Chapter Two
The giant Highlander in front of Lillianna made her instantly wary. What was his plan? Did he think telling her he did not believe in the legend surrounding her would make her trust him? Or perhaps he thought offering to kill the king’s horrid guard Stephen would make her so grateful and him so heroic to her that she would fall in love with him.
She wanted to tell him that she had no use for a hero, or a man at all for that matter, but instead, she forced a smile and said, “It’s refreshing to meet a man intelligent enough not to put stock in a legend likely created by men who had imbibed too much mead.”
He gaped at her for a moment, making her think her bluntness had shocked him, but then he announced, “That’s exactly what I said, but I think it was by men who had imbibed too much while watching a lovely lass dance.”
“Mayhap,” Lillianna said and smiled tightly.
This was either the cleverest attempt to gain her trust she’d encountered in the past year—and there had been hundreds of attempts—or this man truly did not believe in the legend. But since she’d known him for the space of a breath, she refused to let down her guard and discover which it was. The legend was true, though, and she would proceed with him as she would any other man: as if he was a threat to her well-being. Men had attempted to gain her heart ever since she’d been sent to live with her uncle, and not because they wanted her for her. They had wanted her dormant seer abilities.
Men cared nothing for women but what control they could have over them. Her mother and her grandmother—God rest their souls—were stark examples of what happened to women who allowed themselves to fall in love. Both of them had been betrayed by the men who had claimed to love them, and both women had come to discover the men only wanted to use their powers. And Lillianna’s father and uncle, men who should have wanted to protect her, had only ever wanted to use her, too.
Ever since she was a child, her father had told her that her only worth lay in the way he could use her to punish her mother for losing both her powers and the Brooch of Lagothmier, and one day, when she would finally fall in love, that worth would lie in how he could tap into her powers. When she had proven too wise to fall in love, and he’d tried and failed to find the brooch, he’d sent her away in disgust.
In her mind she could still hear the last thing her father had said to her: I care not what happens to you. Your uncle can use you as he pleases. You have no value to me.
And her uncle had used her, indeed. He’d been willing to kill her when he, too, had failed to find the brooch and awaken her powers.
She caught her cousin’s gaze and raised her eyebrows questioningly, but when Elizabeth frowned in obvious confusion, Lillianna looked to the powerful, dark-haired, gray-eyed Scot before her. Then she touched her index finger to her heart briefly. It was her and Elizabeth’s secret code so she could inconspicuously ask Elizabeth if she thought a man was trying to use Lillianna. When Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she shook her head, Lillianna let out the breath she’d been holding. She had to travel with this man, and she wanted to trust him, as much as she dared to allow herself.
“I’ll see that devil swine Stephen punished for hitting ye,” the warrior said, his voice like the rumble of an impending storm.
His words interrupted her musings, and Lillianna eyed the imposing man before her. Why would he offer to risk himself for her if he did not believe in the legend? Elizabeth believed Bruce to be so very honorable, and she had vowed that this man, Bruce’s friend, was as well, yet Lillianna did not trust it. She’d be a fool if she did.
She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “I do not need your protection, nor do I want it. You will not gain my heart with feigned acts of gallantry.”
“Thank God for that,” he said, the amusement in his voice surprising her.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I dunnae want yer heart, lass.”
He said it in such a matter-of-fact tone that she almost believed him. She noticed Elizabeth and Lord Bruce gaping at her. “There is no such thing as the Brooch of Lagothmier,” she lied adamantly.
“Aye,” he said, arching his eyebrows at her. “I quite agree, despite what others claim the legend says.”
His mocking tone on the word legend truly made him seem believable, and it was suddenly rather irritating that he appeared to be making fun of her. She bit her lip at her ridiculousness. If his disbelief was real, she should rejoice. But if this man was attempting to seduce her, to try to make her fall in love with him so the seer powers within her would spark to life, it truly was the most cunning way to go about it. Despite herself, in her gut she wanted to believe him.
She didn’t know much about this man, except that he had very reluctantly agreed to take her to the safety of her mother’s family. And there was no time to discover more about Angus MacLorh, or Laird MacLorh, as Elizabeth had informed her before the men had arrived. They had to make haste, and whatever she learned of this Highlander, good or bad, would have to be discovered on their journey from England to Scotland.
A smirk settled on Angus’s face, and when he cocked his head and a thick lock of black hair fell over his right eye, her belly fluttered in a way that she didn’t care for at all. She’d seen women lose every bit of sense they possessed over a too-handsome face, and Angus MacLorh had such a face. She could never allow herself to be such a simpleton. She was not like other women. Love could never be part of her life, in spite of the lies she had told Elizabeth. It was easier to play the part of a young woman hopeful about love than to admit to her cousin that she feared it with every bit of her soul.
To fall in love meant risking doing so with the wrong man, one who wanted to use her and strip her of all control and freedom. It had happened to her mother. First, she had fallen in love with Laird Drumlan, who had turned out to only want her for her powers. She had escaped him but had lost the brooch to him in the process, only to be forced to wed Lillianna’s father, who’d been furious to discover after they’d wed that her powers were gone because her heart had been broken. Her mother’s life with her father had been horrific. No, Lillianna would trust no man more than she needed to in order to survive.
Yet she found herself unable to look away from Angus when he raised his arm to shove his hair back. His upper arm muscles, and those of his abdomen, rippled in a raw display of power with his easy movements. Her father, his knights, and her uncle used their weapons and titles to wield power, but this man would only need the strength of his body. The thought left her somewhat dry mouthed and in awe.
When he cleared his throat, her gaze flew from his stomach to his face. Heat infused her cheeks and neck as she realized he had been watching her scrutinize him. The tan skin around his piercing eyes crinkled momentarily with what appeared to be amusement, as if he was used to women staring at him, and his mouth curled up into the start of a smile. He pressed his lips together, banishing his mirth with what seemed purposeful will.
Feeling acutely self-conscious, she cleared her own throat. “If you are telling the truth about not believing in the legend, then I’m extremely glad,” she said. “That will make things much more pleasant between us.”
He surprised her with a hard look. Most men she had encountered since her identity had been revealed practically slobbered all over themselves to feign niceness at first. It usually took about a sennight before they showed their true selves—around the same time they realized she would not be losing her heart to them. Angus didn’t seem to be bothering to pretend at all, which truly was reassuring.
His eyes narrowed as her thoughts turned, and then he said, “I’m glad ye think so. In order to keep things pleasant, ye need to ken a few things.”
“Such as?” she asked, looking to Elizabeth and Lord Bruce and seeing them glance at each other.
Angus offered a tight smile. “Since I’m the man tasked with taking ye from England to Scotland, ye do, indeed, need my protection, so ye will do as I say or I will leave ye here for yer uncle to return ye to the dungeon.” His tone, as unbendable as steel, was that of a man used to being obeyed.
She tensed at the Scot’s words, at his reminder of the dungeon. It had been filled with beady-eyed, scuffling rats and the stench… She nearly gagged recalling the cell in which her uncle had imprisoned her below the castle. Though she had bathed repeatedly after being released last night, her skin still crawled from the filth, and when all was silent, she swore she heard the scuttle of rats on the floor. She could not go back there, and not simply because it was horrid, dark, and dank. She refused to be a pawn to manipulate her cousin—or for anyone to use, for that matter.
“Well?” Angus demanded, breaking into her thoughts. “Are ye going to obey my commands, or will I be leaving here without ye?”
The hopeful look he gave her, the one that wished she would be stubborn and therefore, left here, would have been off-putting to most, she suspected, but it filled her with relief. She recalled her mother speaking about the men in her clan with such awe and telling Lillianna how honorable and protective of women they had been. Honestly, Lillianna could not imagine such a man; yet there was a part of her deep within that wished to believe such a man existed. The mere thought was reckless given who she was and what falling in love would mean for her.
Lillianna drew herself up to her full height, shoving thoughts about honorable men away and focusing on the need to escape so she could live her life on her own terms. “I have no intention of staying here in my uncle’s grasp.”
“Then ye must agree to abide by my every directive,” he replied. “One false move and—”
“Angus,” Lord Bruce growled, but the Scot spared only a brief look for the man who would one day likely be his king. Angus speared her with his probing eyes once again.
She sucked in a sharp breath with a sudden realization. “You don’t trust me,” she said, hearing her surprised tone. Honestly, she was used to being the one to feel that way.
His gaze upon her was unflinching. “Trust must be earned,” he confirmed, cutting his eyes to Elizabeth for a moment. Lillianna felt herself gape. He did not trust her cousin, either!
“Whatever could you think?” she murmured. “That we are leading you astray?” She had been half joking, but when his lips pressed together and his nostrils flared, she knew that was exactly what he believed.
“I am not your enemy,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Ye are,” he shot back, “until ye prove otherwise. And if ye ever fail to abide by one of my wishes, I will leave ye and nae look back.”
Here was a situation unlike any she had ever encountered. This man distrusted her just as much as she distrusted him. It should have made her ecstatic. They could travel together and ignore each other. Yet she did not feel overly happy. She felt ridiculously hurt. She had lost more than sleep in the dungeon; it seemed she had lost her logic. She needed to recover it immediately. Having injured feelings over being judged duplicitous by a man who did not know her was irrational, and she was not an imprudent woman. Not to mention guilt was niggling in her. She had judged him, as well, and it was hard to deny in the face of his similar treatment.
She’d rather eat dirt than let the man know he’d managed to wound her heart in the few short minutes they’d known each other. It was supposed to be encased in iron! Plopping her hands on her hips, she said, “Perhaps it is I who will leave you in the woods if you prove too much of a hindrance to me.”
Elizabeth laughed beside Lord Bruce, and he chuckled. Angus frowned at her, but before he could offer a reply, Elizabeth tossed a priest’s frock at him. It was meant as a disguise so that he could safely ride into the woods to flee the castle with her and Elizabeth. No one would question her riding out with Elizabeth and a priest, but they would stop Angus.
“Put these on,” her cousin demanded.
Lillianna was vaguely aware that Elizabeth had turned her back to the men, and Lillianna meant to do the same but she could not seem to wrench her attention away from Angus. Everything about the man commanded notice. It wasn’t just his size, though his stature was impressive. He had his massive arms crossed over his wide chest as he stared at her. His powerful legs were spread in a wide, battle-ready stance, and the fingers of his right hand grazed the handle of his sword, as if he thought he might need to use it, while his left hand gripped the priest’s frock. But perhaps more than that, it was the tilt of his head, the slight cocksure curl of his lip, as if he were ready to refute any opposition to his command.
Suddenly, a very alarming, rather challenging, purely wolfish smile pulled the corners of his lips into a grin that could only be described as sinful. “If ye wish to watch me disrobe…” he said, slinging the priest’s frock over his shoulder and then hooking his index finger underneath the material of the braies that clung to his powerful hips. He arched his thick, dark eyebrows while tugging the material of his braies out just a bit. “I can oblige ye.”
She turned swiftly away, heat burning her cheeks, and quickly walked to where her cousin stood gawking at her. Lord Bruce moved past her toward Angus and growled, “Must ye be so antagonizing?”
“Aye,” the swine Angus replied, laughter clear in his voice. She did not hear any more of his response, as Elizabeth grabbed her by the hand and led her some feet away.
When they stood face-to-face, Lillianna said, “Can you believe he distrusts me? Us!” She could hear the incredulity in her own voice.
Elizabeth quirked up an eyebrow, and her blue eyes danced with merriment. “No more than you do him,” she chided. “As for his skepticism of me, honestly, I’m glad he’s so cautious. It heartens me to know Robert has such a careful man as a loyal warrior.”
“There is that benefit,” Lillianna agreed.
“And if my father or yours should come for you, Angus will protect you with his life.”
“Neither of them will come for me, and you know it. They deem me worthless without any active seer powers. Uncle Richard only took me in last year because he had hoped exposing my true identity would bring forth whoever has the brooch.” Lillianna bit her lip, her guilt threatening to expose itself. She had never told her cousin that she knew who possessed the brooch, or at least who had been in possession of it—Laird Drumlan. The necklace had been ripped straight from her mother’s neck when she had escaped the man.
She forced a shrug when Elizabeth gave her a pitying look. “You know as well as I do that your father would have seen his threat through to kill me if did he not think you were complying with his order to seduce Lord Bruce and gain information. As for my father…”
His voice and image were suddenly in her head.
He loomed over her as she stood before him shaking, a mere child of eight summers. He kneeled so that his face was a hairsbreadth from hers. The flush of anger stained his cheeks, and his eyes narrowed ominously upon her. “Don’t ever forget your place,” he hissed, grabbing her chin.
She tried to nod. Though his grip on her chin was painful, the fear of the pain to come made her overcome the terror of the moment.
“Your only worth lies in the gift of sight that will one day be awakened in you. Until then, I do not want to be bothered with you. That includes you trying to flee me to see your wretched mother.”
Her mother whimpered from the corner of the bedchamber in the isolated castle in which her father had imprisoned her. Lillianna darted her gaze to the corner, wanting one last glimpse of the mother she so rarely was permitted to see, but the glimpse she got made tears fill her eyes. Her mother’s face was battered. Her lip split. Her eyes swollen. Hatred filled Lillianna, and she brought her gaze back to her father, wishing it could wield the blow of a sword.
He smiled maliciously at her. “Every time you dare to defy me, dare to make me even realize you are alive, until the day I need your power, your mother will suffer. Do you understand?”
“Lillianna?” Elizabeth’s voice cut through the memory, and Lillianna started. Fear tingled across her spine, though she looked around and could see she was not at the castle where her mother had eventually died. “Lillianna, are you all right?”
“I will be,” she assured Elizabeth, determined to make it so.
“Oh, Lil,” Elizabeth said, hugging her.
Her cousin’s use of the moniker that Lillianna’s mother had given her stirred her restless memories once more.
“Ye’re safe now, Lil,” her mother said, pressing a shaky hand against Lillianna’s cheek. Lillianna swallowed as she looked down at her frail mother on her deathbed. “I convinced yer father I had a vision that ye would nae ever fall in love. He will nae try to use ye any longer since the brooch is lost. Ye’re safe.”
“Lillianna!” Elizabeth’s fraught cry was like ice-cold water being thrown in Lillianna’s face.
“Shh,” Lillianna hastened, seeing Lord Bruce and Angus glance their way. “It’s just memories. Memories cannot hurt me.”
Elizabeth gave her a disbelieving look. “We both know that’s not true,” she said quietly.
Lillianna sighed and linked her arm with her cousin’s. “No, it’s not. But let us pretend it is.”
“If ye two are done whispering, we need to make haste,” Angus boomed across the space that divided them.
Lillianna glanced at him to find him staring at her. His penetrating gray gaze felt as if it delved into the recesses of her mind, and she didn’t care for it one bit. He seemed to be the sort of man who could discover secrets one would rather not reveal. Even still as he was, he exuded power. It rolled off him almost like a hot wave of air to caress her from the distance.
As he strode toward them with Bruce by his side, a half smile curled Angus’s mouth. “How do I look?” he asked her, stopping in front of her.
“You are entirely too lean and too handsome to be a priest,” Lillianna blurted, disconcerted by the intensity of his gaze upon her.
When he gave her a suspicious look, as if her words hid some nefarious purpose, she had to swallow her laughter, and a little of her ever-present wariness slipped away. If he truly was just as suspicious of her as she was him, she could relax her guard a little, which would be a welcome respite. It was tedious always worrying about men’s intentions.
“Did ye just compliment me?” he asked.
“Not purposely,” she said, her amusement hitting her full force and causing her to smile.
His brows dipped together in a scowl as Elizabeth went to Robert, and the two of them walked toward the edge of the line of trees that marked the forest. Likely, they wished to speak in private. Angus’s size seemed to swallow up all the open space in the small area of the half circle of the garden in which she stood with him. “I dunnae ken what ye find amusing,” he said. “We’re about to embark on a deadly mission during which our lives will be in constant danger. Ye are a liability to me, and ye must take our situation seriously at all times.”
His words stung and infuriated her. She was heartily sick of being considered worthless. “I do,” she bit out, banishing all traces of her amusement. “Give me a weapon.”
“What for?” he demanded.
“So I will not be a liability,” she snapped.
He surprised her by whipping out a dagger from a holder on his hip and handing it to her. She gripped the hilt as he said, “I assume ye ken how to use a dagger.”
“I do,” she assured him as she took it.
“Who taught ye? Yer father?”
His question stilled her for a moment as the clamoring memories rattled in her head.
“I can hear you, Lillianna,” her father said loudly enough that the talking in the great hall ceased. She tensed in her seat at the back as her father stood. He slammed his goblet against the table. “You know I do not like to hear your voice!” he roared. “You sound like her! You sound like your ban-druidh mother!”
The people around Lillianna gasped. Heat consumed her face, neck, and chest. They thought her father was referring to the woman he supposedly bedded and got with child—and she was that child. Her father had spread the lie, so no one would know that Lillianna was a MacLeod descendant, like her mother. He wanted everyone to believe that Lillianna was the result of a liaison outside of marriage. Lillianna knew the truth. There had never been another woman. Lillianna was no bastard child, and her mother had most definitely not fled her father as he had led people to believe. Her father had sent her mother away to torture her and Lillianna. Her mother had wanted to flee him, of course, but she never would have left Lillianna.
“Lass?”
Lillianna blinked back to the moment at hand and the powerful Scot before her. She swallowed as their eyes locked. “I taught myself,” she replied. She had done so with the intention of one day escaping her father’s home, but then she had been sent away. Feeling as if Angus could see the truth in her head, she turned from him and searched for Elizabeth and Lord Bruce. They still stood near the woods in an embrace.
Suddenly, Angus’s heat enveloped her from behind. His body brushed her backside at the same moment his arm slid around her waist, and he handily relieved her of the dagger she held before she even knew what had occurred. His arm tightened around her like a band of steel, and he pulled her gently against him. He pressed his mouth close to her ear as he raised the dagger in front of her face. She was helpless to reach for it with her arms penned at her side. “Yer first lesson of the dagger is to nae ever lose it.”
With those words, he released her and spun her to face him. She gasped as his fingers caught her wrist. He raised her hand and set the hilt of the dagger in her palm. He positioned her fingers so that her index finger pressed against the hilt while her other fingers curled around it. “This is the most secure way to hold a dagger. Do ye ken?”
His fiery gaze locked on her, almost searing in its intensity. “Yes,” she whispered, her heart pounding.
An almost gentle look swept his face, and he nodded as if satisfied. “I will teach ye more, as we travel.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, touched. No one had ever offered to teach her anything.
He frowned and then shrugged. “Dunnae make too much of it, aye? I’d simply rather have ye able to protect yerself so I dunnae have to fash myself over ye every moment of the day.”
“Of course,” she automatically replied, sensing that he would anyway. She suspected that Angus MacLorh was instinctually protective, but for some reason, he did not want her to think so. There certainly was more to this man than the gruff Highlander he appeared to be.