Highland Ruse: Mercenary Maidens - Book Two

by Martin, Madeline

“I need to gather the men,” he said between kisses. “For a clan meeting.”

  It was more a reminder to himself. He pulled back and found a worried expression on her face.

  His elation waned. “What is it?”

  “Claire is missing.”

  Kaid cupped Delilah’s face. Her skin was like warm silk against his palm. “She’s a lass who has gotten used to roaming the castle of her own accord. I’m sure she’s fine.” He swept his thumb over her lips to smooth away her frown.

  It remained. “I sent Sylvi to find her since I cannot be seen around the castle yet.” Her gaze surveyed the empty hall.

  “She’s fine,” Kaid said reassuringly.

  “I know how much she had missed me. I don’t think—”

  Kaid pressed another kiss to her mouth. “She’ll turn up, Delilah.”

  Delilah did not kiss him back. “Kaid—”

  “I must get the word spread about the clan meeting,” he said. “Once we announce to them all ye’re no’ Elizabeth, ye will be free to roam the castle. Everyone will know who ye are and everyone will know Torra to be the rightful laird of the MacKenzies.” He caught her by the arms and looked deep into her worried gaze. “This will all be over soon. Finally. And because of ye.”

  The concern did not leave her brow, but she nodded.

  He released her reluctantly. “I’ll look for Claire while I’m assembling the clan.”

  Her shoulders relaxed somewhat and again she nodded.

  Kaid took her hand in his and raised it to his lips like a grand courtier. Surely he felt like one, almost giddy.

  His people were going to be safe. This would all finally be over.

  And with that, he left to gather his men for the most important clan meeting of his life, where finally he was going to be the laird they all wished him to be. The kind of laird who would have made his father proud.

  • • •

  Claire was still missing.

  Delilah gathered in the main courtyard with the rest of the MacLeods, though she stood at the front near Kaid’s side, waiting to be introduced to the clan for who she truly was. The position afforded her the opportunity to search the sea of faces for one sweet, blonde child in a blue gown.

  Kaid spoke in a voice loud enough for all to hear, and the clan listened with rapt attention. Perhaps she ought to be listening as well, and focusing on him. Certainly enough faces had turned to look upon her. Had he said her name? People smiled with appreciation and clapped.

  She returned their warm expressions in what she hoped appeared genuine, for all she could focus on at present was Claire.

  This was the moment Kaid had wanted for so long, what he’d sacrificed and risked death to achieve. Though he’d never said it, she knew he felt as though he’d let his people down before. And now he would be their savior.

  Her gaze swept over the crowd once more, and the pull on her heart dipped even lower. Still no Claire.

  Something brushed Delilah’s fingers, warm and soft. She jerked her attention to the touch of a hand, but it was Torra.

  “Ye look more nervous than I feel,” Torra whispered. Her fingers trembled against Delilah’s.

  “I’m looking for someone.” Delilah let her gaze roam over the crowd once more. “And not finding her.”

  The clan cheered and clapped, and many faces turned toward her. She smiled at them. Kaid must have been unveiling her participation in the ruse to free Torra.

  “Rhona?” Torra asked.

  Delilah shook her head and almost replied with Claire’s name, but then it occurred to her Torra had not ever met her. “A young girl with blonde hair.”

  Torra drew a shaky inhale. “There are so many people here.” Her voice was a thread of a whisper.

  Delilah turned her attention from the crowd and found Torra’s face white and glistening with sweat. “Torra?”

  “Too many people.” She gave a long, slow blink.

  Delilah grasped her hand and found Torra’s palm wet and her fingers like ice.

  “Take a deep breath,” Delilah whispered. “You can do this. You’re a laird in your own right. You’re doing this for your people, to liberate them from your half brother, to give them a good life.”

  Torra’s chest swelled in compliance and she nodded.

  Kaid indicated Torra and she met the curious gazes with a look of such confidence, it left Delilah’s skin prickled with pride.

  “Who will come?” Kaid asked his people. “Who will come with me to aid Laird MacKenzie in taking her land back and fostering a peaceful allegiance with her and her clan?”

  Man after man shouted their intentions to join with a sharp jab of their fists in the air.

  Delilah almost sagged with relief. They had found Torra, helped pull her from the darkness she’d been buried in for too long, and gotten her to agree to claim her inheritance, and now Kaid had the full support of his clan.

  It was all coming together, just as Kaid had intended from the beginning.

  Regardless, unease nipped at Delilah’s conscience.

  Claire.

  The very thought of the girl’s name caught Delilah’s heart in a heavy grip and dragged it to her stomach.

  Delilah scanned the crowd once more, stopping at each waist-high face, and each blonde-topped head. A hand clasped Delilah’s forearm.

  “Ye did it,” Torra said. “Ye and Kaid, ye did it. We’re marching out the morning after next.”

  A small blonde girl darted between two men. Delilah straightened with hope and leaned to the right to follow the girl’s path. But the child was wearing a green dress. Not blue. And without the lace bits on the sleeves.

  “Ye still canna find her?” Torra asked. “The little girl with blonde hair?”

  Delilah nodded. “I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

  Kaid finished his speech, and the crowd roared with noise. Torra turned her gaze to the ground.

  When the swell of cries dwindled, Torra finally lifted her gaze. “I saw a blonde girl with Nathaira—Rhona, as ye know her. She dinna look as though she wanted to go, but Nathaira was pulling her by the arm. Rough.”

  Delilah’s heart pounded in her chest. If the clan continued to roar behind her, she no longer heard them. “Could you see what she was wearing?”

  “She wore a blue dress.”

  The air sucked from Delilah’s lungs.

  “Was there anything else about the dress? Anything special?” she asked.

  Torra tilted her head in thought and nodded. “Aye, she had a bit of lace trimmed on the sleeves. No’ the hem, just the sleeves.”

  Delilah’s body tingled with dread and the breath, the life, whooshed out of her body. “No.”

  Torra reached out for her. This time it was Torra keeping Delilah up and not vice versa.

  “Do ye think it was her?” Torra asked.

  “Yes.” The word came out in a whimper.

  Claire—abducted by Rhona. To be taken to the man who had brutally murdered so many. Delilah swallowed the thick emotion welling in her throat.

  Kaid. She needed to speak with Kaid.

  They needed to leave immediately.

  They had to rescue Claire.

  Chapter Thirty

  Preparations for the clan’s attack were underway.

  Kaid strode into his solar and rummaged through several sheets of parchment. Neat rows of numbers reflected the stores of food they would have to bring, the number of weapons for his men, the assignment of each horse to those who didn’t already have their own.

  There was much to do in one short day prior to their departure. They would need to purchase many items while they traveled.

  Now that Torra had agreed to take back the ownership of her people and ally with him, he did not want to risk her changing her mind. The longer this took, the greater the likelihood that Torra would go back on their agreement.

  He checked the doorway for Lachlan, but found it empty. Impatience set Kaid’s feet stalking across the room in a re
stless pace. He needed to speak to Lachlan, to finalize some of the finer details about the men who would be coming.

  Kaid glanced out the window where the heavy cloak of night blanketed the quiet village. The festivities had finally quieted. The evening had slipped from him like water through a sieve. There was still so damn much to do.

  Not that it mattered. This was what he’d been born to do. This was why he was laird of his people. After having left his clan starving for vengeance, he would finally deliver.

  The light of a flickering candle hovered outside the door, pausing a moment before entering. But his visitor wasn’t Lachlan.

  “Delilah.” He couldn’t help but smile as he spoke her name. She was a refreshing change to the all-consuming details of the impending attack.

  She was a dream with her long honey-brown hair falling in gentle waves around her face and her dark eyes gazing at him imploringly.

  A tear slipped down her cheek.

  He straightened in surprise and caught her in his arms. “Delilah, what is it?”

  “I haven’t been able to find you.” She clung to him, her fingers strapped around his arms like bands of iron.

  Truth be told, he’d been so busy, he had only thought of coordinating his men and this attack. But then, Delilah wasn’t a woman who needed coddling.

  “I was speaking to the men who will join us.” He carefully wiped the tear from her cheek and was relieved to find there weren’t more. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Claire.” Delilah’s voice broke. “She’s with Rhona.”

  Kaid shook his head. “I dinna understand. How do ye know? And why would the lass go with Rhona?”

  “Rhona took her.” Another tear ran down Delilah’s cheek. “I promised Claire I’d never let anything happen to her again. I let her be taken, Kaid. I wasn’t there to save her.”

  Delilah, Kaid’s strong, beautiful Delilah, broke down then into a fit of sobs. Kaid held her and let her cry against his chest. Beneath his tear-soaked leine, his own heart crushed against his throat.

  Claire, with Rhona.

  On their way to MacKenzie, that bastard.

  His stomach twisted. What would they do with Claire?

  Lachlan appeared in the doorway and cast them a wary glance.

  “A moment,” Kaid said to Lachlan, who nodded and slipped from view in an obvious show of offering privacy. He wouldn’t go far, Kaid knew, not when they had so many important details to finalize.

  Delilah lifted her head and looked toward the empty doorway.

  “Go to the room,” Kaid said softly. “I’ll be in later this evening. We can discuss it more then.”

  “No,” she gasped. “We have to leave now.”

  “It’s no’ possible. No’ with so many men—”

  “Kaid, they’ll kill her.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “So many men cannot travel quickly.” She spoke fast, as if doing so might possibly change his mind. “We could catch them. Stop Rhona before she gets any further.”

  “They’re already too far, and we dinna know the path they took.” He tried to keep his tone gentle, but her wounded expression hardened.

  “You could have men go after them,” she said.

  “My men are needed to prepare for the march on Edirdovar. We’ll save Claire when we get there.” Kaid reached for her, but she jerked from his grasp.

  “By then she might be dead. I thought you loved her,” Delilah whispered. “I thought you loved us both.”

  If she’d meant those words to be a dagger in his heart, she’d hit her mark perfectly. He almost staggered beneath the pain of the blow.

  Lachlan’s dark head peered around the doorway, a reminder of the limited time and the growing list of important details to discuss.

  Kaid staunched the ache emanating from deep within. He couldn’t think of the way Claire smiled with such tenderness, nor how she held such trust when she regarded him with her large blue eyes, or the sweet warmth of her skinny-armed hugs.

  Kaid swallowed the tightening sensation in his throat. “We can’t always make decisions with our hearts, Delilah.” It was said harshly, more as a reminder to himself than to her.

  She lifted her head and regarded him with cold calculation. He felt as much a monster as MacKenzie. “Because a soft heart leads to poor decisions?” The words were like a splash of acid.

  Lachlan crossed his arms and studied the hearth with such intensity, his discomfort was palpable.

  Kaid caught Delilah’s arms and met her gaze. “Go to the room, Delilah. We will speak of this no more tonight and will leave in the morning as planned.”

  In truth, he could not allow himself to focus on the topic anymore. He couldn’t let his mind be clouded with the hurt of Claire’s loss when he had so many lives at stake.

  Delilah turned from the room without another word and stalked past Lachlan, who nodded in greeting. He glanced behind him and regarded Kaid. “Is something amiss, laird?”

  Kaid shook his head. “No’ anything we can do much about now.” Then he tried as best he could to shove out the racing thoughts about Claire and Delilah. Being distracted would help no one.

  He had a war to plan.

  • • •

  Delilah’s throat burned with the swell of a rising scream. She wanted to let it loose until her throat bled. Maybe the searing cry would staunch the direct flow of damage to her heart.

  Kaid had told her to go his chamber.

  Kaid had clearly forgotten who she was.

  She was no damn guard to be ordered about. The soles of her shoes clacked hard against the flagstones, the sound echoing against the cold walls and then fading into the open night air as she stepped outside.

  A flash of a blade reflected a glint of moonlight in a shadowed corner of the courtyard.

  Sylvi—always finding a place to practice. It was exactly what Delilah had hoped for. Her body flared with energy. She wanted to let her anger explode out of her, unleashed on an opponent.

  Soundless, she hurried over the uneven cobblestones to where only the subtle swish of a blade cutting through the air could be heard.

  “What are you doing here?” Sylvi’s hard voice sounded from the shadows.

  Delilah stepped into the darkness, and her eyes immediately adjusted to the absence of the moon’s wide-faced glow. Without a word, she picked up a discarded staff from where it lay on the ground. Sylvi never trained without several weapons at her disposal.

  Delilah lifted the staff and whipped it behind her back before stopping it directly in front of her in a silent challenge. Her body braced for impact, her knees bent and her muscles tensed to strike.

  Sylvi’s mouth curled into a smirk. “I haven’t had a good spar since I arrived at Killearnan.”

  Instead of replying, Delilah pushed the force of her frustration and rage into the hearty swing of the staff, directly toward Sylvi’s legs. Sylvi leapt a scant second before the knobby wood head would have connected with her knees. She landed silent as a cat and swept the blade toward Delilah.

  The attack was slow and easily avoided. Sylvi no doubt did this on purpose.

  “Don’t go easy on me,” Delilah said through clenched teeth. “Not tonight.” She whipped her staff toward Sylvi’s head, but only succeeded in catching the end of one pale blonde braid.

  Sylvi rolled on the ground and popped up in front of Delilah with a grin. “I take it someone made you angry.”

  Delilah held her staff with both hands and shoved it so hard against Sylvi’s chest, the other woman grunted.

  Sylvi held fast to the staff and pulled it from Delilah’s grasp. “It would appear as much,” Sylvi answered her own question and tossed her sword to the cobblestones with a metallic clatter. “Switch weapons with me and talk before you kill us both.”

  Delilah snatched up the blade and adjusted her hold on the hilt. The wound leather there was still warm from Sylvi’s grip.

  “Is this about the little girl?” she asked. “Claire?”

  De
lilah swung the blade, and a growl snarled from between her clenched teeth. Sylvi snapped the staff up in time to keep the blunted edge from connecting with her skull.

  “How do you know about her?” Delilah demanded. Her body was alight with the burn of anger and vengeance. Each attack, each block, each flex of her muscles gave way to the comfort only spent energy could provide.

  “I see more than you realize.” Sylvi thrust the staff toward her, but Delilah knocked it away. “And I know she’s been taken.”

  Delilah thought back to the hallway where she first saw Claire. Sylvi must have been lurking in the shadows. How very like Sylvi to witness such an intimate moment and not reveal herself.

  “Did you see what happened when I asked Kaid if we could leave now to save her?” A fresh wave of molten fury rushed through Delilah’s veins. She waited for Sylvi’s slight pull back on the weapon in preparation to attack before Delilah lunged into her.

  Delilah braced Sylvi’s legs with her own then shoved hard at Sylvi’s torso. The blonde woman went down with whuff of air.

  “He said no, didn’t he?” Sylvi stuck her arm up in silent request for friendly aid.

  Delilah gripped the proffered forearm and hauled Sylvi to her feet in a smooth heft. “Did you see that too?” Delilah couldn’t keep the irritation from her voice.

  “No.” Sylvi smirked. “But he’s a leader on the cusp of war, Delilah. Even if Claire were his own daughter and he had no one else left in the world, he would not sacrifice the lives of his people by departing prematurely.”

  Delilah’s cheeks went hot with the certainty in Sylvi’s tone. “Even if there’s a child in danger?”

  Sylvi stepped back and eyed Delilah. “Do you know which path she took? Which towns she’ll stop through?”

  “No,” Delilah said. “But we know where they’ll end up.”

  “At a highly defended castle over two days’ journey from here?” Sylvi shook her head as if explaining common sense to someone daft. “With either no army or an ill-prepared one?”

  Sylvi swept the staff toward Delilah’s legs. Delilah stumbled backward. “Yes,” she admitted sheepishly.

  When she caught her footing, she kept her knees slightly bent, ducked the blow of Sylvi’s thrust and rose with the blade pressed to Sylvi’s throat. “And what would you do if you knew someone you loved were to be harmed?” she panted.