“My lord,” his man said. “There is more. It is about Sir Dauid.”
Seathan nodded. “We will discuss this in private.” With memories of that fated eve blackening his mind, he strode toward the war chamber.
On either side of Bran, Alexander and Duncan helped him forward. The knights in the great room stepped back as they walked, clearing a somber path.
Determination filled Seathan. More than blood bound his people. For a moment in this war-torn land, he felt hope, belief that not only would the rebels succeed in recovering their country’s freedom, but once the battle cries grew silent, Scotland’s people would find peace.
The guard opened the door to the war chamber as Seathan neared. He entered, followed by his brothers and the battered knight. The click of the door being secured echoed within the silence.
Seathan faced his man. Flakes of dirt clung to his face, layered atop lines of fatigue, a testimony to Bran’s hard travel to reach Lochshire Castle this day.
“Tell me,” Seathan stated.
“As I remained hidden near Dauid’s hut, recovering,” Bran explained, “I saw him return home on several occasions. He looked battered and bruised.”
Seathan raised his brows, as did his brothers, surprised Dauid would dare return anywhere he might be recognized. Mayhap confident in his ties to Tearlach, he feared none. If so, he was more a fool than Seathan had believed.
“’Twould seem he believes his obvious fealty to the Viscount of Tearlach will provide him protection,” Alexander growled.
Seathan agreed. After Dauid’s treachery, he should find no surprise in his former friend’s arrogance. Still, the fact gnawed at his gut.
“Was his wife in residence?” Seathan asked.
The knight frowned. “’Twas odd, but never did I see her.”
“’Twould seem she holds more intelligence than her speck-brained husband,” Alexander spat. “If he ever had any.”
Duncan crossed his arms. “Where do you think she is?”
“If Dauid is wise,” Seathan replied, “he would have hidden her for her own safety. But then, with recent decisions made, he has proved himself a fool.” He focused on the knight. “Did he see you?”
“Nay,” Bran replied. “Whenever he was about, I kept hidden.”
Seathan nodded. “Dauid was battered and bruised?”
“Aye, my lord, and walked with a limp.” Bran shrugged. “An odd one I never could figure out.”
“It matters not, there could be many reasons,” he replied. “Your stealth and bravery will serve us well.” Seathan wanted nothing to alert Dauid that he’d escaped Tearlach’s grasp or that he still lived. When the bastard learned the fact, it would be with Seathan’s blade against his neck. He turned to his master-at-arms positioned near the door. “Raise a contingent of men. Prepare them to depart.”
“Aye, my lord.” The master-at-arms hurried out.
He nodded to Bran. “A healer will see to your wounds. Once you have eaten, rest.”
“Thank you, my lord, but my wounds are well healed.” The knight straightened. “I would ask to accompany you as well. Sir Dauid…” He cleared his throat and looked away, but not before Seathan caught the grief in the Scot’s eyes.
“Aye,” Seathan replied, understanding the man’s anger. The knight had lost a brother that day. Dauid’s betrayal had left no one within Lochshire Castle unscathed. Dauid had once trained within these walls, supped among the men, celebrated the birth of many a knight’s child. Nay, Seathan would not forbid Bran from accompanying him as he traveled to exact revenge. “Gather some food. Then, prepare to ride.”
“Thank you, my lord.” With a bow, Bran left the chamber, aided by two knights. A guard pulled the door closed after them.
Duncan muttered a curse. “I am surprised Dauid dared return.”
Alexander curled his hand around the hilt of the dagger secured at his waist. “Aye, the bastard has the balls of a boar, but I will be stripping him of those as well.”
“Dauid is mine,” Seathan stated.
His brothers held his gaze, then nodded.
“And when I depart,” Seathan said, “I will lead the contingent. Alone.”
“What?” Alexander and Duncan boomed in unison.
Eyes blazing, Alexander stepped forward. “By my sword, I shall not wait here as if a maiden fretting for news.”
“No,” Seathan replied, cutting off Duncan before he could speak. He nodded to his youngest brother. “Isabel has recently given birth. In addition to a wife, you now have twin girls to think of.”
“Having daughters or a wife does not castrate me,” Duncan replied, glowering.
“Nor does it take away your responsibilities to ensure Lochshire Castle is well guarded,” Seathan stated. “Until my return, you will remain here and oversee your family as well as be charged with the protection of our home.” He turned to Alexander. “With the mayhem following the slaying of the Sheriff of Lanark, we know not the rebels’ next move.” He paused. “I have sent a missive to Wallace warning of Dauid’s treachery, and I anticipate a runner to arrive with orders as to our next move any day,” Seathan said. “Until my return, you will act in my stead.”
“And what of Linet?” Alexander demanded.
Linet? How, for even a moment, could he have forgotten her? Was it but this morning when lust had stormed his sanity, when he’d shamefully forgotten his surroundings and had almost taken her in the church?
“I am taking Lady Linet with me,” Seathan decided.
“Are you addled?” Alexander boomed, his outrage strangled with disbelief. “With Tearlach’s men about, travel will be difficult enough without hauling along a lass who will expose you the first chance that arises.”
“Aye,” Duncan agreed. “You will need to bind her treacherous mouth the entire journey.”
“I have plans for the lass,” Seathan said, “which, I assure you, are well worth the inconvenience of her presence.” He stared at the flames within the hearth, his fury burning as hot. “Once I have finished with Dauid, ’tis Tearlach who will pay.”
“How?” Alexander asked.
A smile tightened Seathan’s mouth as he imagined the viscount’s surprise. “Linet is now my hostage, a captive I will use as leverage against Tearlach.”
The scrape of leather and the jingle of spurs muted the hoofbeats upon the soft earth, but Linet heard every step, felt the bunch of muscles, the heavy clop as Seathan’s steed moved with agile grace through the dense forest.
Seathan’s prisoner.
Even now, hours after he’d hauled her from the chapel, his cold words tormented her soul. She’d believed Seathan would cast her within his prison once he learned of her blood tie to Fulke. Instead, he’d placed her under guard within a simply furnished chamber. The minimal pieces within far nicer than those in the dank cell offered to Seathan by her brother.
Remembering the cruel treatment Seathan had suffered at her brother’s hands, she sighed, then shifted to a more comfortable position.
“Be still.” Seathan’s deep burr rumbled in the night.
She tried to ignore his presence, the way her back molded against his chest. But with each step of his steed, she was rocked yet again against his muscled frame. Even if she wasn’t in such close proximity to him that each breath carried the tang of his male scent, she doubted that she would ever forget him.
How could she have allowed Seathan into her heart?
“When will we break for the night?” she asked, refusing to dwell upon dangerous thoughts of him.
“Why do you ask?” Suspicion lingered in his voice.
“You have pushed your men for hours.”
He grunted. “They are warriors, men seasoned in arduous travel.”
“Even when they are injured?”
Silence.
“Far from enough time has passed for your wounds to have healed.”
“If you are cold, I will give you a blanket.”
He refused to discuss the topic. So like a warrior, and so like a mule-headed, honorable man who put others’ lives above his own. However wrong his distrust of her, he was a man she would always respect.
And sadly, love.
The howl of a wolf echoed in the distance, a hauntingly forlorn sound.
Exhausted by the emotional challenges of this day, she closed her eyes and succumbed to the temptation to lean against Seathan. He tensed, but she wasn’t surprised. Since he’d stormed into her chamber stating that she was accompanying him, he’d offered little warmth.
A gentle breeze brushed her face, soft with the night, rich with the scent of spring. A potent reminder of the passage of time and that, with each new day, the risk of Fulke finding them increased.
How far had her brother expanded his search? He wouldn’t quit. Alive, she was collateral to secure a powerful tie. As for Seathan, recapturing him was fueled by her brother’s need to strengthen his ties with the English king.
With deft skill, Seathan guided his mount through the dense forest.
Whirls of stubborn snow clung in patches over the ground. Limbs clattered against each other as the warhorse pushed through the tangle of brambles.
However much winter’s hand strove to reclaim its hold, with spring upon them, buds would soon appear, then leaves would unfurl upon the barren limbs, proof that life would go on.
And so must she.
Life awaited her, a life without Seathan, a life without his love. To linger on the emptiness before her would serve naught. At the first opportunity, she must escape, travel to safety within her clan in the Highlands. Except now the task presented a greater challenge.
Before, she and Seathan had traveled alone. Now, they rode with a contingent of his men. When they made camp to rest their mounts, guards would be posted, men who knew of her connection to Fulke, men who watched her with distrust. She’d find no aid among them.
Seathan’s horse stumbled but caught himself. Off balance, Linet gasped, reaching for the saddle.
Seathan wrapped his arm around Linet’s waist, drew her against him. “Steady, lass.”
As if she would ever be composed around him. She remained quiet, focused on their journey. With care, he guided his mount through a thicket of snow-covered branches, his touch given not to ensure she was safe, but to prevent her escape.
At the slight pressure of his hand against her cape, she felt a dull pulsing against her side, then warmth.
Seathan’s halved gemstone! She’d forgotten she still had the moss agate.
Had he felt it? A foolish question. If so, he would have snatched it from her pocket.
As Linet again shifted before him, for the hundredth time since they’d departed Lochshire Castle, Seathan questioned his sanity in having the lass ride with him. One would think knowing she was his enemy would smother his desire. But his body seemed not to care. He was hard as a rock and aching with the pain of it.
Seathan glanced at his master-at-arms to inform him he would be carrying the lass the remainder of the night, then he stayed the impulse. She was his responsibility, a duty he’d not foist upon his men. Though her actions had set them on this twisted path, he would finish the journey, on his terms.
He scanned the moonlit sky, then the woman sitting before him. Linet’s silence fooled him not. He understood well how her mind worked.
“You will fail.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“In any attempt to escape.” When she remained silent, he motioned to one of his men to pass him a blanket.
A guard handed him the woolen spread. “My lord.”
“My thanks.” Seathan wrapped the blanket around her.
She tensed—again. “I was not cold.”
“Lie back against me.” She’d begun shivering shortly after the sun had set. Not that she’d admit it. The lass was stubborn as a mule and twice as ornery. ’Twould serve her right if he abandoned her in the wilds with naught but her wits.
Still, however much she deserved his contempt, he refused to lower himself to such cruelty.
Forcing his hands not to linger, he tucked the blanket around her, then drew her against him, her curves warm and soft. He grimaced. Never could he care for a woman who deceived him, a woman he could not trust. And if she smelled like his every fantasy, invoked erotic images of her naked in his bed, ’twas fatigue that skewed his mind.
Linet shifted. “I—”
He gritted his teeth, prayed for sanity. “Unless you are ready to admit the truth, speak no more lies.”
She twisted and glared up at him. “For a well-respected lord, you are quick to condemn.”
“Had I not proof of your deceit, I would agree.”
Her nose tilted up with disdain. “Proof of deceit? You accept a blood tie to Fulke as proof of treachery?”
“Why should I believe you would refuse to aid your brother?”
She shook her head. “I explained before, Fulke lied to me, had promised that I would marry the man of my choosing.”
“An insignificant lie in a time when women are rarely allowed such a choice.”
“To you perhaps, but I was not raised within the normal guidelines of nobility.”
That he could attest to. Since they’d met, she’d challenged him on every front. Her lack of fear in facing adversity was admirable. Neither could he deny she was knowledgeable. Qualities he respected, but they changed nothing.
“We are at war.”
Though shadows framed her face, anger rolled off her. “War is not a reason for injustice, but an excuse for those who are weak, like my brother, Fulke. For what he has done, I detest him. Never again will he dictate my moves. That I swear to you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Nor will you.”
“And in the Highlands you will have such a choice?”
“I…” Linet stilled, then faced forward. Until this moment, she’d never fully pondered her life with her mother’s clan. She’d focused on her escape, on procuring her freedom. She’d assumed she’d be welcomed among them without question. And once settled, that she would be allowed the life of her choosing.
She’d never pondered further.
Now, she understood the folly of her belief. To secure protection from the clan, she must uphold their laws, dictates passed down from the clan chief. And if those decisions included her marriage to procure the well-being of the clan, so be it. What if the man chosen for her to wed was brutal? Or what if after everything, her mother’s clan turned her away?
Panic tore through her. She should have sent a missive ahead, explained to her mother’s people her circumstances, prepared them for her arrival.
Hand trembling, she reached within her pocket, clasped the halved gemstone until it bit into her palm. She hadn’t even thought to carry an heirloom to prove her family tie. Linet swallowed hard. Now, she had nothing but a prayer.
A lone cloud swallowed the moon, casting the forest into a vat of gloom. Darkness clung to limbs illuminated by moonbeams moments before.
“Linet?”
Tears burned her eyes. “Why badger me with questions? Regardless of my replies, you will hold them false.”
The hopelessness of her words stunned Seathan. What had drained the strong woman of moments before? He’d only asked about her clan in the Highlands. Then he thought he understood.
“You have no family in the Highlands.”
“I owe you no explanation.”
“Or,” he continued, undeterred by her curt reply, “if indeed your destination is true, they know naught of your existence.”
Silence.
“And you are afraid.”
“I fear nothing.”
But he heard the dread in her voice. He steeled himself against feeling anything, but against his good sense, his heart softened. She was struggling, had no one to turn to, no one to protect her.
“Once we arrive at your destination,” Linet asked, “will you release me?”
Guilt tasted bitter in his mouth. Nay, not guilt. After her lies, she deserved the fate he planned.
“Seathan?”
Lord Grey
, his mind echoed. Her address should invite no familiarity. Days of travel remained until they reach the lands where Dauid lived. And once Seathan had dealt with him, days more until the private meeting he would arrange with Tearlach—a meeting he anticipated with great pleasure.
He should be focusing on that, find relief that once he turned her over to her brother, Linet would be out of his life. The last thing he should be doing was pondering the worries of his lust-inspiring, sharp-tongued captive.
“You will let me go, will you not?” Linet demanded.
He guided his mount around a partially snow-covered stump. “We have far from reached our destination.”
At his elusive reply, Linet turned, needing to see his face. Shadows greeted her. A sense of doom infused her. Mouth dry, she wet her lips. If there was a God in Heaven, let her be wrong.
She drew a steadying breath, exhaled. “You promised to escort me to the Highlands.”
“I did,” Seathan agreed. “But that was before I knew you were Tearlach’s sister.”