Her gaze darted up.
Cull stared at her where she sat beside Duncan—his gaze cold and flat and dangerous. Ainsley clung to his side, smiling and vibrant.
Duncan’s hand squeezed her wrist, and she reminded herself once more that they were surrounded by men with swords who would intervene within seconds—on Duncan’s behalf—if any conflict arose. She quickly diverted her gaze away, never having felt such frustration.
“Sir Cull, where are your manners?” said Buchan, his voice low and questioning. “And your greetings. Say hello to Mairead, and to our hosts here at Carven.”
“Greetings, Mairead,” Cull all but growled. “Greetings all.” He added pointedly, “Duncan. Derryth.”
“Truly, Cull, why so serious?” Ainsley questioned, offering up a nervous laugh.
“It’s because I took his favorite captive.” Duncan replied bluntly, and Derryth clenched her eyes shut. “I’m sorry you are angry, Cull. But once I learned she was the Lady Kincaid’s sister … daughter to the deceased Laird MacClaren—”
He paused dramatically, allowing his breath to ease out of his throat.
In the silence that followed, Derryth felt as if her heart were being ripped out.
“Oh … Cull,” Duncan said softly. Cruelly. “You did not know? Well … now that you know the truth, certainly you must understand why I had to get her out of that camp. So filthy and dangerous, with men everywhere. And keeping her within sight of the very place where her clan will be destroyed?” He sighed, as if aggrieved on her behalf. “Even you must concede she deserves better consideration than that.”
Duncan’s hand closed on hers. She opened her eyes and stared at the offending sight.
“And to my amazement and I’m sure to hers, as we traveled here, we discovered fond feelings for each other.”
Derryth’s head dipped at that, feeling too heavy to hold high another moment more.
“Duncan,” said Buchan in a warning tone.
“As far as the Mistress MacClaren is concerned, your duty is done,” he said to Cull. “I am her protector now.”
Buchan spoke then, sharply. “I am her protector, Duncan. Mairead and I. Until I decide differently, which I have not.” He paused. “Robert, take Cull there, to the table. I know you must both be hungry and travel-worn.”
“I would ask instead to speak to you, my lord,” Cull said darkly. “Alone.”
“Tomorrow,” Buchan replied brusquely. “There will be time then. Tonight, rest. Perhaps tomorrow, you will be more yourself. Nester’s servant over there—the very tall man, do you see him?—he will see that you are given a chamber in which to rest.”
Lord Nester stood then. “For Sir Cull the Nameless, we can do far better than that. What an honor it is to welcome you into our home, Sir Cull.”
Derryth snuck another glance, to find Cull looking at Lord Nester, and Ainsley smiling radiantly beside him.
Cull replied quietly. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“It is not given freely,” replied Lord Nester, laughing.
“My lord?” Cull inquired.
“I insist that while you are here, you instruct my men in their morning weapons practice. It is rare they have the opportunity to observe a renowned warrior such as you.”
“Good god,” muttered Duncan beside her, derisively.
“Of course he will,” said Buchan magnanimously.
“We can all watch!” cried Lady Nester, clasping her hands together. “We can make a sort of tournament of it. If Sir Cull agrees.”
“Aye, my lady,” Cull replied politely—but without true enthusiasm. “As you wish.” He redirected his gaze toward Buchan. “As long as it does not delay my appointment with you, my lord.”
“’Twill not,” Buchan replied testily, his eyebrows raised. “Now go, and eat. Drink wine. Flirt with my daughter. Stop glowering at everyone.”
Laughing, Ainsley led Cull away.
Duncan called for more wine and filled Derryth’s cup, but she did not drink for fear the rich liquid would cause her to reveal her emotions, for all to see. Several of Buchan’s men joined them, and told stories, the details of which she did not hear … for as every moment passed, her attention remained focused elsewhere.
Though she did not dare look at Cull, she felt his presence, just as surely as she felt the heat from the fire. She listened, craving the sound of his voice, and heard him offering courteous, but short, replies to Ainsley’s endless questions and attempts to draw him into conversation. Aye, he was angry to have discovered her here, and most certainly to learn she was a MacClaren. But she could not help but wonder if there had been a romance between him and Ainsley, as Ainsley had inferred. It was apparent that Ainsley had expectations.
Suddenly, Cull was gone, and Ainsley with him. Misery weighted Derryth so heavily she found it difficult to breath. Even if he was angry with her, he’d been here, in her sight. After these endless days apart, she hated being separated from him. She needed to talk to him. To tell him everything that had occurred, so there would be no misunderstandings between them.
So as not to raise suspicion, she waited a long while before at last speaking to Duncan, who had long ago fallen brooding and silent. “I am tired. Please, I would like to retire.”
“You look pale,” Duncan said, sounding more accusatory than concerned. “Are you feeling unwell?”
“Only fatigued, as I rose very early this morning,” she replied, though she had felt sickly earlier that morning. Unsteady and dizzy. But how else was she supposed to feel when awakening to this place and these people? Or perhaps it was that she’d eaten very little these past few days. She’d had no appetite.
“I will walk you,” he said, standing.
As he had each night—for she went nowhere unescorted. With his hand at her back, they paused so that she could bid good night to Buchan and Mairead, and Lord Nester and his family. He then guided her toward the tower stairs. She feared being alone with him there, in that shadowy place. Now that Cull had returned, she did not know what to expect.
When they had gone two steps up, Robert suddenly appeared behind them. “Duncan.”
He did not meet Derryth’s gaze, but spoke only to his older brother.
“I need to speak to you.”
“In a moment, when I return,” Duncan replied, urging Derryth up another step.
But his brother persisted. “It’s important—a matter having to do with your men who remain at the camp.” Robert caught the attention of a finely garbed old woman, wearing an old-fashioned kirtle and jeweled girdle, who approached, walking very slowly. Derryth knew her to be the Dowager Lady Nester.
Robert bent his head, and raised his voice. “Lady Nester, would you mind seeing Mistress MacClaren to her room?” Turning to Duncan and Derryth, he whispered, “Remember, she is not very good of hearing, so if you wish to have a conversation, you must speak loudly—but don’t shout, because she thinks that is rude.”
Duncan glanced at Derryth. “And even if you are thirty winters old, like me, she’ll pinch you for it, and it hurts.”
If he wasn’t Duncan, she might find his humor amusing.
“Very well,” muttered the lady, exerting some effort to place her foot on the first step, and glancing toward Derryth. “I’m going that way myself.”
“Then I suppose this is good night,” said Duncan in a disappointed tone.
Lifting Lady Nester’s hand, Robert pressed a kiss to her knuckles, before pressing her hand into Derryth’s. But as she already knew, the lady was not a friendly or affectionate sort. She dropped Derryth’s hand, and ascended the next step.
With an air of reluctance, Duncan removed his hand from Derryth’s back, and with a lingering glance that made her uncomfortable, he turned away.
Derryth let out a shaky sigh of relief, watching him and Robert stride toward the doors that lead into the bailey.
As always, four guards stood watch there, protecting the entrance, in addition to many more she knew
to stand vigil outside. It was something she did always … assess opportunities for escape, but there had been none at Carven. The Wolf kept himself too thickly guarded, and where she was concerned, there was always someone watching.
Not that she wanted to leave now that Cull had arrived. Even heartsick over him, and fearing he hated her, she had no wish to flee if there was a chance of seeing him again. Her blood ran warm, just knowing he walked the same floors. And yet with each step up the stairs, she felt more removed from him than ever. Forgotten, even. As she followed the dowager slowly, up each step, tears blurred her eyes, but it was all right because the stairs were dark, and only sparsely lit with small lanterns. At last, they arrived at the first landing, and turned, pacing through a space of inky shadows before reaching the next rise of steps.
“Watch your step,” the old woman warned sharply, moving upward into the dim light. “And do stop rushing me.”
Suddenly, powerful arms pulled Derryth into the blackness.
A hand firmly covered her mouth, capturing her gasp.
Chapter 18
Derryth did not need to see the face of the man who held her. His body and his scent were as familiar as her own.
Only the way he continued to hold her so tightly could not, under any circumstance, be called an embrace. Though his hand lowered slowly from her mouth, he continued to impose his power on her, clenching her helpless against him so tightly she could barely breathe. She was his prisoner, and utterly under his control.
“Cull,” she whispered, trying to pry his hands from her.
But then he turned her again—quickly … pressing her back hard against the stone wall.
She gasped, her hands coming up against his chest. Head lowered, he pressed his forehead to hers, his every muscle drawn tight against her, his manner terrifyingly intense.
His eyes stared into hers, agleam in the dark.
“If you did not understand what I meant when I said that I chose you, and when I asked you to trust me”—he whispered harshly, the words spilling from his lips—“then let me be clear.”
“I did trust you,” she whispered back, frantic—and terrified that someone would discover them together. That suddenly Duncan would appear on the stairs, and kill Cull, and she would never leave the shadows again.
“I meant that I loved you.” He held her tighter. His nose touched hers.
“Oh, Cull.”
“I love you, Derryth. God help me, I do.”
She seized handfuls of his tunic in her fists, filled with a wild craving for the power and muscles she felt beneath.
“I love you too.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“Then why—”
“I was going to tell you who I was, that I was a MacClaren, but please understand and forgive me, I wanted to tell Deargh first—that I was going to stay with you, so he could tell my sister, and explain.”
He responded with a nod … exhaling. The tension in his muscles eased.
But there was still so much she needed him to know. “And then soldiers came, and I thought you’d sent them to bring me to you, but it was him—”
The words spilled from her mouth in a feverish whisper.
“It doesn’t matter now.” His lips pressed against her temple, and his arms came around her in a fiercely tender embrace. She stilled, overcome by his comfort, his touch, inhaling his scent … but she had not said all she needed to say.
“Cull, I—” she murmured.
“Shhh.” His hand came up gently beneath her chin, to trace the lines of her jaw with his fingertips, and his mouth closed on hers—the kiss saying more than any words. Derryth’s spirit, which had been so low for days now, soared as she held his body, so strong and beloved, tight against hers.
She stiffened, hearing something on the stairs. He’d heard it too. She shifted … sheltering her with his body.
“Where are y’ girl?” called the dowager, from just out of sight.
It was enough to fill her with terror again. Perhaps it was only the dowager, but next, it would be someone else who would tear her and Cull apart forever.
“You must go,” she whispered. “Duncan said he will kill you if he finds me talking to you—or even looking at you.”
“He said he will what?” Cull growled beneath his breath, his eyes flashing in the dark.
She pushed out of his arms. “Don’t trust him. Don’t trust any of them.”
Breaking free of the shadows, she rushed toward the stairs, praying the shadows concealed the feverish flush on her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” she called out. “My slipper fell off my foot, and I fell behind looking for it in the dark.”
“What did you say?” the woman said grumpily, squinting at her, before giving an impatient wave of her hands and turning away.
Derryth followed, but looked over her shoulder once more. Cull still stood there, a shadow in the night.
* * *
“What were we thinking when we chose that color for you?” Ainsley said as she and Derryth passed through the garden the next morning. “Here in the light, that shade of green turns your skin the most unpleasant cast.”
It had gone on all day. The sharper, sideways glares. The slights about her appearance and manners. Those few bitter words spoken between Cull and Duncan in Carven’s great hall the night before had been enough to make Ainsley realize that Cull had feelings for Derryth, and it was enough to make her Ainsley’s enemy.
And yet the words did not wound. Cull loved her. He had come to her, and their feelings for each other were just as strong as before. She carried that knowledge like a talisman. She wore it like a shield.
The night before, her hours alone had been spent restless, and wanting him with her. She had so many questions. Why had he come here? Certainly not to find her. He’d believed her to have escaped to Inverhaven. Why had he seemed so … intense toward Buchan the night before, as if displeased with the earl? Angry, even? Was he still loyal to the Wolf, or had something occurred to change that?
As the night had gone on, there had also been fear. Fear for Cull. Fear for herself. Fear for her loved ones, still under siege at Inverhaven. By the time morning had come, she’d nearly been ill from it and had barely been able to swallow a bite of her breakfast. She felt so tired from lack of sleep, and would have remained in her room if not for the hope of seeing Cull again. Of speaking to him.
Perhaps lack of sustenance and rest made her sharp now, for she could not help but reply curtly to Ainsley. “I would be more than happy to return the kirtle to the tailor, and go back to wearing the garments I came here in. Would you like me to take it off now?”
Ainsley paused in her step, and sidled closer. “I can’t imagine why my brother would want to marry a backward little Highlander like you. No castle or lands seems worth that trouble.”
With a toss of her head, Ainsley moved more quickly, walking ahead to join Mairead and Lady Nester, leaving her behind.
Derryth almost smiled. Alone, at last. It was just the sort of opportunity she’d have waited for to attempt an escape, but now that Cull was at Carven, she must find some way to speak to him again. Was it possible that they could escape together?
And suddenly, Cull was there, passing through the trees, garbed in a fitted leather jerkin, his long, lean legs encased in dark trousers and high boots. He gripped his sword in one hand, mid sheath. Her excitement at seeing him grew as he moved very close beside her, so close their garments touched.
“Good morning, Derryth,” he murmured sensually.
She exhaled, startled and thrilled by the clandestine moment. But then his hand found her waist. He pulled her close and bent, kissing her hard and long on the mouth. Possessing her. Branding her as his own.
Then he was gone, and she left standing in place, breathless and flustered, her heart pounding over the forbidden kiss, watching him go, so tall and so commanding, without even a pause in his booted steps.
Fear quickly took pleasure’s place. What if so
meone had seen?
“Didn’t you hear what I told you last night?” she hissed after him.
“Aye, lass, I did,” he replied over his shoulder, almost nonchalantly. “Let him try.”
Only then did she see Robert, emerging from the trees to walk beside Cull. He chuckled low in his throat. “You daring bastard.”
Clearly, he’d seen Cull kiss her, and yet he did not challenge Cull for what he’d done. With a start, she remembered the night before. Robert’s sudden appearance at the bottom of the stairs, drawing Duncan away. Were the two men friends then … allies, even? Was it possible that Robert could be trusted?
She arrived at the practice field. Shunning the company of the women, she was more than pleased to stand by herself. It appeared that Lord Nester’s men had already gathered, and waited for Cull to arrive. Lord Nester and Buchan stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching. Duncan as well, though he wore a sword. With narrowed eyes, he watched his rival take the field, with Robert at his side.
“Wait!” called Lady Nester. “Champions! Do not begin without receiving your favors!”
Ainsley untied a blue ribbon from her wrist. “Did you not bring a ribbon?” she said to Derryth. “Forgive me. I forgot to tell you.”
It did not trouble Derryth in the least not to be included, but Lady Nester, who had always been pleasant to her, moved nearer, several ribbons streaming from her hands. “I have several. Here, one for you, Derryth, to bestow upon your chosen champion.” Her eyes twinkled, as she pressed a scarlet streamer into her hands. “Although we all know who that is!”
She meant Duncan, of course, for everyone in this household persisted in the myth of their romance, rather than acknowledging that Derryth had been brought here, and remained, against her will.
Lady Nester distributed several more ribbons to several other ladies before turning again to the field. “Men. Come, and accept the colors of your fair ladies!”
For a moment she felt dizzy … unsteady. She ought to have eaten this morning. A piece of bread, at least.
But then Derryth’s eyes met Cull’s, and she became strong again. She watched … heart beating as he strode directly toward her.
The Warrior of Clan Kincaid Page 20
