Laird of Darkness (8 page)

Why do you not stay with me?
The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say them. Nay, she would choose MacClaren, the better man. Not the man who needed her and wanted her most.

She had saved Duncan’s life. And what could he do except give her whatever she wanted most? If that was freedom, ’twas hers. If what she wanted most was his half brother, then that’s what she would have. He could no longer stand in her way. Alana was a selfless and giving person, the most generous he knew. She deserved so much. If he could give her the stars shining outside the window, he would.

Her hands stroking over his back relaxed him while they rested in the twilight. But his thoughts of losing her tormented him. His mind searched for a solution, a way to keep her. There was none, he decided groggily, irate with himself.
Simply forget about it.

Though instinct warned him to stay alert, he drifted down into the warm darkness of sleep. Would he find monsters there? ’Haps he would, but at the moment he didn’t care.

Duncan opened his eyes. Alana stirred beside him, stretching. Dim light shone softly through the open window. What the devil? This was not twilight. Too bright. Rain showered down, and thick gray clouds were visible outside the window. It seemed only moments ago stars had twinkled in the night sky.

He frowned, trying to determine how so much time had passed. He had not slept, surely. At night? But there had been no nightmares. He inspected his arms, his chest. No fresh scratches or bites marred his skin.

How was this possible?

“What’s the matter?” Alana asked.

Had she kept the nightmares at bay because she’d slept in his arms? Saints! If that was the case…he didn’t need the bow at all. He needed Alana with her healing powers and the light shining from her soul. She was all that was good. He needed her more than he needed sleep, or food, or air. He needed her beside him every night, every day.

But he’d given her freedom. He couldn’t take it back.

“I slept all night, yet the nightmares did not come. No beasts attacked me.”

Her face brightened and her excited gaze searched him for marks. “Oh, Duncan, that is wondrous! ’Haps you are cured of that curse.”

“What did you do? Cast a spell? Utter an incantation?”

“Nay. I did naught.”

He desperately hoped the nightmares were well and truly gone. But what if the fiends returned once she left? Duncan refused to consider it at the moment, preferring instead to focus on the remaining time they had together.

Sitting up, Alana examined the wound where the arrow had pierced his chest. Only a pink scar remained within the red birthmark over his heart. In some strange way, it reminded him of her. When she left, her memory would be a pink scar upon his heart, but far more painful than the arrow that had lanced through his body.

She kissed the scar and glanced shyly up at him. Her light blue eyes bewitched him.

Stay with me.

Nay, he couldn’t say it.

She arose from the bed and hastened out of the room.

Misery sank down on him despite the fact his body was in fine health.

She might have left him just now. He might never see her again. And if so, why bother getting up? ’Twas raining outside and no work could be done on the tower.

Angus and several other male clan members barged into the room, whooping and celebrating his recovery. He smiled and indulged them by displaying his scar proudly. But he couldn’t even enjoy his journey back from the brink of death, because of Alana’s impending departure.

Ten minutes later, she returned with a tray of food. The scents didn’t tempt him. He had no appetite.

She scooped a bite of eggs into the wooden spoon and offered it to him.

“Nay. I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t be a surly toad.”

She thought him
surly
when he was losing her—the most important person in his life?

“I’m not surly!” He arose from the bed and, naked, strode across the room to find clean clothing in the trunk.

“Very well! I’ll eat it all myself!” She crammed food into her mouth and chewed while glaring at him.

“Enjoy,” he muttered.

“Hmph.” Her mouth was too full to respond with anything more. And he left before she could swallow.

Duncan lurked in the guardhouse near the gates, ignoring the odd looks his men-at-arms gave him. The drizzle continued. Surely she wouldn’t set out toward Castle Claren in such weather. But he refused to ask her. Alana was going to leave him. So be it. He washed his hands of her.

If she wanted to marry his vile brother and would-be murderer, ’twas her choice.

The rain diminished into a fine mist, and he noticed her men saddling horses and packing their belongings in the inner barmkin.

Damn them all
. He strode from the guardhouse and took the back stairs to the roof of the castle. He much preferred the battlements, where he could gaze out over the mountainous landscape toward the loch. And the damnable Castle Claren in the distance. That’s where she would soon be. Duncan allowed a thick stone merlon between him and Castle Claren, lest MacClaren shoot him with another arrow. Clearly the bastard’s eyesight was even better than his.

Glancing down through the crenel, he saw that the horses were loaded and Alana’s clansmen and maids stood about, waiting.

“Where is Duncan?” Alana’s high-pitched voice echoed upward, slicing through him.

“Most likely on the ramparts,” Angus said.

Much thanks for your betrayal, Angus,
he wanted to yell down at him.

Duncan cursed and pressed back against the stone wall until it bit into his back. He waited, knowing she would come. ’Twould flay him, yet he craved to see and touch her one last time.

“Duncan?” Alana emerged onto the roof, glancing about. She again wore the brown cloak he’d found her in, but the cowl was lowered, her golden hair visible. When she turned toward him, her beauty again struck him, as it always did.

“What are you doing sulking up here?”

“I’m not sulking,” he grumbled.

She lifted a shapely blond brow; so skeptical and haughty, she was. “You weren’t going to bid me farewell?”

“Fare thee well,” he muttered, wishing she’d spare him the torment.

“You’re angry with me?” She inched forward.

“Nay.”

“You took me hostage. I saved your life, and you gave me my freedom.” It all sounded so simple when she put it like that. But the storm inside him was anything but reasonable.

“Indeed,” he said.

“What did I do to offend you?”

He sucked in much-needed cool, damp air. Still, he could not calm his annoyance. The misery and loneliness near consumed him.

“Well, then. Whatever it is, I ask for your pardon,” she said. “My party awaits me. I must be going.”

He nodded once.

She crept forward and awkwardly slid her arms around his waist. Unable to resist her embrace, he wrapped his arms around her tightly and pressed his face against her soft hair. Ah, the smell of flowers and woman.

“Duncan,” she breathed, then reached up to kiss his neck, as high as she could reach. “I will miss you.”

He cursed.
Miss
was too mild a word for what he would feel when she walked out those gates. He was unsure if he could survive without her. How could he be so weak?
Pull yourself together, man.

“I’ll miss you too,” he forced himself to say. “Have a safe journey.”

Now, go, before I tie you up in my bedchamber again.

She nodded, looking sad and like she wanted to say more.

“I will tell MacClaren if he ever shoots you again he will have me to answer to.” Her tone was fierce, but she was too feminine and charming to pull it off.

Duncan frowned, wondering what she meant. MacClaren would surely laugh in her face if she said such a thing.

“If he ever mistreats you, or hurts you…” Duncan would send all his men to murder the bastard. He’d do it himself if he could get near him.

“He won’t.” Her grin seemed overconfident and foolish to him. Daft lass. She did not realize the danger she put herself in.

“MacClaren is a soulless murderer, so have a care,” he said.

“Don’t worry over me.”

’Twas useless to deny he would. “Don’t worry over me either.”

A hint of a smile crossed her lips. Reaching up, she drew his head down so she might kiss him. Resisting her was futile. He kissed her hungrily, tasting her, relishing her. Damn, but he wanted her, needed her. In every way. He couldn’t tell her how much.

Stay with me.

What kind of man was he if he needed a woman for protection against monsters? ’Twas ridiculous. But it wasn’t just a shield from his nightmares he wanted.

However, he could not make her stay if it wasn’t what she wished. He wanted her to have whatever would make her happy. She deserved that. Alana’s destiny was to help many people, not just him. He would not be greedy and selfishly keep her.

Alana and her party, along with their horses, boarded the large, flat ferryboat and crossed the loch. Though the rain had stopped, gray clouds hung low in the sky, obscuring the mountaintops.

What could she expect from MacClaren? She hoped he wasn’t a callous knave.

In less than two hours, they arrived at Castle Claren, a huge gray granite structure with three towers and a high stone curtain wall. The guards posted at the gates appeared poleaxed when she told them her name, but one hastened inside for the laird.

A tall, broad-shouldered man returned with the guard. When he drew closer, she noted he was attractive, with tawny-blond hair and pale blue eyes. The gates opened and her party entered. Surely he could not be Duncan’s brother. Their coloring was dramatically different.

“Welcome. I am Kinnon MacClaren.” He smiled and bowed.

“Lady Alana Forbes.” She curtseyed.

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, his expression turning serious. “Thank the saints you are safe, my lady. I worried that devil’s spawn had killed you.”

“Nay. I am well.” This man seemed civilized enough. Hopefully she had nothing to fear from him. As for his opinion of Duncan, she would have to remedy that later. “Is my maid, Sophie, here? Is she well?”

“Aye. You may see her. How were you able to escape? Is MacDougall dead?”

“Nay,” Alana said, rage rising within her. “Despite the fact you tried to murder your own brother.”

“Half brother.” He frowned. “And I am no murderer! He took you hostage and I was but trying to rescue you. I was certain he had sorely mistreated you. Besides, if he had died, he would’ve deserved it.”

“You are wrong. He does not deserve to die. He didn’t hurt me nor any of my people.”

MacClaren lifted a brow. “’Tis a miracle.”

“He is not as bad as you imagine.”

“Is that so? One thing I don’t understand, my arrow pierced his heart. How did he survive?”

“You missed by less than an inch. He is recovering now. And he gave all of us our freedom. That should tell you what kind of man he is.”

“Well, mayhap he is changing his evil ways. Come in. You are all welcome and in time for midday meal.” He motioned toward the doorway.

Stable lads led the horses away.

Alana carried her herb satchel into the great hall, her servants and clansmen following. Many candles lit the massive room. Servants were preparing the trestle tables and benches for the upcoming meal.

“Could I speak with you in private, Laird MacClaren?” she asked.

“Aye.”

He led her upstairs to a small room that contained a desk cluttered with parchments. A tall window allowed in milky-gray light.

Alana decided she was no longer able to judge a person by first appearances, given how she’d misjudged Duncan. She simply hoped MacClaren was as honorable as he appeared…since they were now alone.

He motioned for her to take a seat in a straight chair, while he seated himself behind the desk.

“I know I was promised to you as a bride,” she said, her stomach knotting. “But I would like to offer you something else instead.”

“Why?” he asked in a hesitant tone. He watched her with those unnerving blue eyes, yet she was unable to gauge his true reaction. He seemed well skilled at hiding his emotions. “Pray pardon, but I must ask you this, my lady. Did MacDougall rape you?”

“No. No, of course not.”

He released a breath and some of the tension.

There was no help for it. She must tell him the truth. “I have fallen in love with Duncan MacDougall.”

“Fallen in love?” he scoffed. “So that’s the way of it. MacDougall seduced you and turned you against your own betrothed. ’Tis one of the things he’s notorious for.” His lip curled in obvious disgust. “You surprise me. I thought you a principled and moral lady.”

Though Alana knew she should feel ashamed, she didn’t. She loved Duncan, and what they’d shared was one of the most beautiful things on earth. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint. If you will release me from my obligation to you, I will repay you in gold.”

“Gold?” He lifted a brow.

“Aye, the bride price and my dowry.” She opened the drawstring of her satchel and from beneath her herbal supplies, withdrew a leather pouch stuffed full of gold coins. She poured them on the desk between them.

“I’m sure your father would have been disappointed in your decision.”

A pang of regret and grief lanced her at the mention of her beloved father. “I’m certain he would not have arranged the marriage if he’d known you were half Fae.” ’Twas the truth and she hoped it would deflate MacClaren’s overblown pride.

His eyes narrowed. “And yet you think he would approve of MacDougall? A man known to be the most cruel and barbarous in the Highlands?”

“If Da knew him, he would approve of him, because Duncan is neither of those things.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “My lady, he has you deceived in the grandest way possible.”

She clenched her teeth in frustration. How could Duncan be so misunderstood? “You’re wrong. He has only done what he had to do to survive and to protect his clan.”

MacClaren sat for a long moment, staring at the gold as if considering her offer, then inhaled deeply. “I will accept your offer, but I want something else instead of the gold.”

“Something else?” What could he mean? She had naught but herself and her gold.

“Your slave,” he said.

“What? You wish to keep Sophie?” Her pulse pounded in her temples. Alana had never considered trading a person for something she wanted. She was not like Duncan in that respect.

“Aye, it seems a fair exchange. A disloyal bride for a slave.” Bitterness darkened his voice.

Rage rose within Alana’s chest, but she concealed it. What he thought of her mattered not. But something was amiss. MacClaren could be hiding a fiend beneath that well-mannered surface. “For what nefarious purpose do you plan to use my friend?” she demanded.

He appeared most haughtily offended. “None, I assure you. I simply find I have need of another kitchen maid.”

“Sophie has never trained in the kitchen. She is a chambermaid.”

His lips quirked in a brief but lasciviously wicked way before he concealed it. “Aye, well then, a chambermaid it is.”

“You desire her?”

His face tightened, but a slight blush appeared on his cheeks. The fearsome MacClaren blushing?

“Did you seduce her?” Alana asked.

“That, my lady, is none of your concern.”

“Yet you revile Duncan for doing the same thing?” What an arrogant and self-righteous laird he was.

MacClaren stood abruptly, his chair sliding back into the wall with a bang. “That is my offer—you or your slave.” He strode out, slamming the door behind him.

Alana scooped the gold coins back into their pouch, wondering whether Sophie had been a willing participant in that seduction. She’d better have been or MacClaren would see Alana’s wrath.

She followed MacClaren to the great hall, and told him she wished to visit with Sophie. With a scowl upon his proud features, he dispatched one of his men to escort her upstairs to the tower.

Entering, she spied Sophie across the room and ran to her. “Are you well? Did MacClaren harm you?”

“Nay, my lady.” She smiled. “I am glad you are well.”

“You look beautiful.”

Sophie’s blond hair was braided and styled. Her clothing appeared of high quality and good condition, a lady’s clothes.

“The laird allowed me to wear these. He said they belonged to his mother.”

Perhaps he wasn’t so vile after all. “Well then, I’m impressed. And what do you think of Laird MacClaren?”

Sophie blushed and lowered her eyes. “He is a handsome man.”

“Indeed, but is he kind?”

“Aye, my lady.” Sophie’s grin peeked out.

Alana had to get to the heart of the matter. “Did he take advantage of you?”

She blushed darker. “I confess, I succumbed to his charms. I know I am weak. But he is very persuasive.”

Alana smiled. “You are not alone, for Duncan MacDougall seduced me and stole my heart. Now I wish to escape my betrothal with MacClaren. I offered him gold…but he wants you instead.”

“Me, my lady?” Sophie’s eyes widened.

“Apparently he is quite fond of you. But I cannot make that decision alone. It is up to you.”

“I am but a slave.”

“You are my friend first and foremost, Sophie. And I willingly grant you your freedom. If I but had a quill and parchment, I would make it official.”

“Oh, my lady.” Sophie hugged her, tears streaming from her eyes. “I thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, would you like to stay with MacClaren of your own free will?”

“Aye. I would do it.” She smiled, excitement lighting her eyes.

A half hour later, Alana laid out the terms of the arrangement to MacClaren. “I have two stipulations if you want Sophie. First, I have granted her freedom and you are to honor that. She is a free woman now. Second, you wed her.”

He glared at her, then dropped into the chair behind his desk and closed his eyes for a moment. “I cannot marry her. She is a former slave, not a lady.”

Alana seated herself in the wooden chair across from him. “I know a few things from her past. She was an orphan, abandoned on the streets of Edinburgh when her parents died, but she was the daughter of a German nobleman. She’s a slave because she stole food at the age of twelve when she was starving. My father bought her at auction so she wouldn’t be punished or mutilated. Our family has been kind to her and protected her.”

MacClaren’s expression changed to one of pain. “I thank you and your family for the kindness you’ve shown her. I will do nothing less.”

“So you will marry her?”

He shoved to his feet, moved to the window and stared out at the mountains. “’Tis not so simple. A chief cannot simply marry whomever he chooses. Regardless of who her father was, Sophie was a slave, and now no more than a servant.”

Alana also knew a chief’s word was law within the clan—law a laird could bend to his suit his needs. She could only hope MacClaren’s heart would eventually soften and that, whether she was his wife or mistress, Sophie would be happy.

Standing to face him, Alana pressed him for an answer. “I will return in a month’s time and see how she fares. Do you agree?”

“Aye. You are welcome here anytime.”

“Another thing. I wish you and Duncan to make amends and end your feud.”

MacClaren’s expression hardened. “That, I cannot promise. There is much bad blood betwixt our clans and has been for centuries. He persists in trying to steal my bow. I will never give it up.”

“I don’t think he’ll want the bow anymore.” After all, he’d slept last night in her arms without the creatures attacking him. “But I shall speak with him. He’s not an evil man, merely one who’s suffered much pain in his life. His Fae blood causes him a great deal of torment. He is simply trying to survive.”

“If you say so,” MacClaren said doubtfully.

“I shall never understand either of you. Brothers, yet you don’t even know each other.”

“Well, ’tis difficult when our mother prevented us from setting foot on one another’s property.”

“But you and Duncan could compromise, meet on the lands of a nearby friendly clan.”

He shrugged. “Why?”

“If Duncan were agreeable to simply meet you and talk, would you be?”

“’Haps. But I make no promises.”

His haughtiness annoyed her. “Clearly you think you’re the grand hero in all this and Duncan is the evil villain.”

“’Tis the way I’ve always seen it. But likely he sees me as the villain.”

She nodded. “A murderous villain.”

“I’m not. I only take my revenge when he forces my hand. I didn’t know if he’d killed you, tortured you, raped you.”

“He was kind to me,” she said softly, remembering how he’d fed her with his own hands, and when he’d comforted her in the darkness. “And I know you will be kind to Sophie, aye?”

“Indeed.”

Alana looped her satchel strap across her shoulder. “I’ll speak with him about a meeting.”

MacClaren nodded.

“But I must be going now and see if he will have me back.”

In the great hall during supper, Duncan stared at the venison stew before him and saw naught but Alana’s face in his mind. Why was he destined to lack what he wanted most? The gods had a twisted sense of humor when they’d sent his Fae mother to the world of men to have two sons. Kinnon, the light soul, always received whatever he wished. Duncan, the dark soul, must always do without. He had not chosen his path; it had been thrust upon him.

A guard burst through the entry door. “They’ve returned, m’laird!”

Duncan stood, shoving the chair back. “Who?”

“Lady Alana and her party.”

Could it be true? “Why would she come back?” His heart in his throat, Duncan leapt down from the dais and exited the tower with the guard. “Are you certain ’tis them and not an underhanded attack in disguise?”

“See for yourself, m’laird.” The guard grinned.

Why would she do this? Had MacClaren hurt or insulted her in some way? They strode quickly to the gates.

Alana’s cowl was thrown back, her fair hair and beautiful face clearly visible in the twilight. She smiled. The sight of her was like being struck in the stomach with a mace.

“May we enter?” she called.

Duncan only now realized he’d stopped several paces away to gape. He sucked in air and scrutinized her party. Naught appeared unusual. “Aye. But you must give up your weapons.”

“You think we are a threat?” Alana asked, her smile now diminished.

“I know not what MacClaren put you and your men up to.”

“Naught!”

“Search her men,” he told his guards.

One of the men helped her dismount, and she approached him. “Could I have a word in private?” she asked softly. Her scent of flowers and herbs bewitched him.

“Aye.” He motioned for her to proceed into the great hall. Following her up the steps, he could scarce get his breath for the anticipation crushing his chest.

Why had she returned?

Once inside, she crossed to the stairwell, looked back and waited for him. That was the way to his solar. What in blazes did she have in mind?