Circle of Honor (24 page)

She hesitated, the stubbornness gone as quickly as it came. “Aye,” she whispered.

“How can you be sure?”

At her look of indignation, he hastened to assure her. “I believe you. But how do you know?”

She played with the ends of her hair, twisting and untwisting it about her finger. For a moment he wanted nothing more than to run his own hand through the length of it, to . . .

With difficulty, he reined in his wayward thoughts. “How do you know this for sure, Gwenyth?”

The pained expression on her face told him she dredged up unbearable memories to answer his question. She touched the brooch at his shoulder, fingering it as if memorizing the details. “This pin is unique, is it not?”

He would humor her; give her the time she seemed to need. “Aye. 'Twas made especially for my father when he became captain of the federation.”

“And Leod's brooch is unique as well?”

“I'm sure he has more than one, as I do. But yes, he has one unique to him as laird of the Macphersons. Why do you ask?”

She looked up from the brooch. “When Leod demanded I accuse you, I believed it must be you who had . . . It was so dark.”

She laid her palm against his cheek. “But you had no beard, your face was tanned, and you were so kind to me that evening. I didn't know who to believe, you or Leod. And then I noticed Leod's brooch and it matched a most unusual bruise . . .”

Her voice trembled, and the hand on his face slipped away.

He gently brought her into his embrace as he fought his rage. He kissed her temple and held her close. “I'll kill him, Gwenyth. I swear it. I'll kill that misbegotten brute.”

He held her until her trembling ceased and his anger subsided. And then it hit him, and he turned and smacked his palm against the stone wall.

She jumped away from him. “What?”

“If I make this known and accuse Leod, he will escape punishment because I've already been found guilty. And your life will be in even more danger. Leod doesn't like to leave witnesses.”

Seeing her baffled look, he continued, “You need to know that several of my clanswomen have also suffered your fate. One still clutched a mask in her hands when she was found. Dead.”

Her face turned so pale he feared she would faint. “Leod.”

Reaching out to steady her, he replied, “I have no evidence, but yes, I can believe it was him.”

“Why? Why does he do this?”

“I don't know.” He grasped her arms to calm her. “But you understand why you must not leave Moy?”

She nodded, and some color returned to her cheeks.

He placed Bryan's letter back inside his plaid. “I have your word, then?”

“Aye.”

“Good. There is another matter we need to discuss, Gwenyth.” He took his hands from her arms and paced a few steps away. When he turned back to her, she seemed composed. He hoped so.

“King Robert is satisfied that marriage to me resolves your involvement with Balliol. In truth, I think he is loath to bring more harm down on you or your clan.” He returned to stand beside her, wishing he didn't have to say the rest. Wishing he could erase the anxiety her face revealed. “His letter contained a command I find I cannot obey. He orders me to make the marriage binding, to consummate the vows as quickly as decency allows.”

A sharp intake of breath was her only response as she stared wide-eyed at him.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he fought to keep his voice calm. “By the saints, Gwenyth, I've made many promises, but none I am more determined to keep than my promise not to force you. I cannot do that to you, not even for my king.”

She walked away and stood before the altar rail, and he thought she would fall to her knees and pray. She just stood there, staring at he knew not what. He could not make himself go to her, just as could not fathom what her response might be.

His enemy, his wife. God help him, he was falling in love with her.

He would not, could not harm her any more than he'd ever been able to harm any of God's creatures. He had never hunted for sport, but only to feed his family. And he had never killed another man, except in battle.

And he had never lifted his hand to a woman, nor would he start now.

When he thought he couldn't bear her silence a moment longer, she turned. To his surprise, her features had softened. By the heavens above, she was so lovely. Golden flecks sparkled in her dark brown eyes, and the early morning light from the stained glass behind the altar glinted in gold and red highlights in her hair. Hair that covered her breasts and fell softly, swinging now as she walked toward him.

She stood in front of him, so small, so beautiful.

He wanted desperately to kiss her full lips, to cover her in kisses. Aye, he would give her reason to be willing, but she would have to invite him. And there was little chance of that.

A wistful smile played upon her features as she looked up at him. “I will be honest, Adam. I am not happy to be a prisoner.”

He smiled back at her. “And I am not happy to be your warden, lady. I would much rather be a husband.” He kissed her, a far more chaste kiss than he would have liked. But she deserved his restraint. She was his wife, and he would honor her as best he could by teaching her to enjoy his touch.

Somehow. Some way.

He was encouraged when she didn't shrink from him.

“I'm not happy to wed a man who serves a king I can never give allegiance to.” She stepped closer and cupped his cheek with her hand.

He leaned into her touch, kissed her palm, then said, “I understand that you would hate the man who killed your father. I won't ask you to forgive him. That is between you and God. But I will demand your loyalty.”

“Yet you will not heed his order concerning our marriage.” She gazed at him in wonder. “Truth be told, Adam Mackintosh, there cannot be a more honorable man in all of Scotland.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded by this declaration, unsure just what it meant. “If it weren't for my overwrought honor, you wouldn't be here to begin with.”

“Oh, Adam. Don't blame yourself for Leod's evilness.”

“But if I'd taken you to my room, he wouldn't have harmed you.”

She took his large hand in both of hers. “I will not compel you to disobey your king. I will come to you willingly, as willing as I am able, this once, Adam. More than that I cannot promise.”

“Willing is the only way I'll have you, Gwenyth.” He closed his eyes, stifling an urge to crush her to him. But he held himself in check. He knew this gift she offered came with a terrible price for her. Yet she offered, and only a fool would not accept.

“As willing as you are able. More than that I will not ask.” He lifted her small hand to his lips and kissed the delicate fingers.

“You won't ask for my promise to remain at Moy?”

“Death awaits you outside my walls, Gwenyth. Perhaps in this one night you've granted me, I can convince you to choose life instead.”

She withdrew her hand, as if distressed by his reminder of what the night would bring. “We'd best be going.”

“Aye, my lady.”
Before my self-discipline deserts me.

Adam escorted Gwenyth to the keep, where she asked permission to retire to her chamber. Clearly her promise for this evening did not include a desire to spend the daylight hours in his company, and so Adam headed for the smith in hopes of finding Morogh.

He nearly collided with Nathara. “Good day to you.”

“Good day, my laird.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a nervous gesture, then made as if to continue on.

Curious, Adam delayed her with a hand on her arm. “We've not spoken in some time, Nathara. How go things with you?”

She edged away, glancing toward the keep. “Fine, my laird. I must go. I rode this morn and I need to wash and help your mother.”

“Where did you ride?”

“Oh, just to the wood above the falls.”

He'd always thought she'd be a better liar than this. Such nervousness in a woman born to an easiness in stride and conversation bespoke of deceit. “A lovely spot.”

“Oh, aye. A bonny spot, to be certain.” Again the agitated motion to tame her hair. “I must go, Adam. I'm late.”

“Of course. I'm sorry to keep you.”

She made a quick curtsy and fled.

He walked on to the smith, where he found Morogh overseeing the repair of the Comyn men's weapons. After praising the smith's efforts, Adam pulled Morogh aside. “Put a watch on Nathara. I have reason to believe she is up to mischief.”

“You think she's carryin' tales?”

“I don't know what she's up to, but I'll warrant it's not good.”

Satisfied that all was as it should be, Adam left Morogh and walked to the hall for the midday meal. As he strode to the dais, he was surprised and glad to find Gwenyth at the high table. She rose 213 to greet him like a proper wife, and he bent over her hand to feather a kiss upon it, like a proper bridegroom. Aye, he would woo her and risk rejection, for she was worth the gamble.

But he'd barely begun his campaign before a shout and commotion arose to interrupt the meal. Ordering Gwenyth to stay indoors, Adam hurried to the bailey. One of the men Adam had sent to watch for cattle thieves galloped into the enclosure and slid his horse to a halt in front of them.

The man nearly tumbled into the dirt in his haste to dismount. Adam's gut clenched. Cattle raids were far too common an occurrence to incite such excitement.

Having righted himself, the man made a cursory bow to Adam. “My laird. There's been another raid.”

“How many cattle?”

“Nay, my lord, only three or four beasties were lifted. They didna come for the cattle—they attacked the village at Glen Corry.”

Cattle raiding was an accepted annoyance of life in the highlands, but attacking a village was tantamount to a declaration of war. Before questioning the sentry further, Adam ordered Morogh to mount a troop of men for a fast ride.

“Any loss of life, Ivar?”

“Nay, but William McBean is hurt bad. Someone tried to nab his Mary, but William ran him off.”

Adam shook his head, wondering if this was more of Leod's doing. He'd thought the death of the last victim might make Leod more cautious. “Did the rest of the watch follow the trail to see where it leads?”

“ 'Twas no need, my laird. The fool dropped his bonnet. 'Twas a Cameron.”

“Indeed.” He found it much too convenient that the man was clumsy enough to leave behind his clan badge to identify himself. Whoever had attacked the village must hope to stir trouble by such deceit. For although the Camerons were known to help themselves to Chattan cattle now and then, their laird had no reason to attack Adam's people.

Adam had to believe this was more of Leod's doing. But how could he prove it? As he mulled over that thought, Gwenyth laid her hand on his arm. “Shall I come with you?”

“Have you forgotten our earlier conversation?” She recoiled at the sharpness of his voice, and he softened his tone. “I appreciate the offer of help, Gwenyth, but I will take Nathara to tend the wounded.”

“As you wish, my laird.”

Morogh brought Kai to him and Adam brushed a kiss across Gwenyth's cheek before mounting the restive stallion. Gwenyth gave a weak smile then turned and walked back into the hall.

She looked troubled, and Adam regretted that he was the cause of it. But for now his duty as a bridegroom must be pushed aside by his duty as laird.

THE VILLAGE lay to the north, not far from the border with the Cameron holdings. When they arrived, Adam inspected the damaged crofter's huts and spoke with the wounded as Nathara tended to them. Only three cattle were taken, making it obvious that the people had been the target. William McBean's injuries included a broken leg, but Nathara assured him the man would recover.

When Adam had questioned the last of the victims, he ordered Morogh to gather the men together for the ride back to Moy. While he waited one of the women brought Adam a cup of chamomile tea, which he gratefully accepted.

As the warm liquid soothed him, a long-ago memory flashed through Adam's mind. Of a carefree summer day in his childhood turned to horror as Leod swung a kitten by its tail. Adam tried to rescue the creature, but Leod ran. He followed and Leod threatened to fling the kitten into a tree if Adam didn't back off. Angry and frustrated to tears, Adam had watched as his cousin walked away, the poor animal hanging from his hand.

Adam never saw that kitten again. How foolish to believe that Leod would outgrow such cruelty.

Morogh brought his horse, and they mounted up and headed home. Even Nathara was subdued as they made their way back to the castle.

As he contemplated the day's events, Adam allowed himself to wish he wasn't laird, didn't have to weigh each action and its consequences to the clan. Just a simple man with a simple life—with a wife and children and a plot of land to tend like these crofters.

He smiled at a vision of little towheaded bairns clinging to his knee, begging for a story. Of boys who would need to be taught to protect the weak and innocent in their care. And daughters who would bring laughter and joy to the clan.

Adam's reverie was interrupted when Morogh brought his horse abreast of Kai and Adam. They had reached the hill overlooking the loch just as the evening sun cast shadows to play upon the scene.

Morogh pointed to the keep. “The laird's pennant has been lowered.”

Instantly alert, Adam halted his horse and Morogh did likewise. “Do you think there's mischief afoot?”

“Aye, the raid may have been a ruse to lure ye from the castle while someone attacked.”

“But if the alarm was sounded in time, the castle is virtually impossible to take.” Adam looked again to the rampart. Despite the failing light, the laird's flag should be plainly visible, waving in the breeze. But it clearly was not.