Emerald (Jewel Trilogy, Book 2) (45 page)

Cait dashed her tears away and blinked. She heard another rattle of the door latch, but she was too stunned to react. "You…you're…"

"Emerald MacCallum." The woman stared pointedly at Wat. "I take it he's dead?"

"I-I reckon so."

Emerald reached to touch Cait's hand. "Don't fash yourself, dear. I don't normally hold with killing my quarry, but these brothers…well, the world is better off without them."

"B-but I've never killed a man! And I didn't mean to, even though he was such a bad one. I swear on"—she reached for her missing amulet, then let out a sob—"on my mam's grave." She searched Emerald's golden eyes, tears falling from her own. "Will I ever get over it?"

"Nay." The single word was blunt, yet kind. Emerald patted her on the back. "But others will thank you for it, and some day, you'll realize it wasn't really wrong. You'll never get over it completely, but you will learn to live with it." She backed away toward the window. "It will, however, change you, maybe even for the better."

Her hand on the sill, Emerald stilled. "A wee keek back keeps you on the right path."

For a moment, Caithren could only stare. One of Mam's sayings. Let life's experiences guide you forward.

"You came for the reward," she said softly, remembering Jason accusing her of the same.

The other woman nodded, then shrugged and turned to duck out. Their gazes both flew to the ledge when another hand appeared beside hers, larger and squarer, with a light sprinkling of black hair across the back. Caithren gasped. A second hand settled next to it, then a face rose into the frame.

Jason's face, though so colorless Cait feared for his life.

Emerald reached down a hand and pulled him up and into the room.

He stood there, visibly shaking, looking back and forth between Caithren and the woman he'd once thought her to be. Before he could say anything, Emerald climbed out the window and was gone.

He looked back to Cait, his face still pale, his eyes wide. "Was that Emerald MacCallum?"

"Aye."

He shook his head, then pierced her with an intense green gaze. "Are you all right?"

Tears threatening, she bit her lip and nodded.

"
Caithren.
" Her name was a harsh whisper in the air. He held out his arms, and Cait rushed into them, fresh tears flowing at the feel of him crushed against her. She drew deep of his familiar, comforting scent, underlaid with a trace of the sharp smell of fear. He was warm and solid in her arms, his body still shuddering with residual tremors.

With a long sniff, she pulled back. "I…I cannot believe you climbed up the wall. Four stories, with your fear of heights."

"What do you take me for?" For a split second he looked angry or hurt, she wasn't sure which. Then his eyes softened. "I love you, Cait. I would move heaven and earth to see to your safety. Climbing that wall was nothing." At her look of disbelief, he released a shaky laugh. "Well, not nothing, but I would do it again. For you. But give me a few days first, will you? I need some time to recover."

She laughed through her tears, reaching forward to clutch his hands in hers. "Geoffrey went to the wedding to find Scarborough. You were right, Jase—he was wearing the fat man disguise, with the beard—"

She broke off at his gasp. His gaze was riveted over her shoulder.

"It's Wat." Her lids slid closed, but the tears leaked through them anyway. "I didn't mean to kill him, I swear it." She opened her eyes, willing Jason to believe she hadn't done such a terrible thing deliberately. "I hit him over the head, but he didn't fall, and then he pulled a pistol, and it went off, but it was pointing up in the air. I don't know what happened!"

Jason looked up at the ceiling. "It ricocheted, Cait."

She followed his gaze and saw the molded Elizabethan pattern was damaged. "I only meant to knock him out so I could go find Adam—"

At her brother's name, she froze. With a mighty effort, she pulled herself together. She had no time to feel this wrenching regret; not right now. She'd allow herself that luxury later.

"Adam. I have to find Adam. I must get to the wedding. It's sorry I am to leave you now, but I've come all this way, and—well, you'll be wanting to go, too, will you not? Gothard is there."

"Cait. There's something I need to tell you. I meant to this morning, but Gothard—"

"I know. There are reasons you don't want to stay with me. We'll talk of it on the way."

He took her by the shoulders. "That's not it, Cait." His eyes and voice were frantic. "Not at all. You mustn't think such a thing—"

She pressed her mouth to his, to silence his proposal. He'd scaled the wall for her. She'd been wrong, and he loved her enough, after all. Her heart sang with joy, but she hadn't time for such things now.

She put her answer into her kiss, a caress of such fiery possession that he had to know how she felt. Regretfully she pulled away, her lips clinging to his for a last moment, savoring the sweetness of his love. A love she would be sure of the rest of her life.

He'd climbed four stories for her. The equivalent of a mountain for other men.

"I love you, Jase. We'll talk of it later. I must get to the wedding."

"You don't understand—"

At the sound of pounding she tore her gaze from his and hurried into the front room, Jason at her heels. He yanked her back just as the door slammed in, barely staying on its hinges.

Beyond its frame, Kendra and Ford stood in the half-dark of the corridor. And behind them, rubbing the shoulder he must have used to break down the door—

"Cameron?" Confused, she stared at him in disbelief. He looked pale. As Jason moved behind her to shut the door to the bedroom, she took a wooden step forward.

"Cait." Her cousin pushed his way between the twins and wrapped her into a hug. Smelling of home, he rubbed her back in a familiar, comforting rhythm. "Cait—I'm…" Laced with sympathy, his voice faltered. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" Her gaze flickered to the door shielding the other room. Could the news of Wat's death be spreading already? "It was an accident, Cam."

He pulled away, searching her eyes with his. "You knew it before now, then?"

She only looked at him, baffled.

Jason peeled away Cameron's arms and took her by the shoulders. "Caithren. The thing I've been trying to tell you…"

He looked down at his boots, then back up and straight at her. His eyes held such pain, she was taken aback.

A cold knot formed in her stomach.

He drew a strangled breath. "Adam is dead. At my hands."

She was speechless. Adam was dead? It didn't seem possible.

His green gaze implored her, but she couldn't get past the shocking news to figure out what he was asking of her.

"There was a duel. Geoffrey Gothard pulled your brother from the crowd and used him as a shield. I wasn't fast enough—or skilled enough—to control my blade. And Adam died for it."

"Adam is dead?" Her words were barely a whisper. "And you knew it and didn't tell me?"

Jason stared at her for a long, silent moment. Then he turned and walked out through the empty doorway, into the emptier world beyond.

Ford chased Jason down the corridor. "You cannot just leave!" He plucked him by the sleeve. "How long have you known?"

"Almost two days. And every minute I didn't tell her was agony. But I knew it would be like this." He wrenched from Ford's grasp and continued walking down the hall.

Ford ran after him. "You knew it would be like what?"

"Whatever feelings she had for me died. Couldn't you see it her eyes?"

It had even been worse than he'd thought it would be. Much, much worse.

"I couldn't stay and watch that. I love her. God damn it, Gothard's ruined my life." He started down a narrow flight of stairs.

"You never would have met her without Gothard." Ford's voice came from behind him. "She's in shock. She might need some time to absorb it all, but if she loved you before, she still will. It was an accident."

At the bottom of the steps, Jason whirled. "I killed her brother. Her
brother
. Do you reckon I'd find forgiveness for the man who killed you, or Kendra, or Colin? It was bad enough when the man was nameless. This isn't easy to live with, Ford."

The pain was excruciating, but he had to put it aside for now. He had other responsibilities.

"Just leave me alone," he said. "Go back to Kendra and Cait. And—her cousin, is he?" Ford nodded. "She loves him—he will comfort her much better than I could. She killed Wat, you know."

"What?"

"Wat's in the back room. You'll need to send for the authorities. I take it you warned Scarborough?"

"Bloody hell." Ford's eyes widened. "No. We ran into her cousin and learned the truth and—damn, I forgot. We came straight here to tell Cait what we knew, and—"

Jason was already running for the exit.

Jason strode through Lord Darnley's front door, past the gaping footman and into a swarm of glittering guests. Scarborough. Where was Scarborough? What the hell did the man look like? He'd seen him once or twice at court, but, damn it, he'd never paid much attention, and—

With a jolt of relief he spotted him. Sandy-haired, like Gothard, but taller and sporting a broad mustache. Dressed in deep blue velvet and apparently unconcerned, Scarborough stood in a circle of men, discussing the shocking news that Clarendon, the Lord Chancellor, had resigned earlier in the day.

"Barbara was leaning from her window, cheering at his departure," Scarborough said as Jason walked up. Barbara, Countess of Castlemaine and the king's longtime mistress, had always hated Clarendon. "So do you know what he said to her?"

The men leaned closer into the circle. "What?"

"'Pray remember, my lady, that if you live, you will grow old.'"

Amid their laughter, Jason touched Scarborough on the arm. "I apologize for interrupting, but there's a matter of some urgency."

Scarborough turned, a look of confusion on his face. "Yes?"

Just as Jason was about to respond, a flash of silver caught his eye.

He spun around, shoving Scarborough from harm's way as he drew his rapier from its scabbard. "I arrest you in the name of the king," he said in a booming voice, startled to hear how it carried. "You will put down your weapons and wait here for the magistrate."

The music stopped, and as one, the wedding guests turned to watch. Jason's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. "Now, Gothard."

The disguised man's gaze held hard and unwavering. "We meet again," he drawled through the bushy brown beard. "My nearest and dearest enemy."

Words familiar to Jason. Familiar and enraging. "Once and for all, why should you call me your enemy?"

Gothard's sunburned features went tight with resentment. His blue eyes narrowed. "You have what should rightfully be mine."

"Rightfully yours?" Again Jason had the feeling he'd seen those eyes. Befuddled, his head swam. "I have nothing that is yours. And because of this misconception, you've been chasing me, trying to kill me?"

"I never wanted to kill you," Gothard said with a smile—a cold one. "Only to enjoy some of your riches. They should have been mine. Including your woman." The familiar eyes turned as cold as the smile. "I'd have had her long before now if you'd ever left her alone."

Jason ignored the threat to Cait. She was safe. But he swiped at his missing mustache, infuriated.

All the disguises and hiding, and Gothard had never been out to kill them. Just playing hide-and-seek.

"And Scarborough?" He nodded in the man's direction.

"Him I want dead." The wild sheen in Gothard's eyes said he wasn't sane. "With him dead, Wat inherits and I get what I deserve."

What he deserved was questionable at the moment. He was well and truly mad. "What about what I deserve, Gothard? What do I owe you and why?"

"Damn you to bloody hell." Gothard moved forward, then pulled back when Jason brandished his sword. "Both you and the father we share."

Pain and confusion shooting through him, Jason advanced a step closer. "We share nothing!" He slowly circled the tip of his rapier, then sliced it hissing through the air in a swift move that brought a collective gasp from the wedding guests.

The blade's thin shadow flickered across the candlelit parquet floor. His mind whirled with thoughts of little Mary, her mother Clarice, Cait and her brother Adam…all the blood, the irrational violence.

With a roar, Gothard lunged, and the first clash of steel on steel rang through the ballroom.

"I was born first," Gothard yelled. "It should be mine, all mine!"

He slashed wildly, catching Jason's sword across the middle. The vibrations shimmied up Jason's arm. Muscles tense, he swung and thrust, and again steel bashed against steel. His heart pounded; blood pumped furiously through his veins.

What Gothard was saying couldn't be true. No way in hell was he this evil man's half brother.

They scrambled onto the dance floor, and the crowd scurried back. Gothard was cornered, but Jason was incensed. He would never believe it,
never
. He edged Gothard back against the wall. Gothard took sudden advantage, and Jason found himself retreating as their blades tangled, slid, broke free with a metallic twang.