“How fares yer father?” she asked as the rode over a small hill. She felt him grow tense and stiffen the instant she asked.
Silence hung in the air, leading her to believe ’twas another question he refused to answer.
“I neither know nor care,” he answered through gritted teeth. “And I’ll appreciate it if ye’d nae mention him again.”
Whether it was born out of frustration or exhaustion, she couldn’t rightly say, but she was growing tired of his silence. “We have been ridin’ fer two days and I know no more about ye than I did when I pulled ye from the goal. I dunnae understand why ye refuse to speak of yer past. We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of.”
Snorting derisively, he asked, “What could ye have possibly done that ye’re ashamed of?”
“I’ve stolen bread when I was hungry,” she answered pointedly, irked by what she deemed to be arrogance on his part. “And might I remind ye I lied through me teeth to get ye out of the goal at Inverness?”
He was unimpressed. “If that be the worst ye’ve ever done in yer life, lass, ye’ve led the life of a saint.”
“And what of ye? What have ye done that is so horrible ye cannae even discuss it with me, yer lifelong friend?” she asked drolly.
He let out a chuckle that sent shivers down her spine. “Lass, I’ve done things nightmares are made of. Things ye cannae begin to imagine.”
She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her face. “Ye’re only tryin’ to frighten me into silence,” she accused him. “Ye cannae frighten me, Aiden Macgullane.”
“Nay?” he asked.
She gave a slow shake of her head. “Nay. Ye’re too good a man, of that much I am certain.”
“Much can happen to a man in fourteen long years, lass. Much that can change him from what he was as a boy to what he is as a man.”
That she could believe, for she had lost the naiveté of youth long ago. But deep down, wasn’t she much the same as she had always been? Did she still not care about others and possess a strong sense of right versus wrong? And did she still not wish with all her heart to find her father?
“That might verra well be true,” she said, “but I believe that deep down, ye’re still as kind now as ye were as a boy.”
He threw back his head and laughed from deep in his belly. It went on for so long that she began to wonder if he hadn’t truly lost his mind. “I dunnae ken what ye find so amusin’. Laugh all ye will, ye’ll ne’er get me to change me mind about ye.”
“Count yerself blessed that ye shall not be with me long enough to realize I speak the truth.”
Death by disembowelment was preferable to telling her the truth.
For years, he’d suffered at the hands of his masters. Led a most miserable life. And since escaping that life two years ago, he had done everything he could to rid himself of his demons, of those repugnant and grotesque memories that assaulted him nearly every hour of every day.
He was a monster.
Worse than anything her innocent mind could ever conjure. As assuredly as the sun would rise on the morrow, if she ever knew the truth, her opinion of him would evaporate as quickly as twining, wispy smoke from a fire. When he conjured the image of her face, of the expression she would bear should she hear the truth, it made him nearly ill. ’Twas the one thing he could not bear. ‘Twould certainly be the breaking point of what little sanity he possessed. If she were to look at him with contempt and disgust, he would fall into madness, into a hell from which there would be no return.
For now he was content with allowing her to think only the best of him.
Content.
It had been decades since he’d felt anything akin to contentment. Or joy or peace or happiness.
Nay, there had been no place for such feelings. They’d been nonexistent, didn’t belong in the blood-thirsty life he had lived.
As much as he hated to admit it, however, there was a very tiny part of him that took some enjoyment from her good opinion of him. Even if it were based on a childhood memory and a lie.
He was also taking great enjoyment from the way she felt when she sat against him on the saddle. Or the utter sense of calm that fell over him when she came to him in the middle of the night seeking the warmth of his body when the fire was not enough to keep out the cold night air. Aiden knew she wasn’t looking for any kind of romantic physical contact, but that knowledge did nothing to still the lust-ridden dreams he was having of late.
The two kisses he’d stolen from her that first day haunted him. It had been a mistake, kissing her as he had, for now he craved more, like a selkie craves the water. Nay, he refused to succumb to baser urges for two reasons: one, he didn’t deserve them and two, she deserved better.
He might have been a murderer but he was no defiler of women.
Even assassins had their limits. At least Aiden did. Oh, he knew other men of his ilk who thought nothing of slaughtering innocent women and children. Others had no invisible lines they would not cross, but Aiden did. No matter the situation or assignment, he had never brought physical harm to an innocent. But what of the emotional damage he’d left the living to suffer? Aye, he might have left them alive, but he knew he’d left them without a husband or father. And a few he’d left with the haunting images of watching their loved one die before their eyes.
What kind of man did such things?
Nay, Rianna did not deserve a man such as he. She deserved far better.
Nightfall was just beginning to caress the sky when they made camp in a small clearing set in the midst of a forest. Littered with birch, alder, oak and hazel, the soft earth under their feet was a welcome respite to the cold hard ground they’d slept on the night before. Overhead, in the beryl sky, stars shimmered silver, lending to the tranquility of the place. Their surroundings, however, stood in stark contrast to the jumbled knot of worry that had settled in Rianna’s stomach.
On the morrow, she would finally come face to face with her father. If he still lived. If her mother hadn’t lied. If he still made his home amongst the people of Allistair Castle.
Thankfully, Aiden had caught two small grouse that were roasting over the fire. Rianna sat with her back against a felled tree, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the flames. As they had done for the past few days, her thoughts ran from her father to Aiden and back again.
What if Aiden was correct? What if her father truly wanted nothing to do with her? What if everything her mother had ever said about the man was true? Was he really an arrogant, selfish man? Had he sent them away because of his wife? Did he actually only use Ronna as a man uses any common whore, casting her aside without a care to her security or that of the child they had created? How would the man respond when she appeared on his threshold? Would he cast her aside with the same indifference as he had when she was a bairn?
And what of Aiden? What had happened to the warm, caring boy she remembered? The less he told her the more she wondered. If his tossing and turning in his sleep were any indication, something dark had befallen him, of that she was convinced.
The first night, when he’d been passed out from drinking, she had slept beside him for warmth. ’Twas a sensation she wanted desperately to repeat every night for the rest of her life. To sleep securely and without fear in the arms of a man she admired. A man who cared for her heart as well as her safety. Someone like the boy Aiden had been. Knowing full well she was allowing her mind and heart to wander to points neither should go, she had decided to sleep a safe distance away from him.
Last night, he had slept so restlessly that he kept her awake. Betimes he mumbled incoherently as his body jerked violently. Then he would weep and beg forgiveness. Last night, she had gone to offer him soothing words of comfort. ’Twas then he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. Moments later, he whispered thank ye, before drifting off to sleep. Once he was settled, she tried to dislodge herself from his warm embrace. Sensing she was leaving him, he would pull her in again. Finally, she quit fighti
ng and remained tucked next to him. ’Twas another battle she carefully — and happily — chose to lose.
When she woke this morn, he was already up and gone. Either he hadn’t remembered the night before, or he had and was too embarrassed to speak of it. Either way, she was glad he had not brought the matter up, for she was too confused over her feelings for him to have a thoughtful or intelligent conversation.
Finally, the silence was too much to endure. “Why do ye think the ring glows again?” Rianna asked him from across the fire. Pulling the ring from beneath her dress, she held it in the palm of her hand. Oddly, it seemed to glow even brighter than the day before.
He contemplated her question for a long moment. “I dunnae. Mayhap it glows because ye are near yer father?”
“Mayhap,” she replied, detecting no sarcasm or mockery in his tone. “It continued to glow long after we left Ardanaiseig. For several years actually. But slowly, it began to dim until ’twas nearly black.”
“Yet it glows again,” he said.
“Aye, it glows again. I cannae help but wonder why.” Mesmerized by it’s radiance, she could scarce take her eyes from it. Mayhap Aiden was right. Mayhap it was magik, as he had declared long ago. Was it somehow tied to her father and glowed when he was near? Nay, that explanation made no sense. “But it glowed when I lived in Ardanaiseig,” she pointed out to him. “There are only two times in my life the ring has e’er glowed. Both times were in your presence.”
She was so captivated by the ring, had not heard his calm yet firm tone calling for her silence.
“Mayhap the ring is tied to ye,” she said with a dismissive giggle.
“Wheest now,” he whispered harshly to gain her attention.
Prepared to curse him to the devil for being so rude, the curse died on her tongue when she saw the expression on his face. Serious, tense, and alert. ’Twas then she heard the faint crack of a twig coming from the dark forest. The combination sent a shiver down her spine and turned her skin to gooseflesh.
“Do ye have a weapon in yer pack?” he asked in a low, hushed whisper.
Frozen with fear, all she could manage was a rapid nod.
He stood then and stretched, as if he were tired and ready for bed. In a loud voice, he said, “I fear this journey has worn me out, lass.” Stepping toward her, he bent over at the waist and kissed her cheek. “Do nae let on ye ken there be someone out there,” he whispered. “Do ye have any more dried beef in yer pack?” he asked, raising his voice.
Confusion enveloped her. Uncertain what she should do, she shook her head. “Nay, ye ate it all.”
“Why don’t ye look again?” he asked as he scratched his belly. “Ye might find some left.” His eyes pleaded for understanding.
It took a moment before she realized he was pretending he did not know that someone was watching them from nearby. Stammering, she said, “Verra well, let me look.” With trembling fingers, she felt through the items in her pack, all the while her heart raced in her chest. Frantically she searched blindly, unable to take her eyes from Aiden’s. After what seemed an eternity, her fingers finally rested on the blade of her sgian dubh. Relief —albeit short-lived — washed over her when she felt the cool steel.
Aiden sat beside her, stretching his long legs out before her. As much as she wanted to look into the darkness, she found she could not pull her gaze from his. “Have ye found the beef?” he asked as he draped an arm around her shoulder.
Her throat had gone dry with fear. “Nay, it be gone,” she managed to reply as she pulled the sgian dubh from the pack and laid in on her lap for him to see.
Another snap and crack from the forest. Without thinking, she looked toward the trees at the sound.
“Dunnae fash yerself, lass,” Aiden said. “’Tis just a badger.”
She knew without seeing ’twas not a night creature lurking in the shadows, but a man. Possibly more than one. She also knew that Aiden knew the same.
Another cracking twig, another footfall and she was trembling with such force that she could scarce find a breath.
“Come, let us go to bed,” Aiden said as he shot to his feet. Extending an arm to her, he took her hand in his. Hoisting her to her feet, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close to his chest. “No matter what happens, ye stay behind me at all times. And should anything happen to me, ye run fer the hills as fast as those skinny legs of yers can carry ye,” he whispered into her hair. “Promise me.”
Terrified tears brimmed as she nodded with understanding. A hundred thoughts raced through her mind as she fought back the urge to cry. What happened next occurred so quickly she had little time to do anything but stand back and watch.
5
“Good eve to ye!” cried out a man who stood just on the edge of their camp. Startled, Rianna jumped out of Aiden’s arms while he carefully placed her behind his back.
“Good eve to ye,” Aiden replied.
The man stepped forward into the firelight. One look and Rianna knew he was trouble. Besides his ill-fitting clothes and shaved head, there was something in his eyes, something readily apparent even in the dimly lit space. Madness? Desperation? Whatever ’twas, she found it dark and sinister.
“Could ye spare a few lost souls a bit of yer supper?” he asked as he took another step forward. A moment later, they were surrounded my three more men, all of whom looked equally as menacing as the first. Two of them stood just to the right of she and Aiden, the other to their left.
“I fear we have nothin’ left,” Aiden said. “Nae even a handful of berries or nuts.”
Rianna trembled as she looked at the strange men. Reaching out to Aiden, she placed one hand on his waist, whilst her other held tightly to her sgian dubh. ’Twas then she realized Aiden was not wearing his sword. Dread consumed her as her gaze fell upon the sword that rested against their packs a good seven or eight feet away.
“Then have ye a coin or two to spare?” The man made his way to the fire as if he were nothing more than a passing stranger.
“Nay,” Aiden answered, holding his empty palms up. “We be as poor as church mice.”
The man to their left continued to stare at Rianna, licking his lips all the while. Repulsed, she turned away to look around Aiden’s shoulders at the man at the fire. He squatted down and warmed his hands over the licking flames. “That be a right shame,” he said. “A right shame.”
“Ye’re more than welcome to warm yerselves by the fire,” Aiden said, casting a glance toward the other men. “But me wife and I were just getting ready to turn in for the night. We have travelled long and far this day.”
The man ignored him. “We have nae eaten in days. And we’ve nae had a woman in weeks,” he said. “Ye have no food, but ye do have a right pretty woman.”
Aiden tensed. Rianna could feel his muscles tighten, all the while her heart pounded with terror against her chest.
Shrugging as if he cared not what the men might wish to do to her, Aiden said, “Verra well,” as he left Rianna standing alone. “She be nae me wife anyway. An Inverness whore I picked up a few days ago.”
Rianna’s mouth fell open as she watched him walk away. Beyond bewildered, she stood with mouth agape, terrified.
Her eyes flew to the man by the fire, then to the man to her left. What had happened to her champion? Her protector? Did Aiden truly mean to leave her to these men? She would fight to her own death before she went to them willingly.
She was about to tell them all just that when she heard Aiden unsheathe his sword. The sound of metal against leather broke through the quiet night. Before she could utter a word or move a muscle, Aiden had thrust his sword deep into he back of the man by the fire. Soundlessly, he fell forward into the flames, and a rapid heartbeat later, his clothes were on fire. But he did not scream nor cry out in agony, for he was already dead.
Frozen with fear, all she could do was stand by and watch as the three men drew their own swords. The two on her right engaged Aiden, whilst the other man wrapped
an arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground.
“Nay!” she cried out. Caught off guard, she let her sgian dubh fall to the earth as she pounded on his arms. The man was dragging her toward the woods.
He hadn’t taken three steps before Aiden was upon them. “Let her go and I’ll consider lettin’ ye live.”
His voice was firm and unyielding. Her captor spun around and, to his utter disbelief, his companions lay dead on the ground.
Rianna held her breath as she looked at Aiden. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. He looked so calm, so completely at ease. ’Twas the way he stared at the man, with such a deadly glare that she nearly fainted. Apparently, her captor was not an intelligent man.
“I do nae think so,” he said. “Ye’ll kill me as soon as I let her go. But ye’ll regret it. We travel with twenty other men. They wait for our return.”
Aiden arched a brow in disbelief. “Twenty?” he asked. “I dunnae care if ye travel with one hundred. I will kill ye all before I allow ye to harm on hair on the lass’s head.”
“Back away!” the man barked out, tightening his hold on Rianna’s waist. He lifted his sword and held it against her throat. “I’ll kill her, I swear I will.”
“And ye shall be dead before she hits the ground.”
The man started backing away.
“Rianna, my love, ye look tired,” Aiden said as his eyes bored into hers. “Would ye like to rest?”
Rest? Had he gone mad? “Aiden, please, help me.”
“I will lass,” he said with a smile that bordered on something she could not quite describe. “Mayhap ye would like to rest now?”
They were moving farther away from the fire and into darkness. Confused, terrified, she tried to make some sense of his question. She could no longer see his face clearly, for they were nearly enveloped in the inky blackness of the trees.
Now. Rest now. It suddenly became clear what he needed her to do. In an instant, she fell completely limp in her attacker’s arms.
As she did so, the man was caught off guard. Concerned with lifting her back up to maintain his hold on her, he took his eyes off Aiden. ’Twas the only opening Aiden needed.
Forever Her Champion Page 8
