“I dinna mean tae kill him, simply tae disable him so I could run away,” she said, peering up at Lor. “Is he really dead?”
“Definitely. Ye hit him so hard that ye cracked his skull open.”
“And ye left him where he fell?”
Lor nodded. But then he dug into his long tunic and pulled forth a pouch made from embroidered silk. He tossed it to her, hearing it jingle when she caught it.
“I took his purse,” he said. “I thought tae make his death look like a robbery. If it looks like a robbery, then I am sure any inquisition will end there. There are hundreds of men here tonight, and rather than risk insulting them, my guess is that Clegg will keep the matter quiet. Clegg wants his patrons tae enjoy themselves, not be interrogated for murder.”
Isabail looked at him in shock before opening the silk purse to find dozens of silver coins. It was a good deal of money. “What are ye going tae do with all of this money?”
“’Tis yer money now,” he said. “Put it in a kerchief or in yer shoe. I will burn the purse so no trace remains, but ye’re tae keep the money for a reason.”
“What reason?”
“Me.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “What do ye mean?”
Lor sat down on the edge of his bed, his eyes never leaving her face. “Ye told me that yer father is here tae buy a warrior,” he said. “Ye told me that ye think I have the strength he needs. I told ye I wasna ready for such a thing, but I have reconsidered.”
Isabail perked up when she realized what he was saying. “Then ye would be agreeable tae coming tae Auchnacree?” she said eagerly. “Ye may not be skilled yet, but ye have a strength, Lor. I told ye that. What ye dunna know, I can help ye learn.”
He wasn’t as excited about it as she was, not in the least. In fact, he seemed rather unexcited, as if discussing nothing more than a simple business transaction. He pointed to the coins.
“I dunna know how much Sir Clegg will want for my freedom,” he said. “Add that tae whatever money ye brought with ye. Make him an offer with it.”
Isabail looked at the money in the purse. “It may not be as easy as that,” she said. “My da…he’s been watching ye fight. I’ve tried tae have him watch more frequently, but he wants tae watch the more advanced warriors. He has his eye on the man ye fought, the one they call the Beast.”
“The Beast is impressive,” Lor admitted. “But I can be impressive, too. There are fights scheduled on the morrow in honor of the pagan god no one has ever heard of. I’ll fight tomorrow. Make sure yer da is there tae see me.”
Isabail had hope in her eyes. “I will,” she said. “Do…do ye truly want tae return with us? Tae Auchnacree, that is. ’Twould almost be like going home for ye.”
There was absolutely nothing in his eyes or expression that suggested he was eager about it, or happy about it, or even wanted it. But he nodded his head.
“I want tae go with ye.”
Isabail was thrilled. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. Even if he didn’t appear excited about it, she didn’t care. She was excited about it. Now she had Lor’s agreement. All she needed was her father’s.
And she was going to get it.
Quickly, she poured the silver coins from the stolen purse into her hose to distribute the coins before tossing the silk purse into the brazier at Lor’s instruction. As it burned, she turned to Lor, still sitting in the shadows of his dim cottage. He seemed lost in thought, withdrawn. Quietly, she knelt at his feet.
“Tell me again,” she said softly.
He looked at her curiously. “What?”
“That ye want tae go with me,” she said. “Tell me ye love me and that this will be a new start for us. Ye said once ye wanted tae marry me, Lor. Have ye changed yer mind?”
He simply looked at her for a long, uneasy moment. “Nay,” he finally said. “I’ve not changed my mind. I still want tae marry ye.”
“When?”
“When I know yer father better. Then it will not be a stranger asking for yer hand in marriage.”
His answer made Isabail’s heart swell with joy, but there wasn’t the warmth behind it that she usually sensed coming from him. Since their conversation when he asked of her clan, something in his eyes had darkened.
Hardened.
Reaching out, she grasped him by the hand. “Then tell me what is troubling ye,” she whispered. “I know I did something terrible tonight, but had I not done it, it would be me lying dead in the trees and not that man. Is that what bothers ye?”
Usually, he squeezed her hands, but at the moment, he wasn’t responding to her. “Of course not. Ye did what ye had tae do.”
“Then what?” she pleaded. “Is it because ye know where I’m from? Because I finally told ye that I come from a little village in the hills? I told ye once I dinna want tae tell ye, and ye told me it dinna matter. Did ye lie tae me, then?”
The focus was on Lor now and he looked away, unable to look her in the eye. What could he tell her? That he was sworn to destroy her clan, the very people she held dear? If he told her any of that, their fragile young love would be at an end. As much as he hated the Keith, he didn’t hate them enough to lose Isabail.
He would lose her soon enough when he killed those responsible for his grandfather’s death.
He had no doubt.
Until then, he wasn’t strong enough to end what had grown between them, for his own sake. He would continue to love her until the moment he had his vengeance. After that…
He couldn’t think about after that.
He could only think of now.
“Nay,” he said, turning to look at her distressed face. “I dinna lie tae ye. But I dunna want tae speak of it now, do ye hear? Not now, not ever. Dunna ever ask me again, Isabail. Please.”
He was begging her. He must have had distress written all over his face because she instinctively moved in to comfort him. The next Lor realized, Isabail’s lips were slanting over his.
Instantly, he responded to her. His arms went around her, pulling her body against his, loving the woman more than words could express. But it wasn’t more than the need for vengeance in his heart.
For the moment, that was stronger than the both of them.
“All ye ever need know is how much I love ye,” Isabail whispered, her mouth against his. “I’ll love ye until the stars fall from the heavens. Let me show ye how much.”
Her declaration broke down his resistance. Without a second thought, Lor picked Isabail up and lay her upon the bed, his big body covering hers as the firelight reflected off their features. His mouth drifted away from hers, to her neck, to her delicate shoulders.
She was his; he knew she was his. Everything about this moment screamed of the feelings they felt for each other, the attraction that had built into something powerful and unbreakable in spite of the obstacles between them. His attentions were gentle and delicate as Isabail lay there, eyes open, watching him. He sensed her eyes upon him, because he lifted his head from the swell of her bosom, his gaze melding with hers.
It was a moment full of silent words of love, perhaps even of gratitude, for this moment of adoration and discovery. There was no question about what they were doing or what was to come. They both wanted it, badly. Lor tugged at her tunic, lifting it over her head as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He kissed her nose, her cheek, as he lay the tunic on the floor, kissing the flesh that had become exposed.
Isabail was clad only in a thin shift and hose now, bathed in the warm glow of the fire, and he managed to pull all of that off of her as well, hearing her hose jingle with the silver coins he’d given her. Flipping the coverlet onto her to cover her nakedness, he stood up and pulled his tunic over his head.
She made no move to stop him.
Lor’s gaze never left her face as his tunic came off, revealing his muscular ch
est, thick neck, and broad shoulders. There was a fine matting of blond hair over his chest, and Isabail watched with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation as he removed his boots and breeches as well. Completely nude, and nearly full aroused, Lor faced her for a moment, allowing her to become acquainted with his naked form, before climbing onto the tiny bed beside her.
Hot flesh against hot flesh came together in a mighty clash as Lor’s lips latched on to her mouth again. She was so soft and warm, and to feel her against him with such intimacy was more than he could bear. He’d never loved a woman before, and the sensation of it overwhelmed him to the point of madness.
Lor’s mouth moved away from hers, down her neck, seeking a heated nipple. Beneath him, Isabail gasped at the newness of the sensation but Lor held her slender body fast, hardly allowing her any movement at all. He didn’t want her to squirm away from him as he greedily suckled her breasts, using his body weight to keep her from moving too much as his right hand stroked her thighs. They were so very supple.
God, it was like heaven.
Carefully, he wedged his big body in between her legs. He could smell her feminine musk and it was intoxicating, filling his nostrils until he could hardly stand it. He lifted himself up, his manhood pressing against her virginal core, and put a hand between their bodies to help ease his way inside her.
“I can stop if ye wish,” he murmured against her cheek. “Tell me tae stop and I will.”
Isabail looked up at him without fear. “Nay,” she whispered. “Dunna ever stop, Lor. Swear this tae me.”
“I swear.”
“Tell me ye love me.”
“Until the end of all things, I do.”
He suddenly thrust forward, filling her with his fullness as she gasped at the sting of possession. But it was a small price to pay in comparison to the feeling of closeness and intimacy. Lor was atop her, filling her with his manhood, and Isabail never thought twice about what they were doing. Already, she loved the warm possessiveness of it, the feeling of being impaled by a man.
Already, she craved it.
Instinctively, her hands slid to his buttocks, her nails in his flesh, and Lor groaned with pleasure as he began to move. He thrust into her body slowly and with measured force, lost in a world of warmth that revolved around the woman in his arms. Her hands on his buttocks were feeding his desire with a fervor he’d never before experienced, and for the first time in his life, he felt like a man.
A real man.
Nothing he’d ever done like this in the past even came close to this moment in time when he bedded the woman he loved. It was more than a physical need; it was an emotional one, a spiritual one, and a need that overwhelmed his entire being. He kissed her deeply as he thrust into her again and again, the kisses infused with everything he was feeling for her.
There was no Lindsay, no Keith. No enemy, no vengeance. Simply his love for her and hers for him.
It was an awakening.
Lor found his release quickly, unable to hold back. He spilled himself deep, listening to Isabail’s gasps of pleasure beneath him. Even when the movement stopped and their bodies cooled, he continued to hold her tightly, trying not to think of what the future would hold for them both. At the moment, he didn’t want to think about anything but Isabail.
At the moment, nothing else mattered.
Only the two of them.
But the night had to end at some point. Lor knew Isabail couldn’t stay with him until morning, so he helped her dress, the warmth back in his eyes when he looked at her. But only briefly.
Only for the night.
Come the morning, that vengeance blackening his soul would be back.
And he hated himself for it.
Chapter Seventeen
It was a winter’s morning with unseasonably mild weather as the day of the fights dawned.
Already, men were preparing themselves for the coming bouts, and that included each novicius who had been selected to compete on this day. Lor was in the holding yard just outside of the great stone chamber where men were gathering, stretching out his body alongside Galan and a few other men from Milo’s troop.
The matches for the day hadn’t been announced yet, but they knew that was coming and they had to be prepared. Gamblers and others were already starting to fill the lists of the Fields of Mars, and Lor was going to beg for a match today, up to and including bribery. It was very important that Isabail and her father see him fight because he intended to win.
He had an enemy to impress.
He rotated his shoulders and stretched his muscles, keeping an eye out for Axel or Milo, or anyone else who was going to announce the matches. Men had a choice of what to fight or train in, but they were encouraged to wear as little as possible so potential lords could see their physiques. Lor wouldn’t strip down like some of them did, but he always removed his tunic because he could move more easily without it. Even in this cold weather, he stripped down because once he began moving, he would quickly heat up.
As he limbered up his arms and thought on his plans for the future, men entered the holding yard. Immediately, Lor recognized Clegg, Axel, and Milo, and as Clegg continued into the great stone chamber, Axel and Milo headed in Lor’s direction.
“Scotsman,” Axel said. “Come with us.”
Lor obeyed, leaving Galan behind as he followed Axel and Milo into the stone chamber. In spite of the warm temperatures outside, it was relatively cold and damp inside the stone room, carved into the side of a hill to make a natural cold vault. There was no one in it except Clegg, Axel, Milo, and now Lor. As he entered, he noticed they were all standing just inside the door, and he came to an immediate halt.
“M’lairds,” he greeted respectfully.
Axel spoke first. “We have good news for you, Scotsman.”
Lor was bordering on confusion. “M’laird?”
Axel continued. “Because you fought so well the last time we had scheduled fights, we have decided to elevate you in rank,” he said. “You have now been raised to the level of a tiro.”
Surprise registered. “I have?” Lor said. “Does that mean I will fight more?”
Axel was bemused by Lor’s apparent eagerness. This coming from a man who, when he’d arrived at the Cal, hadn’t exactly been eager to enter combat.
“Among other things,” he said. “It means you will be moved into Luther’s troop. You will now be training with a man you tried to blind.”
He snorted with the humor of it, as did Milo, but Clegg remained serious. He took a few steps forward, studying Lor at close range.
There was something behind those piercing eyes that suggested such hardness, such coldness, but in the same breath, there was appreciation there. It was clear that Clegg looked at all of the men under his management as commodities, and every one of them had a value.
Some more than others.
“I was correct in my assessment of you,” he said. “You have the natural love of a fight. Your start here was slow, but since your battle with the Beast, you have shown admirable improvement. You will show more as part of Luther’s troop.”
Lor met Clegg’s gaze steadily. “May I ask a question, m’laird?”
“That depends on what it is.”
“Have ye personally fought in arenas like this? As a fighting man for profit, I mean.”
Clegg nodded. “Indeed, I have,” he said. “In Rome herself, in fight guilds that were kept out of the public eye. I have fought all over the known world. Why do you ask?”
“Because I want tae fight today. I’ve a hunger for it. Surely ye understand that, m’laird.”
Clegg drew in a thoughtful breath. “I understand a man’s need for victory,” he said. “I understand his need to express anger or dissatisfaction by beating on another man. I understand many needs. What is your need, Scotsman? Why do you want to fight today?”
“Because I have something tae prove, m’laird.”
“To yourself?”
“Tae others, m’laird.”
“Your answer is honest.”
“I want tae fight the Beast again.”
That brought an expression of shock from Milo, while Axel seemed to nod his head in approval. He liked a man who wouldn’t accept defeat. Only Clegg seemed to show no immediate reaction, perhaps because the request was not unexpected. He knew the Beast had defeated Lor those weeks ago, and as he’d said, he understood the many needs of a man.
Now it was Lor’s need for redemption.
“Do you think you can?” he asked after a moment. “The Beast nearly destroyed you once. What makes you think you can defeat him this time?”
It was a legitimate question, one that Lor took his time in answering. “When I fought him the first time, I had no real experience in a fight,” he said. “I was…lost. But now I understand the goal. I ask that ye let me try again. I know I can defeat him.”
That brought some reaction from Clegg, who looked to Axel for his opinion. The big Saxon warrior was still looking at Lor with approval.
“Let him try,” Axel said. “We may be surprised.”
Clegg wasn’t so sure, but he agreed with Axel, mostly because he was very curious if Lor could, indeed, secure victory over the Beast. Lor’s skill had grown by leaps and bounds as of late. They had all seen it. It would make for an exciting rematch, in any case.
“Very well,” he said. “Make the announcement. The Beast against the Lion of Caledonia.”
All three men looked at Clegg curiously. For the first time since entering that stone chamber, Clegg smiled and raised his arms in a grandiose gesture.
“I give my patrons what they want to see,” he said, explaining his decision to give Lor that name. “I give them entertainment that they will remember. For the Scotsman, let him enter the arena as the Lion of Caledonia. It sounds much better than calling him Lor Careston. Show us your heart, Lion.”
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