Fourteen
Alex settled his sleeping wife on her bed, covered her, and then turned to go. Sleep was beckoning him, too. But as he pushed open Lena’s bedchamber door to depart, she cried out in her sleep. At the sound of her terror, he turned around sharply and went to her side. She thrashed on the bed, her eyes moving restlessly under her eyelids.
“Stop it. Stop it!” she demanded, tears leaking from her eyes and trickling down the sides of her face.
His heart twisted at the misery in her voice. Sitting beside her, he reached over to wake her, but when he placed his hand on her arm and said her name, she stilled immediately. She gave a ragged sigh and turned toward his hand, blindly reaching for it in her sleep and tugging it to her chest. She curled her arms around it and sighed once more before becoming perfectly still.
He stared at her, shocked, as her body soon found a rhythm of deep breathing and a peaceful look settled on her face. He did not know what was causing Lena’s nightmares, if it was the memory of Findlay or Hamish, or something else, but he knew Lena needed his presence here. He hated himself in that moment for his inability to give his wife everything she needed. He could not sleep the night with her, and he could not share the secrets of his past, nor could he share his assignment from King David. It was not only because he’d vowed he’d not disclose the latter but because the one thing he understood more deeply than anything was that his vow to Lena trumped every vow he’d ever given to another. If he could be sure she wouldn’t try to help, risking herself in the process, he would gladly tell her of the assignment. But he was worried she’d do exactly that.
He smiled down at his beautiful wife, her face illuminated by the moonlight. She had delicate bones and features, but a look of determination creased her brow even in sleep. She’d become strong in body and mind, and his love for her seemed to be growing at an astonishing pace. It was that all-consuming love that forced him to keep his assignment secret. He would protect her no matter what.
His eyes burned and vision blurred as he sat there, his body becoming heavy with weariness. He closed his eyes, then snapped them back open. Carefully, he tried to extract his hand from his wife’s clutches, but every time he attempted to do so, she cried out in distress. He sat there, trapped by his desire to give her what she needed and his knowledge that he was a threat to her if he succumbed to sleep. He couldn’t stay, yet he couldn’t go. His eyes slowly closed once more, and again, he snapped them open, his body jerking in response. But seconds later, his head lolled forward as sleep gripped him in its steely embrace.
“Ye’ll like it, lad,” Gillis hissed in his ear.
Alex spit in Gillis’s face, and the man immediately drove his fist into Alex’s nose. The crunch of bones vibrated in his ears, followed by pain that made him want to retch.
Gillis snarled and jerked Alex’s head up, causing his scalp to sting. Alex squinted at the man through almost-closed eyes. “I tire of these games. Bring me Thomas!” Gillis boomed to the guard Alex knew was standing just outside the door.
Alex had but to glance at Ginny still lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood before he found himself speaking. “Nay,” he said, hating his friend’s very existence in that moment, for if there were no Thomas, Alex would let Gillis kill him before he let the man break him. “Dunnae call for Thomas to be killed. I’ll like it,” Alex said, the words feeling as if they’d been ripped from his gut.
Gillis grinned and ran a hand down Alex’s cheek before he trailed it so low that Alex started to retch, his stomach heaving in spasms. He couldn’t do it! Thomas was going to die because of Alex’s selfishness. Just as he decided to kick out at Gillis, a loud commotion sounded at the door before it opened and Alex’s father walked into the dungeon.
Shame unlike anything Alex had ever experienced swept over him at the slack look of disbelief on his father’s face. Then relief as pure and sweet as the white snow filled him when vicious hatred twisted his father’s features. He drew his sword at the same moment he lunged for Gillis. The evil man never had a chance to move.
“Remove yer filthy hand from my son, or by God, I will cut it off and then slice ye to pieces bit by bit as I coo in yer ear how much I’m enjoying yer death.”
Gillis dropped his hand from Alex’s body a breath before Alex’s father swung his sword, cutting Alex’s binds. He staggered away from the pole to which he’d been tied, his knees almost buckling, but he locked them and drew himself to his full height.
“Father,” he started, desperate to explain what had happened and to be forgiven for his failure.
His father shook his head even as he struck Gillis on the temple, giving such a blow that the man swooned and fell to the floor. When he did, Alex’s father strode to the dungeon door and slammed it shut, then turned back to Alex.
“Are we going to kill him, Father?” Alex didn’t give a damn that the man was defenseless at the moment, nor that Alex would risk eternal damnation for killing another in this way. He could feel a dagger in his empty hand, and he could easily imagine plunging it into Gillis’s black heart for what he had done and still wanted to do.
“We kinnae kill him, but he will suffer. I vow it to ye.”
“But, Father—”
“I need the Steward’s support now,” his father interrupted. “I kinnae kill his brother without his consent, but if he dunnae give it, there are other ways to make a man atone for his actions.”
Anger roiled through Alex. He had to make his father understand the sort of grotesque man Gillis was. Alex had been spared the worst by his father’s arrival, but what of the other apprentices who would not be so lucky should Gillis not be banned from training them? And what of Ginny’s lost life?
“Gillis is evil, Father. He—”
“Dunnae ever speak of what has happened!” his father roared, the words lashing through Alex like sharp blades. “Ye will be laird, and this—” his father waved a hand at Gillis, Ginny, and even Alex “—shows weakness. Ye kinnae reveal weakness. Bury it. Behave as if it is nae there, even as ye dunnae ever forget it, so ye will nae ever allow yerself to be here again. Ask yerself nightly before sleep how ye could have prevented all that came to pass.”
“But what of Ginny?” Alex demanded, shamed and angry. “I kinnae simply wipe her from my memory as if she did nae exist. Ginny—”
“Alex!”
He jerked awake at the sound of Lena calling his name. Fear hit him hard as he turned to find his wife on her knees beside him, a concerned look on her face. “Did I hurt ye?” he asked, sweeping his gaze over her thin léine, her arms, legs, chest, and then to her face.
She shook her head. “Nay. Ye did nay hurt me, Alex. Ye woke me with cries of Thomas and Ginny in yer sleep.” Her probing eyes demanded answers, despite her not asking any questions.
The remnants of his dream—the shame and his father’s words—came to him as he slid off the bed to put distance between him and Lena. In the moment, he was no match for his wife’s will. He was weary, beaten down by the lack of sleep and the burdens of his past.
“Who is Thomas?” she asked softly.
He clenched his jaw on the memories.
After a long moment of silence, Lena sighed. “’Tis the second time ye have cried the name Ginny in yer sleep, too. Who is she to ye?” Lena set her hands on her hips. “Did ye love her? Do ye still?”
His own frustration exploded within him. He swung around to face Lena. “Ginny and Thomas are two people I failed inexcusably. Grievously.” The memories pounded at him with relentless blows. “I did nae love Ginny, but I cared for her. She was my friend. She was the first lass I had interest in, and her interest in me led to her death.” He heard himself bellowing, and he hated it, hated that he’d raised his voice to Lena. But she was pushing too hard, asking too much. “Ye are the only woman I have ever loved,” he growled, “but ye must cease asking me about my past!”
He saw the hurt flash across her face, and he could not take it. He stormed out of her bedchamber and went to his own, slamming his door with a resounding thud only to have it burst open directly after it had closed.
“Ye kinnae shut me out!” she yelled.
He turned to Lena. Her eyes blazed with anger and concern, and her hair framed her face in wild disarray. He wanted to bury himself within her, soaking up the comfort her body offered, but he knew well she’d not welcome his touch at the moment. He craved it anyway and found himself closing the distance between them, slipping his hand around her neck, and drawing her in for a kiss.
She pulled back, then stepped away, a scowl on her face. “I dunnae wish ye to kiss me.”
“Then depart,” he said, hearing the terseness of his tone. “I dunnae have words to give ye, only my need for ye.”
“Alex!” His name was a broken sob from her lips that made him flinch. “We kinnae grow close when ye hide so much from me. Ye will kill our love!” Tears trickled down her cheeks.
Her words hit like daggers, piercing his pride, his anger, his very soul. He was trapped in his own room, in his own skin, and he began to pace the length of his bedchamber to combat the feeling. “What do ye want from me?” he demanded, though he knew. God above, did he know! “Ye wish me to lay my soul bare for ye? Lay out all my failures and weaknesses so ye may sift through them? What ye find will nae please ye! It will drive ye away from me!”
“Alex, nay!” she cried. She tried to grasp his arm as he stalked back and forth, but he shrugged her off and kept moving. “Alex,” she said, her voice booming behind him. He turned to face her. “I laid my soul bare for ye.” Desperation and anger punctuated her words. “Ye did nae run from me and my failures. Why do ye believe I’d be different? Why do ye believe I’m nae strong enough to face what ye hide?”
What she said burrowed into his mind, making him doubt and hope at once, but he could not chance it. He shook his head, wanting to end this discussion. He needed distance to regain his composure and his calm. “Dunnae ask me to bare my soul when ye still hide things from me, too,” he flung out. “Ye want every morsel of my trust, but ye dunnae have enough in me to tell me what vexes ye, to come to me for advice.”
Her face turned white, and she gasped. “Ye read my letter to my brother!” Her accusatory tone offered no apologies for her own betrayal, which served to stoke his discontent to an inferno.
“Aye, I read yer letter,” he said. “’Tis my responsibility as laird to ken all that occurs in my clan. Ye did nae come to me with word of yer sister’s treachery. Ye went behind my back to reach out to yer brother.” He expected her to argue, to deny it, to say something that would further fuel his irritation with her and himself, but she simply stared at him, her pain and misery etched on her face. A choking anguish gripped him.
The silence between them grew heavy until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry,” she said, the apology simple yet genuine. “I should have told ye. I should have come to ye. Ye read it, so ye ken I told Iain that I dunnae believe ye’d ever join forces with the Steward. I dunnae believe ye capable of being a traitor.”
The truth burned the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it back. “I pray ye keep that faith in me,” he said. “Now please, Wife, leave me alone to sleep.”
Misery swept across her features, burning in her eyes and tugging her mouth into a frown. She circled her arms around her waist, looking frail and fragile, and making him certain that protecting her from the truth was the only way forward. “I’ll depart,” she whispered, “but ken this: Ye are building walls between us, Alex. Walls that will divide us and rip us apart, if nae physically, then in spirit.”
She left him, and the moment the door shut, he fell backward onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, thinking upon what she had said and his past. He feared she was correct in her assessment, yet he saw no other way to proceed.
Lena had waited as long as she was willing to for Alex to come to her to address things between them. It was nearing midafternoon, and still, he had not knocked on her bedchamber door. Clearly, he was not going to. She moved to her window, in need of fresh air to clear her head. Pushing back the drape, she glanced into the courtyard and blinked in surprise at the bustle of activity below, as well as who she saw gathered there. Marsaili was standing by a horse, holding its reins, and beside her was Munroe MacLean, who seemed to be tying satchels to his horse. Then he turned and tied one to Marsaili’s horse.
A terrible suspicion sank into the pit of Lena’s stomach. Dear God above! Was Alex going to the Steward and taking Marsaili with him? Had Marsaili been correct that Alex was planning to betray King David? She couldn’t believe it. She refused to believe it! She was going to find her husband, confront him, and learn the truth of the matter once and for all.
She stormed away from the window, out of her bedchamber, and down the stairs, but as she strode toward the castle door, Marsaili came through it. Her sister’s eyes widened when she looked at her. Anger coiled inside Lena. She marched up to Marsaili and pointed a finger at her. “Ye!” she hissed. “Ye are my sister! I’m supposed to be able to trust ye! I—”
“Ye can trust me!” Marsaili interrupted. “I was coming to tell ye what has occurred. Just this instant was the first I was able to slip away since yer husband summoned me this morning.”
Lena felt a bit of her anger dissipate. She grabbed Marsaili by the arm and dragged her out of the doorway and into the empty great hall. She shut the door behind them. “Tell me,” she commanded. “Why did Alex call for ye?”
“It is as I thought,” Marsaili said, her face pinching with regret. “Alex means to join forces with the Steward, and he intends to take me with him to the Stewart hold.”
“Nay,” Lena said, incredulous. She felt as if a hand were squeezing her heart.
“I’m sorry, Lena,” Marsaili said, stepping toward her.
Lena scrambled away. She did not want comfort right now. She wanted answers from her husband’s lips. And she planned to get them. “Tell me exactly what he said to ye.”
Marsaili nodded. “He informed me that he kenned of my betrayal, my son, and what my da is doing. And he said that he would help me learn where my son was being held, but that I must help him first.”
Lena tried to quell the furious beat of her heart, but it was impossible. “Did he say how ye should help him?”
“Aye.” An uneasy look crossed Marsaili’s face. “He said I needed to accompany him to the Steward and make it clearly known that Alex was forced to marry ye and that he and the king had a terrible fight over it.”
Through the roaring din of disbelief, Lena heard herself ask, “Do ye ken where he is?”
“Lena, I’m sorry!” Marsaili wailed. “I did nae wish to be correct about him, and I dunnae want to accompany him, but I must find my son.”
“Please,” Lena said, struggling to contain her mounting anger. “Just tell me where he is. I wish to speak with him.”
“I believe he’s in the solar with Donald.”
Lena nodded and pushed past Marsaili to go to the solar. Tears blurred her vision as she walked, but she blinked them away. She would not appear the sniveling, brokenhearted fool when she confronted Alex, though she was most definitely reeling. He’d told Marsaili he’d not wanted to marry her. She knew he’d been hesitant, but she could not believe Alex did not love her as he had claimed. All his actions and words since they had been wed told her differently. She was sure that whatever he was hiding from her was driving him to lie to Marsaili, and to have nightmares, and to keep walls between them. It could not go on! He would destroy them, and she was going to fight with all she had to save the love she had found.
She intended to simply barge into the solar and demand answers, but when she got near the door, angry voices drifted from the room. It might very well be that the best way for her to learn her husband’s secrets was to eavesdrop. Disregarding the slight niggle of guilt, she crept forward and pressed her ear to the door.
“Ye damn fool!” Donald roared, making Lena flinch. “The Steward will kill ye if he discovers what ye are about! Why must ye be stubborn? Why nae use yer wife to aid ye?”
Lena sucked in a sharp breath. Alex needed her help, but he was refusing to turn to her.
“Nay,” Alex bit out, his voice cold, hard, and unyielding. “I will nae risk Lena’s life simply to make the king’s task easier for me.”
It was making more sense now. Alex was not betraying her at all. He was doing all in his power to protect her! A mix of happiness and fear lodged in her chest. What was she being shielded from, though?
“Task?” Donald sputtered. “Task? It is nae simply a task the king set to ye, and ye well ken it. The king asked ye to play the traitor!”
Lena drew back in shock but quickly pressed forward once more when Alex began to speak again.
“The king asked me to obtain the names of two lairds who secretly joined the Steward’s cause and who still support him,” Alex said, the words punctuated with irritation.
“By asking ye to play the traitor!” Donald refuted. “Ye ken as well as I do that the MacLeod and many others will question yer fealty, and while the MacLeod may nae try to cut ye down, someone who dunnae feel the same sense of fealty from yer past may well attempt to kill ye before the truth can be revealed. And King David forced yer hand in marrying the MacLeod lass—”
“And I’ll thank him for that to my dying breath,” Alex interrupted.
“I ken that, Alex. I ken how ye feel about yer wife without ye saying it. I ken why ye wish to protect her. But I tell ye that ye are risking yer life to do so.”
“Then let it be so,” Alex roared. “I will nae ask Lena to venture to the Steward’s hold with me to court my enemy’s attention and make them think she is interested in a liaison, merely so I may learn the traitors’ names. I will nae risk her life or her safety. I’d rather die by the Steward’s own hand than put Lena in harm’s way.”
“Having yer wife’s help would be best,” Donald insisted. “I dunnae see the Steward welcoming ye into his inner circle simply because Marsaili Campbell attests to the fact that ye have had a dispute with the king and wish to join forces with the Steward.”
“If he dunnae, I will have to find another method.”
“Perchance the Campbell lass can charm one of the men into telling her the lairds’ names, if ye will nae ask yer wife to do it.”
“Possibly,” Alex said, his voice weary. “But I dunnae entirely trust her. She is a good woman at heart, I believe, but her heart is set on finding her son, as it should be, and I dunnae doubt she would betray me if it became a choice between me and her son. I will discover who the traitors are on my own and hopefully live to return home to my wife, if she’ll still have me.”
Unable to stay silent any longer, Lena slung open the door and charged into the room, taking note of Alex’s and Donald’s shocked faces. “I’ll still have ye!” she announced to Alex as she crossed the room and flung herself into his arms. She squeezed him tightly and buried her face into his chest.
Slowly, he encircled her with his arms. “How much have ye heard?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.
She looked up at him, refusing to feel any guilt. “Enough to ken that ye would have to lock me in the dungeon to keep me here while ye depart to play the traitor for King David.”
“Lena,” he said darkly.
“Nay,” she interrupted. “I will follow if ye leave without me. I vow it on my life. Think of that a moment. The devil himself kinnae keep me from aiding ye, Alex MacLean. Nae a guard ye set to me, nae a dire warning from ye. So ken well that if ye try to leave me behind, I will be coming to ye, and I will nae be near as safe as if I had ye by my side.”
His jaw dropped open as she stared at him. Feeling hopeful that he had not interrupted her yet, she rushed to continue. “I am yer wife, and I am strong enough to help ye. I will nae be left behind or set aside. I am nae breakable.”
“Ye ken well I’d nae ever lock ye in the dungeon,” he said, giving her a furious look.
“I ken it,” she replied, fighting not to smile. She sensed that he felt he had no choice but to relent.
He scrubbed a hand across his face, darting a look between her and Donald. “Ye’re just stubborn enough, intelligent enough, and wily enough that I fear ye would outwit any guard I set to ye, and ye would risk yer beautiful neck to come to me.”
“I would, indeed,” she agreed, her heart pounding hard with her growing hope.
He grasped her by the shoulders, surprising her. “Ye may come, but nae without giving me two oaths first.”
“What are the oaths?” she asked.
“Does it matter? I will nae take ye without them. I will stay here until I can send for Iain and he comes to retrieve ye, as I have every faith he is the one person that could keep ye where I put ye.”
“Ye are underestimating me, Husband,” she challenged, fearing that now that he was considering Iain, Alex may just change his mind about allowing her to travel with him. She cupped his cheek and was pleased when he leaned into her hand. “Ye have helped me grow strong.”
“To my present regret,” he countered.
“Liar,” she said, hearing Donald snicker and seeing Alex scowl his man into silence. “Ye love my strength.”
“I do, but in this moment, I hate it, as well. Ye are forcing me to put ye in danger.”
“Nay,” she assured him, feeling an overwhelming sense of confidence that they could face anything together. “I am demanding my right to guard ye, as ye guard me.” She placed her hand over his heart. “Ye are my life,” she said. “If I lose ye, I lose what matters most to me in this world. I’d rather die by our enemy’s hand than to sit idly by whilst ye face danger alone.”
He leaned toward her and pressed his forehead to hers. “Wife, ye take my words and spin them around me like a web. I am trapped.”
“Aye,” she agreed, pressing her mouth to his ear so Donald could not hear, though he’d turned discreetly away and was looking out the window. “Ye are trapped by my love, as I am by yers. Now tell me the oaths ye will have from me, and then tell me the truth that ye have been hiding.”
He tensed at her words, and she knew deep within that he’d not be revealing all today. Still, she’d take this small victory and move on to the next battle.