Highlander's Sweet Promises

by Tarah Scott

He chuckled a little, but in a worried way. “If ye insist then!” he muttered under his breath.

  Ignoring the weight of his steady gaze, Liselle tipped the bottle, mesmerized by the light of the candles playing in the stream of red wine pouring into her cup. It was a thing of beauty. She watched with numb appreciation as the deep red wine spilled over the edge and onto the white tablecloth to form a crimson pool.

  “Ach, lass. ‘Tis clear that ye are done.” Julian’s hand closed over hers.

  “No!” she disagreed, shoving him back but knocking her goblet over in the process.

  Stupefied, she watched as the goblet rolled off the table, and then she reached for the bottle to drink from it instead.

  “No more. I insist,” Julian said, firmly plucking the bottle from her fingers.

  Liselle heaved a sigh, suddenly too tired to even be annoyed. “It will be over shoon,” she said. Her tongue was heavy in her mouth, and it took some effort to enunciate the word again. “Soon.”

  “And what will be over, Lady Gray?” came his soft query.

  Liselle closed her eyes. Already, she was weary. How had Nicoletta lived with the weight of her viper’s tongue for so long?

  “What are ye saying, Liselle?” Julian’s deep voice asked.

  Liselle. She smiled sadly. “I would that … I had heard my name more upon your lipsh.” She frowned and then corrected with a hiccup, “Lips.”

  “Had?” Seizing the word, he gripped her by the shoulders and twisted her around, forcing her to face him as he rested his arm protectively on the back of the chair.

  “So bold and dangerous,” she said wistfully, trailing a finger along his bottom lip. “I couldn’t kill you. Pascal knew it. He knew I would fail.”

  And then realizing what she had said, she quickly covered her mouth with her hands to stem the tide of words. She was still a di Franco. She had failed as an assassin, but she could not betray the Vindictam.

  Julian went still. “Pascal?”

  Her hand dropped and she answered anyway. She couldn’t stop. “He told me to run,” she said, slurring the words, but she kept speaking. For some reason, it was simply a relief. “But the Salus … the Saluss …” She paused, frowning. When had her tongue become so difficult to control?

  “The Saluzzi?” Julian supplied softly.

  “Ah, yes. They forced Orazzzio …” She almost giggled. Why hadn’t she noticed before that her brother’s name was so amusing to say?

  “Forced your brother to …?” Julian probed gently.

  “Make me kill you. As retri … retribu …” She frowned and then chose easier words. “Because I saved you in Fothin … Fothinhay. I spilled Slaushee blood, so I have to spill yours to stop the war.” She blew her hair out of her face, relieved the difficult words were over. But then feeling nauseated, she leaned her head upon the table, closed her eyes, and added, “They said before the sun sets. Run! You should run. Be shafe and run.”

  But he didn’t run.

  Instead, Julian dropped his cheek next to hers. “Bonds between men and women dinna end that easily!” He growled in her ear. “Your kiss tells me that I’ve naught to fear from ye.”

  “Bábio!” she replied in a tormented whisper. She didn’t want to think of his kiss. It just might wake her from her stupor, and she didn’t want to wake up. The end would be easier to face if she were asleep. Desperately, she reached for another bottle of wine.

  “There’s no need to make yourself ill, Lady Gray.” Julian chuckled as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her into a close, protective embrace.

  Wearily, she laid her head upon his shoulder.

  “Aye, ‘tis been a strange road with ye, lass,” he said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “How can I love ye?”

  Love?

  A shiver rippled down her spine, followed quickly by nausea and a pain ringing through her head. Santo Ciélo! Why had she drunk so much wine? And then clamping her palm on her forehead, she answered in a wounded tone, “Love? It is too late for love.”

  “I think not,” he said, chuckling again.

  She found his humor irritating. “I failed.”

  And then Julian swept her onto his lap with an easy arm and murmured into her ear, “I’ll settle the matter with Orazio, lass. And I’ll be speaking with Pascal on the matter of your freedom.”

  She could only stare into his eyes. “Orazio will sh… shl…slay you on sight,” she finally managed to say, wincing all the while. Each word felt like a dagger in her skull.

  “Have faith in me, aye?” His tone was light and encouraging.

  “I’ll speak with Orrraazzzio,” she insisted, and sliding from his lap, rose to her feet. But the world began to spin, and she desperately clawed at the table to regain her balance.

  “Aye, and if ye canna even walk?” He was laughing outright.

  Santo Ciélo! But how could he find so dire a matter humorous?

  Sending him a dark scowl, she took a step forward. She didn’t get far. The stones beneath her feet seemed to be moving.

  “Aye, I’ll just carry ye, lass,” Julian’s amused voice reverberated in her head as she was suddenly swept off her feet and tossed over his shoulder.

  “But Orazzzzio will slay you on sight!” she protested and pounded his back with her hand. The movements made her stomach roil.

  “Aye,” Julian agreed easily enough and then added, “’Tis why we will speak with Pascal.”

  Why did he care to speak to her arrogant cousin? Pascal would do nothing to stave off this disaster, even if he could!

  And then the world around her began to spin even more, and a wave of blackness rose to carry her away.

  * * *

  Liselle opened her eyes to the sound of Pascal’s voice.

  “Lord Gray,” came her cousin’s cool tones. “Your presence is … unexpected.”

  “Aye, ‘tis not often ye speak with a dead man, aye?” Julian asked dryly. “Come in, come in. Allow me the pleasure of your company.”

  Pascal made a disagreeable sound, and there was a creaking of a door. “You are most considerate to invite me into my own chamber, Lord Gray.”

  Liselle opened her eyes.

  She was lying on the bed in a chamber lit only by a few tapers. Julian lounged against the bedpost with his arms folded across his broad chest, and she could see Pascal’s face as only a pale blur in the darkness near the door.

  “I’ve waited for ye quite some time, lad,” Julian informed him calmly. “Ye should know that neither Liselle nor I will be dying over this Saluzzi matter, and I’ll be freeing your wee cousin from the web of the Vindictam this very night.”

  Pascal approached slowly and paused in the circle of light before replying, “Just hours ago, Albany was forgiven and his lands restored to him. Is that not so?”

  “Aye, ‘tis true enough,” Julian admitted.

  “Then you should know, Lord Gray, that we are neither as trusting nor forgiving as the Scottish,” Pascal said, gracing him with a distinctly haughty gaze. “When we are betrayed, we seek vengeance. There are no exceptions.”

  “And what of loyalty, lad?” Julian raised a brow. “Do not the Vindictam care for such things?”

  “Vengeance comes before loyalty, bábio,” Pascal replied as a cool mask descended over his face.

  Julian shrugged and adjusted his plaid. “Then ye’ll never understand true power, lad. A man’s fear is no match for a man’s loyalty. Men who fight from loyalty canna be stopped.”

  Pascal hesitated.

  Julian’s cheek creased with a grin as he continued, “Blood loyalty is what ye’ve witnessed concerning Albany, not forgiveness. Ye’ve witnessed clan loyalty in uniting against the English, men setting aside their feuds to prevent a greater enemy from rising to destroy them all. Aye, there will be vengeance aplenty when the threat has gone.”

  There was a short silence, one in which Liselle struggled to a sitting position. Her effort was reward by an acute wave of nausea.

&nbs
p; Pascal glanced at her, and waving a hand in her direction, said, “This is not something I can stop. I told her to run. She did not. Already, they are searching for her.” His tone foretold only of doom.

  “Then your rule will be a short one,” Julian replied with a glint of ill humor in his gray eyes.

  Pascal’s head snapped back. “Rule? You clearly suffer from some delusion, Lord Gray.”

  “Do I?” Julian asked. Boldly meeting Pascal’s gaze, he rose to stoop and adopt the gruff voice of the priest he’d pretended to be in Fotheringhay. “’Tis right glad I am, to see ye escaped the swine unscathed. Forgive me, my child.”

  Pascal’s dark eyes widened at the implication

  “I’m done with this nonsense,” Julian said, tossing his head. “Keep her safe, for I will return, and should one hair upon her head be harmed, ‘twill not end well for ye, lad. Be ye Electus of the Vindictam or not.”

  “Do you think to threaten or to order me?” Pascal asked in soft outrage.

  “Aye, I dinna fear ye.” Julian’s tone was self-assured and confident. “I know ye strive to speak in words harsh to the ear, and ye may not know it yet, lad, but ye’ve a bit of Scottish loyalty running through your heart. ‘Tis the only reason ye would have told your wee cousin to run. Running stands against your precious rules of vengeance, does it not?”

  Pascal remained still.

  And then Julian leaned over Liselle and twisted a stray lock of her hair around his finger before bending down to kiss her lightly upon the forehead.

  “Dinna worry, lass,” he said as deep dimples accented his grin. “I’ll see this undone this very night.” He caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips.

  “But, it is not that simple!” Liselle protested in alarm. “Orazio will slay you on sight! And the Saluzzi as well!”

  “They are no match for me,” he said, flashing a wicked grin.

  “This is madness!” Liselle insisted, rising from the bed to grasp his arm.

  But Julian adamantly removed her hand. Leaning forward, he whispered softly for her ears alone, “Nay, far from it, Lady Gray. I’ve a wee bit of proof that I gathered after ye saved me from the Saluzzo in Fotheringhay. ‘Tis evidence of his treachery that’ll stop this madness and set ye free. But stay here with Pascal. ‘Tis the safest place for ye to be for now. Ye must trust me, lass. I swear I will not fail ye.”

  She wanted to trust him, but how could she? She knew the Vindictam better than he. But then with a bow, he strode through the chamber, out the door, and was gone.

  There was no way she could have stopped him.

  Desperately, she turned upon Pascal. “We must go after him! At once!”

  “Why?” Pascal asked, looking down at her from dark, hooded eyes.

  She turned away. There was no reason Pascal would help. Why should he? And then her eyes caught on the sky framed by the open window. The sky was still dark, but dawn was clearly peeking.

  “What time is it?” she asked in alarm.

  Pascal followed her gaze and shook his head. “A new morning arrives soon enough, bábia.”

  “Morning!” she echoed in a horrified whisper. “Then I have become the hunted already. It is too late!”

  Her cousin snorted. “I expected so much more from you! I had really thought you would outwit them all.” He shook his head in disappointment before explaining with a scowl, “We searched for you the entire night, Orazio and I.”

  She shuddered and closed her eyes, not wanting to think. They had been searching for her. “Then … will you slay me now?” she whispered hoarsely. “Let Julian go, please. He has done nothing—”

  “It was fair difficult for Orazio to escape his Saluzzi escort upon receiving your message. That man from Fotheringhay is mad!” Pascal interrupted her with a dark laugh. And then unsheathing a stiletto, he viciously drove it deep into the wooden surface of a nearby table.

  Liselle jerked back in surprise.

  “Diàmbarne!” Pascal swore. “Orazio destroyed that foolish message and searched for you in order to save you, bábia, not slay you! But by the time Orazio had evaded the Saluzzi and made it to the castle, you had left the feast and were nowhere to found. Orazio and I broke every law of the Vindictam this night. Every law that will see even me—me—become the hunted, should my betrayal be discovered!”

  Liselle’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

  “I take offense at your astonishment,” Pascal muttered under his breath.

  Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door.

  Pascal’s dark head whipped around, and he warned her to be silent with a finger to his lips.

  “I know you are there, Pascal!” a man’s gruff voice replied. “Open the door at once! Ale! Orazio has been taken hostage by the Saluzzi! We must end this!”

  Liselle gasped in alarm and would have cried out had not Pascal clamped his hand down hard over her mouth, the gold ring about his finger almost bruising her lip.

  “Silence!” he hissed into her ear. “That man would see you dead. You must hide. He cannot see you.”

  She drew in a shuddering sob. Santo Ciélo, but this night was accursed!

  “Hide!” Pascal whispered, shoving her towards the bed.

  As his hand fell away, her eye caught on the ring glittering about his finger. It was an unusual ring with a bold symbol of a “V”.

  She recognized it immediately.

  It was the same symbol she had seen upon the parchment from Dolfin’s pouch, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe as the pieces fell into place. Her cousin’s strange meetings with dark-cloaked men. His half-finished sentences. Julian’s words just moments before.

  Pascal was the Electus!

  Her arrogant cousin was soon to be the Dominus Granditer over them all!

  She stood there in shock.

  “What are you doing?” Pascal’s dark eyes widened in alarm. “Hide! For my sake, if not yours! I would not see you dead before I can stop this madness!”

  But it was too late. The man had picked the lock.

  The door banged back with a crash to reveal a man she recognized from the churchyard in Fotheringhay, a man she knew could only be one of the Quattuor Gladiis. And as his hand fell to his waist, she suddenly knew what to do.

  Trusting her instincts, she darted behind Pascal, and placing the tip of her blade to his neck, applied enough pressure to draw blood.

  “Halt!” she warned in her deadliest voice. “You must do as I say, or the Electus shall die!”

  18

  the saluzzi

  “Bravo, bábia!” A dark smile crossed Pascal’s lips. “Now, this is treachery! Though I fail to see your plan—”

  “Hold still!” Liselle hissed in his ear. “Or else I’ll not be able to save your worthless life for failing to slay me, bábio.”

  “My lord?” The member of the Quattuor Gladiis gasped in alarm.

  “Do as she commands, Venerio!” Pascal ordered curtly.

  Liselle didn’t allow herself to think, lest she lose her resolve. Summoning her haughtiest tone, she boldly met Venerio’s gaze and lied, “I have poisoned my blade, and I alone know the antidote. So, heed my words well if you wish to cure the Electus of the poison that even now works its way towards his heart.”

  Venerio ran his hand through his graying hair, and his lined face was clearly shocked, but he managed to nod quickly enough. “As you wish.”

  “Then escort us to Antonio Saluzzo and his men with haste,” Liselle continued imperiously.

  “Antonio?” Pascal asked in astonishment.

  Liselle didn’t hesitate to press her blade deeper into his neck. “You are in no position to question me!” she replied in an imperious tone.

  He scowled.

  Turning back to Venerio, Liselle commanded, “Inform the Saluzzi we are coming and that we bear a great gift for them! But if they harm one hair upon Orazio’s head, their chance for true retribution will have been lost forever! And you must find Lord Julian Gray. He has proof of a
Saluzzi deception which might aid us.”

  The man hesitated.

  Liselle raised a cool brow. “If you hesitate, then know that the blood of the Electus is upon your head.”

  “As you command! As you command!” Venerio waved his hands in a chopping motion. “I will saddle the horses and escort you myself, but it will take time. Our sources say Antonio has taken to the Carmelite catacombs near Linlithgow Palace which is some hours ride away!”

  Liselle hid her surprise, but hardened her voice. “Then let us ride while the world still sleeps. We leave at once.”

  As she prodded Pascal forward, he waved her hand aside impatiently.

  “Put your blade away, Liselle,” he said with a sneer. “The poison already courses through my veins. You have my word that neither I nor my men will disobey your command, lest you withhold the antidote.”

  At first, Liselle hesitated, but then at Pascal’s nod, she reluctantly complied. They would move quicker that way.

  As they exited the chamber, Pascal sent her a dark scowl, mouthing the single question, Antonio? But she could not explain herself to him. Not yet. Not when she was relying on instinct alone.

  Praying that she had not just made the biggest blunder of her life, she donned a black cloak and filed silently behind them as they slipped through the passageways and out into the cold darkness. The castle gates were closed, but Venerio bribed the guards with a few coins, and they were swiftly allowed to pass.

  Hurrying through the deserted streets, Liselle glanced up at the remaining stars twinkling as the dawn approached. Closing her eyes briefly, she implored the heavens to aid her as Venerio guided them to the city walls. And after announcing he would fetch horses and see her orders delivered, he left them there to wait.

  “Antonio?” Pascal asked again the moment Venerio was out of sight.

  Liselle took a deep breath. Her cousin’s hatred of the Saluzzi had blinded him to the implication of their request for only Julian’s death as retribution for her deed. Antonio had clearly wished to avoid breaking the truce, else new war between them would have already begun.

  Or so she hoped to believe.

  If she were proved wrong, then she would offer her life to the Saluzzi again. She would give it up in exchange for her brother, as she could not see him die any more than she could Julian.