked at thatch roofs and spiraled acrid smoke, choking the men’s throats and stinging their eyes. All around them were armed men and the cries of their defenseless victims.

  Kaid tore through them with all the speed he could muster. His forearm went numb with the repetitive clang of his weapon against others. Mud and gore splashed his face and clothing. Still he did not stop.

  Still it was not enough.

  “We tried to fight as hard as we could, but there were too many men attacking.” Defeat pulled at Kaid’s heart as it had that fateful morning. “The village was too twisted with alleys and homes for the villagers to hide.”

  He took another swallow of the ale, but it did little to ease the rawness, as if he were experiencing the smoke of the fires again, the harshness of his war cry rasping through his throat once more. “My da saw us losing the fight and came out to help the villagers. He fought valiantly, but his men were cut down, and he too fell. The MacKenzies took his body, and they took his blade.”

  The great and powerful Laird MacLeod was carelessly dragged through the mud like a carcass whose meat had gone bad. His face was slack, and his jaw hung open. Blue eyes bul
ged, but stared at nothing while bits of mud flew at his face and speckled his teeth.

  Kaid glanced but for a brief moment at the high offense before returning his attention to the fight once more. He would mourn his father later. He would get his father’s sword back later.

  Now was for his people, for he was the new laird.

  “I tried to fight as many as I could.” Kaid let the memories sweep over him. “But there were too many. And then I saw a cluster of children, banded together inside a ring of women who fought with whatever tools they could grab.” It had all been so insufficient—shears, a dirk, a large hook, whatever their men had not taken to defend themselves. “The MacKenzies found them…”

  He let his voice trail off and could not put to words what he witnessed. Certainly no lady should ever hear the horrors he’d had to see.

  The children’s cries came clear and high over the death grunts and screams. Kaid pulled his blade free from the man he’d just slain and tried to run toward them, only to be thwarted by another MacKenzie warrior.

  The women around their bairns lashed out, mothers willing to die for their children, but they were no match for the axes, broadswords, and arrows.

  Three fell before he was free. Their defeat rang out in the keening cries of their children. Kaid’s muscles burned with the determination, but he moved too slowly.

  An ache blossomed at his temple and everything blurred to a narrow white dot.

  Kaid settled his palm over his head, as if he could still feel the thin trickle of blood. “I was struck on the head before I could get to them. When I awoke…”

  He focused on the surrounding forest, the rustle of trees against one another in the moonlight, the gray clouds in a dark sky, the twinkle of stars scattering the sky above. Anything other than what wanted to rise to the forefront of his memory.

  He could not let himself see that again.

  Not ever.

  “My people want vengeance,” he said in a resigned voice. “But I know it will only bring more bloodshed.”

  Finally he let his gaze shift to Elizabeth, who watched him with a puckered brow and an intent stare. “I took ye to hopefully negotiate with MacKenzie, to get my da’s sword back, and to encourage peace between our people.”

  Donnan covered Leasa’s hand with his own, and their fingers intertwined.

  “Why?” Elizabeth whispered. “Why would anyone do something so dreadful as killing mothers? Children?”

  It was then he remembered the man he spoke of was the very one to whom she was betrothed. MacKenzie would be her husband.

  “There’s been a long-standing feud between our clans,” Donnan answered for him.

  “But what could possibly start something so violent?” she asked.

  Donnan’s gaze met Kaid’s in the delicate glow of the moon and he knew he must confess the final bit of information he’d held back. “Marriage.”

  Elizabeth frowned, obviously not understanding the history such a single word encompassed.

  “The late Laird MacKenzie’s bride fell ill on the road home while she was pregnant. Too far from Edirdovar, she instead came to Ardvreck Castle for aid,” Kaid answered, dreading the story even as it fell from his lips. “After she delivered a son, her illness worsened and she died. Rumor has it, she hadna yet been wed, and Laird MacKenzie’s babe was a bastard. A previous, legitimate marriage to the old laird had yielded a daughter, but no one has seen or heard of the wee Torra MacKenzie in years. In her absence, the boy rumored to be a bastard succeeded his father as Laird MacKenzie—the current laird.

  “The MacKenzies claimed we’d poisoned the young mother and held to that accusation for years. The day we were attacked was the verra day my father was to remarry. It was why they invaded the village—they must have heard she’d insisted on sleeping there the night before her wedding.”

  “Did they kill her?” Elizabeth’s mouth was a tight line.

  Kaid swallowed. “Aye.”

  She looked down at where her fingers were loosely clasped in her lap. “And then there’s me.”

  “Aye.” Kaid’s voice came out like scraped gravel, as low as he felt. “The next bride in a history of blood and vengeance.”

  • • •

  The real Elizabeth was in danger, whether she made it to Killearnan or not.

  Delilah now understood any bride of a MacKenzie or a MacLeod held a death sentence.

  When Elizabeth made it safely to MacKenzie and the MacLeods all knew they’d been duped, would one of Kaid’s men try to kill the real Elizabeth? Would the feud continue?

  Only now did she realize the true impact of what she’d done in replacing Elizabeth. What might have been the civil, peaceful end of a feud could now perpetuate a war.

  Delilah knew Kaid was waiting for her to respond, but her tongue was thick and immobile in her mouth.

  Elizabeth.

  Delilah’s heart constricted for the poor girl. Elizabeth, who obeyed a father wedding her to a man he didn’t trust, whose betrothed ordered the slaughter of innocent, unarmed people.

  It all settled on Delilah’s shoulders with such unbearable weight, there was a part of her, the deep-down, selfish part, which wished she had not asked.

  Had she never known any of this, she could easily have continued. She could have ensured Elizabeth was safely delivered, and walked away feeling confident the girl would be safe.

  Her assignment did not change with the new knowledge. Elizabeth’s father would not alter his decision. Sylvi would not relax her orders.

  And if Delilah did not do as instructed, she would fail. On her first true task on her own.

  Failure.

  A word she’d too long known.

  “Elizabeth?” Kaid’s voice was gentle.

  She met his gaze, this man who had suffered, and to whom she was lying and would ultimately betray.

  “I’m sorry.” It was all she could muster, uttered in a choked cry.

  What was she sorry for? Her heart grew heavy as she counted the reasons.

  What he’d seen.

  How she’d lied.

  How she would continue to lie and do whatever she had to.

  Her face went hot and her nose tingled with the threat of tears. She wanted to stop them, but her throat was too tight around the uncomfortable lump settled there.

  “Excuse me,” she said in a croaked voice and rose from the ground. Her knees were stiff from sitting for so long.

  Leasa began to rise too, but Delilah shook her head. “I just…” She swallowed the desire to give in to her sobs. “I just need to be alone for a moment.”

  To gather herself.

  To breathe.

  To stop feeling so blasted much.

  Leasa sank back down beside Donnan, who gave her a gentle nod of understanding.

  Delilah walked toward the woods with as much control as she could muster. She waited until the wet scent of the forest greeted her and the press of clustered tree trunks caught at her full skirts. She managed at least that long before she braced herself against the nearest tree and gave in to the dam trembling for release in the back of her throat.

  Her free hand came to rest over her wet face, as if she could hide her sorrow even from herself, and kept her sobs as muffled as was possible.

  She did not want anyone to see her weakness.

  And she was weak.

  For she felt too much for Elizabeth, the woman destined for a life of misery regardless of how the situation ended.

  She felt too much for Sylvi and the other women who were counting on her to accomplish this mission. They had saved her from a life of shame and degradation. She owed them everything, and they expected much. Rightfully so.

  She felt too much for Donnan and Kaid.

  Her heart flinched. She especially felt too much for Kaid, with his beautiful eyes and tortured soul.

  Why, why, why had she pressed Kaid for answers?

  Never once had she considered the repercussion of truly knowing the situation.r />
  A footstep sounded behind her, and her hand went into her pocket where the dagger lay against her thigh.

  “It’s just me.” Kaid’s comforting voice eased her grip from the hilt of her blade. “I worried about ye. I dinna—I shouldna have said everything I did.”

  Delilah did not turn around. Surely her face would give away her tears, even if they had already begun to dry. “I asked you to.” She spoke in a whisper to ensure the thickness of her emotion couldn’t be detected.

  “Aye, and I know ye needed to find out.” He paused, and she realized he was trying to carefully construct what he said. “I dinna want to hurt ye. I’ve no’ ever wanted to hurt ye. Or Leasa.”

  He stepped closer. She could sense his body near her back. He had a pleasant, spicy scent that mingled with those of the damp forest.

  Something deep inside her longed to lean back against the solid wall of his chest.

  But she was not the only one in need of comfort.

  Kaid’s face earlier had told the tale his words did not elaborate upon.

  He hadn’t looked at them when he spoke, perhaps to keep her from seeing the evidence of tears. The things he’d witnessed had been horrifying, evidenced by the catch in his voice and the brilliance of his haunted stare.

  Her heart ached.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was in her ear and the warmth of his breath stirred the delicate hairs at her neck.

  A pleasant shiver prickled over her skin.

  “I know.” Though she whispered, she knew he would hear her.

  He was not the only one inclined to apologize despite needing to finish what he’d started.

  Before she could stop herself, she eased back the slightest bit, her body seeking the comfort and strength of his. She didn’t allow herself to touch him, but she sensed how much closer that minor shift brought them. Her heartbeat pounded a little faster.

  “I dinna ever want to hurt ye.” Kaid’s burr sounded against her ear. She turned toward the timbre of his voice and the heat of his mouth. A thrum of longing began to pulse low in her stomach.