The Warrior of Clan Kincaid

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The Warrior of Clan Kincaid Page 24

by Lily Blackwood


  Elspeth sat beside the fire next to her husband, looking radiant but pensive. No doubt the new mother worried over the future of her child.

  Niall stood then, and moved to Cull’s side. “You know Buchan better than any of us. What do you propose that we do?”

  He’d thought heavily upon it the entire afternoon, while waiting for news of the baby. He could think of only one resolution. Derryth moved close, to stand beside him listening.

  “I would propose that I send a missive to Buchan at Carven. I will … advise him that I have triumphed here, that I have taken Inverhaven, and … killed the both of you. I will ask that he travel here to see the results of our victory for himself. I’m still in command of that army out there, and ’twill be no trouble to pull off the farce. And knowing Buchan, I don’t believe he’ll be able to resist. Robert Stewart is there too, and he will support me in this.”

  “Robert Stewart?” said Faelan, leaning forward, his expression one of disbelief.

  Tara clasped her husband, Faelan’s, hand. “He helped me once.” To Faelan, she said, “I told you he was different than the others.”

  Niall nodded. “Send your missive.”

  The bairn let out a cry, and when no amount of cooing and rocking would soothe her, Derryth returned her to her mother’s arms. Cull watched Derryth’s every move, his attention captured by the swing of her kirtle and the gleam of her hair. If she had meant everything to him before, she meant even more than that now. She had returned him to his brothers. She had given him a new life. The life that should have been his all along.

  Though he would forever deeply grieve the loss of his parents, whom he did not remember, and the life he should have lived here at Inverhaven, he was no longer Cull the Nameless, King’s Guard and knight. He was a Kincaid. He would die to protect her. He would die to protect them all, including this castle and these lands.

  She turned then, and caught him looking. Coming near, she took his hand and urged him to his feet. “Come, husband. I know you are weary.”

  “Because of you,” he said, pulling her close. “I rode day and night. My destrier is very unhappy with you, I would have you know.”

  “I shall have to spoil him.”

  “You knew I would follow.”

  Rocking up on her toes, she brought him down for a kiss. “I knew you would.”

  “I love you,” he murmured, kissing her cheek.

  Several chuckles arose up all around. Glancing around, he discovered all eyes on them. It seemed the Kincaids now took joy and amusement in observing his and Derryth’s affection for each other, whereas just hours before they’d been prepared to kill him for it.

  “Your chamber is just as you left it, Derryth,” Elspeth said innocently, from where she watched, holding her child.

  Derryth smiled, and pulled him down to whisper in his ear.

  “Come with me now,” she said. “I’m curious to know what it’s like to make love to a warrior of the clan Kincaid.”

  * * *

  A sennight later, Buchan and his personal guard waited outside the gate.

  Cull’s blood thrummed with anticipation. This morning, he did not wear his warrior’s garb. He wore a plaid and tunic, like his brothers. Like a Kincaid.

  He nodded to the sentries. “Let them in.”

  Buchan, Robert, and Duncan passed through.

  As planned, the throng of Kincaid warriors surged forward, repelling any further entry by the warriors who accompanied them. Withdrawing just as quickly, before the earl’s men could respond, the gates were slammed closed.

  Snarling and stunned, his eyes wide, the Wolf circled on his horse, his hand going to his sword. But the surrounding warriors unsaddled and disarmed him, and Duncan as well.

  Both men were dragged forth. Behind them, Robert dismounted slowly, still in possession of his sword, his face grim.

  Buchan and Duncan men struggled to stand.

  “What betrayal is this?” Buchan demanded, his face scarlet with fury. He glanced over his shoulder at Robert.

  “Traitor!” Duncan spat in his brother’s direction.

  Robert’s expression did not waver. Instead, he walked past Buchan and Duncan. Turning, he stood beside Cull and his two brothers.

  “’Tis no betrayal at all,” said Cull, moving toward Buchan. “’Tis you who betrayed my father, my brothers, and me.”

  “What did you say?” Buchan smiled then, his lips forming a terrible wolf-like grimace.

  “That’s right. I know the truth. What I don’t know is if you planned for me to kill my brothers, and live on never knowing the truth—that they were my brothers. Or … did you expect to kill me too? Perhaps after I did as you wished, you intended to set Duncan upon me? All the while taunting me with the truth … that I’d slain my own surviving kin.”

  The earl’s grin flared viciously. “Aye, that was the plan all along.”

  “But why, Father?” Robert demanded. “Why do you despise them so?”

  Buchan seethed at him, lunging forward, but was held back by the warriors who surrounded him. “Do not call me Father, ever again.”

  “You killed their father. Their mother. Why must you also kill the sons?”

  Buchan held silent, his jaw clenched, refusing to speak.

  Silence filled the courtyard.

  It was Robert who spoke again. “I think that’s it, isn’t it? You didn’t mean for her to die. Y’ thought you’d kill her husband, and have her for yourself.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buchan hissed—but without conviction. His shoulders sagged.

  “You … who have never truly loved, imagined yourself to love her. And ever since, you hated them all, because she loved them. She didn’t love you. She chose to die with her husband.”

  “They killed her,” Buchan growled, “not me. What sort of husband allows his wife to stand beside him during a surrender?”

  “What sort of man kills another, thinking to take his wife?” Niall growled.

  “What happened?” Cull demanded, his hand on the hilt of his sword, hatred simmering in his veins. “Tell us now, or I vow I will slay you and your son right here on these stones. I do not care that you are the king’s son. You murdered my mother and father. And then you enslaved me. A mere child.”

  Buchan sagged between the men who held him. He hung his head, breathing hard. “Aye … I was there that night. High upon the hillock, overlooking everything. I had brought some fifty mounted men to support the Alwyn and the MacClaren in taking Inverhaven.”

  He growled. “She wasn’t supposed to die. None of them. Just the laird. But when the Kincaids saw my men coming down the hillside, they changed their minds about surrendering. The fools. They decided to fight.”

  Robert shifted. “And the sons … as long as they live, so does your sin. So does your guilt.”

  Buchan’s lip curled. “Every time I see them, I see their damned father.”

  Niall drew his sword, and snarled. “I know we agreed otherwise, but he must die.”

  Cull gripped his arm. “Nay, brother. We will do as we agreed.”

  “What is that?” Duncan asked, his eyes wild with hate.

  “The earl will sign a written confession, detailing all the crimes he has committed against the clan Kincaid. We will send the confession to Edinburgh, and demand intervention. Until then, you will both be imprisoned here in the tower.”

  Robert moved to stand between them. “Until this morning I believed that to be an acceptable plan, but—”

  “But what?” said Cull.

  Robert looked long and hard on his father, before speaking again. “You know that I wrote Edinburgh to inquire about the orders my father claimed he’d received to act against the Kincaids. And you know I received a response that those orders had never been issued.”

  “Aye,” said Niall. “What else?”

  “I received a second missive last night. Not just a missive, but a formal edict from the king and Parliament. In add
ition, it is signed by the king’s sons, Carrick and Fife.”

  “You went to my brothers on this?” the earl said, the color draining from his face.

  Duncan shouted, “I will kill you myself.”

  “What does the edict say?” asked Niall.

  Robert looked directly at Cull. “That in recognition of his faithfulness to the crown, that Cull the Nameless, King’s Guard and knight of Scotland, has been named Justiciar of the North. With the king’s impending death, they hope he will help to maintain peace in the Highlands. The appointment comes with the bestowal of a title and lands. It’s all here, along with the assurance that the appointment will survive the death of the king.”

  “Why have you done this to me?” Buchan demanded of Robert.

  “You know why. If you don’t, you’re a selfish old fool. I loved her, and you took her from me. She died because of you.”

  Duncan’s eyes widened. “You did this because of a woman?”

  “Aye,” Robert replied solemnly. “It seems I’m like my father in that way. But not just for her. Because you deserve it, Father. You’ve destroyed so many lives.”

  Niall looked at Cull. His frown transformed into a wicked grin. “Justiciar. I suppose you think you’re really something now.”

  Faelan pointed his sword between Buchan and Duncan. “You wouldn’t dare act against an officer of the king.”

  Robert looked at Cull. “I would petition you not to kill my father. As powerful as you are now, with this appointment, he does have allies in Parliament who might strike out against you if you act alone. Instead, I ask that you take his confession, which I myself will deliver to my uncles, who I vow will demand that he answer for what he has done. If he is committed to death, let it be done in full accordance with the law, by the judiciary powers of this land.”

  “’Tis true,” Cull said to his brothers. “If we execute him now, we put the future of Inverhaven in jeopardy. Whereas if we exert a right and just hand, and defer to the ruling courts of the land, I have no doubt we will be found in the right, and have our justice.”

  Niall looked at Faelan, who scowled but nodded. “I want him dead. But I also want peace. For my children to grow up without fear.”

  Robert continued. “Take his confession. He will sign it, along with an agreement that he will never step foot on Kincaid lands again. Let Scotland render his final judgment.”

  “Let us think upon it,” said Cull. “Until we decide, take them to the tower.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Derryth stood at Cull’s side, as Buchan and Duncan were allowed to climb atop their horses, without weapons. Without armed warriors to accompany them. Kincaid villagers and warriors gathered to watch, all around.

  After signing the documents, Buchan had refused to speak. Now, he rode away, with his son at his side.

  “It’s not over,” Niall said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  Cull stared at the earl’s back. “When the time is right. He cannot escape this.”

  The gates closed with a thunderous rattle, and a cheer went up among the people.

  Derryth stepped back, tears blurring her vision, as she watched Cull turn to embrace Niall and then Faelan. Turning, the three of them reached for Robert, gripping his shoulders … shaking his hands.

  “Thank you, Robert,” said Cull.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Cull turned to Derryth then, and pulled her close. “Come with me.”

  Together, along with the others, they climbed the stairs, taking to the ramparts. From there they watched, as over the next hours Cull’s orders were followed. The tents … the catapults … the livestock … the men … all withdrew, disappearing over the horizon.

  Twilight painted the rutted, upturned earth.

  “What a mess,” murmured someone.

  Cull drew Derryth close to his side.

  “I disagree,” he murmured. “I have never seen a more beautiful sight.”

  She rested her head upon his chest. “I can’t believe it. He’s finally gone. And you are here. I’m so happy, Cull.”

  He bent to kiss her. Instantly, the flame of passion flared between them.

  “Cullen,” she whispered against his lips. “Cullen Kincaid.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t forget the Justiciar of the North part.”

  “I can’t forget. I’ll never forget.” She turned to look alongside them, at the sight on the rampart. There, Niall and Elspeth embraced, as did Faelan and Tara. And all the others. “Just look at them. I can’t imagine a more beautiful sight.”

  “I can,” said Cull, peering down at her. “I’m looking at it right now.”

  Afterword

  After being called on by his brothers and Parliament to answer for his numerous transgressions, Alexander Stewart, the notorious Wolf of Badenach, spent a few more years wreaking havoc with a force of paid mercenaries—even burning the cathedral at Elgin and getting himself excommunicated from the church. It was here that he once more found bitter defeat against the Kincaids, who gathered with other nobles and Highlanders to call the earl to heel.

  Afterward, shamed and shunned, he withdrew to the silence and seclusion of Ruthven Castle.

  It is said that he lived there quietly until one night when—as legend tells—a man clad all in black arrived at the gates. A mysterious man, whom he invited inside for a game of chess behind the locked doors of his great hall.

  That night terrible storms rained down, and lightning crashed, splitting the sky. No one saw the stranger leave, but in the morning the Wolf was discovered dead on the stone floor. But not only dead. The small nails that had held fast the soles of his boots were found strewn on the floor on the opposite side of the room from his remains. That peculiar discovery—and the appearance of his body—led all to conclude that he had somehow been struck by lightning.

  Of course, like all legends, there are varying versions of the story.

  Some scoff, saying there was no visitor at all. Some even claim that the man in black was the Devil come to drag the Wolf to Hell for his sins. With such wild, varying, and often embellished accounts, the truth of whether a mysterious stranger or the Devil himself entered Ruthven Castle will never be known.

  Muddying the waters even further, some swear there was not only one visitor that night …

  But three.

  About the Author

  Since her earliest days, Lily Blackwood has found a friend in books. Raised an Army brat, she moved often with her family, and books were constant companions which always smoothed the transition to a new location and a new set of friends. Now, Lily lives in Texas, where she writes sexy historical romance novels about fierce Highlanders. She suffers endless (fun and always welcome!) interruptions by her two children. And like many authors, she writes with a cat—or two—wrapped around her legs. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Afterwo
rd

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THE WARRIOR OF CLAN KINCAID

  Copyright © 2018 by Lily Blackwood.

  Cover photo illustration by Patricia Schmitt (Picky Me)

  Author photo © Darla Guyton

  All rights reserved.

  For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  eISBN: 978-1-250-08485-9

  Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, ext. 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / August 2018

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

 

 

 


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