Lor looked at her. “Ye knew I was from Careston,” he said. “Ye knew because I told ye. Ye also knew that I lived on Lindsay lands.”
She nodded firmly. “That is why I knew ye would be the only one we could trust. The Lindsay killed yer grandfather, Lor. If ye want vengeance, that is what we’re offering. A chance tae punish those who wronged ye.”
Lor didn’t know what to say. He’d come into this arrangement with vengeance on his mind, but not the way Isabail was suggesting it. But these people had no reason to lie to him, and as he looked around him, he didn’t see violent or warring men. Not even Ewan and Ossian, who had remained surprisingly quiet through it all.
All he saw was desperation.
Now, the winds of war were shifting.
If what they said could be believed, Lor was coming to understand who the true enemy was.
Drostan Lindsay.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isabail should have been asleep, but she couldn’t seem to still her mind enough to relax.
Lying in her bed, she couldn’t shake off the events from the evening. She would never forget the expression on Lor’s face when he was told that Drostan had orchestrated the attack on Careston. There had been such shock and disbelief, something she found difficult to reconcile.
Why had he been so surprised?
Lor had acted like a man who hadn’t know the truth behind the death of his grandfather, which led Isabail to believe that perhaps Lor had thought the Keith had destroyed his village, just as Drostan had hoped. If that was the case, why had he agreed to accept the offer from the Keith?
Why had he agreed to fight for them?
So much wasn’t making sense, and Isabail fidgeted in her bed until well past midnight. She finally got up, wrapped herself in a heavy cloak, and climbed from her window into the moonlit night beyond.
The Highlands were crisp and cold on this clear night, unusual at this time of year. It was usually raining. Her father’s home was high on a hill overlooking the village, a four-room home that had been built by her grandfather. She could see the village below, blanketed in a blue fog of smoke from the dying fires, but in particular she could see the cottage where Lor was staying.
He’d been given an empty shelter near the edge of the village, one that had belonged to an old man up until a few months ago. It sat empty after his death. The cottage wasn’t much—one large room and then a smaller room the old man had used to house his dogs in—but it was all they could offer. That’s where Isabail had last seen him.
Pulling the cloak around her against the icy weather, she headed down the hill.
His cottage was dark and quiet when she reached it, but that didn’t stop her from walking in a circle around it, listening for any signs of movement. If he was asleep, she didn’t want to wake him. Or perhaps she did. In any case, she was debating what to do as she walked a second circle around the cottage. When she passed by the only door, a hand shot out and grabbed her.
Instead of screaming, Isabail went into defensive mode. She brought up a balled fist to break the hold, but another hand shot out and grabbed that hand as well. She was preparing to kick her attacker when she abruptly came face-to-face with Lor. He still had a grip on her as he came out of the cottage, scowling.
“What in the world are ye doing?” he demanded.
Isabail’s heart was pounding with fright. “I was wondering if ye were asleep,” she said. “I suppose I have my answer.”
He released her. “As if anyone can sleep here,” he said, scratching his dirty, blond head. “’Tis too quiet. I’ve grown used tae the alleys of Edinburgh and the village at the Cal. A thousand snoring bulls and I can sleep like a wee bairn. But I canna sleep when it is this quiet.”
“Ye said ye couldna sleep with my da and brothers snoring away.”
He fought off a grin. “They were only three men. I need more men than that if I am tae sleep properly.”
Isabail laughed softly. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “Do ye at least have everything ye need? I made sure they brought in a bed and a fire for ye. Is there anything else?”
He shook his head. “’Tis comfortable enough. Is that why ye’re wandering about in the middle of the night? Tae make sure I’m content?”
His eyes were glittering at her as he spoke, as if he suspected there was something more behind her prowling. “Of course it is,” she said.
“Are ye sure? ’Tis not because ye want tae be alone with me?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Tae me. But I have high hopes.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Dunna have such hopes because it’s not what ye think. I came tae ask ye a question.”
“What question?”
“Did ye think the Keith burned Careston?”
She heard him draw in a long, labored breath, and all of the humor went out of the conversation. “Why do ye ask?”
“Because ye seemed surprised by what we told ye,” she said seriously. “I could see it in yer face. Ye looked as if ye were reliving the horror all over again. That caused me tae think that ye believed the Keith were responsible. That is what Drostan wanted everyone tae think, ye know. But my own brothers saw Lindsay men involved in the destruction of Careston.”
Lor’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before turning away. He went inside his cottage without a word, and hesitantly, Isabail followed.
Inside, the place was dark but for a few embers glowing in the hearth. There was a pallet on the floor, the blankets mussed. The cottage itself smelled old and damp, a chill seeping up through the floor. Lor took a stick, stirring the embers as Isabail stood by the door.
From the way he was acting, she knew she’d hit a nerve.
“Lor, I swear upon my mother’s grave that the Keith had nothing tae do with the burning of Careston,” she said quietly. “Drostan sent his men intae town dressed in our wool because he knew any survivors would think it was the Keith. He wants our lands; he wants everything we have. That is why we went tae the Ludus Caledonia—we knew we needed tae find someone who could help us resist the Lindsay. That is why ye’re here. Now, I’ll ask ye again—did ye believe the Keith responsible for the destruction of Careston?”
He continued to stir the embers, bringing about a brighter blaze, and a soft golden glow filled the cottage. He set the stick aside and sat on the messy woolen blankets.
“It isna that I canna sleep,” he finally muttered, avoiding the question. “It is that I’m afraid tae. Last night, ye saw why. I used tae dream about the destruction of Careston in the beginning, but time at the Cal saw those nightmares go away. Last night, they came back. I’m afraid tae close my eyes again.”
Isabail could hear such vulnerability in his tone, something that tugged at her heart. “Will ye tell me everything?” she pleaded softly. “I want tae know. I want tae help if I can.”
He shook his head. “Ye canna help,” he said. “No one can help. I wasna in Careston when the raid began. I only came afterward. I ran tae the cottage I shared with my grandfather, but it was destroyed and there was no sign of him.”
Isabail could feel his pain. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
But he wasn’t finished, speaking as if unable to stop himself. “He was the man who raised me, who meant the world tae me,” he said. “I searched for two days, but I never found any trace of him. I knew I had tae punish the men who had destroyed my village. They took everything away from me, and I couldna let it go unanswered.”
“So ye went tae the Ludus Caledonia?”
He nodded. “I did,” he said, turning to look at her. “That day in the Vale of Demons when ye ambushed me, ye told me of the place and I remembered it. I dunna know why I should remember something from so long ago, but I did. Ye told me that is where the greatest warriors learn tae fight.”
“But how did ye find it? ’Ti
s not an easy place tae find.”
He snorted ironically. “After I searched for my grandfather, I went tae Kirkburn Castle for help. I wanted Drostan tae do something tae punish the Keith, and he told me that he would. I brought up the Cal and how I wanted tae learn tae fight so I could avenge my grandfather, and Drostan told me I should go. He’s the one who told me how tae find the place.”
Isabail was listening with a great deal of distress. “Then Drostan led ye tae believe it was the Keith, too.”
“He did. He encouraged me tae avenge my village, and now I understand why.”
“Why?”
“Because I would come back and attack the Keith. I would become his weapon and do exactly what he meant I should.”
Isabail looked at him for a very long time. There was something in that statement that had her attention, and as she mulled it over, she began to realize just what it was.
He was telling her of his true motivation.
“And is that what ye intended tae do?”
“Aye.”
“That’s why ye accepted my da’s offer.”
“Aye.”
He didn’t hesitate in his replies, but the words cut her to the bone. There was betrayal there.
“Ye told me ye loved me,” she said painfully. “Did ye tell me that tae get close tae me, knowing it would bring ye closer tae yer vengeance?”
He looked at her, his expression full of turmoil. “I told ye I loved ye because I do,” he muttered. “I’ve loved ye since before Careston was burned. I think I loved ye when ye first demanded birds’ eggs from me. But I loved my grandfather, too. Don’t ye see, Isabail? I swore tae destroy the Keith before I knew ye were a Keith. When ye finally told me, I had tae decide if my need for vengeance was stronger than my love for ye. It’s been killing me ever since.”
Now Isabail realized what had turned him into a sullen, moody brute. She could see it plainly. Lor was being torn apart from the inside.
Now it was tearing her apart, too.
“Is it?” she asked as tears stung her eyes. “Is yer love for me stronger than yer sense of vengeance?”
“I dunna know,” he said honestly. “Until today when we arrived in Auchnacree, I truly dinna know. Until today, I was going tae do all I could tae see yer clan punished for what they did tae my grandfather. But now…now, everything yer father said makes sense.”
“Do ye truly believe him?”
“I do.”
“Then what do ye intend tae do?”
He looked at her, seeing how upset she was. “Nothing,” he said simply. “It seems I’ve been misled.”
Isabail wanted to believe him, but she was still shaken by the fact that he’d come into this agreement with ulterior motives. “Are ye telling me what I want tae hear, or is it true?”
“It is true, Isabail,” he said sincerely. “I have been wrestling with the fact that I intended tae destroy everything ye loved and hoped that when it was over, ye could understand why. But I suppose that deep down, I was resigned tae losing ye forever. But a man has tae do what he feels is right, even at the risk of a love he would never find again, not with anyone. I suppose what I’m saying is that I was wrong. I was hating the wrong people.”
Isabail could see his honesty. Perhaps he’d kept a horrible secret from her, but when confronted, he’d confessed without hesitation. He could have lied to her, but he didn’t. That spoke well for the man’s character. Beneath the torment and vengeance, he was still her Lor.
She still had faith in him.
“I believe ye,” she whispered.
“I’ll work hard for ye, I swear it. And I do love ye. More than ye know.”
She believed him. Foolishly, perhaps, but she did. She was willing to believe in that sweet, gentle smithy before grief had poisoned him.
“I willna tell my da about yer motives,” she said. “But ye had better mean what ye say or I swear, I’ll kill ye myself before I let ye destroy my people.”
“I know. But ye dunna have tae worry.”
The rules were established. The trust had not been broken between them, but perhaps in some odd way it was strengthened and the love they felt for each other had deepened. He’d been truthful with her, in everything, and Isabail understood the turmoil he’d tried so hard to deal with alone.
But he wasn’t alone any longer.
Neither was she.
As Isabail watched, Lor stood up from his bed and made his way to her. She found herself gazing up into his face as he reached up, touching her hair, her face, running a hand down her arm until he came to the bracelet he’d made for her. It had become a part of her, just as he was. Lifting her arm, he kissed the bracelet.
“Thu fhèin,” he whispered. “Only ye, Is.”
The sweetest words Isabail had ever heard.
Lor’s lips slanted over her soft mouth in an excruciatingly delicious kiss. Somewhere in the process, his powerful arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against him. He ended up squeezing her so hard that she grunted as he forced the air out of her lungs.
Isabail responded with abandon.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, nearly pulling him over. After he regained his balance, he lifted her and carried her over to his mussed pallet. He went down on his knees, taking her with him.
Isabail was dressed in a cloak, a tunic, and braies, but the cloak came off and was tossed onto the ground. That left the tunic and braies, and Lor’s hands were cupping her head, holding her mouth to his while he worked her over savagely. As she surrendered to him, his arms went around her again and he lay her upon the bed, covering her with his powerful form.
Isabail closed her eyes, savoring the sensations. His mouth moved to her collarbone, and the ties at the top of her tunic were loosened. Isabail could feel him fumbling with them, and she moved to help him, eager for the man to touch her again. When he pulled the tunic free, exposing her nude form beneath, his mouth clamped down on a tender nipple.
He feasted.
Isabail gave herself over to him completely. The man was suckling on her breasts, dragging his tongue over them. She put her hands up, running her fingers over the dampness on her flesh, gingerly touching a nipple only to realize it was completely wet from his mouth. It was wicked and wanton. She let him do as he wished as he removed her from her braies and then removed his own clothing.
Heated flesh against heated flesh had Isabail going wild with need. Her hands moved down the man’s body, his naked buttocks, and she parted her legs to accommodate his bulk. Her body was quivering with desire and he thrust into her warm, wet folds, filling her as only he was capable of doing.
Isabail wrapped her legs around him, holding him tightly against her, as he began to move.
The primal mating call was strong between them. Isabail was aggressive in all aspects of her life, and this was to be no exception. She was so very new to this, but she knew what she liked, what made her feel good, and in the heat of their lovemaking, Lor ended up on his back with Isabail on top of him, straddling his pelvis. She was awkward as she impaled herself upon him, but she was led by her overwhelming desire for the man. The more she rolled her pelvis against his, the more adept she became.
The better it felt.
Isabail reached her release quickly that way with Lor taking his pleasure alongside her. Spent and exhausted, she collapsed on top of him as his hands gently stroked her, telling her more than words ever could how much he loved her. All the tumult and deceit, honesty and pain, had given her the answer to her question.
He did love her more than he needed vengeance.
There was no doubt in her mind.
As much as Isabail wanted to remain with him all night, she knew she could not. She stayed as long as she dared, acquainting herself with the man’s naked body as he acquainted himself with hers, but their interlude was forced to co
me to an end.
With great reluctance, Isabail dressed, with Lor helping or not helping her, touching her flesh as she struggled to don her braies and tunic. At one point, he had his hands between her legs, stroking her as he suckled gently on her neck, and Isabail experienced a powerful climax simply from the man’s touch. She’d never even known such a thing was possible.
But then again, tonight had opened her eyes to a great many things.
“It seems ye’ve bedded me twice, my bonny lad,” she said, her arms wound up around his head. “Must we keep meeting in secret like this, or will ye finally speak tae my father?”
His forehead was against hers, feeling her long body up against his torso. “I’ll speak with him very soon,” he said. “I promise ye that. I dunna want tae keep meeting in secret because if yer father catches us, it would go badly for me.”
“He would simply force ye tae marry me.”
“It would take no force at all for me tae do that.”
Isabail grinned, hoping this meant he was going to speak to Niall sooner rather than later. With a final kiss, she quit the cottage and headed back to her family’s home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lor was awakened by pounding on his cottage door.
He was up before he even realized he was awake, wiping his eyes of sleep as he staggered to the door. Throwing the old iron bolt, he yanked the panel open to find Ewan and Ossian standing there.
“Are ye still asleep?” Ewan appeared genuinely perplexed. “Get up, man. We’ve much tae do today.”
They pushed into the cottage, and Lor found himself buffeted between the pair. Ewan bent down to stir the nearly dead embers in the hearth and throw on some peat, while Ossian reached down and began collecting the clothing from Lor’s meager possessions.
All the while, Lor stood in the doorway and watched.
Highland Gladiator Page 19
