by Lizzy Ford
She did not move, not caring who it was.
Cade answered it and let in his cousin. Niall was drenched and dripping rain onto the floor. Two bulging satchels were clenched in his hands. He slung both onto the bed.
“Are we ready?” Cade asked.
“Nearly,” Niall said. “I told Laird Duncan I brought you clothes and the writ.”
“Take him the writ and go to the horses. Make certain t’bring the writ back with ye. Father Adam is t’keep them all safe.”
Niall nodded.
She felt his long look in her direction.
“It is done?” he asked.
“Yea.”
“Verra well. I willna be long.” He left quietly, and Cade slid the bar over the door behind him.
Isabel willed herself to remain numb, unaffected by what was happening. But the mention of the writ sent a new streak of fear through her. She had secrets that were to remain secrets.
“What writ?” she ventured.
“Our marriage contract.”
She faced him, cheeks warm.
Cade had tugged on a tunic and was dumping the contents of the saddlebags onto the bed. A coil of rope, clothing, and weapons spilled out onto the bed. She studied the items and what he did, puzzled.
“The other contract will be destroyed,” he added tersely.
He made no move to touch her as a man did his wife. He was calmer, his mood reflected by the lack of thunder and lightning. The skies drizzled rather than poured. With his hair swept back and all signs of blood gone, he no longer resembled the beast who ripped men’s arms and heads off.
But he was the same man. He was the famed Black Cade.
“Why did you challenge Richard?” she whispered.
He paused in his sorting before his movement began again. “The MacCosse lands. My clan has no home.”
“And I can provide that.” Why was she disappointed, especially after seeing what he could do with his bare hands? “You finally believe me.”
“Yea. Niall went to the Scottish court and found the truth there.”
What truth? She was too afraid to ask what else he had learned from those who knew more of her secrets. “They are disputed, are they not?” she murmured. “You are the Lord of Saxony now. You can take your people to England.”
“England?” he repeated with a snort. “We’ll no’ leave the Highlands. None of us.”
She regarded the bedchamber with mild despair. It was comfortable and small – and nothing like her chamber in Saxony.
He approached her, and she went still, awaiting the inevitable when he made her his wife in every way. Cade lifted her chin to peer at her bruises.
“Richard?” he asked.
She pulled her chin free and nodded. Caught by his blue-grey eyes, she did not bow her head as she intended to. Cade gazed down at her, near enough for his body heat to reach her, along with his familiar scent. He touched her face once more with the backs of his fingers.
She winced.
“I willna hurt ye, Lady Cade,” he said.
She flushed, hating how suiting the mocking nickname now was. “After what you did to those knights …” She cleared her throat. “Forgive me if I cannot believe that, Laird Cade.”
“I didna wish ye t’see that side of me,” he admitted. “But perhaps it’s better ye did. The man known as Black Cade isna one I am proud of but he is part of me. I crossed into dark sorcery in the Holy Lands and awoke a demon within me. I canna cross back but I can control him.”
“He … you are terrifying,” she whispered.
“Yea.” He cupped her cheek in his hand, holding her gaze when she wanted away from him. “He canna hurt ye just as I canna. Yer touch drives him back inside me, where he belongs.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“We shouldna have secrets anymore. Isna how this is to be? Man and wife?”
“I do not know,” she replied honestly. “You are my only husband.”
“Then we make it so,” he decided with a crooked smile. “Put these on.” He handed her clothing much thicker and plainer than that she wore and went to the items on the bed. “We doona have much time.”
She had been ready to fling herself from the walls of the keep so he did not ravish her. The next moment, she was starting to melt, touched by the insight into him, by his innocent belief there could be only truth between a husband and wife. She had never ventured to ask how it was to be between a married couple, never been informed by her wet nurse, either, who explained the duties of her wedding night to her.
“Do you truly believe we should have no secrets?” she asked, confused as to why she was intrigued by the notion of trusting him after the horrifying display in the Great Hall.
“I do.” He was at the window, leaning out.
“What do you do?”
“Planning our escape.”
“But … why?”
He strode to the bed and hefted the rope. Kneeling, he began tying one end around the thick base of the four-poster bed. “I declare war on him come dawn. ‘Tis best not to be here when I do, no?” Amusement was in his voice.
Startled by the admittance, she stared at him.
He glanced up then back, gaze lingering on her. “I canna cast out the Macdonald’s. I ‘ave seen it done before, in the Holy Lands. I doona wish their blood on my hands,” he explained quietly. “Father Adam told me of the writ granting ye the MacCosse lands. My clan and the MacDonald’s travel there now.”
“He read all my writs?”
“He did.”
She turned away. Was she relieved he knew her true birth or terrified what he meant to do with the knowledge? She loved the man who raised her and the brother who always loved her. For the world to know of her true parentage was to besmirch the name of Saxony and those she loved.
“You cannot reveal what you know to anyone,” she whispered. “Please.”
“I willna.”
“I do not understand you,” she said, perplexed by his many sides. “You could use what is in those writs to obtain the gold you need.”
“I wish only for a home for my kin, Lady Cade. The writ granting ye the lands is on its way to the Scottish Crown. Ye ‘ave allies I need.”
She knew not how to respond. Cade was too unlike Richard, and the other nobles she knew, for her to understand how he thought. What was clear: he was going to protect her along with his clan and use the secret of her birth to do it.
“And ye? How did ye fall into Laird Duncan’s hands?” He stood and went to the window, flinging the rope out.
Grateful to discuss another matter, she told him briefly, not expecting his full attention to be on her when she finished.
“And ye would marry this man?” he demanded, a flash of darkness in his gaze.
“I did not flee Saxony only to find you,” she pointed out archly. “I always knew I did not wish to wed him but feared refusing him.”
He snatched his sword and strapped it to his back. “I ‘ave time t’kill him before we go.” He strode past her, bristling once more with the charged energy. Thunder rippled through the dark skies outside the window.
“No,” she said and caught his arm.
He turned on her, fire in his gaze and fists clenched.
Isabel released him and stepped back, alarmed by the change in him. “If you kill him beneath Laird Duncan’s roof, you will be at war before we can escape.”
He looked from her to the door.
“Please,” she added uncertainly. She gripped the pendant and touched him tentatively, afraid of his reaction. “Cade.”
He rolled his shoulders back, and tension left his frame. “Verra well.”
Relieved the danger had passed, she dropped her hand.
He motioned to the clothing draped over one of her arms.
Isabel retreated to the dressing screen in a corner and did so. The thick, wool dress would protect her from the winds of the Highlands and the oiled cloak repel the drizzle, assuming Cade remained
in control of his emotions on their journey home. When she was finished, she left the screen to see him at the window again. She allowed herself to examine his body once more, disturbed by the combination of lust and fear bubbling within her.
“The wedding contract must be sent to my uncle,” she said quietly. “He will know how to handle it.”
He shrugged.
“And … he will be required to send what aid you ask him for. Gold, or if you order it, the knight guard of Saxony.”
“I doona invite more English t’my lands.”
“They are Saxony’s, which makes them yours.”
He shook his head.
Isabel was quiet, suspecting he had no insight into the size and wealth her father had commanded. Cade was driven by the need to help his people, not to amass lands.
“How much gold?” he asked.
“How much do you want?” she returned.
He laughed. “My weight in coins!”
“He or my stewart will send it.”
Cade faced her. “Ye seek t’deceive me, Lady Cade.”
“I do not.”
He folded his hands across his chest. “Yer a woman of many secrets, Lady Cade.”
“’Tis a secret only to you how wealthy I am.” She lifted her chin.
“I doona speak of gold. How came ye t’have a writ with the King of England’s seal?”
“Does it matter, what secrets may remain, if your people are safe?”
“It shouldna,” he agreed. “But it does.”
“My secrets are more dangerous than yours,” she told him.
He lifted his eyebrows. “Black Cade may not agree.” His intent gaze left her fevered once more.
“Black Cade has not carried treasonous writs with him through two countries!”
A smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “Ye will reveal this, Lady Cade.”
“I cannot.”
“I canna protect ye if I doona ken all I must about ye and what danger ye bring t’my kin.”
At once fearful of what he would do when he learnt her final secret and surprised he meant to protect her, she clamped her mouth closed, irritated by his reason.
“But not this night.” He returned to the window. “Niall awaits us.” He held out a hand to her.
It had not dawned on her he meant to escape through the window. “This is your plan?” she asked, approaching.
Ignoring her doubt, he took her hand and pulled her to stand before him. She sucked in a breath. They were close enough for their bodies to brush, and she waited as he deftly tied a harness out of the rope. He draped it around her and adjusted it. She stood perfectly still, attempting to ignore the silky movement of his muscles visible through the open ties of his tunic and his forearms, and willing her body not to react to his heated strength. His hands lingered on her body before he tested the rope.
Rain pelted her back, accompanied by a gust of cold air. Both soothed her fevered body and helped clear her thoughts.
“This is not the wedding night I expected,” she said without thinking.
He chuckled. “My deepest apologies, Lady Cade.” He glanced at her face then back, movement stilling.
Cade lifted her chin. By the time she realized what he intended to do, his soft lips were already pressed to hers. Alarm ran through her at the gentle kiss, a combination of renewed fear of the beast who tore apart men in the Great Hall, and fascination with a sensation she had secretly dreamt of but never felt. How was someone his size, with the wild streak she had witnessed, so gentle?
He lifted his head and cupped her cheek, studying her intently, as if he waited for her to admonish him. Isabel could do no such thing. Her eyes were on his lips, her cheeks warm and her surprise too fresh for her to be guarded.
He gave a crooked smile and lowered his lips to hers once more.
This time, his kiss was more than a light touch. He claimed her mouth in a way befitting his savage image, gentle always yet commanding as well. Too flustered to know what to do, she felt her body shift closer to him of its own accord. His lips were warm and plush, the softest part of the hardened warrior, if she had to guess. With patience and insistence, he guided the kiss. After dwelling on her plump lower lip with nibbles and licks, his tongue flickered out to trace lightly over her mouth before he did something she was not expecting – and slid it between her lips.
Isabel froze, uncertain if such a kiss would be considered a sin. The sensation of the tip of his hot tongue in her mouth was new, and she dwelt on his flavor – roast meat, wine, and man, a combination that warmed her lower belly and sent an unnatural hunger racing through her blood. She began to kiss him, marveling over the intimacy of such an exchange, and also scared by her own body’s reaction to him. She rested against his hard frame, tentatively placing her palms against his chest to feel the warmth of him through the soft material of his worn tunic. One of his arms went around her, and he pulled her into his body.
Cade lifted his head, his grey-blue eyes pinned to hers.
Unable to think, uncertain how to react, Isabel remained against him, gazing up at him with no small amount of astonishment. The first time he held her, soon after they met, she had been awed by his strength, and she found herself sliding once more into admiration and lust. If she let him, he would support her completely, protect her from the nightmare she had created. She had always felt safe around him and in his arms, she was in a world within a world where nothing that could possibly come between them.
Was it a sin to lust after one’s husband?
“That will have to do for tonight,” he said huskily and brushed his thumb across her lips. “I like having ye in my arms, Lady Cade. I look forward t’having ye in my bed.”
She flushed from the top of her head to her toes under the intensity of his look. Already her mind was racing with thoughts she doubted Father Henry would approve of.
Isabel straightened and lowered her gaze, clearing her throat. She was not able to wrangle one thought into sticking in her head, so she remained quiet.
Cade released her and began adjusting the harness once again. She watched him, too unsettled by the kiss to know what she was supposed to do, and saw the faint tremble in his fingers.
He was not the kind of man to be affected by a kiss. From what she had just experienced, he had kissed many women before. She started to look up at him, uncertain what could make the man before her less than steady on his feet, when she realized blood had seeped through his tunic. Angry red blotches were everywhere, and she recalled with some alarm how his torso had been sliced up by the knights.
“You are hurt,” she said, concerned.
“’Tis nothing.”
“Nothing?” she echoed, eyebrows shooting up. “Laird Cade, you are soaked through with blood.”
“Your kiss numbed the pain.”
She flushed, hearing the tease in his voice. “You cannot ride like this.”
“I can and will, Lady Cade,” he replied, smiling beneath her glare. “I am pleased yer concerned for my life.”
“Someone has to rescue me,” she retorted.
Stepping away, he gave an exaggerated bow. “At yer service, my lady.”
She pursed her lips.
He went to the bed, where the weapons were laid out in a row. “I am well, Lady Cade,” he added.
“I can see you are not,” she said, frowning at the amount of blood she witnessed on his. At least one wound in his thigh had soaked the front of the trews covering his left leg.
“I ‘ave traveled with worse.” Selecting a dagger, he returned and placed it in her pocket.
“Very well. If you wish to die before you return to your home, I will not dissuade you.”
“I’ll not die, Lady Cade. I must survive to our wedding night.” The gleam of promise in his eye left her flustered.
“Get on with it, Laird Cade,” she ordered. “Fling me from the window, if that is your plan.”
“Yer as beautiful when yer angry as ye are after I kis
s ye.”
She glared at him.
He lifted her onto the sill effortlessly and steadied her. “Niall awaits you. Take the rope and kneel.”
She did so.
Cade stepped away and grabbed the rope as well. “When you are ready, Lady Cade.”
She resisted the urge to snap at him, not at all appreciative of his mocking tone. Instead, she slid her legs over the side of the window and began her journey from the fourth floor of the keep to Niall on the ground.
Cade lowered her until Niall was able to grab her and steady her the last few feet. She dropped to the ground and glanced around. This part of the bailey was quiet, and she stepped aside once Niall had untied her. The rain was even lighter than before. Brian stood nearby with three horses, all destriers.
She watched Cade scale the wall with ease and drop to the ground beside his cousin. He appeared steady on his feet, but she had seen a lot of blood soaking his clothing. He was not well or at least, would soon be in real danger. She clasped her hands, praying they did not face a battle to escape the hold.
Cade took her arm and walked her to one of the horses, speaking quickly to his cousins as he lifted her onto the horse’s back. Pulling himself up behind her, he jostled her with little respect for her space until she was settled comfortably against him. Tugging the reins, he urged the horse into a quick walk towards the walls of the keep.
One of his arms went around her, and she gripped it with both of her hands, heart in her throat when she thought about what happened if they were caught.
They slid out of a side gate and raced to the forest. Rather than follow the main road, Cade led them to a dense section of trees and drew the horse to a halt. He whispered words in a tongue she did not know. Flickers of magic glowed green and darted into the forest, disappearing into the dark depths. His sorcery had created a bubble around them as well, protecting them from wind and rain.
The woods parted for them, and Cade nudged the horse forward again.
“Ye doona like magic?” he asked.
Realizing she had tensed, Isabel forced herself to relax against him once more. “’Tis unnatural.”
He grunted without answering.
Green flickers zipped ahead of them, creating a path as they went.
“Unnatural,” she breathed. Awed and alarmed, she did not know which emotion was stronger as she witnessed what no one outside the Highlands and Cade’s clan had ever seen. “Is it harmful?”