The Thief

by Allison Butler

  She climbed from the bed and went in search of her gown. It lay on the floor near the door where he’d tossed it in his haste to strip her bare. She shivered in remembered delight, dressed and slid her feet into her slippers lying close by. Retrieving her cloak from the hook beside the door, she threw it around her shoulders and reached for the latch.

  Iron scraped on iron. She winced and glanced back at the bed. Lachlan didn’t move. She exhaled in relief. Exiting the room, she left the door ajar.

  The cooler air in the hallway curled about her ankles as she raised her skirts and crept down the stairs. An uneven chorus of snuffles and snores greeted her as she entered the hall. She paused at the base of the steps and looked toward the small basket and three empty sacks sitting near the hearth. She’d finished the last of the tiny tunics; this was a good time to prepare all for visiting the cottages. Anything to occupy her hands while she sorted out her thoughts.

  She placed the sacks in the basket and carried it along the hall’s perimeter. Opening the door to outside, chill air rushed in, so she swiftly left the hall and set the latch.

  The frosty night greeted her. She drew it in, clearing her senses, and descended the steps to the bailey. As she crossed to the stables, she peered up into the night. Dawn wasn’t far away—she didn’t have much time. She looked at the flickering torches and the dark shapes of the guards watching from the curtain wall. What they thought of her stroll at such an odd hour, she had no idea. They said nothing and she responded in kind.

  The familiar scent of horses met her as she entered the stable. Wondrous memories lived in the darkness here, memories she and Lachlan had created. Smiling, she lowered her burden to the earthen floor, plucked a lantern from the shelf inside the entrance and lit it. Then she started to transfer the garments from the woven basket to the sacks.

  She wanted to tell Lachlan she loved him. Her heart ached to share her most precious secret, but she was afraid. She’d vowed never to relinquish her freedom and marry. Her actions and Lachlan’s determination to wed her had ended her oath. But there was a great difference between being married and surrendering one’s heart.

  If she declared her love for him, she’d be giving him her last ounce of freedom, granting him the power to destroy her. Would he ever use her love as a weapon against her? Her chest tightened.

  Her fingers fisted about the small tunic she’d fashioned. She peered down at the garment, knowing she’d soon need to stitch more. Her hand trembled. Her suspicions that she was with child had become a certainty she could no longer ignore. She hadn’t had her courses since before Lachlan had tumbled her from her horse. She was never late.

  Placing an unsteady palm against her belly, she marvelled at the knowledge that she carried Lachlan’s child, their child, inside her. The thought of giving him a babe filled her with overwhelming joy. But it was also another vow she’d made and broken because of Lachlan.

  What if he didn’t want a child? He already had an heir in his brother, Caelan, and had never mentioned siring a child. A tremor raked her from head to toe. Her hand curled into a fist as fear lashed her soul. Fear that he might neglect their babe and her.

  Lachlan is not my father. And I am not my mother.

  Her fingers loosened about the tunic. There was no comparison.

  But if she kept her love hidden, how could it blossom and grow? Such a beautiful feeling should be shared, should be nurtured and carefully tended by those blessed by its touch. Just like the babe growing beneath her heart. She owed it to Lachlan to tell him she loved him, but mostly, she owed it to her herself.

  Through Lachlan, she’d learned that being neglected by her parents didn’t mean she was a bad person. She knew of people who’d been forgotten and knew how wonderful they were. She’d never treated the women and children she aided at the cottages any differently than she treated anyone else. They needed help, she gave it. They deserved to know happiness and love. As did she.

  But if she wanted to know the full glory life offered, she needed to be honest with Lachlan and with herself. She needed to take the chance and confess her love for him, even if it meant risking her heart.

  The stifling sensation claiming her chest eased. She folded the tunic, stuffed it into the last sack and placed it on the shelf with the others. Tomorrow she’d ask Lachlan to ride with her to the cottages to deliver the goods. Tonight she needed to tell her husband she loved him.

  Blowing out the lantern, she left the stables and hurried across the bailey to the keep. She let herself in to the hall and quietly closed the heavy door. Anticipation of a different kind fluttered in her belly, flittered within her heart. Now she’d made the decision to tell Lachlan she loved him, the desperate need to say the words made her pulse quicken.

  Skirting those slumbering inside the Great Hall, she concentrated on the shadowed stairs and briskly climbed them. Expectations mounting, she tried to quell her racing heart.

  A loud click from above drew her attention to the landing. She looked up. Her sister stood before the double doors, her hand still on the latch.

  ‘Jeanne?’ Her steps slowed and her feeling of anticipation fled. ‘Are you looking for me?’ She stopped two stairs from the top.

  Her sister spun about, her golden locks swirled in tumbled disarray. The nightgown she wore hung loose from her naked shoulders, the front opening clutched hastily together by one hand.

  ‘Nae!’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Kenzie whispered.

  A gloating smile curved Jeanne’s full lips as she walked toward her. Every step closer revealed her long naked legs and the tops of her rounded breasts.

  ‘Sampling what should have been mine,’ Jeanne said, wiping the back of one hand across her plump mouth.

  Kenzie’s stomach lurched. ‘What?’

  ‘Come now, little sister, you cannot expect to keep such a virile man satisfied all on your own. I always thought Lachlan would be a magnificent lover. Now I know.’

  Pain exploded in Kenzie’s heart. This couldn’t be happening. Couldn’t be real.

  ‘I told you he wanted to marry me, but couldn’t have me,’ Jeanne sneered. ‘When you stole his horse you made yourself a convenient second choice.’

  Kenzie turned and stumbled down the stairs. She couldn’t stay here. She needed to run. She couldn’t breathe. Oh, God. Oh, God. Breathe.

  She ran through the hall, wrenched open the door and slammed it closed behind her. Gasping for air, she ran into the stable, but it wasn’t far enough. The comforting scent failed to calm her, failed to ease the piercing agony deep in her chest. Every beat of her wounded heart seemed to release more pain.

  Dashing to a stall, she hurriedly opened the gate and found Meg. The horse shied, sensing her distress. Kenzie stopped. Meg was her only hope of fleeing. She needed to find a sliver of composure. She dragged it from the pit of her aching soul.

  ‘Meg, my beauty.’

  Meg’s nose nuzzled her shaking fingers. A splinter of hope scored her bleeding heart.

  ‘Aye, my lovely. Come.’

  Kenzie coaxed her out of the stall. She didn’t close the gate, didn’t bother with a saddle. As they neared the stable entrance, she reached out and grabbed the sacks from the shelf.

  She led her mount outside and halted before the massive gates barring her way. ‘Open the gates,’ she called to the guards.

  ‘Forgive me, my lady, but we can’t,’ one called back.

  Shaking, Kenzie stepped up to the gate and dropped the sacks to the ground. ‘Then I will do it myself.’ She braced her legs to lift the giant beam from its place. It didn’t move.

  ‘You can’t do it yourself, my lady.’

  ‘Then, please, do it for me,’ she said, turning to Dorrell, who’d come up behind her. Another joined him. Then another.

  The last said, ‘I’ll fetch the laird.’

  Panic rose in her, almost choking her at the thought of seeing Lachlan. ‘Wait.’ She couldn’t face him. ‘There is somewhere I need to be.�
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  She stepped up to the man she’d cared for after he’d been injured during the English raid. ‘Please, Dorrell. You can fetch Lachlan after the gates are open. I know you’re doing your duty and I wouldn’t ask if I truly didn’t have to go.’ Kenzie stared into his kind eyes, desperately trying to hide the devastation from hers. Whatever he saw was enough for him to grant her request.

  ‘Open the gates and let the lady pass.’ The remaining guards hesitated. He turned. ‘Did you not hear me? Open the gates.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’ll answer to the laird,’ Dorrell said, and looked back at her. ‘I’ll help you mount,’ he said quietly.

  Hope fluttered within her. She snatched up the sacks and dashed to Meg’s side as the sound of scraping timber echoed in the night. Dorrell assisted her onto her horse as one of the massive wooden gates creaked wide.

  ‘Ride with care,’ Dorrell said. ‘‘Tis icing up.’

  She met his gaze. ‘Thank you.’

  Straightening, she tucked the sacks between her thighs and gently twisted Meg’s mane about her fingers. With a nudge of her knees, her mount moved toward the opening. Before Meg’s rump had fully passed through the gates, Dorrell was shouting for one of the guards to fetch the laird and the other to saddle De Brus.

  ‘Run, Meg, run,’ she said, leaning low over her horse’s neck.

  Suppressed tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision, chilling her cheeks as they fell. She’d escaped, but no matter how far she rode, she knew it would never be far enough to escape the pain shredding her heart.

  ***

  Furious with Jeanne for entering his room barely dressed, Lachlan searched for his scattered clothing. Where the Hell was his other boot? He found it beneath one of the chairs, pulled it on and strode for the door. Swiping up his shirt, he threw it over his head. And where the Hell was Kenzie?

  He’d woken from a deep, peaceful sleep, believing the fingers trailing from his bare thigh to his armpit belonged to his wife. He should have realised the cloying scent wreathing the air wasn’t the sweet-smelling lavender his wife wore before he’d lunged. Before he’d covered and pressed the feminine form into the bedding with his naked body.

  As he’d lowered his mouth to kiss her, he’d opened his eyes. The wide, hungry look that met his had been blue, not the dark sensuous brown he’d expected. Horror had speared his chest, quickly followed by disgust, and then fury.

  ‘Get out.’ He’d flung himself from the bed, dragging one of the furs with him to cover his nakedness.

  Punching his fists through his shirt’s sleeves, he grasped the latch, wrenched the door open and stormed from his chamber. Halting in the corridor, he looked down the dim stairwell, spun to his right and headed for the next room along.

  The door stood ajar. He palmed the door open and scanned inside. Jeanne turned to face him, wearing nothing.

  ‘Have you changed your mind?’ She slowly lifted one hand to cup her full, naked breast.

  ‘Cover yourself,’ Lachlan said in disgust. ‘You are my wife’s sister and a guest beneath our roof.’

  ‘Do you throw all your guests out in the middle of the night?’

  ‘Only those who act the whore, Jeanne.’

  An ugly sneer twisted her features. ‘Have you lost your good little wife?’

  Lachlan’s stomach clenched at her use of the word lost. ‘I’m surprised you recognise such a quality.’

  ‘I’m full of surprises. Not that you’ll ever know now.’ She tossed her hair over her shoulder and resumed sorting through the gowns on the bed.

  ‘Where is Kenzie?’

  ‘Oh, let me see.’ She tilted her head in consideration. Lachlan ground his teeth at her slow reply. ‘The last I saw her—’ she looked at him over her bare shoulder, ‘I was dishevelled and leaving your chamber.’ A cruel smile thinned her lips. ‘Now that I think of it, Kenzie appeared … distressed.’

  The urge to strike her left him shaking. ‘You heartless bitch.’

  ‘I do have a heart, but nae one seems to care.’ Hurt momentarily flickered within her eyes, but pure malice soon glinted in the ice-cold depths again. ‘I’m sure after I told her what a magnificent lover you are, my little sister has run to seek solace in the arms of hers.’

  Pain pinched his heart, but reason pushed any doubts aside. Other than him, Kenzie had had no lover.

  ‘How is it possible for sisters to have the same blood running through their veins, yet be so different?’

  Slowly shaking his head, he turned and walked away. As he strode to the stairwell he heard her yell, ‘Don’t you want to know who her lover is?’

  He continued on. As he reached the top of the steps she shouted, ‘How dare you look your fill and then leave.’ The door slammed shut.

  She’d just locked herself in.

  Lachlan rushed down into the hall. His steward met him at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Have you seen Kenzie?’ Lachlan asked.

  ‘Nae.’ Murdoch frowned in sleepy confusion.

  ‘Jeanne and her companions will be leaving shortly. She’s imprisoned herself in the guest chamber. See her released and gone from here. I need to find my wife.’

  The door to the Great Hall opened as one of the night guards hurried inside. ‘Laird, you must come quickly.’ The sentry lowered his voice. ‘Your lady just rode out of the gates.’

  Lachlan grimaced and glanced back at Murdoch. ‘See them gone.’ He started for the entrance. ‘You allowed Lady Elliot to just ride away?’

  The guard’s face turned red. ‘She was very determined. We feared she’d hurt herself trying to lift the beam by herself.’

  Lachlan hastened down the keep’s steps, relieved to find De Brus saddled and waiting. Dorrell limped from the gates to meet him.

  ‘She headed north, laird. It was me who let her pass.’

  Lachlan studied the older man. He knew Dorrell took his duties seriously. ‘She got to you too?’ Dorrell answered with one brisk nod. ‘How long ago?’

  ‘Not long.’ Concern filled Dorrell’s direct gaze. ‘She looked sad, like.’

  Lachlan’s heart clenched.

  ‘Want company?’ Lundy called as he, Duff, Cal and Dair spilled from the hall.

  ‘Nae.’ He’d bring his wife home alone. Mounting, he looked at his men. ‘The Johnstone visitors will be leaving soon. Hold the gates open until they’re away, then bar them until I return.’ With his orders given, he wheeled De Brus about and rode from the bailey.

  Each breath De Brus blew showed white in dawn’s meek light. The chill biting Lachlan’s cheeks and the intermittent crunch beneath his mount’s hooves spelled the end of fair weather and the coming of snow.

  He hoped to God Kenzie, in her distressed state, retained enough sense to know the ground was icing up and to keep her horse at a steady pace. The thought of finding her lying hurt twisted his heart. The thought of not finding her at all …

  ‘We’ll have her home safe and warm before the first flake falls.’ He patted De Brus’s neck to assure his mount.

  Did she truly think he’d bed her sister when he loved her? But then, he’d seen what an accomplished actress Jeanne was. And how was Kenzie to know he loved her when he hadn’t told her? Christ! He hadn’t planned to love his wife at all. He’d only just come to terms with what the ever-present heat invading his chest was. The realisation had stunned him.

  His vow to never open his heart to betrayal as his father had done hadn’t saved him, hadn’t protected him from the emotions or the desire. The glowing light in her dark eyes as he’d filled her body, thrust deep inside her welcoming warmth, had almost drawn a confession of love from him. Would hearing those words from him have made a difference now?

  He’d forced her to marry him, given her no real choice. But he couldn’t be sorry. She loved him, he was certain. The evidence was in her touch, her smile, in the way she looked at him. Giving herself to him so openly, so freely—she must love him. She just hadn’t told him. He y
earned to hear her say the words. Yet he hadn’t trusted her enough to say them first.

  Never had he suffered so many doubts. He loathed the unfamiliar sensation, hated the sense of weakness that came with it.

  At the northernmost point of Clan Elliot land, Lachlan turned De Brus to the west with a twitch of his fingers on the reins. As they neared the top end of the burn, he scanned the lightening landscape.

  The smell of burning peat floated past on the chill dawn chill breeze. Narrowing his eyes, he searched the tree-dotted meadow. A frosted puff of smoke chuffed into the air to his right. Lachlan tugged lightly on the leather strips. De Brus instantly changed direction.

  Kenzie didn’t know he knew of the cottages. His gut told him this is where she’d come. His heart prayed his instinct proved right.

  One huge oak blocked this particular cottage from full view. At this early hour, the oiled hide hanging over the single window was still in place and the ill-fitting door remained closed. Meg’s soft whinny greeted them from behind the oak’s wide trunk, and told him Kenzie had arrived here safely. Relief poured through him.

  Lachlan drew De Brus to a stop a small distance from the mare and the cottage. He dismounted and threw the reins over a small bush. With one long stroke down his mount’s nose, he turned and approached the weather-beaten structure. Apprehension tightened the muscles across his back. He rolled his shoulders to alleviate the sudden stiffness and reached for the hilt of his sword. His fingers brushed air. He peered down at his hip, patted the other and found his waistband empty.

  In his haste to find Kenzie, he’d forgotten his sword and his dirk. A careless mistake.

  A sense of vulnerability swept through him as he neared the cottage door. Did it stem from his lack of weapons, or because he was about to find out if the woman he loved would welcome him or turn him away?

  Regret settled like an iron weight in his chest. Regret for not opening his heart and telling Kenzie he loved her. Aye, he loved her, but God Almighty, the beautiful, stubborn wench would hear him out before condemning him for something he hadn’t done.