As days went by Cyric’s abilities to be a leader became more evident to everyone—not just her. But she knew the truth. Raelynd and Meriel would be returning unmarried and Cyric would be asked to select one of them to be his wife. And he would. More than that, Rowena knew that he should. For his sake and for the clan’s.
So she had reminded herself that he was a tremendously attractive man who had been fawned over by women all his life. He was accustomed to flirtation and no doubt had kissed many, many women. She was just one more and to assume she meant anything else was foolish.
It had almost worked.
Somehow she had found the strength to lock away her desires and carry on with their friendship platonically. Talking, teasing, even flirting she could handle. But declarations of love? Even almost ones?
He had kissed her with a low, inviting passion that took her breath away. She had seen the steady glow of happiness in his eyes when he looked at her. And her heart had crumbled knowing that in a few months, maybe even weeks, he would be gazing at Raelynd that way on their wedding night.
But all that had changed. Raelynd and Meriel were getting married to the McTiernays! Cyric was free! He was free to marry her and she him. It mattered not if he wanted to stay, or return to the Lowlands or even work for the king. She loved him and he needed to know that.
Seeing one of the chambermaids leave the tower that held Cyric’s bedchamber, Rowena raced across the bailey and confronted the young woman. “Is Cyric, the laird’s nephew, in his chambers?”
The girl’s delicate pale features accentuated her thin lips and high cheekbones, giving her a grim countenance. “He came and he left.”
Rowena stepped back into the girl’s path as she tried to step around her. “When?”
Medium blue eyes flashed with impatience and she shifted the linens she was carrying to her other hip. “I cannot remember, and no, I don’t know where he was going.” The chambermaid started once again to proceed toward her destination when she suddenly stopped and turned back around. “I did hear him mumble something about needing to get clean.”
Rowena inhaled deeply and bit her bottom lip as she exhaled. There were not many places to bathe around the castle, especially this time of day. The kitchen servants would be busy getting food prepared and the chambermaid would have known if he had called for a bath. That left the river. Its mouth was at the Beauty Firth so its waters were cold. A few weeks ago she doubted if Cyric could have tolerated anything less than room temperature, but the man had found his Highland roots.
After convincing the stable master to let her borrow a horse for a short while, she rode out without telling anyone where she was going. The river twisted and turned and thick trees lined both sides of its banks. It was not unheard of to bathe in the river—in fact it was quite common—but there was no single place along the river to which people gravitated. Rowena slowly made her way along the shoreline, hoping that she had not chosen the wrong direction. She was about to give up when she finally saw him. He was standing with his back to her, fastening his belt to secure his plaid. His hair was wet and his leine clung to his damp shoulders.
Distracted by the evidence of his muscular frame, Rowena was not prepared for him to grab his sword and whip around. “I give you one warning. Disarm yourself and dismount.”
Rowena’s brown eyes widened. Cyric had moved so fast and there was nothing welcoming about his stance. “I . . . I . . . am unarmed,” she finally managed to get out.
“Rowena?” he asked, his golden eyes narrowed with disbelief.
“Aye, it is me,” she exhaled, able to breathe again.
Cyric moved to her side and helped her down. “What are you doing here?”
“I came looking for you.”
“I know that, but why?”
Rowena opened her mouth and closed it several times and rubbed her hands together nervously. “Craig and Crevan McTiernay were here.”
“The McTiernays? The ones who are marrying my cousins? Why?”
“They heard about you and came to find out for themselves if the rumors to your skills were true.”
“How do you know this?” Cyric asked as he crossed his arms.
Rowena felt herself shrink a little in shame. “I was in the room helping serve drinks.”
Cyric closed his eyes and chuckled, knowing Rowena only performed the role of a servant if there was a personal reason. “So my uncle allowed you to eavesdrop,” he surmised. “And just what did he tell them?”
“That you were skilled but he would support you as laird of this clan if you were married to Raelynd or Meriel, which cannot happen because they are to be handfasted in two days,” she said, unable to hide the sheer joy of those words.
Cyric was taken aback by her jubilant demeanor. “I had surmised so much already. I was going to talk to my uncle about returning home before the week was out.”
“So soon?” Rowena gasped. “But I thought, well, I thought you would want to stay in the Highlands for a little while longer before you went to see King Robert.”
Cyric was mystified. Since their kiss, he had kept his distance and she had done nothing to seek him out, confirming that she desired his absence. “The possibility of getting such a position with the king is remote even if I had my father’s support, which is something I doubt I will ever have. I plan on returning to Ayrshire. As for staying at Caireoch, I have only one reason to stay longer.”
Rowena felt her heart begin to race. This time when he told her of his feelings she would not run away. This time, she would throw herself into his arms and kiss him so that he would never doubt the depth of her love for him. “And that reason is?”
Cyric leaned over and picked up his dirk and knife, sliding one into his belt and the other between his calf and the coiled leather straps of his shoe. “Well, it is as you just said. My uncle believes in me and more importantly, I now believe in myself. I think I would be a good laird and unlike these McTiernays, I am a Schellden.”
Rowena could feel the blood drain out of her face. “What are you saying?”
“Simply that the laird is my uncle, he has no sons and I should be the next Schellden chieftain.” Cyric shook his head and water droplets went everywhere. As soon as he stopped, he realized her face was splattered with tiny dots of moisture. Instinctively he reached out to brush her cheeks with his thumb. “Sorry.”
Both reacted to his touch and sprang apart. “I’m not hurt,” she murmured, and then realizing the insanity of the remark, quickly added, “It’s fine. I mean I’m fine.”
Cyric ran his hand through his wet hair, wishing he could make her disappear. She had been plaguing his thoughts and he refused to let her know how much her rejection had hurt him. “What do you think, Rowena?” he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone of voice. “Should I confront the brothers who usurped both of my potential brides? Would they fight or do you think they might relinquish their claim? I mean you said handfasting, not marriage. Doesn’t sound like they are fully committed and all I need is one brother to change his mind. Then I will be free to marry as the king originally wished and rightfully claim to be the Schellden heir.”
He glanced at her prepared for her to laugh and return his banter, but her usually warm brown eyes held only an emptiness, and it was leveled at him. “I thought you did not want to be a clan chieftain.”
“Aren’t you always saying that I should not let others so easily dictate my life and my future? I would have thought you’d be the first to support the idea,” he teased, hoping to revive the sparkle in her eyes she had had upon her arrival.
A flash of wild grief ripped through Rowena and it transformed into anger. Her fury at Cyric was genuine, but she was equally furious with herself. Humiliated at knowing how transparent she had made her feelings, riding up to see him, exultant over seeing him. Whatever she thought she had seen and felt from him—desire, longing, passion—she had been wrong. He felt none of those things.
Her spine went rigid as i
njured pride took over. “Your future is not of my making. I have no opinion.”
She went to grab the reins to her horse, but missed. He stepped in and gathered them for her, placing them in her hands. He could not tell if Rowena was truly upset or not. Her conduct said yes, but he could not fathom why. She knew that he had no real interest in marrying his cousins or running a clan.
“I know I control my own destiny,” he gritted out as he helped her onto her horse.
Rowena savored the feeling of his hands upon her waist as he placed her effortlessly on top of the large animal. Then they were gone and the pain of knowing she would never again feel his touch was overwhelming. He sent her a silly lopsided grin. She knew the smile was his way of trying to cheer her up and it was too much. Hurt and anger lashed out, looking for his company.
Icy laughter bubbled out of her chest. “You think you control your destiny? From the moment you arrived in these Highlands other people have decided your life. You came here with the king’s decree and yet quickly conceded defeat. But the sad truth is there was nothing to challenge. That’s right. The engagement was a ruse and as anticipated, you surrendered rather than confronted the two men who seized your fate. Now it is too late.”
Rowena jerked the horse’s reins and headed away from the river, fighting to maneuver through the trees as tears streamed down her face. She had broken her promise, and she had intentionally inflicted pain upon the man she loved. As a result, Rowena had just set into motion the one thing she had feared the most. For if Cyric had not planned to challenge Crevan and Craig McTiernay, he would now. Pride demanded it. Cyric was blessed with a calm, agreeable nature not common among his clansmen, but that did not mean Highland and Schellden blood did not run in his veins. They did and his dignity would require a response.
She had to do something. She had to warn Raelynd and Meriel about Cyric and she had no time to lose.
Rowena steered her horse west and urged it into a gallop. The stable master would be furious and no doubt would eventually seek out the laird and tell him that she had not come back. But by that time, it would be too late. For she intended to find the McTiernays and return with them.
Then, somehow, she was going to convince both brothers to fulfill their intentions as soon as possible. For if they didn’t, Rowena knew she would lose Cyric forever.
Chapter 19
A shout, almost like a sharp scream, echoed all around Raelynd. Sounds in the forest at night were deceptive. Whatever was chasing her could be far away or very close. She had to keep running. Pain shot through her legs but she knew she could not stop. If she did, she would lose everything. Wind started to howl violently, causing the tree branches to whip uncontrollably. One snapped against her collarbone just as another cry filled the air.
Raelynd jerked and her eyes snapped open. She could feel her chest heaving and knew that she’d had another nightmare. What about, she could never remember, but for the past four nights, she had woken scared and breathing heavily. Rarely was she plagued with unpleasant dreams, but they always coincided with when she felt powerless and out of control. And they would not relinquish their hold until Crevan returned with news. Only then would she find peaceful slumber.
Forcing her legs to uncurl, she stretched her calves and endured the pain as blood rushed back into the semideadened limbs. She tried to glance across the room when a severe twinge in her neck prevented her. Raelynd rubbed the angry nerve, promising herself that this was the last night she was going to sleep in the hearth chair.
Able to move with a little less pain, she tried once again to peek at Meriel. She was still asleep on her bed, the place she had slept since Raelynd had returned to explain all that Crevan had told her about Cyric.
That was three nights ago.
Since then Raelynd had felt numb. A month ago she had been naive, unaware of the pure joy of love or the agony of its loss. But even if she could, she would not return to that state of innocence. She only wished she could talk to her sister about everything, but Meriel refused to even discuss the situation. The morning after the brothers had left, she had woke up, pasted on a smile and dedicated her days to sewing in Craig’s room. She only left to eat and join Raelynd at night to supposedly visit. But she would only come in and sit on the bed, eventually falling asleep from exhaustion. It was the first time Raelynd had not been able to confide in her sister or her sister with her.
Outside she heard a faint shout and wished she had Meriel’s view of the courtyard. Raelynd felt her eyelids starting to slip back down when the thought that Crevan had returned sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. Springing out of her chair, she grabbed her bliaut, threw it over her chemise, and laced it as quickly as she could.
Meriel stirred just as Raelynd grabbed her slippers and was putting them on. She glanced at the dark arrow slits in the wall and confirmed it was still night. “Where are you going?”
Startled, Raelynd yelped and her hand flew to her chest. “Don’t do that!”
Meriel sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Why are you getting dressed?”
“I think Crevan and Craig are back.”
Meriel’s eyes flew open and she threw off the coverlet Raelynd had placed on her after she had fallen asleep, still dressed. “Wait for me,” Meriel mumbled, and leaned over the side of the bed to find her shoes where she had kicked them off. She was just slipping them on when there was a heavy knock at the door.
It was Crevan.
Raelynd could feel her heart pounding and suddenly she could not move. Meriel, however, did not have that problem and raced to the door to open it. Crevan entered and behind him was Craig. Without thought, Meriel threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you are back.”
He chuckled, but Meriel knew it held no true mirth. She let go and moved out of the way so that he could enter the room. She was about to close the door when she heard a familiar female voice.
“That’s no way to treat a friend who just spent a most uncomfortable long day on a horse just to see you.”
Craig’s expression held no sympathy. “You were warned.”
The shock of seeing Rowena yanked Raelynd out of her daze. “What are you doing here?”
Rowena walked over and gave her friend a warm hug. “I came to see you get married, of course.”
“Handfasted!” Craig and Meriel chirped simultaneously.
Rowena’s brown eyes moved rapidly between the two. “Raelynd, I thought you were to marry Craig.”
“She is,” Craig answered, moving to Raelynd’s side. “Meriel and I are only friends.”
Rowena did not argue, but she did nothing to hide her skepticism. Friends did not hug each other as Craig and Meriel did after an absence of just a few days. “So when is this handfasting to take place?”
Crevan’s jaw hardened for it was the only topic Rowena had focused on since she caught up with them. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
Rowena issued him an icy glare. “I thought we agreed that was too late.”
“That is because you weren’t listening,” Craig inserted, clearly frustrated.
Meriel was confused. “Why is tomorrow too late?”
“Because if you are not married by the time Cyric arrives, he is going to challenge Craig and kill him!” Rowena said.
Meriel started to shake her head vigorously. Rowena obviously had forgotten how good Craig was with a sword. Her father believed him the best commander he had ever had. Her hazel eyes bored holes into Craig’s blue ones. “Could he?”
Craig shrugged. “He’s good.”
The simple answer was the equivalent of an affirmation and the conversation picked up speed as Meriel issued a stream of questions Craig and Rowena answered, too often simultaneously and in contradiction.
As the noise level rose, the normally spacious bedchambers grew cramped. Raelynd caught Crevan’s eyes and then headed toward the door. She was not sure if the other three weren’t interested in coming or whether Crevan made it clear they were not invited, but whe
n he joined her outside on the curtain wall adjacent to the tower, she was relieved to see he was alone.
A recognizable large dark figure popped out from Brenna’s murder hole and slinked off into the night. “I wish I had known that it only took a little noise to get rid of Conan,” Raelynd said softly, trying unsuccessfully to hide the sheer panic she felt inside.
Crevan said nothing and only opened his arms, offering what she needed most.
Collapsing against his chest, she began to weep. Crevan had not needed to say a word. His deadpan expression had said it all. “So it is true. My father thinks my cousin capable of being laird.”
“Aye,” he whispered against her hair. “But he would only support Cyric if he married either you or Meriel.”
“And did I understand correctly? Cyric knows the truth and he intends to stop the wedding?”
Crevan took a deep breath and exhaled. “Rowena told him and she believes that he will soon come here and challenge one of us as a result.”
Raelynd could not help her growing sense of unease. “Will he?”
“Pride is a powerful thing.”
Raelynd pulled back and for a long moment she just looked at Crevan. She did not need to repeat the question. “Then we must handfast immediately as Rowena suggested.”
Crevan gathered her hands in his. “It is too late. The last time we spotted him, he was no more than an hour behind us. Besides, it is one thing for Craig and I to pledge ourselves for your protection, it is quite another to race into marriage to save ourselves.”
He then escorted her along the wall to an opening that enabled them both to see the majority of the large inner courtyard, including the gatehouse entrance. There he held her and waited. Less than ten minutes passed before the doors were opened and two riders entered. One she recognized as her father, and she knew without being told the other tall dark blond-headed man was her cousin Cyric. And he was angry.
“I’m here and I know you are expecting me,” he growled. The deep voice was clear and unmistakably serious. “I know the truth and I demand Craig and Crevan McTiernay come out and face me.”
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