Chapter Twenty-Seven

It was too good to be true.

The floral perfume pulled at Kaid, but he couldn’t tell if it came from a dream or reality. If it was a dream, he didn’t want to wake.

He pulled in a deep breath of Delilah and reveled in the scent of her.

Delilah.

A low groan slipped from his throat and was answered with a feminine sigh.

The warmth of a body wriggled against him. “I see you’re awake.” Delilah’s voice was low and throaty from sleep.

He opened his eyes and found her staring at him, her hair pouring over the pillow like a fountain of sunlit honey. “I have something worth waking up to,” he said.

Her lazy smile made his heart stir. “Are you glad to be home?” she asked.

“Aye.” He pulled her closer to him. “And I’m glad to have ye home with me.”

She arched her curvy body against him. Her skin was hot silk beneath his palms, and his cock went thick with desire. He kissed the smoothness of her naked shoulder before slowly easing his mouth to her nipple.

One day he would sketch her in his bed like this, beautiful and flushed with sweet longing. If he could ever stop himself from loving her long enough to pull out his book and charcoal.

A knock came at the door.

Delilah tensed slightly beneath him, but he spread both hands across her narrow waist to still her before letting his tongue deliver a slow and careful swipe over her breast. Someone was at his door, but he had no intention of—

The knock came again. Harder this time.

Kaid eased away from Delilah and ground his teeth in irritation.

“If you’d like my continued help…” Sylvi’s voice came from the other side of the door. “It would be in your best interest to assist us in calming down your newest guest.”

She was sly, that one.

She knew Delilah was with him, she had to—and yet she did not state as much. Sylvi also did not mention Torra by name.

If nothing else, the hard-faced lass knew discretion.

Kaid bowed his head over Delilah and pressed a kiss to her stomach. “Aye,” he said in a voice loud enough to pierce the wooden door. “I’ll be along shortly.”

The sound of her heavy boots thumped away from the door. Kaid gave a regretful sigh before he and Delilah rose from the bed to quickly wash and dress.

It was not easy to avoid the servants as they made their way to Torra’s chamber, but they were able to keep Delilah’s presence a secret.

His people could know of his arrival and Sylvi’s since she’d been invited to meet his people as an old friend of Kaid’s. But Delilah and Torra must remain a secret, as well as Percy, who insisted on staying hidden.

Later he would tell his people about Delilah and their deception against MacKenzie, of course, but not until he was ready. And it would be Torra who would determine as much.

When he and Delilah slipped into Torra’s chamber, they found Percy kneeling beside the bed and stroking Torra’s hair. The madwoman sat in the large bed with her legs tucked against her torso and her arms crossed tightly over her shins.

Percy gave Delilah a worried glance and moved away from Torra for Kaid to approach.

The MacKenzie heir did not react when Kaid stopped beside the bed. She continued to shake her head repeatedly. “Shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here,” she mumbled over and over again.

“Lady MacKenzie.” Kaid said her name in the same voice he used for his men while training.

The muttering stopped and she looked up sharply. The skin under her eyes was bruised from exhaustion, and the wrinkles on her brow and around her lips were more pronounced.

“I’m Kaid MacLeod of Sutherland, laird of the Clan MacLeod. Do ye remember me?”

She nodded.

He knelt beside the mattress. “I’m the rightful laird here, just as ye’re rightful laird of the MacKenzies.”

She swallowed and shook her head. “Ye canna say that. I canna be here.” A tear tracked down her face, leaving a wet trail in its wake. “I dinna belong here.”

“Where do ye belong?” he asked.

She squeezed her arms more tightly against herself. “In the dungeon,” she whispered. “Where no one can see me.”

“Ye’re a laird,” Kaid said. “Ye dinna belong in a dungeon. Ye belong on the seat of authority and leading the MacKenzies.”

Torra looked down at the tangled bedsheets and shook her head. “I canna.”

“Why?” Kaid asked.

“Because they’ll kill me.” She was staring off at something she couldn’t see.

The tinkling of bottles clinking against one another sounded behind him, followed by the moist grassy scent of steeping herbs.

“Ye have protection, Torra,” he said.

She looked up at him, and again he was struck by how much older she appeared than himself when it was rumored they were the same age. Thick threads of white shone in her red hair.

“Ye have me and all of the MacLeod clan,” he said. “Yer brother has been tormenting my people and yer people for years. They all will gladly protect ye and stand against him.”

She shook her head. “Not my brother. His mother was here when she died, before she could marry Father.”

“So yer half brother.” Kaid’s heart thumped faster with her confirmation of the rumors. “And a bastard.”

“If ye call him that, they’ll beat ye. Kill ye.” She shook her head vigorously. “Beat ye and kill ye. Beat ye and kill ye.”

Kaid put a hand up to stop her. “Is that what happened to most of yer clan? Did he kill all his own people?”

Torra stopped chanting, lowered her face to her knees where her legs were tucked against her and loosed a low sob. Kaid’s stomach dropped. Surely MacKenzie did not kill off his own people? What would be the point of being a laird with no one to rule?

“Help me,” Kaid said. “Take back yer people. Be their laird. They need ye even more than my people need an alliance with ye.”

Torra shook her head and her hair fell around her like a red curtain, blocking her from his view. “I canna help ye.” She curled her hand in a fist. “I canna help ye,” she repeated with finality.

Kaid stared down at her, incredulous. Surely she could understand the logic of what he said and realize she would be protected.

She was his only chance at peace with the MacKenzies.

“Lady MacKenzie,” he said.

She did not look at him.

“Torra.” He spoke in a firmer tone this time.

She was unresponsive.

Not crying, not speaking—only staring into the space of nothing in front of her, all while Kaid’s chance for peace slipped away with the shreds of the woman’s remaining sanity.

• • •

Kaid had lost his patience.

Delilah watched him carefully and could almost pinpoint the exact moment when it slipped away.

Torra was difficult to manage, she would give him that.

“Torra, what did you think of the dungeon?” Delilah asked. She slowly walked toward the other woman and sat on the bed beside her.

Kaid regarded them for a moment before standing and pacing the room.

Torra pursed her lips.

“It was very cold in there,” Delilah said, small bumps prickling her flesh. The memory of the dank dungeon was far too fresh in her own mind.

“Aye,” Torra said. “And dirty.”

“Yes,” Delilah agreed. “Very dirty. But you aren’t cold here, nor are you dirty.”

She took Torra’s hand. Torra did not jerk her arm free, but instead kept her gaze fastened to where Delilah examined her clean fingers.

“You were treated like a prisoner in your own home when you were little more than a lass. They say you were down there for almost fifteen years. Is that true?” Delilah said in a quiet voice. Something caught in her throat.

Torra seemed to consider this a moment before finally nodding. “I was sixteen. Father had just died.”

“But you’re not in the dungeon now, Torra.” Delilah folded her hand around the other woman’s. Her palms were clammy and cold. “You’re free.”

“I’m in another room,” Torra said. “Not a dungeon, but not free.”

Delilah’s stomach clenched. The woman was right. “Then you can leave whenever you like.”

Perhaps Delilah imagined it, but she swore she actually felt the weight of Kaid’s gaze against her back. True, what she said was risky, but making Torra feel as though she’d gone from one prison to another would not do.

“I can leave?” The hope in Torra’s voice shot deep into Delilah’s heart.

She nodded anyway.

Torra looked around the large chamber, her eyes bright with the prospect, and then she seemed to shrink into herself like a flower withering. But Delilah understood. Torra had nowhere to go.

“Or you could stay here, as a guest,” Delilah offered. She knew she was speaking for Kaid and hoped he would not mind. Because truly there was more to this than convincing Torra. This was also about helping to heal another of those who MacKenzie had broken. “Whether you decide to take back your inheritance or not, we are your friends.”

Torra watched her with a large, sorrowful expression, and again Delilah was reminded of a dog who had suffered a hard life from a cruel master. Torra wanted to trust. She wanted to be loved.

And the desperate ferocity of her look made Delilah’s heart squeeze with the evidence of such sad hope.

She rose and pulled gently at Torra’s hand, which had grown warmer against her own. “Please, come with me.”

Torra hesitated before unfolding herself from her balled-up position and allowing herself to be led to the window. Delilah unclasped the shutters and pulled them open.

The summer air pushed in, fresh and cool, and brought with it the sweet scent of pastries from the market below.

Torra closed her eyes and leaned her face toward the crisp breeze. Her chest expanded with the force of her inhale and she smiled.

“Let me show you freedom.” Delilah motioned to the window, encouraging Torra toward it. She complied in slow, shuffling footsteps, her eyes still closed in appreciation.

Delilah glanced toward the rear of the room where Percy was adding drops to a steaming mug. Kaid was facing Delilah, watching her with a light expression on his face. There was something about the casual half-grin, the way he had made himself comfortable leaning against the wall, which made her heart swell with what she saw there.

He was proud of her.

Heat fluttered low in her stomach and blossomed over her chest and cheeks. But she was not yet done.

“Open your eyes,” she said.

Torra obeyed and looked at the castle and its many guards below, with the village beyond and all the people who bustled at the thriving market. Even further were the swells of craggy hills, all velvety grass with jagged gray stone peeking through.

“This is freedom,” Delilah said.

Torra’s gaze moved slowly as she regarded the scene below, taking it all in—the beauty, the vivacity of it all. Her eyes went glassy with unshed tears and the tip of her nose reddened.

“This is freedom,” she repeated in a voice thick with emotion.

“This is how Edirdovar should be too,” Delilah said gently. “You can bring this back to your people if you desire.”

Torra did not turn from the scene. “It’s dangerous.”

“We would be at your side.” Delilah squeezed the woman’s hand. “You need only think about it. You are free regardless of what you choose. And you have our friendship and protection always.”

A tear crawled down Torra’s cheek, but she did not swipe it away.

Delilah backed away from Torra, leaving the other woman to witness the extent of her freedom. When Delilah crossed the room and slipped from the door with Kaid, Torra still had not moved from her place at the window.

No servants appeared in the hall near Delilah, but she eased herself against the wall and in the shadows at the same time Kaid shifted to stand protectively in front of her.

She knew she couldn’t be seen, not before Kaid was ready to announce the plan. And first they’d need Torra’s compliance. Hopefully it would come soon, not only through their efforts to convince Torra of her rightful place, but also through the tea Percy concocted.

Based on what Percy stated, she’d found a combination of extracts and herbs to aid in bringing Torra’s wits together. It sounded an impossible task, to be sure. But then, Percy was a woman who made miracles happen on a daily basis.

Footsteps sounded nearby and Kaid nudged Delilah back into one of the darkened alcoves. While Delilah didn’t want to be caught, she was very much enjoying the press of Kaid’s body against hers. Their eyes met and they shared a secret smile.

“Ye were amazing in there, Delilah.” The quiet intimacy of his voice sent warm ripples of desire through her. “I dinna know how ye do it, how ye’re so patient and ye know exactly the right thing to say. I dinna know what I’d do without ye.”

She flushed at his praise.

Sylvi was wrong to offer such a silly warning against Kaid. The more he touched Delilah, and kissed her, and loved her, the more she knew his affection to be true.

“We shouldn’t linger,” Delilah whispered.

“We should go somewhere no one will find ye.” He grinned. “Like my chamber.”

The blatant suggestion in his voice turned those delicious ripples of pleasure into excited prickles of anticipation.

The footsteps turned the opposite direction, away from them. He caught her hand and pulled her out of the alcove. Together they made their way down the hall, and were almost to Kaid’s chamber when a little voice stopped them mid-step.

“Elizabeth?” it whispered in wonder. “Elizabeth!” This time the shout was high-pitched and desperate.

Delilah swung toward the cry, and her heart nearly burst from her chest with delight at the girl running toward her with arms outstretched.

Claire.