Thirteen

“Where’s Caitlin?”

Panic fought with Darach’s innate self-discipline. On the one hand, a precise plan had formed the moment Lachlan had said Fraser was here; on the other hand, he just wanted to grab Caitlin and lock her in her room despite how she might feel.

“She’s downstairs with Fergus,” Lachlan said. “Doona worry. The portcullis is locked and Oslow has Fraser, MacInnes, and their men under guard. I rode ahead. They should arrive shortly.”

Caitlin’s laughing voice drifted up from the bailey, and he moved to the window to look out. The dogs trailed her, and she had Fergus, who carried a kitten, by the hand as she headed toward the kitchen. Two more of the kittens darted in front of them; a third sat atop the well.

Darach couldn’t help smiling. The Lady’s Guard.

He quickly dressed and went to his solar, sitting behind his desk. Lachlan followed and sat in the chair across from him.

“Will you write the lads and Gregor—ask them to come?” he asked.

“Aye.” Darach pulled out his quill to request aid from his foster father and Darach’s three remaining foster brothers, Kerr, Gavin, and Callum. They would support him in this conflict.

“I think Kerr is at Gavin’s, trying to woo Isobel,” Lachlan said, grinning. “She’s running him a merry chase. And Gregor is visiting Callum, helping him ferret out the traitor in Callum’s clan. ’Tis fortunate they can travel in pairs.”

Darach finished the first letter and sprinkled it with sand to set the ink. “What was the name of the King’s man with Fraser?”

“Birk Anderson. A Lowlander.”

“How does he know Fraser?”

“According to your man inside, he was on business for the King and took shelter with them during the storm.”

Darach tapped the quill against his lip. On the surface, the men were here for Caitlin. The uncle’s involvement was a testament to that. No way in hell would they get her. The question was: Why had Fraser involved the King? Was it simply to force Darach’s hand, or was it more complicated than that?

“And we doona know the man’s business in the Highlands?”

“Nay.”

He returned his attention to the letters but listened for any screams from the bailey. He’d just finished the third letter when he heard feet running up the stairs and down the corridor. The door burst open, and Caitlin stood there, hair streaming down her back, cheeks flushed. She was so beautiful his heart hurt.

“Why are you out of bed?” she asked.

Darach paused. Should he tell her Fraser would soon arrive with her uncle? Nay. Not yet. She’d most likely do something foolish. “Doona fash, Caitlin. I’m well.”

Moving forward, she felt his brow. He wrapped his arm around her hips, and his anxiety lessened.

She removed her hand, apparently satisfied he wasn’t feverish, and smiled at Lachlan. “Edina said you may have seen Cloud. I want to fetch him.”

“Nay!” Lachlan and Darach said together. Darach tightened his arm around her as if she would be kidnapped at any moment.

She stiffened. “But he willna come for anyone else. ’Tis my fault he’s out there alone. I need to bring him home.”

“Not now,” Darach said. “’Tis best you stay in the keep.”

“Why?”

“Must I give you a reason? Canna you do as I ask just this once?” he snapped, instantly regretting his tone.

Her eyes widened with hurt, and he felt that familiar twisting in his gut. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” He searched for some excuse to give her.

Lachlan sighed. “Tell her. She’s bound to find out soon enough.”

“Tell me what?” Then the color drained from her face. “Has Cloud died?”

Darach squeezed her waist. “Nay. By all accounts he’s alive and well.”

“Then, I’d like to see him. ’Tis a beautiful day. Let’s all go together.”

Lachlan rose from the chair and stood behind it. “I would love to, but Darach needs to speak to you first. Come sit down.”

She hesitated, glancing at them warily, then sat in Lachlan’s seat and folded her hands in her lap. A strange expression crossed her face—sad but, at the same time, resolved. “Are you sending me back, then?”

Darach’s brow rose. She still didn’t trust him. How many times did he have to tell her he would protect her before she believed him? It was an insult she thought so little of his vow and his feelings for her. He may not have professed his love, but he’d said he cared for her. Did that mean naught?

“You. Are. Not. Going. Back.” He had to grind his teeth to remain calm.

Her gaze met his before she stared down at her hands, where she’d twisted her fingers together. “You doona have all the facts, Darach. You made a vow to me based on half-truths. If you break that vow, I’ll understand.”

Half-truths? She sounded so serious his heart began to race. Suddenly he dreaded what she was going to say. The Caitlin he knew was innocent of any wrongdoing…other than digging up his bailey, of course. And running away in the middle of a storm. And approaching Cloud when he’d told her not to. Well, she may not be innocent, but her heart was pure.

When she sat up, shoulders back and chin raised, a shiver ran down his spine.

“I ne’er had amnesia,” she blurted out. “I lied because…because…if you knew the truth, you might return me to my clan, and I doona e’er want to go back. You see, my uncle used me to…to—”

A knock at the door interrupted her. The quill snapped in Darach’s hand as his breath caught. Truth be told, a part of him didn’t want to know Caitlin’s secret, and the intrusion was welcome.

“Enter,” he said.

The door opened to reveal Oslow, his eyes fierce. “They’re here.”

Caitlin glanced at him then back to Darach. “Who’s here?”

When he failed to answer, she asked again, voice shaking. “Darach, please tell me, who’s here?”

He stared at her, and every feature of her face burned into his mind—big, blue eyes, fair skin, rosy lips. His nerves settled, and the panic faded away. He needn’t worry. She was safe with him in his castle. His clan supported him, his foster father and brothers supported him, and the King would support him once he knew the truth.

If not, they would go to war. Caitlin belonged to him.

“Fraser, your uncle, and a representative of the King. They want you back. We will disabuse them of that notion.”

* * *

For what seemed like the hundredth time in the last hour, Caitlin paced from her window to the door, then back again. In the eyes of the law, she was a commodity that had been stolen. Fraser and her uncle were here to claim her like a disputed pig, and Darach would have no choice but to return her.

What would they do to her if they got her back?

Her knees weakened, and she grabbed the shutter for support. First, they’d lock her up, after she’d sworn never to be so confined again.

And it would mean physical and emotional harm and degradation. But worse, it would mean a lifetime without Darach or the rest of the MacKenzies. No cherished home or husband. No beloved friends or pets. How could she live, knowing happiness was only a few days’ ride away? Surely God wasn’t so cruel.

Nay, He was not. He’d sent her an angel. A human savior who’d vowed to protect her. Darach was a strong laird of a powerful clan. He cared about her, had come after her when she’d fallen into the river, and claimed she would never go back to her uncle or Fraser. She’d have to trust him to keep his word.

Aye, of course he’d keep his word if he could, but he didn’t know the whole story. She hadn’t had time to tell him the facts before they’d been interrupted and a mountain of fear and panic had consumed her.

Darach had taken one look at her and strode around the desk to squeeze her tight. “I’d no more give you to Fraser than I would my own mother.”

Then he’d passed her to Oslow with instructions to lock her in her bedchamber—if she agreed—and place a strong guard in front of the door. When she’d peered over her shoulder, he was busy with Lachlan at his desk, focused and remote. He’d forgotten her already. No teary goodbye, no passionate kiss, no heartfelt declaration of his intentions. He’d soon be faced with the facts of her situation and see it was impossible to keep her.

She went to the bedchamber door again and tried the handle. Locked. Oslow had instructed her to bar the door from the inside, then proceeded to lock it from the outside with her consent. She supposed it was for her own safety, but she’d spent three years at her uncle’s keep under guard, and it brought back bad memories.

Why hadn’t she told Darach earlier? She’d been with the MacKenzies for nearly a month. Why hadn’t she told him everything when he’d first asked? Now he was faced with discovering her secret from his enemy, who was sure to twist everything. Maybe even claim things that weren’t true. Darach would be ambushed and humiliated in front of his clan because she hadn’t trusted him.

She groaned and fell face-first onto the bed. There was no way she could get out of this one. If Darach couldn’t save her, no one could.

* * *

Darach sat in a large, intricately carved chair on the dais where the high table usually stood, waiting for Fraser and the others to arrive. The tables and benches were stacked neatly in a corner and both hearths roared with fire. He had a moment of pride as he took in his surroundings. The keep was clean, bright, and fresh smelling, the surrounding castle a modern-day bastion of strength. Bright tapestries and jeweled weapons adorned the walls.

He seldom noticed the family treasures, but for today’s meeting, they were an important indication of the clan’s prosperity. As was the fine-smelling liquor in a golden, bejeweled goblet that sat on a table beside him. He wanted to impress Caitlin’s uncle and the King’s man with the MacKenzies’ physical strength and wealth. At the same time, he wanted to impress upon Fraser that the MacKenzies were undefeatable.

His warriors lined the walls of the hall and Lachlan and Oslow stood on the dais to either side of him. On the floor to his left, Hati and Skoll sat with their ears forward and eyes alert. Every once in a while, one of them would bark or growl low in his throat.

He noticed Lachlan eyeing the prized whisky made of malted barley and raised a brow, saying, “Maybe you should keep your mind on the task at hand rather than the uisge-beatha.”

“’Tis not my mind I want on the drink but my tongue and lips. God’s truth, that smells incredible. Where have you been hiding it?”

“In a place I knew you wouldnae look. The library.”

Lachlan snorted. “’Tis no wonder you enjoy reading so much.”

Darach smiled, then sighed. “’Twas my father’s, and his father’s before that. I intended to unseal it with my brothers-in-arms on the day of Fraser’s defeat. Now I wield it as a weapon for Caitlin.”

Lachlan shuddered. “’Tis regretful such a prize will be wasted on filth.”

“Aye.” Darach picked up the goblet and inhaled the rich aroma. His mouth watered. He took a sip, then passed it to Lachlan and Oslow for a taste. When it returned to Darach, he lifted it into the air. “To Fraser’s head on a stake, and Caitlin’s everlasting happiness.”

“Hear ye,” Lachlan and Oslow murmured together.

The door banged open and bright sunshine streamed in before several bodies blocked it. Two armed MacKenzies entered followed by Fraser—a dirty, mean-looking devil with beady eyes and greasy hair. With him were an older man who looked like a bloated pig and a tall, wind-swept man with clean, ginger-colored hair and a trimmed beard. He appeared to be Darach’s age, with bright eyes and a firm jaw.

Lachlan leaned toward Darach. “The last is the Lowlander, Birk Anderson. He sits his horse well and keeps a small but noticeable distance from the other two. The second man is obviously Caitlin’s uncle, Laird MacInnes. I doona see any resemblance, do you?”

Darach eyed the group. Sure enough, Anderson kept a space between himself and Fraser and MacInnes. The Lowlander stood well balanced on his feet as he discreetly scanned the room and the Mackenzies. Darach guessed he’d be good with a sword, but none of the men had been allowed to enter with a weapon.

Fraser watched Darach with a sneer on his face. He did naught but stare back stonily, hiding his fury toward Caitlin’s abuser. It disgusted him to have the rabid dog in his home. He’d become hunched, gray, and pitted in the eight years since Darach had hid in the secret passageway that led to Moire’s bedchamber and listened to her and Fraser talk freely about the treachery they had planned for the MacKenzies. He’d wanted to slice them open right there but had forced himself to think of Oslow, who’d been a wounded prisoner in the Fraser keep at the time.

By God’s grace, he’d managed to save Oslow and warn his clan of the impending Fraser attack. A month later, Moire had been dead by her brother’s hand. Most likely burning in Hell for her sins.

Soon, Darach would send Fraser to join her.

Turning to watch Laird MacInnes, Darach repressed the urge to pummel the man. Caitlin’s uncle gaped everywhere at once, jaw slack, eyes greedy. Darach tried to see past his revulsion and note any similarities between MacInnes and Caitlin, but there were none. The uncle was large, with dark features. His nose curved, hawk-like in his face, and his chin square. As well, his manner couldn’t have been further from that of his niece. Darach didn’t think Caitlin had ever noticed the jewels embedded in some of the weapons mounted on the walls. She’d been too concerned over the dogs, the kittens, and Fergus.

MacInnes was the biggest threat to her. Legally, he controlled her and had every right to demand her return. Morally, he was a degenerate bastard who Darach wanted to gut for hurting her and possibly killing her parents. Unfortunately, he needed the uncle on his side. If sleeping with the devil was the only way to keep Caitlin safe, he would do so. But maybe there was another way. MacInnes’s cruelty to his niece should not be rewarded.

Darach wondered again at the lack of familial resemblance between them. She’d said she took after her mother, but surely something of her father’s family would appear in her features.

When the group drew close enough to smell the liquor, he lifted the goblet, swirled the whisky, and took a sip. MacInnes eyed the uisge-beatha and licked his lips.

“I would offer you a drink and a meal, Laird MacInnes, and you, Master Anderson, but you enter my home with my enemy.”

“Well now, we’re just here to clear up a wee misunderstanding,” the uncle said, smiling as he gestured with open hands.

Darach forced himself to nod; it almost killed him to do so. Fraser wore a look of scorn that Darach wanted to knock off his face. Hard.

“My companions doona want your hospitality, MacKenzie. We came for that which you stole from me and for breaking the King’s peace. My man Anderson is here for that.”

“Your man?” Darach asked, allowing amusement to tinge his words. “Are you King now, Fraser?”

MacInnes guffawed and Darach wanted to turn his tongue and sword on him too. Instead, he shook his head. “The King said naught of allowing lasses to be beaten and drugged, of tying them belly-down over a horse like a sack of oats. Or maybe Miss MacInnes’s uncle knows naught of how you treated his niece? The lass nearly died from her injuries.”

MacInnes glanced sideways at Fraser, brow furrowed in false concern, then stepped away. It was obvious he wanted to disassociate himself from Fraser and ally with the MacKenzies after seeing their wealth.

“’Tis not your business how I treat my property,” Fraser said. “The lass disobeyed me. And I ne’er drugged her. ’Twas her uncle who did that.”

MacInnes looked startled and turned pleading eyes on Darach. “’Tis not how it seems. She was anxious, that’s all. The herb was meant to soothe her. Maybe I erred and gave her too much. It breaks my heart to think my dear Caitlin was so abused. I’m grateful you saved her.”

Fraser’s eyes bulged with fury. “He did not save her. He stole her. Took her off my land, along with the white stallion, and attacked me and my warriors.”

“We doona have the stallion,” Darach said calmly. “But if he’s caught on MacKenzie land, I will gladly keep him. For good.”

“You have no right. The stallion belongs to me. Caitlin MacInnes belongs to me.”

“’Tis a pity, then, that I have her.” Darach’s gaze shifted to Anderson. “Is it not right to help a damsel in distress? If you had seen her bruised face and held her feverish body as she fought for her life, you wouldnae condemn me. ’Tis what good men do.”

“Aye,” the Lowlander said, “but you shouldnae have been on Fraser’s land in the first place.”

“Then we wouldnae be here today, for Caitlin would be dead.” Darach picked up the bejeweled goblet, drank the uisge-beatha, then tossed the goblet at Fraser’s feet. “I will pay a fine for being caught on your land, but no more. Take it and leave. But be warned, ’tis the last time you will e’er leave MacKenzie soil alive.”

Fraser lunged at Darach. Anderson moved quickly and held him back.

“Nay, you will give her to me now,” the laird said. “By King and Christ, I demand my wife back!”