He’d given her his word he wouldn’t escape, but had said nothing about letting her be captured by his lot.
“Who are ye?” he asked.
Her answer came without preamble or pause. “No one.”
It wasn’t exactly the kind of distracting conversation he’d hoped for.
“Nobody is no one.” He tried to keep the frustration from his tone. “Where do ye come from?”
“England.”
“I figured,” he answered dryly. “Where in England?”
Delilah was quiet a moment. “A house in the country.”
“Did ye have any brothers or sisters?”
She gave a mirthless chuckle. “A few.”
Kaid scanned the horizon, picking through foliage for the familiar images of his men. Nothing. “Did ye no’ get along with them?”
“I didn’t not get along with them.”
Kaid frowned. “I dinna understand.”
She shifted in her saddle. “I’m done talking about this.”
He looked at the open landscape, swollen with the rise and fall of hills velvety with lush grass. They were definitely on his land now. He could not have her notice if she knew the area. And perhaps she did.
Most likely she did.
Delilah might be deceitful, but she was undeniably extraordinary.
“I thought I knew ye as Elizabeth.” He lowered his voice to a more intimate level. “I want to know ye as Delilah.”
Though he’d spoken the words with a luring intent, he realized he meant them. He wanted to know how she came to live in Scotland, to speak Gaelic, to fight like a man.
Delilah pulled in a quiet breath, but didn’t answer for so long, he thought she might not at all. When she finally did, her voice was quiet, somber. “I’m the middle child of fifteen children, the eldest unwed daughter. I was a burden for my family, who could barely afford food, and was sent to work for a rich relative at court in London as many poor relations often do. Suffice it to say, things did not go as planned.”
She shifted in her saddle to look back at him with a pointed expression. “I am a far cry from the well-bred noblewoman you assumed me to be.”
Her gaze slid past him, and her eyes widened. “Get down.”
She jerked low and he instinctively followed. An arrow sailed over their heads, narrowly missing her before it thunked into a tree in front of them.
A warning shot.
Delilah lay low against the horse’s strong neck. Her hand slid into her pocket and she withdrew a dagger. The very one she’d pressed to his throat after they’d made love.
Kaid straightened and looked behind him. Two men approached him, Lachlan and Dougal. Grins showed on their faces.
“Mighty fine of ye to bring us a couple lasses,” Lachlan said.
Delilah shifted her hold on the hilt of her blade, edging her grip lower with the obvious intend to hurl it toward the men.
“Dinna do that,” Kaid cautioned.
Delilah gave him a confused look, but her movements paused.
“Ye couldna handle these lasses,” Donnan said from somewhere behind him.
Lachlan stopped next to Kaid’s horse and stroked the beast’s neck. “We were wondering when ye’d come back.” He nodded toward Delilah, who had gone stiff in front of Kaid. “Who is she?”
“MacKenzie’s bride-to-be.” Kaid knew the words would pour realization over Delilah like a bucket of cold water.
She jerked a hard look at him over her shoulder.
Lachlan gave Kaid a wide grin. “I know what ye’re doing.” He gave a hearty laugh and patted the horse’s neck one final time. “We’ll walk with ye to Ardvreck. I canna wait to see the clan’s faces when they see this.”
Delilah’s body tensed in front of him.
Kaid covered the hand holding a dagger with his own. “Ye know fighting wouldna be wise.”
She jerked away from him and slipped the dagger back into her pocket. Angry though she appeared, he knew she understood his warning.
“You lied to me,” she growled. “I trusted you.”
The wind blew over the rolling hills and swept the length of Delilah’s hair from where it lay against her back, allowing the slightest bit of her naked neck to come into view.
He wanted to brush her hair aside and let his lips wander over the slender curve of her neck. Giving in to the temptation, however, would probably result in a knife to the gut.
“I gave ye my word I wouldna run off,” he said. “I’m no’ running off.” He pulled his gaze from her lest he give in to his desire. “Ye were the one who came onto my land and guided me toward my home.”
“And will you hold us as prisoners?” she asked in an icy tone.
“Ye’ll stay as my guests,” he answered. “So long as ye cause no trouble.”
“Of course—you have my word.” She spoke the last phrase in harsh mockery.
He knew she’d be upset, of course, but not for long. Or at least he hoped it wouldn’t be for long. It was part of his plan.
Knowing she was not Elizabeth Seymour had rocked his scheme for peaceful negotiations with MacKenzie, but Kaid had come up with another idea.
To have Delilah help him.
All Kaid had to do was convince Delilah to play Elizabeth for the man to whom it would really matter—Laird MacKenzie.
Chapter Fifteen
Delilah had led herself right into a trap.
Kaid had said she’d be treated as a guest, but would he keep his word when she’d betrayed him once already?
Though she willed it not to, her pulse raced the nearer they drew to the cluster of homes on the outskirts of a great castle in the distance. Hills rose around them and the evening rays of sunlight danced off the water surrounding the castle.
Guest or not, there would be no escape. Obviously he’d known as much when he spoke.
Frustration caught her in its snare.
This was not how her first assignment was supposed to go. She’d acted too hastily and had lost her chance for surprise.
She should have kept with the original plan to delay their arrival and then kidnap him when they were within a day of Elizabeth’s arrival.
But there had been two weeks remaining—and too much could have happened in that time.
The village sprawled out in front of them, heavy with the odor of farm animals and peat smoke.
She’d seen those roughhewn structures before, the thatched roofs and laden carts of goods set up where the town center was visible. They’d been in Kaid’s book, sketched in jagged lines of thick black and clouded with death.
She half expected to find dark blotches of dried blood in the hard-packed dirt, evidence of past violence. But all that met her gaze was a crowd’s curiosity.
Though she was no more noble now than any one of them, her back stiffened of its own accord, shoving strength where weakness wanted to prevail.
She was on display, a prize caught and shown off. Though she wanted nothing more than to fend off the reaction, their stares left her raw with vulnerability.
At first, whispers started with the quiet of tree leaves shushing against one another in the breeze. But as she stopped, as she was helped from her horse and led through the parted masses toward the massive castle, those whispers became a hum, and then a buzz.
Their words came in snatches.
English.
MacKenzie.
Bride.
Death.
She tried to blot it from her mind, but she couldn’t stop her ears from listening any more than she could stop her knees from turning to jelly.
“Mama!” A cry cut through the air.
Delilah maintained her composure, but sought out the person who’d spoken as discreetly as possible.
The cry came again, this time in a wail.
Delilah turned toward the sound to find a small girl wrestling against the hold of a woman with long brown hair. The girl jerked backward in a mass of blonde hair and pulled free from the woman’s grasp.
The child staggered, almost falling, before she righted herself and ran forward, arms outstretched. “Mama!”
But she didn’t head toward any of the women in the village. She ran hard until she smacked into Delilah’s legs, and her little arms locked around Delilah’s knees in a ferocious hug. “Mama.” The word choked from the child on the bubble of a sob.
Delilah stared in surprise at the child. The girl’s long blonde hair hung down her back against the rough brown fabric of her homespun dress.
The child lifted her head and met Delilah’s gaze with large blue eyes. A gasp tore from the girl’s mouth and she jerked back as if she’d been struck.
Delilah stepped away instinctively, worried the girl had somehow been hurt. Perhaps the dagger in her skirts? But no, that wouldn’t have—
“I’m sorry.” The woman with the long brown hair appeared in front of Delilah, her cheeks flushed. Her English was broken. “Claire,” she knelt in front of the girl and switched to Gaelic. “This is not yer ma.”
The girl, Claire, looked up at Delilah again. Tears welled in her eyes and left the beautiful blue glossy with such sorrow, it snagged at Delilah’s heart like a barb.
“Because my Mama is dead.” The girl’s voice was flat.
To hear such innocence speak so bluntly of death was more than Delilah could bear.
She had never thought herself a maternal woman. Her older sisters all had been and readily took to the care of the younger children. But now she found her heart aching to pull the girl into her arms and soothe away her pain. A tear ran down Delilah’s cheek.
She stepped toward Claire without intending to, but the girl backed away again. “My mama is dead.” Her voice was hard with an edge of determination when she spoke this time.
The brown-haired woman offered Delilah an apologetic look and ushered the girl away.
Delilah had not realized the whispers had stopped until the hushed silence exploded into a chaos of voices once more.
Self-loathing simmered like a hot coal in her gut.
She’d let them see her cry. Even if it’d been for a young, orphaned girl and not herself, she’d still cried in front of them.
Someone appeared at her side, strong and sure, and while he did not take her hand or offer her the support of his arm, she sensed his encouragement.
“Enough,” Kaid growled at the onlookers. “I’ll speak with ye later, but for now, go on about yer business.”
The crowd begrudgingly dissipated until Delilah was able to make her way without the burden of being watched.
From a distance, the castle had appeared to float atop the loch like some magical apparition, all smooth stone and block construction. Up close, she could now see a tendril of land extending toward it, blanketed with a layer of toppled grass.
They followed the well-used trail to where a shorter wall stood before the three-story structure behind it.
It was not the largest castle she’d seen, nor the most impressive, but its location was by far the most strategic. It was no wonder MacKenzie had attacked the village rather than the castle. It was far more vulnerable.
Kaid gestured for them to enter the opening in the wall to where a narrow courtyard was visible beyond. “Welcome to Ardvreck Castle.”
• • •
Kaid’s people were divided on Delilah’s appearance—there were those who saw her as a savior, and others as a curse. Then again, they only knew Delilah as Elizabeth, MacKenzie’s intended.
Kaid and Donnan made their way to the new part of the castle, where a spare chamber had been readied for their arrival. Hopefully allowing the ladies a bath and a night to rest had eased the offense of their recapture.
“This had better work,” Kaid mumbled under his breath.
Donnan gave him a confident grin. “It will.”
Kaid did not share his friend’s enthusiasm. “It has to,” he said somberly.
Truth be told, he didn’t know if it could. There were too many opportunities for error in his plan.
First he had to convince Delilah of why she should want to help, then he had to actually ask her and hope to God she said yes. Even if he got her to agree to play Elizabeth Seymour, she would have to find MacKenzie’s missing sister.
Laird MacKenzie was only laird regent. His elder sister, Torra, had one day faded from existence, and he had declared himself acting laird in her compromised mental state. There had been no opposition from the people, at least none as far as Kaid remembered. He’d been a boy when it all happened.
No one had heard of Torra since.
If she was alive, if she could be reasoned with, if she could be found and brought to Ardvreck to witness the impact of her brother’s destruction—perhaps she could be convinced to restore the truce which had existed before Seumas’s mother died at Ardvreck.
But if Torra truly was mad, as MacKenzie claimed, all his efforts might be for naught.
So no, he did not have the same confidence in all of this as did Donnan, but he wished like hell he did.
He opened the door to the chamber and found both women as he’d left them the night before, albeit clean and in different clothing. Leasa perched anxiously on the edge of the massive bed and Delilah stalked back and forth like a caged wildcat.
Leasa’s face lit when she saw them, but Delilah’s eyes glittered with something shrewd and calculating.
“Leasa, go with Donnan. He’ll show ye around.” Kaid looked pointedly at Delilah, who had stopped pacing long enough to fold her arms over her chest.
“I’d like to speak with ye,” he said. “Alone.”
Leasa cast a questioning look toward Delilah, who nodded her assent, and the maid slipped from the room with Donnan.
Delilah didn’t move until the door was closed, then she made her way toward Kaid with slow, deliberate steps before stopping directly in front of him.
“Aren’t you afraid Elizabeth’s innocence will be compromised if you stay in the room alone with me?” Her coquettish tone was both irritating and arousing at the same time.
No doubt she knew exactly what she was doing.
“I think we’re well past that.” Kaid kept his tone as intimate as she’d made hers.
She tensed and he put up a hand. “I dinna want to injure ye when we fought before. I willna fear as much next time.”
“That doesn’t frighten me,” she said. The edge in her voice did not match the delicate yellow gown she wore or the fine tendrils framing the face he’d spent far too long memorizing.
She was hard and dangerous and so damn beautiful, it was all he could do to keep from reaching out to her.
“It wasna meant to,” Kaid said. “I have no intention of hurting ye.”
“So abducting helpless noblewomen and holding them captive in your home are where your crimes stop?” She shook her head with what he recognized as helpless frustration.
She was trapped and she knew it.
But he was helplessly frustrated too.
He hadn’t wanted this. Hell, he hated being in this situation. But it was the only thing he could possibly do to negotiate peace.
She turned away from him and strode past the large wooden chest at the foot of the bed, toward the heavy green curtains pulled aside from the window. Sunlight streamed over her face, lighting her skin like smooth cream, and his fingers yearned for a bit of charcoal.
“You plan to use me for negotiation still.” She stared out at something he could not see. “You told them I was Elizabeth.”
“I sent riders to Edirdovar Castle as soon as we arrived.”
Delilah shook her head. “And how do you know it was not MacKenzie who hired me?”
“If he wanted me, he’d use my people to get at me—the same as he did my da.” It ached him to recall the loss they’d all suffered that fateful day.
Delilah cast her gaze downward and nodded in understanding. “You’re right. It was not him who hired me, but I’d prefer not to say who did. It has no importance regarding MacK
enzie.”
Kaid nodded. He would honor her request—for now.
“You want me to play Elizabeth for MacKenzie,” she surmised. “I won’t do it. Tell your people I’m Elizabeth, that’s fine—it doesn’t matter who I am. But I will not go to MacKenzie.”
He’d expected as much. She felt betrayed, and he understood. “I was thinking of another way ye could help.”
She raised a brow.
“The people’s anger toward MacKenzie is more hurtful than helpful,” he said. “If ye could show some goodwill toward them, it may ease some of their burden.”
Her acquiescence to this part of the plan was vital. She had to be open to seeing what MacKenzie had done. “Please,” he said in a low voice.
She stared up at him and a memory blossomed in his mind of the last time she’d looked at him so boldly. When they’d lain together. When he’d sampled everything sweet and wonderful about her.
Before she turned on him.
Her cheeks flushed to a bonny pink and he knew she was remembering too. She turned her bold stare from him, for it was no longer bold and he knew she did not want him to see the thoughts they shared.
“Very well.” She lifted her head in a proud manner, the same as she had when he first abducted her. Perhaps in the manner the true Elizabeth Seymour would. “It’s far better than sitting in a room and waiting for time to pass.”
The pressure in Kaid’s chest eased. The first part of his plan had worked.
Now for Delilah to be convinced to truly help.
Chapter Sixteen
Grudging.
Yes, that was the ideal word to describe Delilah’s mood as she trudged from the castle to the outlying village. Two massive warriors carefully held a large kettle of savory venison stew, followed by a wheeled cart laden with bread still hot from the oven. Beside them walked Rhona, the aged seer who carried a basket of herbs looped around her forearm.
Delilah hated being captive when she should have had the advantage. Her failure sat in her mind like a pebble in one’s shoe. The wind jerked her skirts against her until she felt as though the fine silk were beating her legs. Hair whipped into her face. She irritably shoved aside the offending tresses and pressed onward.
Highland Ruse: Mercenary Maidens - Book Two Page 12