Highland Ruse: Mercenary Maidens - Book Two

by Martin, Madeline

  Torra had been nothing if not uncooperative, not that Delilah could blame her. After the good part of a lifetime confined to a prison cell, it made sense that she felt impossibly small in the wide openness of the world.

  “Is she still frightened?” Percy asked from beside Delilah.

  Concern puckered Percy’s brow, but even with the delicate lines, Percy was still the most beautiful woman Delilah had ever seen, with her long golden hair and deep blue eyes rimmed with long dark lashes.

  A rhythmic sucking sound came from under the covers and Delilah knew Torra had her thumb in her mouth.

  “It’s all been too much,” Delilah said gently.

  Percy nodded with her characteristic kind patience. “I understand.”

  Delilah knew she did. After years of keeping herself hidden behind Kindrochit Castle’s walls, it was unexpected to see Percy outside.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Percy said. “I don’t want her locked in here alone, and I have a tea I think can help.”

  Delilah offered a grateful smile to her friend. Leasa was still in Killearnan with Donnan and Isabel, gathering the remaining MacKenzies to garner support for Torra’s lairdship. Percy’s help was necessary in their absence.

  Kaid was waiting.

  Though Delilah tamped down the thought, her pulse quickened.

  “Thank you.” She caught Percy’s hand and squeezed it.

  Percy smiled in return. “Of course. Go get rest now.”

  Delilah obeyed and headed toward the door, but it was not rest she planned to have.

  It was Kaid.

  She opened the door and found Sylvi standing with her feet braced wide. “I’ll stay with them tonight, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

  Delilah pulled in a breath and nodded. In truth, she was surprised Sylvi had not approached her during their travel. While she’d expected the conversation, Delilah was still not looking forward to it.

  Especially if it might take long.

  Impatience scrabbled over Delilah’s nerves.

  The four days of being near Kaid, but not touching, not allowing herself to be with him, had been torturous. She’d endured it well enough, but now that minutes separated them, eagerness nearly tore her apart at the seams.

  “You don’t have to hide it.”

  “Hide what?” Even as she asked the question, heat spread over Delilah’s cheeks.

  Sylvi didn’t break her gaze from the two women in the chamber. “That you’re in love with him.”

  Delilah tensed. Though she ought to deny the claim, she knew in her heart she could not.

  Sylvi was right. Delilah was in love with Kaid.

  Who was waiting for her.

  Impatience raked over her once more, hot and annoying.

  “You’ve a soft heart, Delilah, as I said before,” Sylvi said. “It leads you to bad decisions.”

  “This is not a bad decision.”

  Sylvi cast her a sidelong glance. “So if he were not part of it, you would still sacrifice everything to save these people?”

  “Yes,” Delilah answered without hesitation. “Yes, I absolutely would.”

  Sylvi gave a thoughtful nod. “And what will you do after all this is over, if he decides he doesn’t want you anymore?”

  The question was so unexpected, Delilah’s heart tripped over the stark prospect before she staggered out a reply. “I hadn’t—that is, I didn’t expect—”

  “No, you didn’t expect, of course. But you hoped.” Sylvi turned toward Delilah now, her face unreadable. “Hope is far more fragile than expectation.”

  Delilah didn’t reply. She could not. The walls around her, once familiar, suddenly seemed cold and pressing as foreign surroundings do.

  She would be unwanted.

  Sylvi leaned back against the doorframe and regarded Delilah with consideration. “I will never forget how you looked when I first met you. You were the embodiment of misery, as though you thought your life had ended.” She fingered the black bow tied around her neck. “I’d never seen such a pitiful creature.”

  A knot formed in Delilah’s throat. She wanted to jerk away from the conversation and run down the hall.

  To Kaid’s room.

  Thoughts of the king tangled with thoughts of Kaid. She hated having them in such near association with one another in her mind.

  The burn of the humiliated rejection she’d faced with the king slammed into her heart. “We needn’t have this conversation,” Delilah said against the hurt aching in her throat.

  Her anticipation to see Kaid muddied into something embarrassing, almost shameful.

  “But we do.” Sylvi’s expression eased. “Because you’re not that girl anymore, Delilah. You’re strong, and you’re confident, and you’re beautiful. And I don’t ever want to see you reduced to that pitiful creature again.” She put her hands on Delilah’s shoulders. “You will always have a home with us. We will always love you.”

  The ache in Delilah’s throat tightened.

  “But if he does ever wrong you in any way…” Sylvi pulled her dagger from her waist and scraped the point along the underside of her fingernail. “I’ll slice off his cock.”

  She flashed Delilah a smile, slipped into the chamber, and let the door click closed behind her.

  Delilah stared at the wood grain on the closed door for a moment before turning to walk down the hall, her cheeks aflame. All this time she’d thought herself unloved. Unwanted by the large family who’d raised her, forced into the group of women she fought beside. She’d never considered they might truly love her.

  Her steps down the hall were not as quick as they might have been only minutes before.

  Kaid was not the king, she reminded herself. There was more between them, and their affair had been different.

  And yet that place in her which had been once shattered, the one crisscrossed with thick and ropey scars, flinched at the idea of loving him.

  She opened the door to his chamber and he stood there before her. Hungry desperation lit his expressive blue eyes. Firelight gleamed off his naked torso, teasing the pulsing arousal back to life.

  And as she ran to him, her poor heart squeezed against the impossible truth.

  Even if he would someday hurt her, she could not help loving him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was too good to be true.

  The floral perfume pulled at Kaid, but he couldn’t tell if it came from a dream or reality. If it was a dream, he didn’t want to wake.

  He pulled in a deep breath of Delilah and reveled in the scent of her.

  Delilah.

  A low groan slipped from his throat and was answered with a feminine sigh.

  The warmth of a body wriggled against him. “I see you’re awake.” Delilah’s voice was low and throaty from sleep.

  He opened his eyes and found her staring at him, her hair pouring over the pillow like a fountain of sunlit honey. “I have something worth waking up to,” he said.

  Her lazy smile made his heart stir. “Are you glad to be home?” she asked.

  “Aye.” He pulled her closer to him. “And I’m glad to have ye home with me.”

  She arched her curvy body against him. Her skin was hot silk beneath his palms, and his cock went thick with desire. He kissed the smoothness of her naked shoulder before slowly easing his mouth to her nipple.

  One day he would sketch her in his bed like this, beautiful and flushed with sweet longing. If he could ever stop himself from loving her long enough to pull out his book and charcoal.

  A knock came at the door.

  Delilah tensed slightly beneath him, but he spread both hands across her narrow waist to still her before letting his tongue deliver a slow and careful swipe over her breast. Someone was at his door, but he had no intention of—

  The knock came again. Harder this time.

  Kaid eased away from Delilah and ground his teeth in irritation.

  “If you’d like my continued help…” Sylvi’s voice
came from the other side of the door. “It would be in your best interest to assist us in calming down your newest guest.”

  She was sly, that one.

  She knew Delilah was with him, she had to—and yet she did not state as much. Sylvi also did not mention Torra by name.

  If nothing else, the hard-faced lass knew discretion.

  Kaid bowed his head over Delilah and pressed a kiss to her stomach. “Aye,” he said in a voice loud enough to pierce the wooden door. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  The sound of her heavy boots thumped away from the door. Kaid gave a regretful sigh before he and Delilah rose from the bed to quickly wash and dress.

  It was not easy to avoid the servants as they made their way to Torra’s chamber, but they were able to keep Delilah’s presence a secret.

  His people could know of his arrival and Sylvi’s since she’d been invited to meet his people as an old friend of Kaid’s. But Delilah and Torra must remain a secret, as well as Percy, who insisted on staying hidden.

  Later he would tell his people about Delilah and their deception against MacKenzie, of course, but not until he was ready. And it would be Torra who would determine as much.

  When he and Delilah slipped into Torra’s chamber, they found Percy kneeling beside the bed and stroking Torra’s hair. The madwoman sat in the large bed with her legs tucked against her torso and her arms crossed tightly over her shins.

  Percy gave Delilah a worried glance and moved away from Torra for Kaid to approach.

  The MacKenzie heir did not react when Kaid stopped beside the bed. She continued to shake her head repeatedly. “Shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here,” she mumbled over and over again.

  “Lady MacKenzie.” Kaid said her name in the same voice he used for his men while training.

  The muttering stopped and she looked up sharply. The skin under her eyes was bruised from exhaustion, and the wrinkles on her brow and around her lips were more pronounced.

  “I’m Kaid MacLeod of Sutherland, laird of the Clan MacLeod. Do ye remember me?”

  She nodded.

  He knelt beside the mattress. “I’m the rightful laird here, just as ye’re rightful laird of the MacKenzies.”

  She swallowed and shook her head. “Ye canna say that. I canna be here.” A tear tracked down her face, leaving a wet trail in its wake. “I dinna belong here.”

  “Where do ye belong?” he asked.

  She squeezed her arms more tightly against herself. “In the dungeon,” she whispered. “Where no one can see me.”

  “Ye’re a laird,” Kaid said. “Ye dinna belong in a dungeon. Ye belong on the seat of authority and leading the MacKenzies.”

  Torra looked down at the tangled bedsheets and shook her head. “I canna.”

  “Why?” Kaid asked.

  “Because they’ll kill me.” She was staring off at something she couldn’t see.

  The tinkling of bottles clinking against one another sounded behind him, followed by the moist grassy scent of steeping herbs.

  “Ye have protection, Torra,” he said.

  She looked up at him, and again he was struck by how much older she appeared than himself when it was rumored they were the same age. Thick threads of white shone in her red hair.

  “Ye have me and all of the MacLeod clan,” he said. “Yer brother has been tormenting my people and yer people for years. They all will gladly protect ye and stand against him.”

  She shook her head. “Not my brother. His mother was here when she died, before she could marry Father.”

  “So yer half brother.” Kaid’s heart thumped faster with her confirmation of the rumors. “And a bastard.”

  “If ye call him that, they’ll beat ye. Kill ye.” She shook her head vigorously. “Beat ye and kill ye. Beat ye and kill ye.”

  Kaid put a hand up to stop her. “Is that what happened to most of yer clan? Did he kill all his own people?”

  Torra stopped chanting, lowered her face to her knees where her legs were tucked against her and loosed a low sob. Kaid’s stomach dropped. Surely MacKenzie did not kill off his own people? What would be the point of being a laird with no one to rule?

  “Help me,” Kaid said. “Take back yer people. Be their laird. They need ye even more than my people need an alliance with ye.”

  Torra shook her head and her hair fell around her like a red curtain, blocking her from his view. “I canna help ye.” She curled her hand in a fist. “I canna help ye,” she repeated with finality.

  Kaid stared down at her, incredulous. Surely she could understand the logic of what he said and realize she would be protected.

  She was his only chance at peace with the MacKenzies.

  “Lady MacKenzie,” he said.

  She did not look at him.

  “Torra.” He spoke in a firmer tone this time.

  She was unresponsive.

  Not crying, not speaking—only staring into the space of nothing in front of her, all while Kaid’s chance for peace slipped away with the shreds of the woman’s remaining sanity.

  • • •

  Kaid had lost his patience.

  Delilah watched him carefully and could almost pinpoint the exact moment when it slipped away.

  Torra was difficult to manage, she would give him that.

  “Torra, what did you think of the dungeon?” Delilah asked. She slowly walked toward the other woman and sat on the bed beside her.

  Kaid regarded them for a moment before standing and pacing the room.

  Torra pursed her lips.

  “It was very cold in there,” Delilah said, small bumps prickling her flesh. The memory of the dank dungeon was far too fresh in her own mind.

  “Aye,” Torra said. “And dirty.”

  “Yes,” Delilah agreed. “Very dirty. But you aren’t cold here, nor are you dirty.”

  She took Torra’s hand. Torra did not jerk her arm free, but instead kept her gaze fastened to where Delilah examined her clean fingers.

  “You were treated like a prisoner in your own home when you were little more than a lass. They say you were down there for almost fifteen years. Is that true?” Delilah said in a quiet voice. Something caught in her throat.

  Torra seemed to consider this a moment before finally nodding. “I was sixteen. Father had just died.”

  “But you’re not in the dungeon now, Torra.” Delilah folded her hand around the other woman’s. Her palms were clammy and cold. “You’re free.”

  “I’m in another room,” Torra said. “Not a dungeon, but not free.”

  Delilah’s stomach clenched. The woman was right. “Then you can leave whenever you like.”

  Perhaps Delilah imagined it, but she swore she actually felt the weight of Kaid’s gaze against her back. True, what she said was risky, but making Torra feel as though she’d gone from one prison to another would not do.

  “I can leave?” The hope in Torra’s voice shot deep into Delilah’s heart.

  She nodded anyway.

  Torra looked around the large chamber, her eyes bright with the prospect, and then she seemed to shrink into herself like a flower withering. But Delilah understood. Torra had nowhere to go.

  “Or you could stay here, as a guest,” Delilah offered. She knew she was speaking for Kaid and hoped he would not mind. Because truly there was more to this than convincing Torra. This was also about helping to heal another of those who MacKenzie had broken. “Whether you decide to take back your inheritance or not, we are your friends.”

  Torra watched her with a large, sorrowful expression, and again Delilah was reminded of a dog who had suffered a hard life from a cruel master. Torra wanted to trust. She wanted to be loved.

  And the desperate ferocity of her look made Delilah’s heart squeeze with the evidence of such sad hope.

  She rose and pulled gently at Torra’s hand, which had grown warmer against her own. “Please, come with me.”

  Torra hesitated before unfolding
herself from her balled-up position and allowing herself to be led to the window. Delilah unclasped the shutters and pulled them open.

  The summer air pushed in, fresh and cool, and brought with it the sweet scent of pastries from the market below.

  Torra closed her eyes and leaned her face toward the crisp breeze. Her chest expanded with the force of her inhale and she smiled.

  “Let me show you freedom.” Delilah motioned to the window, encouraging Torra toward it. She complied in slow, shuffling footsteps, her eyes still closed in appreciation.

  Delilah glanced toward the rear of the room where Percy was adding drops to a steaming mug. Kaid was facing Delilah, watching her with a light expression on his face. There was something about the casual half-grin, the way he had made himself comfortable leaning against the wall, which made her heart swell with what she saw there.

  He was proud of her.

  Heat fluttered low in her stomach and blossomed over her chest and cheeks. But she was not yet done.

  “Open your eyes,” she said.

  Torra obeyed and looked at the castle and its many guards below, with the village beyond and all the people who bustled at the thriving market. Even further were the swells of craggy hills, all velvety grass with jagged gray stone peeking through.

  “This is freedom,” Delilah said.

  Torra’s gaze moved slowly as she regarded the scene below, taking it all in—the beauty, the vivacity of it all. Her eyes went glassy with unshed tears and the tip of her nose reddened.

  “This is freedom,” she repeated in a voice thick with emotion.

  “This is how Edirdovar should be too,” Delilah said gently. “You can bring this back to your people if you desire.”

  Torra did not turn from the scene. “It’s dangerous.”

  “We would be at your side.” Delilah squeezed the woman’s hand. “You need only think about it. You are free regardless of what you choose. And you have our friendship and protection always.”

  A tear crawled down Torra’s cheek, but she did not swipe it away.

  Delilah backed away from Torra, leaving the other woman to witness the extent of her freedom. When Delilah crossed the room and slipped from the door with Kaid, Torra still had not moved from her place at the window.