“Nay,” he decided. “’Tisn’t possible.”
“’Tis.”
“But we’ve made our vows. Bloody hell, we’ve already—” He broke off, letting his eyes finish the sentence with a look of longing that swept from the top of her sun-kissed hair to her velvet-slippered toes.
“We mustn’t speak of that,” she said, panic flaring in her eyes.
Of course he wouldn’t speak of it. He was hurt that she could believe he would.
“I’ll find a way to fix this,” he vowed.
“There is no way.”
“Who is this betrothed?” Colban fought a sudden violent urge to slay the unnamed villain.
“I don’t know.”
“Ye don’t know?” Colban clenched and unclenched his fists in outrage. “How can they marry ye to someone ye don’t even…”
Yet even as he said the words, he knew that was the way of nobles. So it had been with Morgan. So it was with any firstborn of a powerful clan.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said.
But Colban saw the bleak emptiness behind her cold acceptance of her fate.
“O’ course it does,” he insisted. “Ye can’t just trust your future to someone who doesn’t appreciate your strength. Someone who doesn’t respect ye. Someone who doesn’t love ye.”
Her eyes filled at his words.
His throat burned with frustration as he realized the futility of his argument. Part of him wanted to grab Hallie right this moment and run away with her into the night. But he knew no matter what he said or did, Colban couldn’t change Hallie’s destiny. He was only a lowly bastard shaking his fist at a king.
He wanted to rail against the injustice of nobility, the travesty of arranged marriages and forced alliances. But he could see that would only prolong Hallie’s suffering and make things worse.
The best thing to do—the noble thing, the kind thing—was to forget what had happened between them. To tuck away his one precious, private memory of what they’d shared and forget he’d ever known Hallie.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done to raise his targe against Hallie’s broken heart. But he managed to swallow his pain, steel his features, and say what he had to say.
“I won’t speak of it again,” he promised. “None of it. Ye must put me someplace else for the night. In the stable or the dovecot.”
“I won’t let you sleep—”
He held up his hand to stop her protest. “I’m a hostage. Ye must treat me as such. On the morrow, ye’ll return me to Creagor, aye?”
“Aye,” she choked out.
“Then ye’ll get your cousins back, none the worse for wear. And no one will ever know what passed between us.”
Hallie nodded, on the verge of tears. Gathering her skirts, she began to walk stiffly toward the door. But as she drew even with him, she hesitated.
Turning toward him, the fierce Valkyrie suddenly looked as vulnerable as a child. Her wet eyes were wide and full of heartache. Her lips trembled uncertainly. “Will you…will you give me one last kiss?” she entreated him. “A kiss of farewell?”
He wanted that more than anything. He wanted to bury his face in her fragrant hair. Taste her yielding, honey-sweet lips. Press his hungering body against hers.
It seemed cruel beyond measure to leave her like this. Empty. Aching. Heartbroken.
But though it tore him up inside to disappoint her, he had no choice.
If he kissed her again, he knew he’d never let her go.
“Nay.”
Chapter 29
Hallie gave a tiny gasp and then closed her lips so tightly that not even a breath could escape.
He was right. Of course he was right. It was futile to prolong their agony by indulging in a kiss.
But it didn’t keep her cheeks from flushing with shame at his rebuff. It didn’t keep his rejection from feeling like the slice of a blade across her soul.
“If ye’ll fetch Rauve,” Colban said hoarsely, “he can convey me to my new quarters.”
He stepped aside so she could pass without touching him.
Her heart was breaking as, with a stiff nod, she sidled past him. She didn’t trust herself to look at him. Or speak. Her eyes filled with unbearable loss. Words failed her. And then it was too late for farewells. The door closed behind her with a dull thud, like a coffin lid.
She moved soundlessly along the corridor. But in the privacy of the stairwell, she sagged against the cold stone wall. She couldn’t face the clan like this. Not now. Not when her soul was laid bare and her nerves were raw.
She needed to be strong. For her clan. For her parents. For her siblings.
Her siblings.
Her throat closed as she thought about Isabel and her matchmaking ways. How happy her little sister had been to learn that her predictions had come true. That Colban had turned out to be The One. That Hallie and Colban were going to be married. This would crush her.
She thought about Ian, who had taken such delight in teaching Colban to read and impressing him with his inventions. The lad would be crestfallen when the Highlander left.
She was certain Brand would be disappointed as well. Fascinated by Colban’s techniques with the claymore, he’d been so eager to learn from the clever warrior.
Even Gellir had lost his sullen distaste for the hostage. Though he’d never admit it, he now looked up to the Highlander, regarding him with respect and admiration.
Hallie realized she was not the only one losing Colban an Curaidh.
There was nothing she could do to change that. But perhaps she could help to soften the blow.
It took several moments to don the emotional armor she required. She had to push the dreams of the last few days to the back of her mind. Put them under lock and key. She had to forget about any personal connection to Colban. As far as her parents were concerned, he was a hostage, no more.
But despite that status, she had no intention of tossing him into the dovecot or the stables. She had another idea.
The instant Hallie walked out the door, Colban’s chest caved into the hollow abyss where his heart had been.
His legs buckled beneath him, and he slumped onto the bed. His eyes burned with the injustice of a cruel fate that would tempt him with Paradise one day, only to cast him into Purgatory the next.
When Rauve finally came for him, he had no strength left for even a vague greeting. Without a word and with no prodding, he followed the burly guard along the corridor.
They’d gone but a little way when Rauve stopped in front of a door and rubbed an anxious hand across his black beard.
“Listen to me, Highlander,” the man growled. “’Tis Hallie’s mercy that you’re staying here tonight. She refused to let you sleep in the stables, considering how you saved her and all. But I don’t want you thinking you can try anything. I’ll be making my bed outside this door, and if you so much as lift a finger to hurt anyone, I’ll chop that finger off.”
Colban didn’t understand completely until Rauve swung the door open onto the bedchamber of the Rivenloch lads.
“Colban!” Ian cheered, rushing forward. “Did you hear? Our parents are home!”
Gellir rose from where he’d been poking at the fire and gave Colban a brooding glare. “I don’t think he’s exactly happy about that, Ian.”
“Why not?” Brand asked from where he was standing on the bed. “Once Ma hears how you took on the whole Rivenloch army just to save Hallie…” He leaped from the bed to the floor and mimed slashing with a sword.
Though Colban’s heart was breaking, he gave them a bleak smile.
They didn’t know. They didn’t realize how close he’d come to being their big brother. And how, after today, he may never see them again.
Perhaps it was best this way.
What good were hopes when they could be so easily dashed?
Yet he recognized that Hallie had placed him here in her brothers’ bedchamber as a kindness. She was showing that she both cared for and trust
ed him.
He had turned down her final kiss. She had to understand why that had to be. Why it was folly to spend another single moment together.
Instead, she was giving him the next most precious thing she had to offer. What she knew he would treasure the most. One final pleasant memory of Rivenloch.
“So you’re leaving on the morrow,” Gellir said, hanging the fire iron back on its hook. There was a forced casualness to his voice that belied the disappointment in his sideways glance.
“Nay!” Brand complained. “Can you not stay a little while longer? I want to learn how to use the claymore. And I haven’t shown you my hedgehog trick.”
“He’s a hostage, Brand,” Gellir explained. “He has to be returned. That’s the only way we’ll get Jenefer and Feiyan back.”
Brand made a sound of disgust. “Do we have to get them back?”
“Don’t worry, Brand,” Ian said. “He’s going to be living at Creagor at least a few more weeks.” He turned to Colban. “Isn’t that right?”
Colban nodded, although he couldn’t say what the future held and how long he would stay at Creagor. He didn’t know if he could bear living so close to Hallie. Watching her wed another. Seeing her grow large with another man’s bairns.
“Listen, lads,” Rauve said, wagging a finger. “There’s to be no rowdy tomfoolery this eve. Hallie is trusting you to keep quiet. If I hear a peep out of you, any sort of nonsense that will wake your parents, I’ll have to move the Highlander out to the stables. And nobody wants that.” He finished with a quick wink.
Colban returned the gruff old guard’s generous words with a grateful nod. Despite the man’s bearlike countenance, he had a kind heart.
Then Colban turned to the boys with a long-suffering sigh. “I hope none o’ ye snore,” he groused.
The lads laughed at that.
Then Ian lifted his brows and asked, “Do you think lasses snore?”
Colban gave him a wistful smile. He was going to miss Ian’s odd questions. Brand’s reckless enthusiasm. Isabel’s gushing praise. And even Gellir’s dark looks.
But most of all, he was going to miss his beautiful Valkyrie, who’d turned his head, twisted his heart, scarred his soul, and, aye, even snored a wee bit after a satisfying bout of swiving.
Hallie stared out at a night sky as black as peat. Winking between wisps of smoky cloud were cold sparks of stars. Stars she wished she could reorder to change her fate.
Her eyes stung from crying. Her throat ached from stifling her tears. But finally her heart was numb.
Then Isabel burst into the room and ruined everything.
“Where’s Colban?” she asked without preamble.
Hallie clasped her hands together at her waist. How was she going to tell Isabel? How could she soften the blow?
But Isabel could already sense something was wrong.
“What’s happened?” she breathed, closing the door behind her and slouching against it.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You didn’t change your mind?”
“Nay. Not exactly,” she amended. “Why don’t you sit down and—”
“I don’t want to sit down.” Isabel skewered her with a stare. “Did you frighten him off?”
Hallie’s first response was hurt. Then she reconsidered. Wouldn’t that be an easier excuse to make? That ferocious Hallidis of Rivenloch had scared off a suitor with her glacial glare and her savage tongue?
But Hallie couldn’t lie to her little sister. Not just because it was wrong. But because curious Isabel would unearth the real reason sooner or later. And then she’d be hurt, not only by the truth, but by Hallie’s hiding it.
“Sit down, Isabel. Please.” Hallie sat on the bed herself and patted the mattress beside her.
But stubborn Isabel sank in place, sitting on the floor with her back braced against the door.
“What have you done, Hallie?” she asked with a pout.
Hallie told her as gently as possible about the situation with Creagor, about her arranged marriage.
When she finished, Isabel said nothing, but her bonnie face was full of grit and determination. “Is that it then?”
Hallie shrugged. She’d explained everything. What more did Isabel want?
She stood up. “So you still love him?”
There was no point in lying. She nodded sadly.
“And he still loves you?”
Why would he? He’d been cheated out of everything—his clan’s inheritance, his freedom, his bride. There was no reason for him to trust her, let alone love her.
But he did love her. She’d seen that in his face. He’d donned a helm that concealed his feelings. But she knew that defense all too well.
“Aye,” she admitted.
“Then all we have to do is tell everyone you’ve already swived him.”
“Nay!” Hallie’s eyes widened. “Shite, nay! Swear you won’t do that.”
“But why? ’Tis the truth. Besides, do you think whoever the king has picked out is going to want a sullied maiden for his wife?”
Hallie was fairly certain most brides were not virgins. But none of them confessed it. They did their best to conceal that fact on their wedding night. Still, she wasn’t about to reveal any of that to impressionable Isabel.
“He must never know,” Hallie said. “For my sake and for Colban’s, you mustn’t breathe a word. I will wed the man as I’ve been commanded. I won’t defy the king.”
“But ’tis unfair,” Isabel lamented.
Isabel was allowed to think that. She was still a lass. But when that same word tried to wind its way through Hallie’s brain, she fended it off like an invading army, knocking it down and crushing it underfoot.
No one had ever said life was fair.
It was far past midnight when Colban fell asleep at last. After several games of chess, stories of tournaments, contests of strength, and discussions of philosophy, the Rivenloch brothers refused to let him sleep on the floor. They insisted he crowd into the big bed with them for the few hours before his inevitable return to Creagor.
He drifted off to the soothing saw of their snores, wishing he could dream a new destiny for himself. One in which he was happily wed to Hallie. Where he gave her an army of bairns. And where these affable lads became their doting uncles.
Whatever dreams might have come were shattered in the wee hours by a thunderous pounding on the door. On his left, Brand snorted awake, clipping him with a stray fist. On his right, Ian scrabbled up in a panic and tumbled off the bed. Gellir leaped up, dagger in hand, to defend everyone.
Rauve pushed through the door. “Lads!” He glared at Gellir’s dagger, as if it were no match for his tough hide. “Gellir, Brand, dress and arm yourselves. We’re going to battle.”
“Battle?” Brand asked, his eyes lighting up. “Where?”
“Creagor.”
The word hit Colban in the chest like a warhammer.
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
What had happened? Had diplomacy failed? Had Jenefer refused the bargain? Had she wounded Morgan? Or worse? Were the clans now at war?
“What happened?” Gellir asked.
“No time to explain,” Rauve said.
“What about me?” Ian called out, popping up from behind the bed. “I want to go.”
“Nay, lad,” Rauve said. “You’ll stay here with Brand. He’ll need your help to protect Rivenloch in case of a counterattack.”
“Aye, Ian,” Brand said, already scrambling into his clothes. “I’ll be in charge of Rivenloch now. You can set up the trebuchet atop the wall walk.”
Colban set his jaw.
Counterattack? What kind of counterattack did they expect Morgan to mount? The mac Giric would be lucky to survive a siege with so few warriors in residence. The truth of that left a bitter taste of defeat in his mouth.
But what did they intend to do with him?
As if Rauve had read his mind, he frowned and said, “You’ll come as wel
l.” Then he ducked out the door.
Colban’s mouth twisted. He had hoped to be returned to Creagor today in exchange for the Rivenloch cousins. But the fact that Rivenloch was willing to charge into battle must mean that Morgan’s hostages had escaped.
No doubt Rivenloch intended to use Colban as leverage on the battlefield. A pawn to wield influence over Morgan.
He stuffed his arms into the sleeves of his cotun, wondering if Rivenloch would threaten to kill him all at once or chop off bits of him at a time and fling them over the walls of Creagor as a warning.
Either way, Morgan would have to decide whether to surrender Creagor peacefully or sacrifice his right-hand man. Once he glimpsed the might of Rivenloch’s army, he’d surely realize that more than just Colban’s life was at stake. Challenging Rivenloch meant risking the lives of all of his men in a contest he had no hope of winning.
How could Colban tip the scales in Morgan’s favor?
The immediate battle was already lost. He knew that. But did one slim hope remain for winning the war?
Colban’s gaze drifted over to the bedside table where Ian had left his notebook. Within those pages was a way to regain what was rightfully Morgan’s. Mac Giric might lose the day. But with that book of secrets, they could return for vengeance.
While Ian was struggling into his trews, Colban stealthily slipped the notebook into his cotun.
It wasn’t long before Ian noticed. “Has anyone seen my notebook?”
Colban occupied himself with his boots. Guilt made the book feel like a millstone pressing against his chest.
“There’s no time for notebooks, Ian,” Gellir said. “We’ve a war to wage.”
“Aye, Ian,” Brand said. “You can look for it later.”
When everyone had finished dressing, Gellir motioned to Colban with the point of his dagger, giving Colban a look of sober shame and grim regret. “Will you come with me then?”
Colban understood what Gellir left unspoken. Ian was too young to comprehend. Brand was too enrapt with the idea of battle to notice. But Gellir and Colban both recognized that their positions had shifted.
Bride of Ice Page 23
