by Diana Cosby
He sniffed with disdain. “If he had, he wouldna be speaking with the likes of anyone plotting treason against the Earl of Dalkirk.”
She shoved to her feet. “Cailin MacHugh is the rightful Earl of Dalkirk.”
“A lie the steward said you’d claim,” the elder sneered. “Nor when Lord Odhran returns will he find amusement in your deception.”
Cailin moaned.
Thank God! She rushed to the bars. “Cailin!”
The elder grunted, limped over, filled the bowl outside Cailin’s cell, kicked it into the dank cell, then moved on.
Body trembling, Cailin wove slightly as he shoved to a sitting position. Eyes dark with pain, he looked around, paused when his gaze met hers. “Are you well?”
“Aye,” she breathed.
He rubbed the back of his head where he’d been hit, pushed to his feet. “How long have we been here?”
“Since yesterday.”
The elder who’d delivered the vile substance meant to pass as edible ambled past, casting a scathing look toward Cailin before departing the dungeon.
The door slammed shut, and she rubbed her arms. “The steward believes we are traitors plotting against Dalkirk.”
He grunted. “Nay doubt a result of what my uncle penned to the Earl of Odhran, and he isna here.” Legs aching, he made his way to the bars, frowned. “Why would the steward open the missive?”
So caught up in her worry for Cailin, a point she hadn’t considered. “Do you think Odhran’s man is in league with your uncle?”
* * * *
“I do, which means the steward isna a man we can trust, and Odhran must be warned. Then again, it could be gossip the runner passed.” On a muttered curse, Cailin braced himself against the iron and rubbed his throbbing head.
He needed to talk to the earl, but what if he couldna convince him of his uncle’s lies? God’s teeth, what if, upon the earl’s return, he was never informed of their arrival?
No, with the many people gathered when they were seized, Odhran would be informed. The only question remaining was when.
Cailin scanned the dungeon, where men sat huddled in their cells shivering, moaning, with several laying lifeless. Regardless of Elspet’s friendship with the earl, never should he have brought her to Syridan Castle. Though he damn well knew why he’d allowed her to accompany him.
He’d wanted her near him. Bedamned, he’d wanted her.
A shameful admission for a warrior, more so for a Knight Templar to allow his decisions to be swayed by lust. It mattered not that she was beautiful, intelligent, or a strong woman who drew him like no other.
He’d sworn to protect those in harm’s way. Instead, not only had he placed her in danger, but however drawn to her, never should he have allowed them to make love.
Chest tight with self-condemnation, he stared at the woman who had tossed his life upside down, ignited feelings he’d never experienced, a lass who in his arms made him feel whole. Though she wore his mother’s cross, in truth, he didna need a sign to know that however wrong, he couldna imagine a life without her.
Cailin’s breath caught in his throat.
He loved her.
Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? Or, maybe deep inside he’d known, the part of him determined to keep his distance from her. As if it mattered now. God’s sword, he must have sounded like a fool. Instead of the ultimatum he’d delivered, he should have taken her into his arms.
Elspet’s eyes dark with worry narrowed. “What is wrong?”
His fingers tightened on the bars. Heart filled with love, he stared at her, wanting to tell her, but not like this. After everything she’d sacrificed, everything she had given him, she deserved to know. It was a small penance he could satisfy.
“Never did I believe I would find a woman who would touch my life, who would make me want more than I have ever wanted someone in my entire life. Nor did I ever plan on telling you something of such vital importance here.”
Fear jumped in her eyes. “You think we are going to die?”
Frustrated, he shook his head. “Nay, I am doing this poorly. Elspet, I—”
Voices echoed from the corridor, then the door scraped open. A large man sporting a thick black beard and wearing finely tailored attire entered, a fierce scowl upon his face. He scanned the dungeon, and his eyes paused on Cailin. “Sir Cailin MacHugh?”
Cailin drew himself to his full height, furious that locked within, he couldna protect Elspet. “Aye.”
The stately man’s gaze shifted to Elspet. Shock, then anger widened his gaze. “Sir Cailin, Elspet, my deepest regrets.”
Her shoulders sagged, but her voice was clear and firm. “Lord Odhran, thank God you are here.”
Odhran nodded to the guard. “Release them!”
The guard hurried forward. Keys rattled as he opened the door to his cell, then hers.
Ignoring the pain, his face taut, Cailin moved beside her, his limbs stiff.
“I wasna aware of your or Elspet’s arrival until moments ago.” Anger flashed in the earl’s eyes. “I assure you, an oversight my steward deeply regrets. Come with me.” He exited the dungeon.
Cailin followed at a pace his body allowed. After the rotting stench of the dungeon, he savored the fresh air of the corridor edged with the tang of winter. “What of the runner from my uncle?”
“He is under guard. ’Twould seem my steward has been supporting your uncle in secret, but he erred in believing I wouldna discover his deceit.” He glanced at Cailin. “When I first learned that you were still alive, I couldna believe ’twas true. Tell me what happened.”
As they walked, with Elspet at his side, Cailin explained his uncle’s plan to claim the title of Dalkirk. Of how Gaufrid had killed his brother and sister-in-law, paid a sailor to kill Cailin, who’d sold him to pirates, and then how he was freed.
Odhran grunted with disgust. “It makes my skin crawl that a man would destroy his family for greed. I will help you to regain Tiran Castle. ’Tis long past time for your uncle’s treachery to end.”
“The earl has sent runners to other lords,” Elspet said, worry etched in her voice.
“A fact I discovered during my discussion with Dalkirk’s runner.” He met Cailin’s gaze. “I will pen writs to all who the earl asked for aid, informing them of your uncle’s duplicity and request that they deny him support. As I am acquainted with all the lords who were mentioned, I am confident all will agree.”
“I thank you.” With Rónán’s arrival leading a contingent of King Robert’s knights, combined with Taog’s men and Odhran’s support, little doubt remained that soon Cailin would have control of his legacy.
Grief lined the earl’s face as he turned to Elspet. “My deepest sympathies on the loss of your stepfather and mother. They were both wonderful people and will be missed.”
She nodded. “’Tis hard to believe they are gone.”
“I am always here if I can be of help.” His expression somber, he shook his head. “I struggle to accept the charges brought against Sir Angus.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “’Twas Lord Dalkirk’s lies!”
Cailin listened as she explained, the outrage on Odhran’s face feelings he shared. “I assure you,” he said when Elspet finished, “my uncle has much to pay for, penance I will serve.”
“Aye,” the earl agreed with a low growl. “I will send word to my master-at-arms to ready the troops. Though ’twill take them through the night to prepare, we will ride at first light.”
“I thank you,” Cailin said.
The earl met Elspet’s gaze. “You will remain here, where you will be safe.”
She angled her jaw. “I will accompany you.”
His instincts urged Cailin to deny her participation, but ’twas right to honor her wishes. “After all she has endured, as well as fighting alongside
me during my uncle’s attack, ’tis her right to face the man who murdered her parents. Nor, surrounded by my troops and yours, is there a chance she will be harmed.”
“Aye, she will be safe, but I would rather she remain here until Tiran Castle is seized. But—” Pride twinkled in the man’s eyes—“well I remember your stepfather speaking of your stubborn streak. If I am correct, unless I return her to the dungeon, she willna remain.”
She didn’t deny it.
“Indeed.” Cailin agreed, “’tis a fool who tries to stop her. Truth be told, without her, we would not have achieved this much.”
A blush burned her cheeks.
The earl gave her a tender smile as they started up the turret. “Sir Angus was so proud of you.”
Her lips trembled. “I–I loved him so much.”
The earl glanced at Cailin, shook his head. “You look so much like your father. If I hadna been informed ’twas you in the cell, when I saw you, I would have known.”
At the third floor, Lord Odhran paused at the first chamber, turned to Elspet. “This is where you stayed when you and your stepfather last visited. I thought perhaps being here would ease your loss.”
“’Tis thoughtful of you.”
“’Tis the least I can do. ’Twill be several hours before we sup. A warm bath has been readied for you, then you can rest until we eat.”
“I thank you.” She gave a long look to Cailin, then slipped inside.
Once she’d closed the door, the earl continued down the corridor, strategically placed torches illuminating paintings of a lord from his ancestry. “A warm bath awaits you as well.” He paused. “I didna want to upset her, but when I heard of my steward’s perfidy, I had the traitor flogged. Nor will your uncle’s runner be allowed to depart until my master-at-arms receives word that Tiran Castle is in your control.”
“I thank you for all you have done.”
“Your father helped me on many occasions, ’tis an honor to aid his son.” He halted before a chamber several paces from Elspet’s. “Rest now. We will speak further about the best way to seize Tiran Castle after we sup.”
* * * *
Hours later, with supper behind her, an exhausted Elspet sank onto her bed, tugged up the covers.
A soft tap sounded at her door
Lids heavy with sleep and lured by the softness of the feather mattress, with a groan she glanced toward the entry.
Another knock sounded, this time louder.
As the castle lay silent, with no gongs from church bells warning of an attack, they were safe, so who could it be?
“Elspet, let me in,” Cailin whispered.
At the urgency in his voice, she shoved from the bed, hurried across the chamber, and tugged opened the door.
Her heart thumped. Bathed with torchlight, his rugged good looks and muscled body stole her breath. Loving him, ’twould always be so. “Is something wrong?”
“We need to talk.”
Chapter 17
At the look on Cailin’s face, Elspet stepped back into the chamber. Once he’d entered, he closed the door. “What did you need to talk about?”
“This.” Cailin drew her body flush against his and claimed her mouth. Instead of the previous heated demand, he took his time, skimming his tongue across her lips in slow torture, teasing until her body ached for him.
Moaning, wanting only to stay in his arms, she forced herself to tear her mouth from his and stepped back. “We canna make love here.”
“I think,” he said as he swept her into his arms and strode toward the bed, “’tis the perfect place.”
His erotic kiss smothered any reply. Lost in his touch, her mind hazed. At what moment he’d discarded her garb as well as his, she wasn’t sure, but with his hard length pressed intimately against her, she welcomed him into her heat.
With each stroke, her heart ached at the beauty of his touch, of how he took his time, as if this entire moment was for her.
Was that why he was here? Was this his way of convincing her to marry him? The rush of her dreams of love collided with reality.
Cailin’s pace increased, and he drove deep.
Waves of sensation flooded her, stealing every thought as he filled her over and again. As she cried out her release, he found his own.
Breath coming fast, he collapsed on top of her.
Elspet savored the feel of his nakedness, the subsequent ripples of pleasure, until ’twas as if every part of her was humming with pleasure. She should feel elated, pleased. Though she might never have his love, they would be together.
“I know why you are here—to convince me to wed you because I might carry your child, an heir to Dalkirk.” At the smile in his eyes, irritation filled her that when she should be overjoyed to have such a man in her life, a part of her felt empty. “I see little humorous about this situation.”
“Elspet, I—”
She pushed against his muscled chest; he didn’t move. “Let me go.”
“Never.” Eyes dark with intention, he rolled to his side and lifted her chin until their eyes met. “Elspet, what I have to tell you is that I need you and want you in my life. Not because you may carry my child, though that would have been a discussion we would have had…if I had not fallen in love with you.”
“Merciful saints, I willna be…” She stared at him as his words sifted through her mind, igniting hope in her soul. Though she’d wished, prayed for Cailin’s love, to hear the words, the immense feeling within them, she struggled to breathe. “Y–you love me?”
“Aye.” He caressed her cheek. “Never did I expect to find a woman who I couldna live without before I met you. I was a fool to nae realize what I felt for you before, and I am never going to let you go.” He released her and knelt on the bed. As she sat up, he clasped her hand. “Marry me, Elspet. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Joy exploded inside as she threw herself into his arms. “Aye!”
* * * *
Several days later, at the camp outside Tiran Castle, Elspet glanced at Cailin as he stood before his destrier. Desire swept through her as she recalled how they’d made love at Syridan Castle. Most of all, of the memories of how he’d confessed his love, and asked for her hand in marriage.
Happiness surged through her at thoughts of being his wife, of the children they would have. Aye, he would have to return to fight for King Robert. With most of Scotland beneath the rightful sovereign’s rule, she prayed that Cailin would be away a brief time.
Cailin drew her to him, gave her a deep kiss, then swung up on his destrier. “I will return shortly.” He cantered to where the Earl of Odhran and Rónán awaited him at the edge of the forest.
From the shelter of the thick pine boughs, Elspet watched as Cailin, carrying a white flag of truce, rode with the other men toward the stronghold.
Taog stepped next to her, rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Dinna worry. The fortress is surrounded. Even if the earl tried to attack us, his forces are greatly outnumbered. I have little doubt the earl will be forced to surrender.”
“I pray so, but we dinna know how long his uncle will hold out.”
He grunted. “Once he learns that nay reinforcements will be coming, with his supplies running low, he will last naught more than a fortnight before he cedes.”
“You are right.” She gave a slow breath. “I wish ’twas all over.”
“As I, but the time will come.”
The distant figures disappeared down the incline, then appeared as they rode the incline toward the castle. “Cailin’s decision to wait out his uncle to spare loss of life on both sides and avoid rebuilding the stronghold is wise.”
“’Tis.”
“Taog,” a man a distance behind them called.
The Romani leader turned. “’Tis my smithy. Wait here. I will be but
a moment.”
“’Tis unnecessary,” Elspet said. “I promised to help the healer replenish her stock of herbs.”
He nodded. “Take care, lass.”
Moved by his friendship, with sunlight warm upon her face, Elspet said a prayer for Cailin’s safety, then headed toward the healer’s tent.
* * * *
Cailin glared up at his uncle standing on the wall walk of Tiran Castle, then reined his horse toward where his combined forces lay across the field. Rónán and the Earl of Odhran fell in beside him, his uncle’s laughter in his wake.
Once out of arrow range, Cailin slowed his mount. “The selfish bastard. He doesna care for those who will suffer if he refuses to surrender.”
“A trait common in men like him,” Odhran called out. “To them, all that matters is that in the end they hold the power.”
“With you at my side, how could my uncle dismiss my claim that none of the other nobles will send him reinforcements? Blast it, there is something I am missing.”
A frown worked across Rónán’s brow as he glanced up. “Such as?”
“I am unsure, ’tis a feeling I canna shake off.” After years as a warrior, it was an intuition he refused to dismiss. Too many times in the past, such instincts had saved his life.
Taog stood at the edge of the trees as Cailin and the others guided their horses close, drew to a halt, then dismounted.
The Romani leader folded his arms across his chest. “What did Dalkirk say?”
“He refuses to surrender,” Cailin said.
“Which doesna make sense.” Jaw tight, Taog glanced toward the stronghold. “He is surrounded, has lost a significant number of knights, and the secret tunnels are guarded to ensure that no one escapes.”
“Aye,” Cailin agreed, “and they have naught more than a fortnight of supplies at best.”
The Earl of Odhran approached. “As our combined forces overwhelm theirs. We can attack.”
“Nay,” Cailin said. “Though we would have the upper hand, the lives of people innocent of my uncle’s treachery are at risk. In the end, once Gaufrid cedes, naught will be lost but days.” He looked around, frowned. “Where is Elspet?”