His Conquest (14 page)

“Tell me,” he hissed, “when were you going to let me know your brother was the Viscount of Tearlach?”

He knew! With his hand locking her against his solid frame, Linet stared at Seathan, riveted by his fury, terrified at the outrage in his eyes. Her entire body shook as her mind scraped for words to temper his rage.

Tell him the truth
, a voice whispered in her mind.

A hysterical laugh swirled in her throat. As if explaining that she’d freed him to take revenge against her brother would pacify this enraged Scot?

A muscle tightened in Seathan’s jaw. “You were not going to tell me.”

“Had I told you Fulke was my brother,” she said, amazed at how calm her voice sounded, “you never would have accepted my help.”

A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Tell me exactly, my lady, how you helped me?”

“I freed you.”

“Freed me? Nay, you released me from your brother’s cell but always stayed by my side, leaving me far from
free
.” He leaned within a hand’s breath from her face. “Tell me, did you and your bastard brother raise a toast after you devised this twisted plot?”

She ignored his sarcasm. Under the circumstance, she expected his suspicions. But after all she and Seathan had endured, that he believed her in league with Fulke hurt the most.

Linet shook her head. “There is no plan. As I told you, I despise my brother.”

“You are so convincing, but then, any liar worth their coin twists words to convince, spews them with the expertise of a seasoned bard. Tell me,” he seethed, “how much were you paid, or rather, what were you promised for your role in this depraved scheme?”

Anger, pure and sharp, pierced her. Before she realized her intent, her hand shot out.

His head jerked; the angry slap upon his cheek echoed between them.

Trembling, she let her hand fall to her side. The slash of red sweeping across his skin made her nauseous. His hold on her tightened. Never before had she reacted with violence, but then, never before had she been in love. “How dare you offer such an insult!”

“And how dare you infiltrate my home, act the innocent to gain information of rebel plans and hideouts in order to pass them back to the English.”

Hurt didn’t begin to describe the pain of his accusation. “You believe me a spy?” Her words shook with emotion.

“A spy? My lady,” he said with cold precision. “Do you forget that you live in Breac Castle? Or mayhap that your brother, the Viscount of Tearlach, has sworn fealty to King Edward?” Green eyes flashed with fury. “Nay, I believe your memory is clear, as is your intent.”

She fought to keep the angry, frustrated tears from her eyes and jerked against his grip. “You may dismiss the fact that I am half Scottish, and the fact I have vowed never to return to Breac Castle, but damn you, you will listen to what I have to say!”

He arched a dismissive brow, irritating her further.

Linet angled her jaw. “I would never betray you, ever. You want the truth, fine. I released you as pay-back to my brother.” When his eyes narrowed, her explanation tumbled out, the memories spilling through her mind with painful clarity.

“Growing up, my father promised me my choice of a husband when I came of age, except he died and Fulke became my guardian. He had been away on campaign serving King Edward, but upon our father’s demise, he returned. I owed my brother’s detachment during his stay to grief, to the pain of losing our father.”

At his silence, she rushed on. “I was inconsolable, but Fulke assured me naught would change, and that in Breac Castle I would always find a home. Grieving, I clung to his words, believing them true, or…perhaps”—she shrugged—“I wished them so. Regardless, my brother requested that I oversee the running of our ancestral home. In return, he swore he would honor our father’s promise that I would marry the man of my choosing, and on my wedding day, I would receive a generous dowry.” The painful memories faded beneath the harsh slap of reality. “And fool that I was, I believed him until the day he betrothed me to the Earl of Fallon, a man known for his abuse, to strengthen his ties.”

Seconds passed, each one drowning in deafening silence as Seathan studied her. He gave a slight nod. “A finely woven tale. Indeed, a few bits might hold truth.”

Cur!
She fought to break from his hold. “Release me.”

“Your freedom, you lost with your deceit.” He tugged her toward the chapel door.

Fear, cold and vile, cut through her. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Do?” He turned. Candlelight strafed the hard planes of his face, carved shadows of dark intent. “’Tis unwise to give the enemy the advantage of knowledge.”

“After everything we have been through,” she whispered, “the risks I have taken to save your life, tell me, do I look like the enemy?”

“Yes.”

As if a sword had sliced through her heart, her body went numb. If he had wanted to hurt her, he could not have done a finer job. She looked away, not wanting him to see her tears, or to expose any sign of the horrible, heartbreaking truth.

She loved him.

If he learned of her feelings, then he would hold the ultimate weapon.

Seathan caught her shoulder, turned her to face him, his hard gaze unnerving her further. “Tell me, my lady, how far would you have gone, what would you have sacrificed to have gained the coveted rebel information for the English?”

“I detest you!”

His eyes lowered to her mouth, then flicked to meet hers. Male satisfaction settled on his face. “I think not.” He slid his thumb over her lower lip in a slow caress. “If I wanted, I could take you here, now, and you would let me.”

She stiffened, furious to feel the heat only he inspired. Ashamed, humiliated that even after he believed her Fulke’s pawn, she could want him, Linet closed her eyes. She wished they’d left, that he was now locking her within his dungeon. At least then she would be safe from him.

“Open your eyes.”

His rough demand rumbled through her. For a moment she refused, then as if he’d cast a spell over her, with aching slowness, she complied.

Seathan leaned toward her.

“No!”

His mouth covered hers, hard, hungry, demanding her response. “Open for me,” he commanded and took the kiss deeper, drawing her flush against him, the hardness of his body making it clear that as much as he despised her, he wanted her as well.

Her mind swam with confusion as warmth coursed through her. She struggled to break free; a war waged and lost.

With a half cry, she accepted him, hating her weakness when it came to Seathan, damning the way he made her feel, wanting his touch and, shamefully, more. And his mouth, Mother Mary, his glorious mouth edged its way across the outline of her jaw as his fingers skimmed over her skin, lingering against the curve of her cape to where sensitized flesh lay beneath. A shudder of need tore through her.

On a half growl, he shoved the cape away. With deft movements he splayed open her gown.

Exposed to him, she felt no shame, but acceptance, as if fate guided her. And she realized, with Seathan, it would always be so.

His eyes dark with need, he cupped the curve of her breast.

Warmth, pure and hot, pierced straight to her core. She held his gaze, wanting to watch him as well. At least on this front, however much he denied it, they were equal. She saw the desire on his face, how his breathing had become quick and shallow, and the flush that had stolen up his neck.

“How is it you affect me so?” he whispered.

His raw, potent words stirred her needs. “I—”

The door behind her slammed open.

Seathan dropped his hand.

Air, cool and blustery, slapped her naked flesh. Mortified by what she’d allowed, had almost given within this sacred place, she dragged up her gown. God forgive her, how could she have forgotten that she stood within a chapel?

As Linet fumbled to repair her gown, Seathan glared toward the entry, his body shuddering with hard-won control.

A burst of sunlight outlined his youngest brother’s furious form along with Linet’s bare shoulders. “I see you have found the spy.”

Seathan ignored his brother’s condemnation, expecting no less, but neither would he tolerate it. “Leave us.” It wasn’t a request.

Duncan crossed his arms over his chest. “So you can bed the lass on holy ground?”

“Never would I bring such shame to our home.” Feeble words when he’d had no intent of stopping. Had Duncan not interrupted…Seathan muttered a curse, furious at himself.

Aye, the lass would pay for her guilt, but not here. Neither would he invite her further humiliation.

“Leave us.” The calmness of his voice was at odds with the turmoil churning within.

Duncan’s mouth tightened. For a long moment, he stood there in challenge. Then he slanted a hard look at Linet, who now covered herself with her cape, before meeting Seathan’s gaze. With a curt nod, he turned and left. The chapel door thudded in his wake.

Muted darkness encased them; silence infused the chapel as if a dark omen.

Seathan focused on Linet. Hair mussed, lips swollen from his kisses, she looked like a woman well loved, a woman whom, under any other circumstance, he would finish making love to.

Except, she was the enemy.

Bedamned! Never would she fool him again. The depths of her treachery were astonishing. He drew himself up to his full height. “Before, I thought you an innocent,” he said, anger rolling through his words. “But an innocent, however overcome with passion, would not disgrace herself in a house of God.” He’d wanted to believe in her innocence, a belief she’d extinguished this day.

Her face grew ashen.

“Neither am I free of guilt.”

“As if your admittance changes anything?” she hissed. “You are truly a bastard!”

“Something, my lady, you would do well to remember.” Seathan caught her hand, drew her with him as he strode toward the exit.

As before, she fought to break free.

Seathan rounded on her. “The decision of how you leave the chapel is up to you. One word, the slightest sign of a struggle, and I will truss you up and carry you from here like a sack of oats.”

“You would not dare!”

He scanned her in a slow sweep, his blood hot. “At this moment, I would dare anything, propriety be damned.”

Through her anger, he caught a shimmer of fear. Good, he wanted her afraid. His attraction to Linet was a curse, dangerous, a fact he deemed unforgivable. Without another word, he hauled her from the chapel.

Voices within the great room melded with the clank of platters and the errant bark of a dog. Seathan tried to focus on the stew before him, but even though the tangy scent of onions, venison, and herbs teased his senses, each bite tasted like wind-tossed dust.

Two seats away, Nichola set down her goblet and worried the stem. “I still cannot believe Linet is in league with Fulke.” She scanned the knights filling the trencher tables below the dais, then turned back to Seathan. “Even after I recognized her as Lord Tearlach’s sister, I don’t believe she had a part in planning to infiltrate the Scottish rebels. In the past, during the brief time we spoke, her manner was that of a kindhearted woman.”

Seathan shoved aside the nearly full bowl, ignored the uneaten bread nearby, wiped his mouth, and tossed the cloth aside. “Mayhap, but war can change a person.” With time behind him and having calmed, he found his confrontation with Linet had only raised more questions. That he found himself agreeing with Nichola left him ill at ease. He shrugged. “One can see why Tearlach would draw her within his cause. Linet holds the ability to convince those around her of her sincerity, regardless the lie given.”

Alexander swallowed a long draught of wine, set his goblet on the table with a clatter, and frowned. “The lass is not worth your concern.”

“She means naught to me but an enemy caught.” And Seathan wished that were the truth. Ever since he’d left her in a guarded chamber, her devastated expression had haunted his mind. Why couldn’t he thrust her from his thoughts?

But he knew. The genuine shock and dismay in her eyes refused to leave him. And the acknowledgment that from the start, there had been a part of him that believed in her innocence.

Duncan grunted. “An enemy caught? Is that why you had the lass half stripped when I found you but hours ago?”

Red slashed Isabel’s cheeks.

Seathan needed no reminder of his foolery when it came to Linet. He muttered a curse. “Had I felt like dining with a lackwit—”

Two of his guards burst through the entry supporting a battered man. Quiet swept through the great room, broken only by the crackle from the wood-filled hearth.

Seathan’s gaze riveted on the man they half carried. “’Tis Bran!” He shoved to his feet, his brothers’ chairs scraping as they stood. Emotions stormed him as he strode toward his knight, a warrior he’d last seen fighting for his life when Tearlach’s men had ambushed him and his men. He’d believed Bran slaughtered like so many others.

A pace away, he halted. “I thought you dead,” Seathan rasped.

A grim smile cut through the warrior’s grief-weary face. “Aye, as did Lord Tearlach’s men. And the traitor, Dauid.” He nodded. “After everyone left, I dragged myself to a shelter by a stream. Over the days, with God’s blessing, I recovered enough to travel here.”

Hope rolled through Seathan. One of his men had lived; mayhap more had done so as well. “Did anyone…anyone else survive?”

Regret paled the knight’s face. He swallowed hard, his silence painting its own grim image of the horror he’d witnessed that night, of the carnage.

“Nay.” He shook his head. “I am the only one.”

God in heaven. Seathan laid his hand upon the man’s shoulder, his body trembling. He looked around the keep at his men. “We all grieve for the lives lost, but their sacrifice will not be in vain.” He looked straight into Bran’s eyes. “On that I swear before all this day. From their blood shall come Scotland’s freedom.”

Murmurs of agreement rose throughout the immense chamber. In salute, one by one, the knights filling the great hall stood, swords raised.

Pride filled Seathan at those around him, those who served Scotland, and those who would bring Scotland her freedom.