The Warrior of Clan Kincaid

by Lily Blackwood

  Derryth ignored her. She had nothing more to say to her. Now that she sat in the saddle, she was impatient to be home. Impatient to see Elspeth and the baby and everyone there. Impatient to speak to Niall. Impatient to be reunited with Cull, and to give him the truth that he deserved.

  Cull. Her heart was half broken over leaving him. She had to believe he would follow.

  She looked over her shoulder toward the men who would escort her.

  “We’ll go quickly. Do try to keep up.”

  With one last glance at Carven, she jabbed her heels into the palfrey’s sides.

  * * *

  “Where is she?” Cull demanded, pushing into Buchan’s chambers. There, he found the earl sitting at a table strewn with documents. Ainsley stood just to the side, as if they’d been speaking.

  “Where is who?”

  Behind him stormed in Duncan, then Robert.

  “Derryth MacClaren,” bellowed Duncan. “She is gone.”

  “What do you mean, she is gone?” answered Buchan, his eyes going sharp. He stood, pressing his hands to the top of the table.

  Cull paced the length of the table, seething.

  “She is not in her room,” Robert replied. “And her cloak is gone.”

  “Who told you this?” Buchan asked, his eyes darkening.

  “I did,” said Mairead, entering, her face flushed. “I thought … well, that perhaps Cull had taken her.” She came to stand before Buchan’s desk. “Everyone knows that she is what Duncan and Cull have been snarling at each other about. That little Highland slut that they’ve been passing back and forth.”

  Cull let out a furious snarl of a sound, and glared at Mairead.

  She moved closer to the earl.

  “Why does everyone care about her so much?” Ainsley cried, color high in her cheeks and her eyes glistening.

  Buchan’s eyes narrowed on her. “Ainsley … do you know something about this?”

  “No,” she retorted, her eyes widening.

  “You’re lying,” he said.

  “You are lying,” Mairead exclaimed. “I know when you tell lies, and you are not telling the truth now.”

  “You can have Inverhaven without her,” Ainsley exclaimed, rushing toward Cull, and grasping his hands in hers. She looked up at him with a smile and spoke in a low tone, words that only he would hear. “It can be ours, together. Think of all that we could accomplish together. My large tocher would be yours. You don’t need her. Forget her. Tell Father that you want to marry me.”

  Duncan strode forth to glare at his half-sister, and gritted out from between his teeth. “She was not yours to set free.”

  Cull stared down at her, his every muscle tight with fury. “What did you do with her?”

  Ainsley broke away with a hiss. “I gave her a horse, that is all. She is gone. You should thank me. You don’t have to marry that Highlander simpleton to have Inverhaven, when you can marry me.”

  “You sent her off alone?” Cull thundered, his stomach seizing tight with fear. Anything could happen to her. She could be waylaid by miscreants. Attacked. Raped. “With only a horse?”

  Ainsley rolled her eyes. “And four men to see that she got where I wished her to be.”

  “Four men?” he shouted. “Trusted men, or ruffians you recruited off the streets? Can they be trusted?”

  “I don’t know,” she cried. “And I don’t care. Why do you care so much?”

  Cull strode forward and grasped her wrist. “How long ago?”

  “Just after the evening meal before. She’s gone too far for you to catch her now.”

  He knew that wasn’t true, because he’d spent the night with Derryth, but he could not exactly announce that now. He could only assume they’d slipped away before dawn, when no one would have seen them. There were too many men, and there would be too many witnesses during the light of day. All he wanted was to get her back. He was finished here. He would say what he had to say, then he would ride.

  “You get out,” he growled at Ainsley—giving her a small push toward the door. “I would speak alone to your father now.”

  “Only if it is to tell me that you will be resuming your efforts at Inverhaven.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that,” she replied, bristling.

  “Go, Ainsley,” said Buchan. “Leave this to me.”

  He gave Mairead a nudge, and the woman crossed the room, taking Ainsley by the arm. “Come, Ainsley.”

  “Father!” shouted Ainsley, as she was drawn away. “Remember what you and I spoke of. If you love me at all, you will let me have my way.”

  In the next moment they were gone, and the door shut by Robert behind them—for Duncan and Robert remained, their faces grave.

  “My daughter wishes to marry you,” Buchan said. “She is very insistent. She always has been … from the first moment she saw you.”

  Cull strode immediately forward, leaning across the table to glare into Buchan’s eyes.

  “That won’t be possible, because I’m finished with her—and I’m finished with you.”

  Buchan did not flinch. His expression did not change at all.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied easily, in a tone of absolute indifference. “And don’t throw this chance away. Have you forgotten what you’ve been offered? Lands. The castle. A name. I can make it all happen. But only if you return to Inverhaven and defeat the Kincaids, as I’ve told you to do.”

  “Aye, as you told me to do,” Cull barked. “Without the king or Parliament’s orders.”

  Buchan’s gaze darkened. “When have I ever been bound by their restrictions?”

  Robert interjected in a low voice. “But Cull is a King’s Guard. He is bound by their restrictions.”

  “You lied to me,” alleged Cull.

  “You owe me this, Cull. You will do as I say.” He rested back in his chair. “If there are questions later … if anyone is to be called to answer, it will be me. I take full responsibility.”

  “No,” said Cull. “I will not collude with you over some … petty personal hatred that you have festered over for years—”

  “What do you know of it?” the earl snarled, suddenly leaning forward again, his eyes narrowing.

  But suddenly Duncan was there beside Cull. “Enough, Father. Forget this lowborn churl! Give the mission to me. I’ve wanted it from the start. Let me crush the Kincaids. Give Inverhaven—and the MacClaren daughter—to me.”

  “Get out,” Buchan ordered. “The both of you.” His eyes moved between his sons.

  “Father,” Duncan exclaimed.

  “Go,” the earl bellowed.

  Both men left—Duncan glaring over his shoulder and Robert’s expression conveying concern.

  When they were gone, Buchan stood and came out from behind the desk. All vestiges of the sudden fury he’d released moments before, gone, replaced now by dispassionate cold.

  “I have always had a tender spot in my heart for you, Cull.”

  “Then why do you ask this of me?”

  “Because I want great things for you. Don’t you see that? I can give you what you’ve always wanted.”

  But his heart had changed. What were lands and a title … a name, without Derryth? Without his child? They were nothing. As if Buchan had somehow picked up on his thoughts, he moved a step closer, speaking in a gentle tone.

  “You’ve come to care for that girl. Derryth MacClaren.”

  Cull’s chest grew tight. If the Wolf threatened Derryth’s life … he would kill the man here and now.

  Nay, he could not. He enforced calm on himself. Only calm discipline would see him through this. And perhaps deception on a level to equal Buchan’s own.

  “All is not lost,” said Buchan. “You can have her still. You can have everything still.”

  “What do you mean?” He looked at the earl with suspicion.

  “I know you have no wish to marry Ainsley, and I do not blame you. She is a troublesome girl. So take Inverhaven, and execute the tw
o imposters that claim to be Braewicks—who so wrongfully claim those lands…”

  They were not imposters. But he held that rebuke inside.

  “And if I do this?” he said evenly.

  “You take all. Inverhaven and the MacClaren girl.” Buchan smiled. “But know this. If you do not carry out this order from me … in gratefulness for all I have done for you in your life … I’ll kill her myself. Her and the rest of them. Do not be ungrateful, Cull. Let me give you all that you deserve.”

  Cull closed his eyes and summoned all the strength within him, and turned to the door.

  “I will do it.”

  A brief time later, Cull dressed for travel in his chamber. Robert stared at him in disbelief.

  “You’re actually going to carry out my father’s orders? You intend to kill the Kincaids?”

  “Damn your father to hell,” Cull muttered darkly, striding toward the door. “I’m not killing anyone. I’m going to get my wife.”

  * * *

  Derryth returned to a castle under siege. Villagers and livestock crowded the courtyard.

  It was Faelan and Tara Braewick who greeted her, both drawing her into a tight embrace.

  “You are here!” cried Derryth. “But what of Burnbryde Castle?”

  “Held by a small force of my men. Burnbryde is nothing if Inverhaven falls. As soon as we heard soldiers approached, we came here with as many warriors and men as we could gather. When the time comes, we will stand with my brother and fight.”

  “What are you doing here?” Tara exclaimed. “How were you able to get through?”

  Faelan lectured her sternly. “You should have stayed in Falranroch with Bridget.”

  “My sister. Niall. I must see them. I’ll explain everything then.”

  Tara lifted a hand to her mouth. “Let us hurry to the tower. You could not have come at a more exciting time. Your sister labors even now. Very soon, the child will be born.”

  They led her inside, where, like the courtyard, the rooms and corridors of the castle were filled with people, and together, she and Tara rushed up the stairs, leaving Faelan to return to the ramparts.

  Entering the laird’s chambers, Derryth found her sister in bed, her cheeks flushed. Niall stood on one side of her, peering down at her in concern, while Ina dabbed a cloth on her forehead.

  “Sister,” Elspeth exclaimed, pushing up from the pillows.

  “Nay stay there, do not move,” cried Derryth. She moved closer, and perching on the bed, embraced her half-sister. “I cannot believe it. The time has come.”

  “Why are you here?” Niall demanded. “Why did you leave the safety of Falranroch?”

  “We never arrived there. We were captured by Buchan’s army, and held prisoner ever since.”

  “What of Deargh? We simply thought with the siege, that he could not get through.”

  “He is a prisoner even now out there, in that camp.”

  Niall’s gaze hardened, and his cheeks flooded with color. “I had no idea. If we’d known, I’d have mounted some sort of rescue—”

  “How did you break free?” Tara asked, pressing close, her eyes alight with concern. “Were you harmed? Were you mistreated?”

  Elspeth let out a sudden cry of pain.

  “Later,” Derryth exclaimed, grasping her sister’s hand, desperate to soothe her. “I will tell you later.”

  Ina pressed closer. “It will be soon now.”

  A sound reached Derryth’s ears. The sound of a man’s heavy boots, rapidly climbing the stairs.

  “Laird. You must come. Riders approach the castle.”

  Derryth leapt up from the bed, her heart spilling over with hope. Riders. Was it Cull, already? Of course it was possible. Finding her gone, he would have ridden like the devil to get here. She rushed to the window and peered out, but caught only a glimpse of several horses passing through the gates.

  She spun round—

  To discover Niall already gone. Her sister sat up in the bed, looking at her, panting heavily. “Derryth, what is it?”

  “It is Cull!” she cried, running to the door. “Niall. Wait.”

  She raced down the stairs, her heart in her throat, never catching sight of her brother-in-law. She hadn’t had time to explain. She would never forgive herself if one of them killed the other. In the vestibule, just outside the gathering hall, she encountered Niall’s back, and beyond that, a great throng of men. The sounds of swords being drawn echoed against the stones.

  “You will wait here, until my laird grants you leave to pass,” bellowed a Kincaid warrior.

  She glimpsed Cull, tall and bull-like, his expression ferocious. Behind him, in the distance, stood Deargh and the other Kincaids, as well as Fiona, their hands bound like prisoners, their eyes wide—looking bewildered, as if they did not understand what was happening.

  “I have brought you your kinsmen as a gesture of goodwill, damn you.” Suddenly, Cull’s eyes fixed on her. “I just need to see her.”

  He pushed forward, only to be intercepted by a dozen men, arms extended and weapons drawn.

  Travel-worn and exhausted, his eyes burned with something she could only define as intense relief—and anger.

  “Cull!” she shouted, pushing past Niall, who seized her. “Nay, Niall. Let him through.”

  “Why?” he demanded.

  Wrenching her arm free, she ran toward Cull and threw herself into his arms. Like a drop of oil fallen onto water, the Kincaids instantly fell back, staring at her with questioning eyes.

  She whirled, pressing her back to Cull’s chest, and addressed Niall. “I have something to tell you.”

  “She is carrying my child,” Cull announced behind her, his voice fierce and claiming. His hands held her by the waist.

  Eyes wide, she glanced up at him. “That isn’t exactly what I was going to say.”

  “What?!” thundered Niall, his face darkening with rage.

  Faelan pushed forward to stand by his brother’s side, snarling. “I don’t believe it.”

  Suddenly, Elspeth was there, emerging from the stairs, with Tara and Ina helping her. Her eyes found Derryth. “Oh, sister. Is this true?”

  “We are also married,” Derryth cried, hoping that might diffuse their angry response.

  Breathing hard, Elspeth seized her husband’s arm. “Give me that sword. I will kill him myself.”

  But already, Niall and Faelan strode forward, glowering, their hands on the hilts of their swords.

  Behind her, Cull yanked his from its sheath. Moving swiftly, he stepped forward to shield her.

  “No!” shouted Derryth, pushing around him. “Cull is your brother.”

  Niall froze, his nostrils flared. “What did you say?”

  They all regarded her as if she were mad. Emotions welled up in her chest.

  She took a deep breath, and repeated. “I believe he is your brother.”

  “Why would you say something like that?” Cull murmured tightly, his face peering down at her, half stricken.

  “Because I believe ’tis true,” she insisted fervently. “Your slaver’s mark is no slaver’s mark at all, but the mark the Laird Kincaid placed on each of his three sons at their birth. Niall, please look.”

  “Show me,” Niall commanded.

  “Please, Cull,” Derryth pleaded, looking into his eyes. “Show him your mark.”

  “It’s not true,” he said, his eyes glancing to her as if to ask why she had subjected him to this. “But very well, if I must prove it.”

  With impatient hands, he removed his hauberk and his tunic beneath. Standing bare to everyone’s gaze, he wrenched up his arm.

  Niall let out a breath … and stepped closer, staring hard. Faelan moved close too, resting a hand on Niall’s shoulder.

  “My god,” Niall whispered.

  Elspeth let out a sob. “He is your brother?”

  “Cullen,” Faelan declared hoarsely.

  “I don’t understand,” said Cull, his voice hollow.

  C
hapter 21

  Niall moved quickly to wrench his tunic over his head, showing Cull the same mark etched onto his skin. “Do you see? There is the proof. There are only three of us with this mark. No other. You are our brother.”

  Cull stared at the mark, identical to his own, before looking into their faces. Faces that had belonged to strangers, but that now, in the straight line of their jaws and noses, and the brightness of their blue eyes, mirrored his own.

  “I bear the same mark,” Faelan uttered low in his throat. “We can summon the council, who will verify it is true. But I don’t need them to know who you are. I see our father in your eyes.”

  The two Braewicks moved closer, each of them placing a hand on Cull’s shoulder, gripping him fiercely there.

  Niall said, “You are Cullen Braewick, the third and youngest son of the Laird Kincaid.”

  Derryth appeared at his side again, her eyes flooded with tears. “Buchan must have captured him that night. Niall, he made your brother a slave for many years, and then made a false show of buying his freedom, only to train him as a warrior. For one purpose—”

  “The sick bastard! To destroy us all,” Niall snarled, before looking to Cull again. “Brother, would you destroy us still?”

  The words struck Cull through, like a sword. He had brothers. Family. Kin. But there were no memories. No years of shared history. No trust between them. Buchan had denied them that kinship, and for that, Cull hated him.

  That history … that brotherly trust would start here. From this moment forward.

  “God no, I will not destroy you,” Cull replied fiercely, emotion and indignation bright in his eyes. He looked at his brothers. “Perhaps no formal vow has been spoken, but hear me now. You are my brothers. All these Kincaids here, in the castle and on these lands, are my kin. I would defend any, and all of you, to my death.”

  At that moment, Elspeth let out a tortured sob, followed by a gasp. She bent at the waist.

  Cull looked past them all toward Elspeth. “But let’s talk about that later. For now, someone please help that woman.”

  Later that night, Cull watched Derryth in the firelight of the great hall, holding her sister’s babe—a healthy, strong-lunged bairn. It was the first moment she’d been able to pry the baby girl away from her doting parents. He could only imagine the joy he would feel seeing her hold their own babe that, God willing, would come sometime after Christmastide next year.