“You will not catch him!”
“He hides in my woods. I shall burn Kinfairlie forest to the ground, if necessary, to see him apprehended.”
“And I shall strike the flint,” Rhys added from behind Isabella.
Isabella looked between the two of them in dismay. From their expressions, she doubted that Murdoch would survive his capture. “But this is unjust! You cannot do as much.”
“I can and I will.” Alexander pointed a finger at her. “And you will have no chance to warn your champion that the wind has turned against him. You will remain within this chamber until this matter is resolved.”
“You cannot imprison me!” Isabella shouted as Alexander walked past her.
Her brother paused and looked her in the eye. “Aye, I can and I will. Indeed, it is my duty to do as much and you cannot halt me. You have but to watch.”
“Alexander!” Isabella cried in frustration, but her brother strode out of the chamber and did not look back. Isabella lunged for the door, but found Rhys in her path, and he was a formidable obstacle. He held her shoulders in his hands and looked into her eyes.
“’Tis for your own good, Isabella,” he said gruffly. “You cannot see the truth of it now, but in month or two, you will thank Alexander for his good care.” Rhys backed Isabella into the middle of the room. “Should you remember the location of the chalice and platter, that detail might well turn the tide in your favor.”
“But I do not have them! They were already gone. The spriggans have them!”
Rhys shook his head. He turned to leave and Isabella leapt after him, too late to keep the door from closing. Isabella grabbed for the latch, but she heard the key turn in the lock.
She was trapped! Isabella raced to the window and leaned over the sill, the drop to the bailey making her dizzy. She would never survive a jump from this window. She pivoted to survey her prison and saw that there was nothing she could use to aid herself, undoubtedly by Alexander’s design. There was only a pallet in the middle of the empty chamber. She heard shouts in the bailey and saw the ostler hurry toward the stables. The horses that had only just returned were being saddled again.
Alexander did not mean to delay over this business.
And there was nothing she could do about it. The only way to save the situation was to tell Murdoch of the Fae’s actions and intercept them before they reached Ravensmuir, but she had no means to do that. Isabella never would have imagined that she would be imprisoned in Kinfairlie keep, but she surely was.
Worse, she would be confined here until Murdoch was dead.
* * *
Chapter Twelve
Stewart had never been so vexed with a squire as he was with Gavin. The boy delayed over every detail and lagged so far behind Stewart and Hamish that there could be no doubt that he did as much on purpose. Stewart’s ire rose steadily as they rode west from Kinfairlie forest, but he was determined to not grant the lad the attention he evidently sought.
That resolve lasted until Stewart heard the whistle from Queensferry, when they were yet far from the dock.
“For the love of God,” Stewart declared. “What ails you, lad, that you would be so determined to earn a lashing?”
“’Tis not for the love of God, but for the love of my lord Murdoch,” the boy snapped in reply, his defiance making Stewart yearn to cuff him. “My lord Murdoch is a man unafraid to fight for what he desires, a man unafraid to stand for what he knows to be true, regardless of the risk to himself.” Gavin pointed back toward Kinfairlie, his face contorted with anger. Hamish looked even more like a frightened hare than was his custom. “Yet you, you who speak always of duty and honor, you abandon him when he faces his greatest challenge.”
“I leave him because he commanded as much...”
“To see us safe, no more than that,” Gavin snapped, interrupting Stewart. “But he is the one who has need of our aid. He put our welfare above his own.”
“Murdoch has no need of our assistance to court a lady already smitten with his charms,” he said with care. “This is a delicate matter best left to Murdoch alone. I doubt the lady has such harsh plans for him as you believe and her kin will heed his apology.”
“Nay, I know that there is other peril before him! You are wrong to leave him.”
Gavin’s insolence should have earned him a beating, but his conviction made Stewart wonder what he did not know. “What have you seen?”
“At Seton Manor, I saw nothing,” Gavin retorted. “I saw no honor and no thirst for justice. Two years I have spent in the service of my lord Duncan, sent by my father to squire and learn to be a knight.” The boy sneered. “I have learned nothing from Duncan. He might as well be a woman, or a priest, for all he does is pray.”
Stewart had to avert his gaze from the boy’s fury, for he spoke aright. More than once the old laird had confessed to Stewart – while in his cups – that his sons had been born in the wrong order. Time had only made the truth of their natures more clear.
Gavin jabbed his finger back toward Kinfairlie again. “I have learned more from my lord Murdoch in but a fortnight than in the past two years. He would fight for justice. He would do what needs to be done, whether the task is pleasant or not. He does not merely fall to his knees and beg God to solve his woes.”
Duncan’s nature was better suited to contemplation than to making war, but Stewart could not criticize his laird before these boys. “Justice lies in the hands of God,” he said, knowing it was not a compelling argument even as it crossed his lips but unable to think of another.
“God aids those who aid themselves,” Gavin cried. “So my father has always said. And I can only pray now that God will aid my lord Murdoch, for those dispatched to be of aid to him have chosen to abandon him to his fate.”
Stewart shook a finger at the boy. “You know not of what you speak. I am charged with ensuring your safety and welfare, as well as guaranteeing that you learn what is right...”
“How is it right that Duncan suspected the location of his stolen relic but did nothing to regain it? How is it right that he dispatched his brother to defend his own justice?”
“He is laird...”
“If my lord Murdoch had not returned, what would he have done? He could have sent another to do his bidding. He could have sent you to collect his prize. Instead he prayed for its return and we watched, our bellies growing more empty with every passing day.” Gavin spat in the road, his eyes dark with hostility. “A man does not stand aside and let those beneath his hand suffer.”
Stewart frowned.
“A man shows a care for those pledged to his service,” Gavin retorted. “As my lord Murdoch has done with us.”
“Shows a care?” Stewart echoed, incredulous. “What have you learned in his service? To thieve? To rob the innocent? To terrorize women? That was no good initiative you took this night...”
“I have learned to protect the back of an ally,” Gavin retorted. “To ensure the safety of one dispatched on a perilous mission. To challenge those who would deceive, but not do injury to any. To see to a horse’s welfare, even at one’s own risk. To keep a pledge, no matter the price.”
Stewart felt his lips tighten. “He agreed to our departure, indeed, he insisted upon it.”
“Because he saw the bean-nighe,” Gavin fairly spat the words that sent a pang through Stewart’s heart. “Because he knows he is to die and he would see us safely away.”
A bean-nighe. Stewart was horrified. These apparitions were either Fae or the ghosts of mortal women lost in childbirth, depending upon whom one asked. Either way, they washed the garments of those soon to be dead. “He saw her washing?”
The boy nodded.
“And you did not see her?”
Gavin shook his head.
So, she had been washing Murdoch’s garment. He had seen her as a portent of his own demise. This did, indeed, change all.
“When was this?” Stewart demanded.
“The night after we returned
the horse. The night after the laird routed Kinfairlie forest. He saw her, but I saw only his fear.” Gavin held Stewart’s gaze, his own bright with conviction. “He is a man to the end, and I would die in his service rather than return to watch my lord Duncan spend all day upon his knees.”
With that, the boy turned his horse and began to ride back toward Kinfairlie.
“Gavin!” Hamish said in astonishment, looking between Stewart and Gavin. “My lord, he defies you.”
Stewart turned his own horse, his mood sour. “And worse than that, lad, he is right. To Kinfairlie now, with all haste!”
* * *
Isabella heard the horses being mustered and the hunting party ride out. She paced the chamber in rising frustration, hating that she was powerless in this situation.
And that no man would listen to her.
Indeed, it was enough to make her furious. There had to be a solution! She had only to think of it. Isabella paced with greater speed, but could not imagine what she could do.
She jumped when metal struck the stone sill of the window.
She spun to see that it was a grappling hook.
Isabella heard the sounds of someone climbing the stone wall. Friend or foe? She listened at the door, but there was only silence in the corridor beyond. Then she ran across the room as quietly as she could and flattened herself against the wall on one side of the window. The wind was crisp off the sea and when she peered out the window, she could discern the silhouette of a man climbing the wall from below. He kept his head down and was completely in shadow.
She leaned a bit further to get a better look just as he glanced up.
Murdoch grinned recklessly at her, hauling himself hand over hand toward the window with new speed. “Are you always peering out of windows, my Isabella?” he teased.
Isabella was so relieved to see him that her knees weakened. “Have you come to surrender to my brother?”
Murdoch laughed and she was delighted to see that he looked more hale. He reached the sill and pulled himself on to it. Their faces were almost level as he crouched there, the wind tossing his hair, and his eyes glinting. “I do not believe he would listen to any word I uttered to him.”
“He did not listen to me,” Isabella confessed. “Indeed, I have never seen him so angry.”
Murdoch sobered immediately. “Did he strike you?”
“Alexander? No. He shouted. He swore and he confined me to this chamber.” Isabella grimaced. “And he rode out to hunt you down. They mean to burn Kinfairlie forest.”
“Then he will do no more than destroy his own holding.” Murdoch spoke matter–of–factly and stepped into the room. He was fast beside her and she tipped her head back to hold his gaze. His eyes were more blue again, to her relief.
“Is that why you came? To learn his intent?”
“No. I came to apologize to you.” Murdoch’s smile flashed and his arm slid around her waist. “Forgive me, Isabella. I wanted only to see you safe.”
He bent, hesitating when their lips were only a finger’s breadth apart, his gaze searching hers. Then his smile turned secretive as his gaze dropped to her lips.
And finally, when she thought she could not bear to wait any longer, he kissed her. He kissed her so thoroughly that Isabella knew she was not the only one who had thought overmuch about their earlier embraces. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew herself against his chest, liking how he slanted his mouth over hers and deepened his kiss. He pulled away with an effort, holding her tightly even so.
“You saw her,” he said with low heat. “She would destroy you, I know it well, just as I know her power is greatest in the forest.”
Isabella could see one of those blue tendrils on the flesh of his throat and the sight of it, newly appeared, transfixed her. It seemed to grow as she watched. “You risk much in coming here. My brother hunts you...”
Murdoch brushed his lips once across hers to silence her, his own words a mere whisper. “Do you not know yet, my Isabella, that I would risk even more?”
Isabella could not help but smile at him. “I knew you did not truly want me gone.”
“I did want you gone.” Murdoch spoke with heat. “You can have no idea what price she might demand of you.”
Isabella studied him. “The same she claims from you?”
He looked away, troubled in truth. Isabella watched him swallow. “I came also to warn you, Isabella. That you can see her puts you in peril.” He met her gaze again, his own completely serious. “You can never go into Kinfairlie forest again, not so long as she is resident there. And if you confront her or another of the Fae, you must never look into their eyes. It is how they snare mortals, and once you look, you cannot willfully escape their realm.”
“You looked,” Isabella guessed.
“I did not know who she was. I thought her an alluring woman, no more than that.” He grimaced. “I was a fool. I looked and became her captive.” He studied Isabella. “Three years she kept me captive in that realm, three years that felt to me like mere weeks.”
“But you are not in the realm of the Fae now. I could see you even before I drank the potion.”
“Because she released me, but on her own terms.”
Isabella framed his face in her hands. “Tell me.”
Murdoch swallowed. “I said I would surrender any thing to return home again. She never named her price, and I thought she simply gave me my wish.” He laughed without humor. “That is not her nature. There was a price, but she did not confide it in me. I believe that it amused her to watch me realize the truth.”
Isabella felt cold then, for she knew what she had seen. “It is your heart she holds in thrall, is it not?”
Murdoch nodded. “By the new moon I will either be dead or snared among the Fae for all time.” He shuddered. “I suspect it makes little difference.”
Isabella pushed her hands through his hair, wanting only to drive the cold from his skin. She saw that his ears had become pointed slightly, both at the lobes and the top. “She would make you into one of them.”
“Or kill me in the process. I suspect that she fears as much, for she tries to tempt me to surrender willingly to her again.” He lifted Isabella’s hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “And now you know my dark truth, Isabella. I would pledge to you, but I fear I will not ever have the chance.”
Isabella’s heart clenched. “But there must be something we can do! There must be a way to thwart her plan and save you!”
“I do not know it, my Isabella. And I fear the price of any release might be too high.”
“What do you mean?”
Murdoch did not answer her. “I will make my time in this realm count for some thing.” He closed his hand around hers, his gaze boring into her own, and she felt the heat of her skin warm his. His voice dropped to low urgency. “Tell me where the relic is, Isabella. Let me do this one deed for my brother, my father’s memory and my home.”
“I will not,” Isabella said. “Because I will not have you seek it alone. You have need of assistance and you have need of me. We will go together or not at all.”
Murdoch smiled, to her surprise, a warmth dawning in his eyes. “I suspected you would say as much, but the choice had to be your own. I know not how this adventure will end.”
“I know how I would have it end,” Isabella said with heat.
Murdoch kissed her with sweet power, the press of his lips against hers sending a chill through Isabella. He was so cold, but in the past, she had warmed him with her embrace. She caught his face in her hands and kissed him back, pouring all her admiration for him into her touch. He pulled her closer and she felt the heat gather between them.
And in his skin. When they parted, they were both breathless. He was less pale and his eyes sparkled more blue. “Does the cold retreat?” she asked with hope.
“In your presence, it does.” He grinned crookedly at her. “Perhaps you can heal me with your touch.”
He made a jest but Isabel
la was not so certain that he was mistaken. How could she break the Elphine Queen’s hold over Murdoch? There was no answer in any book, she knew that, but she must be able to reason it out.
“All the more cause to take me with you,” Isabella said and he smiled.
He traced a finger down her cheek. “I can think of a thousand reasons, my Isabella.”
He might have kissed her again, but there was a clatter of hoof beats. Murdoch peered out the window to look toward the stable. He eyed Isabella with consideration. “Is the relic here at Kinfairlie?”
Isabella shook her head.
“But you know its location?”
“I know the villain’s destination.”
Murdoch considered her for a moment. Then he leapt to the sill with an athletic grace Isabella admired. He offered his hand to her and smiled. “Time to go, my lady.”
“Where are Stewart and the boys?”
“I bade them ride for home.”
“You wanted them to be safe.”
“All comes to fruition, Isabella. I will take no innocents into this battle.” Murdoch’s gaze locked upon hers as if he would will her to understand her choice.
Isabella put her hand in his before she realized his meaning. If she went with Murdoch, no matter what happened between them, it would be assumed that she had been intimate with him and that her virginity was lost. Indeed, it seemed that Alexander had made that conclusion already.
If she went with Murdoch, and he did not return, she might not be able to wed.
If she went with Murdoch, and he did return with her, her choice might compel Alexander to at least hear Murdoch’s offer for her hand.
Isabella did not have to consider the repercussions more than that. She did not want to wed any man other than Murdoch and she believed that would never change. Without him, she would content herself with the healing arts.
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