Highland Deception (Highland Pride) (18 page)

The lass was the complete opposite of Aileen—Maggie would never try to manipulate him. She loved him but did not want him to know and thought he would be done with her soon. Silly woman.

But he pretended not to hear her, because he couldn’t say the words back. They bubbled up to the top of his heart and threatened to spill over, but he wasn’t ready to let her know how much power she had over him.

After breaking his fast, Lachlan strutted to his chamber to retrieve his claymore. He’d been so distracted with thoughts of Maggie this morning, he’d forgotten he was going to practice in the yard with his men today.

Maggie had told him she loved him. The lass had become the air he breathed, his reason for waking, and why he smiled again. She had restored his faith, and there was no way he could ever repay what she gave to him so selflessly. He looked forward to seeing her every eve when coming in from the fields or after meeting with his men, and he lived to wake beside her in the morn.

His reckless Maggie, his miracle. He would tell her he loved her, but it would wait until he’d spoken with her father.

When the door to his chamber clicked shut behind him, his nose twitched at the unfamiliar, sickly sweet smell that greeted him. Scanning the room to see where the offensive odor was coming from, his gaze landed on the bed and copper-colored hair that should not be there. Arabella. Oh, Christ, what was the crazy woman doing here? This lass had him ready to tear his hair out. He gritted his teeth and prepared for battle.

“What the hell are ye doing here, woman?” he asked, rubbing his head with his hands.

“I’ve come to please ye, Lachlan,” she replied shyly but determinedly. He was stunned, although he did not know why anything this trollop did surprised him. She peered at him with an provocative grin and cocked her head while raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“I dinnae want ye, woman. Get up and get out of my bed. Ye dinnae belong there.” The audacity of her presence in Maggie’s and his chamber frustrated him. He’d only one other time been tempted to strike a woman. His hands clenched as he prayed for the same restraint now.

She pulled back the covers and rose seductively. The woman had nothing on. Instead of piquing his interests, it infuriated him further, and he spun away to avoid the show.

“Arabella, put clothes on now,” he continued as he pounded the wall with the ball of his fist to release some of his anger. “Ye ken I’m with Maggie. We had bedplay once, and I never called on ye again.” He was done with trying to spare her feelings. She had crossed a line.

Lachlan risked a peek over his shoulder. She was partially clothed, so he turned to lecture her. She wasn’t crying, merely put out at his rejection.

“You shouldnae have slept with me if ye didnae want me,” she yelled as she stooped to retrieve her boots.

“Ye kenned it would only be one time. Ye knew I didnae want anyone.” He did not feel the need to defend himself—he’d told her the truth from the beginning.

“Then what are ye doing with Maggie?” Her breath rushed out while glaring at him.

What would he say to her without driving the lass to violence? She looked as if she would tear his eyeballs out or at least throw a shoe at him.

He ticked off the reasons in his head. She was not as bonny as Maggie; she didnae make his heart sing like Maggie did; she did not lighten up a room when she walked in it.

He settled for simple. “She found her way into my heart.”

“I am one of yer clan. I am better for ye than she is.” Half dressed, she slunk over to him and reached up to touch his cheek. But Lachlan flinched and backed toward the door. “She will betray ye. She will betray our clan. She plots yer demise with that earl’s son.”

Chills ran down his back at the mention of Maggie and Conall linked together in such a way and scheming against him. He pushed down the distrust he’d buried when he’d decided to take Maggie as his wife.

Maggie isnae Aileen—she wouldnae do that to me.
But even as he thought the words, Aileen’s betrayal clouded his thoughts.

He opened the door with all haste and slid through. But as he reached the hall, he braced himself on the jamb. He was not going to cower from the lass even if she’d lost her mind.

The low, menacing growl he gave her would have terrified any of his men. “Ye are done here, Arabella. I want ye out of Kentillie. I am sending ye to the Frasers. Ye can live there with yer cousins. Ye have overstepped yer bounds and are no longer welcome here.”

He stormed down the hall but stopped and turned. “I want ye off Cameron lands today. Go pack up yer things now.”

Fuming at the audacity of the lass, and the fact that she’d driven him to the point he had to send her away, he pounded down the steps.

Why did she think Maggie would betray him? As he strode down the hall, his heart beat rapidly, and he cursed how easy it had been for Arabella to opened up the old wound so easily. The one that told him he couldn’t trust any lass, not even Maggie.

Chapter Fifteen

Donella had given birth to a squalling boy. The mother and baby were doing well, and Maggie had finally met Donella’s husband, Gawen. The way he’d looked at Donella and the new babe endeared him to Maggie right away. He doted on her, and it was easy to see they loved each other. He’d proudly taken the babe from Coira and gently placed a kiss on its wee head.

Maggie had been paralyzed by a motherentary jealousy for something she would never have. She would give anything to have Lachlan look at her with such tenderness as she brought their children into the world, but he’d never professed any feelings for her other than lust. She sighed.

At least she would never have to give birth to one of Conall’s bairns. She hummed a tune from the night before as she pranced back to the keep.

Bounding into the great hall, she bypassed the stairs to greet Alan and give him Donella’s happy news. Just as she was about to reach him, a movement from the balcony that overlooked the great hall caught her eye. Lachlan. He was leaving their chamber.

Maggie smiled. She wouldn’t have to track him down to tell him the babe was here. He was leaning on the doorframe, one hand on his hip and the other braced on the jamb itself. His head was turned down facing someone. Lachlan stood back, and she was shocked to see a woman. Maggie sucked in at the air that wouldn’t fill her lungs, and the joy from motherents earlier melted away, replaced by a gut-wrenching pain.

Arabella stood in the doorway to the chamber Maggie had come to think of as her haven. Her own special doorway to heaven. There was the woman who would replace her, scantily clad in a chemise while she held her arisaid draped over her arm.

His back to Maggie, Lachlan leaned over Arabella like he was ready to devour her. Her hair was a tumbled mess as if they had already been together. His broad shoulders towered over the harlot as he pinned her to the wall. That rotten bastard. How stupid she had been. How utterly naive to have hoped she meant something more to him than the lasses of his past.

As her heart broke into a million pieces, the words her mother spoke to her long ago haunted her.
My heart doesnae matter to yer father. The member between his legs leads him where he wants to go.
That was hours before her mother had taken her own life. Maggie choked back a sob at the memory and the sight of Lachlan with another woman. This is what her mother had experienced all those years—the all-encompassing deluge of loss and despair.

It was the reason she had sworn never to love. She was a fool.

Her hand rose to cover her mouth, her body shaking with the pain as the first wave of nausea assaulted her.

“Oh my God, I have become my mother.” The words were almost inaudible, but Alan offered Maggie a sad, remorseful gaze, as if he was apologizing for Lachlan’s behavior or lack of discretion. Tears filled her eyes, and his face blurred. Just as well—she could not look at him, would not listen to the excuses.

Alan started to speak, but she would not hear. Her feet were already moving.

Maggie dashed from the hall, stumbled and fell to her knees when she reached the outside. Her belly churned as a wave of agony assaulted her like a physical blow. She crawled, heedless of her surroundings, to the side of the stone building and crumpled.

When she was capable of standing, she rose and sprinted for the stables. She had to get away. She didn’t belong here. Her life would not be spent pining over a man who did not return her love. Mayhap she had been stupid enough to give her heart to the man, but she would not sit by while he crushed it over and over again.

By the time she reached the stables, tears fell unchecked. The stable master met her at the door. “What has happened, lass?” His forehead crinkled.

“I need Freedom. I just need to go for ride to clear my head.”

“I cannae let ye take him, lass. I have been instructed to speak with Lachlan before ye can ride.” He pursed his lips in a sad smile. “He was concerned about yer rough riding last time ye went out.”

He did what?
Frozen, Maggie stood there, stunned for a motherent. This fired her blood and made her want to scream, because there was no way she was going to ask that treacherous man for his permission.

Maggie backed away and sprinted for the gatehouse. She had planned to plot a route to the abbey, but now she fumed at her stupidity. She had been so content and sure Lachlan would protect her now that he knew her identity that she had never made it to the map room—she didn’t even know what direction to go in.

“Damn,” she cursed aloud. Once she got away, someone would tell her how to get there, but she could not ask anyone here—it was impossible to look them in the eyes, knowing she’d meant so little to their laird that he’d replaced her without even telling her.

She ran toward the sparsest field, away from the villagers, away from the man who had shattered her heart and hopes.

When she heard the hoofbeats behind her, she was more than halfway to the other side of the field. They closed in fast, and she turned, praying no one had come looking for her. She was wrong. It was Lorna.

“What has happened?” her friend asked as she drew up beside her and frowned. Maggie slowed but continued to move away from the keep, bracing her hands on her hips. She couldn’t speak until she’d claimed the breath that had fled with her.

Lorna walked the horse beside her. Apparently, Maggie was the only one with restrictions on her riding. “Did Wallace let ye take out yer horse?”

“I was just riding her around the castle grounds. He told me no’ to leave the gates, but when I saw ye run out, I followed ye anyway. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“He was with Arabella. In our bedchamber.” The tears started falling again as her words pierced her heart. “I willnae stay with a man who cannae be faithful.”

“There must be a mistake. He wouldnae do that to ye. Lachlan hasnae had eyes for another lass since he laid them on ye. He doesnae even like her,” Lorna insisted.

“I ken what I saw. He was with her, or he was about to be.” She hiccuped in a large gulp of air.

Looking past her, Lorna lifted a hand above her brow to look at something in the distance. “I dinnae ken those men. Do ye?”

When she turned, icy dread spread through her veins as a familiar frame rode into view. “Conall.”

She gasped as several men on horseback galloped toward them, and though they were still a good distance away, they were approaching quickly. She would recognize the monster in the middle of the group anywhere.

Her breath caught, and she backed up, almost tripping over her own feet. Her head shook in denial until Lorna’s horse snorted and reminded her what was at stake. Images of Miranda’s broken and battered face loomed in her thoughts. She would not let that happen to Lorna. He was too close, there was no chance for Maggie to escape, but this time she could save her friend.

“Go. Ye have to go now. He’s an animal. Go.”

“Climb up. Come with me.” Lorna reached out to pull her up.

“There isnae time. ’Twill slow ye down.” Maggie straightened her shoulders and slapped the horse’s backside as hard as she could. The beast whinnied and bolted. Her palm stung from the impact, but it worked. She said a quick prayer the horse would be swift, and Lorna would have time to get to safety.

She turned to face Conall and hoped he and the three men with him would be satisfied with her and not pursue her friend. The evil smirk on his face terrified her as he pulled up short right in front of her. Thankfully, the other men stopped as well.

Conall jumped down, and it felt as if the earth beneath her feet shifted, but that could have been because her whole body shook. He stalked toward her like the calm before a winter storm about to unleash its fury with a vengeance.

His face remained expressionless, but his voice crackled with venom. “Margaret.”

He clucked his tongue as he paced back and forth in front of her like a feral beast ready to strike. She was trembling inside but steady on the outside, because she refused to let him know how he affected her.

“Imagine finding my missing bride in a place like this.” He stopped pacing and glared, his long fingers making a circle in the air to signal the Cameron lands. “Why is it I find you so far up in the Highlands?” She couldn’t help the involuntary shudder as his malevolent gaze pierced her like fangs attacking prey.

She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t even breathe as she stared at the man not much smaller than Lachlan, a golden-haired man with malice and promises of destruction in his cold gray gaze. What would he do? He’d been cruel and unpredictable when he seemed calm. Now, he was coiled and ready to strike.

On top of what he had done to Miranda, she had heard countless stories of his cruelty when he felt slighted. She had given him the biggest slight of his life. Silently, she prayed for a quick death. Nothing he did to her would be any kinder.

“How is it you come to be on Cameron land so far from home, love?” Rage slipped through his tranquil facade before he tamped it down to wear the impassive mask he used best. His words sounded tender, concerned, but it was for show, and she was certain his anger was spiraling inside him like the venomous snake he was, waiting for the right motherent to strike.

“Do you know the Lochiel?” he asked gently.

She blinked, because she wasn’t used to the formal title afforded to Lachlan as the Cameron laird.

This time when she did not respond, he screamed. “Do you know him?” Spittle flew from his tightened, angry lips.

She jumped at the verbal assault then slowly nodded in acknowledgment.

He smiled an evil grin that screwed his face in a maniacal, twisted mien. “Now we are getting somewhere. Have you slept with him?”

He was not going to like the answer and would make her suffer. She attempted to maneuver the conversation in a different direction. “I was on my way to the abbey to take vows. I want to devote my life to God. I amnae wife material.”

“I am only going to ask you one last time, Margaret.” She hated her given name when he spoke it. “Did you sleep with Lachlan Cameron?”

Aye, there would be retribution, but if she didn’t answer him, it could be worse later. She slowly nodded and waited for the worst.

His eyes bulged and face reddened for just a motherent, then he calmed, as if he had already been thinking on the matter and had come to terms with it. He walked up to her, seeming in control of his emotions, and she looked down to avoid his gaze.

The crack of his fist striking her cheek blindsided her. The blow stung, the most intense pain she had ever experienced. Conall’s face started to blur, and she collapsed in a heap on the ground.

…

Lachlan cursed as he stomped down the steps and rounded the corner into the hall. He had regretted bedding the wench several years ago when he was trying to wash Aileen from his mind and had tried to apologize for his drunken error. One time had been all, but Arabella had never let it go.

He wasn’t prepared for the fist that collided with his face as he stepped onto the ground floor. A loud thud reverberated through the hall, and he stumbled backward. He caught himself on the cool stone wall, scraping his palm as he did.

Alan?

“What the hell?” In the years they had known each other, his best friend had never raised a hand to him, not even in jest.

“That is fer Maggie.” His friend spit as he took up a fighting stance and glared at him.

“I am only going to ask ye one more time before I beat the shit out of ye. What is going on?”

“What were ye doing in yer chamber with Arabella?” he retorted, shoulders up and back bowed for a fight.

“I found her in there and told her to leave.” That his friend would think such a thing offended him. The day kept getting worse.

“’Tis no’ the way it appeared from down here. Maggie saw ye hovering over an almost naked Arabella. It didnae present a pretty picture.” Alan shook his head.

“I swear the crazy wench sought me out and I rebuffed her. Ye ken there is nothing there.” Many times he had told Alan about his inability to shake the woman and they had laughed it off, but now it wasn’t so funny.

“Aye, I ken, but it looked bad, Lachlan. ’Tis what Maggie thought, too.”

“Where is Maggie, then?” He scanned the hall but saw no sign of her.

“I dinnae ken. She ran from the hall mumbling something about being a fool like her ma.” Alan shook his head. “She looked verra distressed.”

Lachlan’s blood froze. Last night, as he held her close, Maggie had told him what had happened to her mother, and about the sorrow and the heartache she had suffered over her mother’s infatuation with her father. She would not do what her mother did—Maggie had more sense than that. Didn’t she?

“I have to find her. Which way?”

“She went out the front. I dinnae ken which way from there. I waited down here to confront ye.”

Where would she go? What would she do? Lachlan bolted for the door. Reaching the yard, he looked around. Several people were milling about. “Where’s Maggie?” His heart stopped when they pointed toward the stables, and he sprinted in the same direction.

When he found her, he would have to talk some sense into her. She couldn’t pick up her skirts and take off every time she was frightened or angry. She had to learn to communicate with him.

He slowed only when he got to the door of the stables. Wallace was walking out, and Lachlan almost ran the man over. “Where is she?” he panted as he struggled to catch his breath.

The man held his hands up. “I didnae let her take a horse. Ye told me not to let her have one.”

“Do ye ken where she went?” His shoulders relaxed as relief washed over him; she could not have gotten far.