Deception of a Highlander

by Madeline Martin

  And then she swayed. It was a jarring reminder of her heavily drugged state.

  “I think what ye really need is a solid night of sleep, lass, no a solid night of loving.” Using every ounce of will power he possessed, he got to his feet and pulled her into his arms. She did not resist, even when he carried her to the bed.

  She snuggled against him and gave a wistful sigh. “You always protect me.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and the throatiness of her remaining desire. “I feel safe with you, like nothing could ever hurt me.”

  Her candid admission startled him. Did he truly make her feel that way? He paused beside the bed, reluctant to let her go.

  She seemed to sense his hesitation and burrowed against his arms. “Please hold me. I haven’t felt so safe since…” Her eyes widened as though she suddenly realized she’d said too much.

  He shouldn’t press her. She was not lucid. Her secrets were her own. She had granted him that courtesy when she examined his scars.

  Yet this was an opportunity for him to understand her intention, to clear the suspicion that clouded her presence.

  “Ye havena felt safe since what?” He ground his teeth, half regretting having spoken the question and half relieved to have done so.

  “Since my parents died,” she said solemnly. “The plague.” Her teeth caught her lower lip.

  He would not press her further. He did not need to. She stared off into the distance and continued on her own. “I was nineteen when it happened. I was still so young then.” A mirthless smile touched her lips. “I had no one to guide me or reassure me that I would have a meal that night or a safe bed to sleep in. Everything we owned was burned to prevent the plague from spreading further. I had…nothing.”

  He could imagine her as a young girl, naïve and vulnerable, thrust into the cruelty of the world with no one to care for her. How had she managed to survive?

  Something painful and dark twisted in his chest. He knew how women and girls survived the streets.

  “Until you,” she added quietly. Her distant gaze focused on him. “I’ve not ever spoken of this to anyone.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “You are an unexpected ray of sunshine warming my face in an otherwise hard, gray world.”

  Kieran shifted awkwardly. She spoke again, saving him from speaking. “What was in that posset? I sound like a bard.”

  He chuckled. “Ye need to sleep, Mariel.”

  She nestled deep under the covers without protest and let her eyes flutter closed.

  He should push her now. There would never be a better opportunity to urge her for information.

  And yet, she was so vulnerable, so innocent and hurt.

  Her breathing became even, and he knew she was on the verge of falling asleep. Her face was smooth and peaceful. If he did not do it now, he might never have the chance.

  Tamping down the guilt of taking advantage of her, Kieran spoke the burning question on his mind. “Why do ye want to go to Skye?”

  “For Jack,” she murmured, a tender smile lighting her lips. “Everything is always for Jack.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Icy spray pelted Mariel’s cheeks like needles. Waves rolled and heaved against the roughhewn hull of their crude boat as they pushed through the violent ocean toward Caisteal Camus. Kieran’s home.

  Mariel squinted through the dense gray fog toward the blurred landmass ahead of them. If there was a castle on its surface, it was impossible to see in such conditions. Salt-laced air burned a path down her raw throat, and the frigid wind tore through her clothes. Warmth seemed a fleeting memory. One she would not soon relive.

  In the last week of travel they had pressed through ice storms and trudged through drenching rains. Cold, miserable days were followed by bitter, unbearable nights spent with little more than the thin batting of her bedroll to separate her from the frozen ground. The only heat she experienced was the blazing hot stab of pain from her wound.

  A gust of wind slammed into her with such impact, it stole the breath from her chest. Her hands clutched the fine wool of the plaid wrapped around her. The soft rasp of the fabric was no longer noticeable against her numb fingers. She burrowed deep within the sturdy folds in a futile search for warmth. And then she caught his smell buried deep in the tightly woven fibers. The familiar scent left her with a wild need to bury her face against the muted greens and blues of the plaid and breathe deep.

  Then she felt it again, the weight of his gaze fixed upon her, as cold and unyielding as the ocean that churned beneath them. His face had been as hard and emotionless since the morning at the inn.

  The burden of his scrutiny was crushing, but Mariel refused to turn away. Something flashed in the depths of his black eyes, vulnerable and brief. The muscle in his jaw leapt, almost imperceptibly, and he turned away. His features were fierce with discernable rage.

  Frustration gripped her. What had been said that night at the inn? After the attack, he had been passionate and tender; the moments between them had been poignant. And then she drank that blasted tea.

  She woke the next morning and found him sleeping on the floor with his back propped up against the wall. He stiffened when she approached to rouse him. The movement was slight but unmistakable, nonetheless. His silent rejection stung, though not nearly to the extent as the glaring accusation in his eyes.

  What had she done? The memory was lost to her, as if it had never existed at all.

  Initially she had feared she disclosed her true purpose. Those fears were slowly assuaged throughout the week as she found herself treated with the same respect and comfortable freedom she had enjoyed prior to that night.

  But if she had not spoken of her task, what could she have done to warrant his sudden disinterest?

  She didn’t have to be there, not anymore. Not with Jane gone. Mariel could have left Kieran and gone back to Aaron’s manor. If Jack were there, she would find him and save him.

  But nothing was that easy. It would be a suicide mission. Aaron always had men teeming over every one of his manors. That’s how they’d caught her searching for Jack the last time.

  This time they wouldn’t be so lenient.

  A wave slammed into the boat with a force that pulled Mariel from her thoughts and made their small vessel shudder. Kieran was staring at her again. He drew in a breath as if he were about to speak. Her pulse raced with anticipation. Was he actually going to talk to her?

  “We draw near Caisteal Camus.”

  Mariel forced a smile despite the anxious knot in her stomach. “I am eager to arrive.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Have ye given any thought to what ye plan to do when we arrive?” His cool tone informed Mariel now was neither the time for flirtation nor teasing retorts.

  “You’ve made it clear that you don’t want me, Kieran, in more ways than one.” If he was surprised by the bold declaration, he did not show it. Nor did he object. “I do well enough with a needle. I was hoping I could find work as a seamstress and establish my own residence.”

  “Ye need no find another place to live. Ye are to stay at Caisteal Camus…as my guest.” His arms folded over his chest. “While ye heal.”

  He welcomed her readily into his home with the trustworthiness of an honorable man. Although he did not seem eager for her arrival, nor did he indicate he planned to have her stay long.

  She did not deserve such hospitality.

  Mariel looked miserably into the churning water and wished it could swallow her up.

  Perhaps staying within the castle walls would allow ample opportunity to eavesdrop on servant’s gossip. If the information she sought could be gleaned through overheard conversation, perhaps she would not have to betray him at all.

  “You are kind to offer me a place in your home. Thank you.”

  He looked toward the hazy shore looming in the horizon with his mouth set in a grim line. “Are ye expecting to meet someone here? Someone ye know?”

  His face was unreadable, yet somehow she felt he was pressing
her for information.

  “I don’t know anyone in Scotland, save the men you’ve introduced me to.” She eyed him warily. Her nerves were frayed from waiting for a noose to drop around her neck. She was tired of carefully worded games and grasping assumptions. “Is there something you wish to ask me, Kieran?”

  The gauntlet had been thrown. With her back straight, head lifted, and heart guarded, she waited for his response.

  The menacing look he gave her was one meant to intimidate, but she refused to cower. In silent response to his challenge, she arched her eyebrow.

  “Have ye ever dyed wool?” he asked. The lines on his face eased and a slight smile lifted the corner of his lips.

  “No,” she replied, confused by the change in his demeanor.

  “Ach, it’s easy. Ye will learn it quickly.”

  The boat bumped against something solid below. “Here ye are, lass. Caisteal Camus.”

  A shadow loomed over their vessel so expansive and great, it blotted out the sun. A jagged cliff rose from the swirling waters stoic, as white-capped waves crashed against it, shielding the fortress that rested atop its crown. Stone walls followed the rock-faced plane and ascended toward the heavens where it crested in fashioned turrets. From where she sat, Caisteal Camus appeared cold and ominous.

  “How do we get there?” Mariel asked, eyeing the churning water.

  “Ach, ye dinna need to be concerned about the ocean, lass. It’s only deep enough to come to yer knees.”

  The thought of plunging herself, albeit only to the knees, into the frigid sea was not a pleasant one. Letting Kieran see her bested by something as petty as cold water, however, was even more unpleasant.

  “Is that all?” She gripped the hull of their boat and leapt deftly over the edge.

  A thousand daggers broke her fall as she crashed into water so cold it burned. The exhausted muscles in her legs locked against the freezing temperature and refused to move. Idle waves rolled to life and clawed at her heavy skirts. The wind shrieked its rage in her ears and tore at her hair, shoving her back with powerful gales.

  And then he was there. Kieran’s strong arms wrapped around her, and she was free of the water’s sucking grip. His chest was dry and warm beneath her cheek as she nestled closer against him in an effort to free herself of the wind’s wrath. Heat. Finally.

  Kieran’s chuckle rumbled deep in his throat and vibrated against the top of her head. “I dinna think ye’d jump overboard. I had planned to carry ye.”

  There was a smart retort on Mariel’s tongue, but her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering long enough for her to speak. Instead, she clung to him and allowed herself to revel in his comforting strength.

  Once they arrived on land, Kieran lowered her to the ground. A chill spread against her body where he’d held her and seeped into the warmth he had created.

  “Welcome to Caisteal Camus,” he said, his voice low in the roar of the wind.

  Mariel looked up to behold her new home, and a gasp stuck in her throat. Grassy hills tinged with the dormant gold of winter rolled as far as she could see. It was a startling contrast to the brilliant blue sky stretched above. The glowing sun sparkled majestically and burned off the last vestiges of mist from Skye’s lush landscape. Without turning to look, she knew the fog behind her had closed around them like a heavy curtain, as though it were a shroud masking the magnificence of the island from those not worthy enough to glimpse it.

  In the sunlight, the castle was not so imposing as it had appeared from its menacing perch atop the cliff. The large, rectangular building ran along the curve of the sheer-faced cliff with its walls made of smooth cut stone. Several windows looked out toward the turbulent sea and winked in the sun’s light. Chimneys lined the peak of the roof and thick, dark smoke coiled briefly above the stone columns before being whisked away by strong winds. It didn’t look like the impenetrable fortress she had heard others describe it as. Caisteal Camus looked like a home. A magnificent, beautiful home where one could feel protected and warm.

  “What do ye think?” Kieran asked beside her.

  “It’s magic,” she breathed. Heat flooded her cheeks as soon as the words were spoken out loud. Had she really just said that? “I mean, it…looks like something from a bard’s tale.”

  Kieran gave her a knowing grin and led her up the hill toward the large iron gates where throngs of people stood in wait. As they neared, the idle chatter among the awaiting clan fell away and a tense silence hung in the air.

  The smile froze on Mariel’s lips at the hostile glares. Caisteal Camus may look like a home, but she knew she would receive no welcome there.

  • • •

  Kieran had been so damn eager to get home. Too eager. He had not allowed himself to dwell on the ramifications of his clan’s feeling toward Mariel.

  Then again, he had hoped to have found another place for her to stay prior to their arrival on Skye. Her injury and the ill-timed death of her lady’s maid left him in a position where he had to allow her to come to his home. Something he’d regretted ever since she uttered that other man’s name. Jack. Kieran gritted his teeth against a rage he had no right to feel and focused his attention on his clan’s unwelcome reaction to Mariel.

  Highlanders always carried a level of disrespect toward the English, and Brennan’s blood drying on an English blade only served to encourage that hatred.

  Kieran stood tall and met the angry faces of his people, suddenly grateful for Mariel’s inability to speak Gaelic as the malicious insults hissed forth from the crowd.

  English.

  Witch.

  Murderer.

  Whore.

  Mariel turned her face to Kieran. “I hope it will not be inconsiderate of me to beg introduction from you?” The smile on her face was genuine, and he almost allowed himself to believe that she had been blind to such blatant hatred.

  “Mariel will be a guest in our home,” he announced in Gaelic. “She is to be treated with respect as any guest would. If you are unable to obey this simple request, you will face punishment.”

  Several people shifted from one foot to the other, but the cruel names ceased and several glares were cast downward. In the awkward silence, Mariel stepped forward as regal as any queen with her back straight and her head raised. Mud spattered her sodden homespun gown, and her hair hung in tangles down her back, yet the confidence she exuded could not be ignored. Glares softened to curious glances.

  Mariel sank into a magnificent curtsey and rose in a fluid movement. “Thank you,” she said in Gaelic.

  So, she had picked up some Gaelic on their journey. A prickle of unease crept along the back of his neck. She was too intelligent for her own good. She might ask questions he would not be able to answer.

  Kieran motioned Colin to his side. “Show the lass around, but keep a close watch on her, aye?”

  Colin flashed him a grin. “Ye know I willna let anything happen to her.”

  “And Colin,” he added, unable to swallow the bitterness he felt toward his friend’s all too eager compliance, “keep yer hands to yerself.”

  • • •

  Kieran sank into the overstuffed chair in his solar and breathed in deeply. The familiar, musty odor of the ancient books lining the wall gave him a profound sense of home. He was grateful to be here, away from the filthy streets of London.

  He was grateful to discover Blair and Dougal safe upon his return. There was little doubt in his mind Hampton had intentionally placed a rumor he would be in court, knowing Kieran would run to London in the hopes of finding him. Hampton was definitely up to something.

  Sunlight streaked across the desk, illuminating the parchment in front of him. A similar beam of light had moved over Mariel’s face when she’d gazed upon Caisteal Camus and lit her heather colored eyes as they’d widened in awe. Her response had been so unabashedly honest it brought a smile to his face.

  It’s magic.

  He almost laughed out loud at the memory.

  A strang
e ache twisted in his chest and wiped the smile from his lips. The past week had been difficult for him to travel in such close proximity to her as he’d tried to distance himself. If this man, this Jack, was someone she loved and intended to reconnect with, who was Kieran to stop them?

  He was too busy with his clan to fret like some fool over matters of the heart. Other things occupied his time.

  Things like the accounts in his hand for example.

  He shifted the paper so the light did not caress it. He needed to banish Mariel from his thoughts. There was no sense in worrying after a woman who wanted another man. A woman whose very presence in his home threatened everything he held dear. God willing, she would heal and leave quickly, and Kieran would never have to think of her again.

  A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. “What?” he barked.

  Though the interruption was irritating, he welcomed the distraction. Not only against the accounts he couldn’t focus on, but also the woman he could not stop thinking about.

  Alec strode into the room and closed the door behind him before assuming a wide-legged stance in front of Kieran.

  “I have news that concerns Mariel.”

  “Is she gone?” Had she left so soon? Unfounded disappointment flooded him when he should have felt relief. He should be grateful for Jack taking Mariel from his life.

  Alec furrowed his brow in momentary confusion. “Nay, Laird. I’ve uncovered a plot to kill her.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Someone wants to kill Mariel,” Kieran said with a note of bemusement. “And how do they intend to accomplish this?”

  Alec crossed his arms over his chest. “Take her from her room tonight and throw her over the cliffs.”

  Kieran nodded. The brutish plan was simple but would have been effective. “I’m surprised it took so long,” he said. “She has, after all, been here for several hours.”