by Maya Banks
The laird sighed. “Tell me your name, lass. Tell me why Duncan Cameron was so adamant that you marry him. I’ve promised Crispen I’d protect you, and I will, but I can’t do so unless I have all the facts.”
Oh dear, he was going to get all gruff again when she refused to obey his command. He’d been ready to throttle her the day before. A night’s sleep probably hadn’t tempered the desire, no matter how patient he seemed to be at the moment.
Instead of openly defying him as she’d done yesterday, she stood mute, hands still folded in front of her.
“You realize, I’ll find out soon enough. It would be better on you if you simply told me what I want to know now. I don’t like to be kept waiting. I’m not a patient man. Particularly when those under my command defy me.”
“I’m not under your command,” she blurted before she could think better of it.
“The moment you stepped onto my land, you came under my command. My son’s promise put you solidly under my care and protection. My promise to my son solidified that. You will obey me.”
She raised her chin, staring directly into those piercing green eyes. “I survived at Duncan Cameron’s hands. I’ll survive at yours. You can’t make me tell you anything. Beat me if you must, but I will not tell you what you want to know.”
Outrage sparked in his eyes, and his mouth gaped open. “You think I’d beat you? Do you think me the same manner of man as Cameron?”
The fury in his voice had her stepping back. She’d struck a nerve, and anger rolled off the laird’s shoulders in thunderous waves. He all but snarled his question at her.
“I did not intend any insult. I do not know what manner of man you are. I’ve only made your acquaintance for a short time, and you must admit, our meeting has been less than amicable.”
The laird turned away, his hand going to his hair. She didn’t know if he intended to pull it in frustration or to prevent himself from wrapping those fingers around her neck.
When he turned around, his eyes blazed with purpose, and he advanced on her, closing the distance between them. She took another rapid step back, but he was there, looming over her, bristling with outrage.
“Never, never have I treated man or woman in the manner Cameron treated you. Dogs are treated with better regard than that. Never make the mistake of comparing me with him.”
“A—Aye, Laird.”
He raised his hand, and it was all she could do not to flinch. How she stood so stoic, she didn’t know, but it seemed important she didn’t show fear that he’d strike her. Instead, he touched a strand of her hair that whispered down her cheek.
“No one will hurt you here. You will trust me.”
“You can’t command someone to trust you!”
“Aye, I can, and you will. I’m giving you until tomorrow to decide you trust me enough to tell me what I want to know. I am your laird, and you will obey me as everyone else here obeys me. Is that understood?”
“That … that’s ridiculous,” she sputtered, forgetting her fear of angering him further. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”
She turned her back to him, telling him without words what she thought of his dictate. As she stomped away, she missed the amused smile that settled over Ewan’s face.
CHAPTER 6
Mairin spent the afternoon studying the keep’s defenses and looking for a possible escape route. The laird hadn’t given her any choice in the matter. While she kept a sharp eye peeled to the goings-on around her, she also considered the matter of just where she would travel.
Duncan would scour the other abbeys. That was too obvious a choice to make. Her mother’s people hailed from the western isles, but her mother had disassociated herself from her clan even before she’d become the king’s mistress.
And truthfully, she couldn’t count on them not knowing of Neamh Álainn. She’d find herself married off to the first man who had knowledge of her inheritance. She needed time. Time to consider the best course.
Mother Serenity had been working with Mairin to form a list of possible candidates for marriage. Mairin hadn’t wanted a warrior, but she’d recognized the need to have one as her husband. From the moment she claimed her legacy, her husband would have to spend the rest of his life defending it from greedy, power-hungry men.
Wasn’t that the way of the world, though? Only the strong survived, and the weak perished.
She frowned. Nay, that wasn’t true. God protected the weak. Perhaps that’s why he made warriors, so they could protect women and children. Which meant Duncan Cameron could only be of the devil.
With a sigh, she planted her hands down on the sun-warmed ground, intending to push herself to her feet so she could return to her room to best plot her escape. Before she could fully rise, she saw Crispen running up the hillside, waving his hand to her.
She sank back to the ground and waited for him to catch up to her. His face split into a wide grin and he flopped onto the ground beside her.
“Are you feeling more yourself today?” he asked politely.
“I feel much better. I’ve been moving about to work out the soreness.”
He snuggled into her side. “I’m glad. Did you speak to Papa?”
Mairin sighed. “I did.”
Crispen beamed up at her. “I told you he would take care of everything.”
“Indeed you did,” she murmured.
“So are you staying?”
The hopeful expression on his face made her heart melt. She wrapped her arm around him and squeezed tight. “I can’t stay, Crispen. You must know that. There are men besides Duncan Cameron who would abduct me if they knew who I was.”
Crispen’s face crinkled until his nose twitched. “Why?”
“ ’Tis complicated,” she murmured. “I wish it were different, but Mother Serenity always told me we have to make the best with what we have.”
“When will you leave and where will you go? Will I see you again?”
Here she had to tread lightly. She couldn’t have Crispen running to his father with news of her departure. Now that she’d made the decision to leave on her own, she didn’t want the laird interfering with his demand to trust him. She nearly snorted at that notion. He might be able to command his clan to trust him, and she was sure it did, but a woman in her position couldn’t afford to trust anyone.
“I don’t know yet. Departures take planning.”
He turned his chin up so that he was looking up into her eyes. “Will you tell me before you leave so I can say good-bye?”
Her heart ached at the idea of leaving the lad she’d grown so fond of over the past days. But she wouldn’t lie and tell him she would when she knew well that she wouldn’t be announcing her departure to anyone.
“I can’t promise, Crispen. Perhaps we should say our good-byes now so that we’re sure to say everything we want to say.”
He rose up and flung his arms around her, nearly knocking her back to the ground.
“I love you,” he said fiercely. “I don’t want you to go.”
She hugged him to her and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you, too, dearling. I’ll always keep you close in my heart.”
“Promise?”
She smiled. “That I can promise, and I do.”
“Will you sit by me for the evening meal tonight?”
Since she didn’t plan to leave until everyone else was abed, his request was reasonable enough. She nodded, and he beamed back at her.
A shout went up from the courtyard that Mairin and Crispen heard all the way up the hillside. She turned in the direction of the noise to see a procession of soldiers on horses parading over the bridge and into the keep.
Crispen launched himself from her hold and ran several feet before stopping. “ ’Tis Uncle Caelen! He’s back!”
“Then of course you must go greet him,” Mairin said with a smile.
He ran back to her and grabbed her hand, attempting to pull her up. “You come, too.”
&
nbsp; She shook her head and pulled her hand away. “I’ll just stay here. You go ahead. I’ll be along in a little while.”
The last thing she needed was to make the acquaintance of yet another McCabe brother. She shuddered. He was probably just as infuriating as Ewan and Alaric.
Ewan arrived to greet Caelen just as Caelen slid from his horse and strode in Ewan’s direction.
“Is it true? Has Crispen been returned?” Caelen demanded.
“Aye, ’tis true. Alaric brought him home yesterday.”
“Well, where is the little brat?”
Ewan smiled just as Crispen tore through the courtyard shouting “Uncle Caelen” at the top of his lungs. Caelen went white and staggered backward before righting himself and catching the mass of wiggling boy that hurled himself into Caelen’s arms.
“God be praised,” Caelen breathed. “You’re alive.”
Crispen threw his arms around Caelen’s neck and hung on for dear life. “I’m sorry, Uncle Caelen. I didn’t mean to frighten you and Papa. But don’t worry, Mairin took good care of me.”
Ewan’s eyebrows went up. Beside him Alaric also took note of Crispen’s slip.
Caelen scowled over Crispen’s head at Ewan. “Who the hell is Mairin?”
Crispen went rigid in Caelen’s arms, and then he struggled until Caelen finally put him down. He turned stricken eyes toward Ewan, torment in his gaze.
“Oh nay, Papa, I broke my promise. I broke it!”
Ewan reached for his son and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “You didn’t mean to, son. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll order Alaric and Caelen to forget it immediately.”
“And you, Papa?” Crispen asked anxiously. “Will you forget it as well?”
Ewan suppressed a chuckle and then glanced at his brothers. “We will all three endeavor to forget.”
“Will someone tell me what the blazes is going on?” Caelen demanded. “And does it have anything to do with the strange woman sitting on the hillside?”
Ewan followed Caelen’s gaze to where Mairin sat on the hill that overlooked the keep. Trust Caelen to have immediately observed a stranger in the keep. He was exceedingly cautious about who gained access. A lesson learned the hard way.
“She’s not staying,” Crispen said unhappily.
Ewan turned sharply toward his son. “Why do you say that?”
“She said she couldn’t.”
“Ewan? Am I going to have to beat the information from you?” Caelen asked.
Ewan held up his hand to silence Caelen. “Did she say anything else, Crispen?”
Crispen frowned and opened his mouth but then shut it promptly again, his lips forming a tight, mutinous line. “I already broke my promise,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t say anything else.”
Ewan sighed and shook his head. This whole bloody mess was enough to give him a giant ache in his temples. God save him from stubborn, secretive females. Worse, she’d completely won his son’s heart, and she couldn’t leave the keep fast enough.
He frowned at that thought. It wasn’t as though he wanted her to stay. He didn’t want Crispen hurt, but neither did he want the hassle of a difficult woman or the trouble she brought with her.
“Why don’t you run along so I can properly welcome your uncle home. I have much I need to discuss with Caelen and Alaric.”
Instead of looking offended, Crispen’s eyes glimmered with relief. He turned and headed straight back up the hill toward where Mairin had sat. Only now she was gone. Ewan glanced around for the direction she’d taken, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Mairin? Who the hell is Mairin and what does she have to do with Crispen? Furthermore, what is she doing here?”
Ewan jerked his thumb in Alaric’s direction. “He brought her.”
As expected, Alaric immediately denied his part in the whole mess. Ewan held back his laughter at the weariness in Alaric’s voice.
Caelen was close to losing his patience, not that he had much, so Ewan told him everything he knew. Alaric filled in some of the information, and when they were done, Caelen looked at Ewan in disbelief.
“She would tell you nothing? And you allowed this?”
Ewan sighed. “What would you have me do, beat her as Cameron did? The lass will come around. I’ve given her until tomorrow to decide to trust me.”
“And what will you do when she refuses tomorrow?” Alaric smirked.
“She won’t refuse me.”
“The important thing is we have Crispen back,” Caelen said. “What the woman does or says is irrelevant. If Cameron comes looking for a fight, I’ll be more than happy to give him one and then we’ll send the woman on her way.”
“Come, ’tis getting dark and Gertie will have dinner waiting. She doesn’t like to serve a cold meal and well you know it,” Ewan said. “Leave the matter of Mairin to me. The two of you needn’t concern yourself over it.”
“As if we’d want to,” Caelen muttered, as he shouldered past Ewan.
CHAPTER 7
Mairin gathered her shawl closer around her body and crept over the crumbling wall of the stone skirt. She’d chosen the pathway closest to the loch because fewer guards were posted on that side. After all, an enemy could hardly come barging over the water to attack.
The spring air had a decided nip, and suddenly the decision to leave the warmth of her small chamber didn’t seem so wonderful.
The evening repast had been a stressful event. She’d taken one look at the laird’s youngest brother and thought better of her promise to sit next to Crispen at the table. He scowled at her, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been treated to scowls from the other McCabe brothers, but there was a darkness to Caelen’s frown that unnerved her.
She’d uttered an excuse about not feeling well and had immediately retreated above stairs. Undaunted by her departure, Crispen brought a plate of food to her door, and the two of them had sat cross-legged in front of the fire to eat.
Afterward, she pleaded fatigue and sent Crispen on his way. And she waited. For hours she listened for the sounds of the keep to diminish. When she was sure everyone was abed, or at least safely ensconced in their quarters, she snuck down the stairs and out the entrance that faced the loch.
She breathed easier when she entered the shelter of the trees that divided part of the loch from the keep. Here she could move with relative obscurity and follow the loch until she was away.
A great splash startled her, and she turned in the direction of the water. She went still, holding her breath as she peered through the trees toward the inky black water. There was barely a moon this night, and only a slim light was cast onto the rippling surface.
It was enough for her to see that three men were taking a late swim. It was also enough for her to see who was taking the swim. Ewan McCabe and his brothers were diving into the loch, and God have mercy on her, they didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.
She immediately covered her eyes with both hands, mortified beyond all measure that she’d just seen the backsides of three grown men. Were they mad? The loch had to be incredibly cold. She shivered at the mere thought of just how icy such a swim would be.
For several minutes she sat, hunkered down by a tree, hands covering her eyes until finally she eased them away only to see Ewan McCabe come walking from the water. Her eyes rounded in shock, and her hands hung limply at her sides as she stared, transfixed by the sight of a fully naked man. He stood, drying himself with a cloth, and each stroke only drew attention to his muscled body. And … And … she couldn’t even bring herself to think about the area between his legs.
When she realized she was staring quite unabashedly at his … his … manhood, she promptly clapped both hands over her eyes again and sank her teeth into her bottom lip to stifle the squeak that threatened to spill out.
Her only hope was that they would finish their swim and go back to the keep. She couldn’t risk moving about in the trees and attracting attention, but neither did she want to sit here
staring immodestly.
Heat suffused her cheeks, and though she kept her eyes firmly covered, the image of Ewan McCabe without clothing burned through her mind with astonishing clarity. No matter what she did, she couldn’t rid herself of the memory of him walking from the water—completely and utterly naked.
It would take at least three confessions to atone for this much sinning.
“You can look now. I assure you I am fully clothed.”
The laird’s dry voice slid with agonizing precision over her ears. Mortification billowed over her, and her cheeks grew so tight with humiliation that all she could think to do was sit there, hands still covering her eyes. Maybe if she wished really hard, when she opened her eyes, the laird would be far, far away.
“Not likely,” came the amused reply.
She dropped one hand to her mouth, which is where it should have been all along so nothing stupid slipped out, like the fact that she’d just wished the laird to be a great distance away.
Now that she had one eye uncovered, she chanced a look at him to see that he was indeed clothed. With that established, she let her other hand slip down as she looked nervously at the laird.
He stood, legs apart, arms crossed over his chest, and, predictably, he was scowling.
“Want to tell me what you’re doing skulking around in the dark?”
Her shoulders sagged. Apparently she couldn’t even muster a good escape. How was she to know he and his brothers liked taking idiotic swims so late?
“Do I have to answer that?” she mumbled.
The laird sighed. “What part of me telling you that you weren’t leaving my protection did you not understand? I don’t take kindly to those under my authority blatantly disregarding my orders. If you were one of my soldiers, I’d kill you.”
The last didn’t sound like a boast. He didn’t even say it with any flair, so she was sure it wasn’t said to impress her. Nay, it was God’s truth, and that served to scare her even more.
Some demon prompted her to deny his claim. “I’m not under your authority, Laird. I’m not sure how you came to that notion, but ’tis quite untrue. I’m not under anyone’s authority, save God’s and my own.”
