by Paula Quinn
She threw herself onto Esmé’s pillow and wept.
“Temperance, let me in, please,” he begged stubbornly.
“I’ll only kill you if I do,” she promised, not lifting her head from her arm, cushioning it.
“I wanted to tell ye, but I was afraid, lass.”
“Leave me alone!” she screamed again. There was no mercy in her. Instead his words, his voice, only incensed her further. Her blood boiled up in her veins. “I hope someone kills you. I hope ’tis me.”
He finally left the door and let her weep in peace.
Esmé left her with a promise to fetch Marion. A few moments later Gram pushed open the door and hurried to Temperance’s side.
“Och, dove, so ye discovered yer Cailean is a Black Rider.”
Temperance pulled back from her arms and stared at her. “Aye, and which Black Rider in particular. Did you know that it was Cailean… Cailean who brought Duncan and the Black Riders to Linavar?”
Gram nodded. “Only after Marion told me that ’twas Patrick who’d been shot that day. I remembered they had come because someone had been shot. When Marion told me Cailean was a Black Rider, I deduced which one he was.”
“I’m going to kill him, Gram.”
“Nay, dove, ye’re not. He’s going to get us out of here.”
“Why would he?” Temperance asked her. “He’s the reason we’re here.”
“That’s why he’s going to save us,” the elder said stubbornly. “That, and because he loves ye.”
Cailean sat in the hall, staring into his cup. The others didn’t bother him, familiar with the dark, quiet rider who sat among them. They thought he hadn’t changed.
But he knew the truth. He was worse.
He hadn’t told her who he was or what he’d done. He’d let her believe he was innocent. She had every right to hate him, but he didn’t want her to. He wanted to talk to her, try to win her back. He knew he never could.
He’d never forget the pain and crushing disbelief in her eyes when she’d learned the truth. It had taken every last bit of strength she possessed to remain in the hall while he changed from a man she cared for to the man who’d had a hand in killing her father. The tears she’d shed behind that blasted locked door had nearly destroyed him completely.
There was so much he wanted to say to her. He wasn’t worthy of her forgiveness, but he wanted it. He needed it to live.
“Mr. Grant?”
He looked up from his cup and managed to produce a smile when he saw Marion standing over him, her bright auburn braid swinging about her waist like a fiery sword. What the hell was she still doing here? Had any of the Black Riders, or any other men at the castle, touched her?
“You haven’t seen to your wound,” she noted, pointing to his bloodstained shirt.
What the hell did he care about a cut to his flesh when his heart was ripped open within? “Ye’re supposed to be in Perth. Why did ye no’ go?”
“After you left Lyon’s Ridge, Maeve refused to take me.”
He ground his teeth. He would have words with the madam.
“But one of her lasses told Deware that you had gone.”
Her eyes opened wider and her breath stalled. “William was here?”
His gaze fell over her russet-colored hair and the delicate curve of her jawline. “Aye, and then he rode to Perth to find ye.” When she smiled, his heart sank.
“If ye’ve been… defiled by anyone here, point out his face to me and I’ll—”
Her smile on him deepened and then she blushed. “I haven’t been defiled.”
He sighed out loud with relief. “How have ye managed to decline—?”
“Everyone but Lord Murdoch believes I carry syphilis.”
“Why does the lord no’ believe it?”
“Because I told him the truth—that I lied to get out of bedding them. I told him I would only give up my body to the man I loved. He promised to protect me. I think he cares for me.”
“Ye love Deware.”
“Aye, I love him. We were going to tell Temperance. Will knew she wasn’t in love with him. But she is in love with you.”
If that was supposed to make him feel better, it didn’t. In fact, it made him want to smash his cup into the hearth.
“And you love her.”
Aye. Aye, he did. “She nursed m’ body back to good health after she found me wounded in her garden. She nursed m’ soul as well, I think. But it doesna matter. What I’ve done canna be fergiven.”
“You cannot just give up,” she insisted.
He looked at her, not caring if she saw his whole heart in his eyes. “I dinna intend to, but what can I do to win her back?”
“Fight.” Marion’s eyes blazed as she took his hand. “If you love her then fight for her.”
Aye, he sat up straighter. That was the plan.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cailean found Patrick in the training lists later that day. His opponent was Brodie Garrow, one of Lord Murdoch’s harder, more experienced mercs, and one of Duncan’s most loyal men. Cailean watched the fight with a careful eye, noting Garrow’s weak points as well as his strong ones.
He’d wanted to kill Duncan. He still did. But killing the lord of Glen Lyon’s son would hurt the people of Linavar. He thought about killing both Duncan and his father, and before knowing Temperance he might have considered it. But despite what he wanted the other men in the castle to believe, he was not the same cool, detached beast.
He liked Edward Murdoch and didn’t want to kill him.
He’d grown up in a place where honor abounded, and though it had been buried beneath the weight of grief and guilt, it was still there, embedded deep within.
He sat forward on the bench, momentarily concerned for his cousin when Garrow ducked beneath Patrick’s blade and came back up behind him. He smashed his heavy blade on top of Patrick’s, knocking it out of his hand. Thankfully, Patrick’s father, Tristan, had taught his son well how to fight without a sword. In fact, Patrick often fought better with just his hands and feet—as he did now. Cailean watched his cousin fell the brutish Black Rider, twice with a swipe of his booted foot across Garrow’s ankles and knees, and once with a chopping blow with his forearm to Garrow’s throat.
Patrick left Garrow where he’d fallen in the grass and went to sit by Cailean on the bench. “Ye should let me kill him.”
“Ye were just laughlin’ with him an hour ago.” Cailean shook his head at him.
“What better way is there to disarm a man than with friendship?” Patrick asked without a hint of remorse. “I smile at them, but it means nothin’. They kidnap lasses and turn them into whores. I smile at them to keep from killin’ them.”
“MacGregor!”
Cailean and Patrick turned to see Edward Murdoch leaving the castle and making his way to the lists to join them.
“If we dinna do it”—Patrick leaned in close to Cailean and spoke quickly—“yer Temperance will. I told ye what Gram said aboot her. She is plannin’ on killin’ some mercenaries. Ye’ll likely be the first.”
Cailean remembered Temperance’s promises to kill the men responsible for killing her father. He had to stop her somehow. Not for Duncan’s and Cutty’s sakes. Not for his own, but for Linavar’s and for her sake. She had too much to lose, Gram, Deware, Anne Gilbert. He wouldn’t let her put them all in danger. He wouldn’t let her lose more of her kin, her friends, for revenge.
The lord of Lyon’s Ridge looked toward Garrow rising to his feet, his hand clutched to his neck. Murdoch laughed and set his gaze back on Patrick. “How much do you want in your purse every month to fight like that for me?”
Patrick smiled without a trace of guile, proving again to his cousin how clever and ruthless a MacGregor could truly be.
“I’ve told ye, m’ lord,” Patrick said as Murdoch reached them. “This isna the life fer me.”
It wasn’t the life for Cailean either. Not anymore. He was ready to live again. But first he had to g
et Temperance, Gram, Marion, and likely a horde of other lasses the hell out of Glen Lyon.
Murdoch clapped Patrick on the shoulder. “Pity. I could likely take Scotland with just the both of you at my side.”
He patted Cailean next, then drew him in under his arm. “’Tis good to have you back. How are you feeling? You were quite pale when I saw you last.”
“I’m well,” Cailean lied. He felt like hell. “And eager for a word with you.”
“If it’s about Miss Menzie”—Murdoch smiled and released him to take a seat on the bench—“I haven’t yet decided what to do with her. It is her whom you want to have a word about, is it not?” he asked indulgently when Cailean didn’t reply right away.
“Aye, ’tis,” Cailean admitted.
“You had gone to Linavar to see her when Duncan stabbed you, am I correct?”
Cailean sat next to him on the bench while Patrick remained standing. He hadn’t planned on confessing his heart to the lord of Glen Lyon, but if he was going to fight for her, Murdoch needed to know how serious he was. “Ye are. And after your son left me to bleed to death, she was the one who brought me back to life.”
“You care for her, I understand—”
“I’m in love with her, m’ lord,” Cailean corrected him. Damn it, but it felt good to say it, like chains melting off his heart. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell all the men in the castle. He loved her and he’d kill anyone who touched her.
“Then truly we have a quandary,” Murdoch said, looking him in the eyes. “Duncan wants her. He’s been in love with her for years.”
Cailean screwed up his face and shook his head. “Was it love when he watched her faither die? When he heard her anguish and instead of falling to his knees fer bringin’ her such sorrow, he intended to take her from the rest of her kin? If Seth Menzie was your friend, then dinna sentence his daughter to a life with yer son.”
Edward folded his arms across his chest and exhaled a loud breath. “What do you purpose I do, then, Cailean?”
Here was what Cailean wanted to speak with him about—his plan to get Temperance away from Duncan.
“Let me fight fer her. When I win, let me take her back to Linavar with the promise to keep Duncan oot of her life.”
“Fight who? My son?” The lord threw back his head and laughed when Cailean nodded. “Duncan wouldn’t last long enough for the priest to recite a prayer over him.”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” Cailean agreed. He’d proven that enough times over the last four months. “That’s why I will fight ten more before him. Five today and five tomorrow.”
Patrick kicked a sword off its stand and swore under his breath. He hadn’t agreed to the plan when Cailean had first presented it to him. He didn’t have to agree to it. Cailean needed to do it. He hoped that fighting until he was worn down, and continuing, for her, might ease his shame.
“You wish to go up against ten of the men before you fight Duncan?”
“Aye.” Cailean’s grin was as guileless as his cousin’s had been. He had to do this. It was the only way. “Ye like sport, m’ lord, dinna ye?”
“You know I do,” Murdoch said, laughing. “I know you do as well. You have more skill than anyone here, but ten men?”
“Aye,” Patrick intoned, concern still marring his brow. “’Tis madness. M’ lord, ye must refuse.”
Cailean frowned at him. He was beginning to feel a bit insulted. Did Patrick believe he would lose? Lose Temperance?
Murdoch studied him for a moment and then waved his hand. “I will allow it.”
Cailean smiled. Patrick did not.
“If you lose—” Murdoch began.
“I will no’ lose.”
“But you will most definitely get your arse beaten,” the lord offered. “Is she worth it?”
Cailean didn’t hesitate. “Aye, she is.”
Murdoch looked doubtful, but he shrugged his beefy shoulders, then patted Cailean on the shoulder again before he rose to his feet. “Very well, then. You’ll fight ten of the men and then Duncan. If you win, you can take Miss Menzie back to Linavar and do what you will with her. I’ll inform the men. Who did you have in mind to take on?”
“Garrow, the MacCormack brothers, Innes, MacRae, and whoever else wishes to fight me,” Cailean told him, and followed him back inside the castle. Patrick followed as well, mumbling as he went.
“Those five are Duncan’s most loyal men,” Murdoch pointed out.
“Aye, I know.”
Cailean thought he saw Murdoch smile slightly as they entered the hall.
It didn’t take the men long to answer Murdoch’s thunderous summons to gather in the great hall for an announcement, especially with the delicious aroma of fresh black buns, mince pie, and roasted turkey wafting through the hall.
“What is that heavenly smell?” the lord asked, looking around with delight before he took a seat at one of the tables.
“Seth Menzie’s mother must have taken over yer kitchen,” Patrick informed him, and sat down at the same table.
Cailean had the urge to head off to the kitchen in search of Gram. He’d been eating at Lyon’s Ridge long enough to know its cook could never conjure such appetizing aromas. He smiled. It was Christmas, and by preparing traditional Christmas dishes, Gram was going to make certain Murdoch and his Black Riders knew it. Knowing her, she’d likely have the men singing outlawed hymns by the end of the night.
He looked around. Was Temperance in the kitchen with her?
“Men!” Murdoch banged his fist on a table to get his men’s attention. “I have an announcement!”
The Black Riders quieted down to hear him, but Cailean had stopped listening.
Every sound faded from Cailean’s ears as Temperance entered the hall with Marion.
She wore her hair swept off her neck and piled loosely atop her head. The style accentuated the soft angles of her features, gave more prominence to her sapphire eyes, softened her chin and the sweet dip of her lower lip.
Cailean couldn’t keep his eyes off her. They returned with a will of their own.
He glanced at the men in their seats, all eyeing her as covetously as if she were the rarest of gems, which, of course, she was, having been kept from all of them for years. He gritted his teeth and straightened his spine. The first to touch her would be the first to die.
“Our brother Cailean Grant has offered a challenge to ten of our best,” Murdoch told them. “A two-day fight, ending with him and Duncan, in the lists. You will each fight on Duncan’s side. The prize will go either to my son or to Grant.”
A round of approval went up among the men. Across the table Patrick shook his head at his cousin. Temperance looked even more displeased, stopping in her place to stare at him.
“Huzzah, Grant!” Tavish Innes called out. “Will you fight us all at once, then?”
Murdoch held up his hands. “How would that be fair, Innes?” the lord asked. “He’ll fight you one at a time beginning tomorrow morn.” He read off the five names Cailean had requested, offering the last five slots to any of his men.
Patrick slammed his palm on the table. “His arm is wounded! He needs a day or two to heal!”
“Tomorrow morn,” Murdoch insisted. “The first five who will participate should be ready.”
“What is the prize?” Cutty called out while he dragged one of Maeve’s lasses into his lap.
Murdoch turned to Temperance. “She is.”
Cailean was certain he heard Temperance utter an oath a moment before she stormed toward him.
“Welcome, Miss Menzie,” Murdoch greeted her when she stood before their table.
Cailean stood from his chair, prompting the others to do the same.
“What do you think of Grant’s challenge?” Murdoch asked her, though it was clear to read in her angry expression.
She told them nonetheless. “I think you should call it off,” she replied. “I’m not a prize to be—”
“Grant disagrees,” Mur
doch said with a smile curling his lips.
“I don’t care what he thinks,” she said, risking Murdoch’s ire.
“I dinna want ye to be forced to marry Duncan.”
She glared at Cailean when he spoke. His heart faltered a little. At least she was acknowledging him. It was a start.
“My future is not your concern, Mr. Grant. Besides”—she dipped her voice but kept it from becoming a growl—“I can think of worse men to marry.”
Hell, she was fine, braw and bonny in her hatred of him. She tempted him to smile like some captivated half-wit. But he didn’t. He didn’t want her to hate him, and her words stung.
He’d never wanted to hurt her. But he had. He felt ill with the weight of it. She was joy, innocence, a flame in the darkness. He was the monster who had taken it all from her. How could he ever win her back? He doubted fighting a hundred men would be enough.
She went back to pretending he didn’t exist, which drove Cailean closer toward the edge. But he’d expected this, hadn’t he? That’s why he hadn’t told her the truth. He’d known she’d hate him and he’d wanted to avoid the inevitable. But the truth had caught up with him and now he had to face the ugliness of it.
He wasn’t supposed to care. Not again. He’d vowed to himself that he’d never let love in again.
How easily he’d given in.
Had it been the sadness in her gaze, which came from someplace so deep it felt as if nothing could ever penetrate it? The anguish he was so familiar with, that had pulled him to her? Mayhap in the beginning, but then she’d made him smile. She’d brought laughter back to him. She’d made him feel again, whether he wanted to or not. He wasn’t about to let anyone harm her… or take her from him.
When Murdoch offered her a seat, she refused. When he waved his hand to one of the servers to bring her a bowl, she shook her head.
“I’m not hungry.”
The lord blinked at her, then offered Cailean a perplexed look.
Cailean realized that Murdoch had no idea how to handle a lass who defied him. He also realized Temperance was defying the lord because of him.