Highlander Redeemed (Guardians of the Targe Book 3) (24 page)

He had an actual ache in his chest at that thought. He’d abandoned her, and even though she deserved it with her return to her impulsive, selfish decisions that might put someone else in danger of dying, it was not something he did easily. She had been his to watch over for as long as he could remember.

A heaviness settled over him. He had failed in so many ways. He thought he had guided her to a real change, given her a purpose that focused her vibrant energy and challenged her sharp mind. He had believed her feelings had changed—for her purpose, and for him—but he had been wrong. It was as if everything they had done together these last weeks was a lie. She claimed he had only wanted to keep her close, but he knew now that she had only wanted him to blindly support her quest for vengeance.

He could not fathom what had possessed him to tell her of his feelings. He could not fathom why he had such deep feelings for her, or why it had been such a shock when she had denied them so vehemently.

He heard the horn blast once, and his first thought was that Scotia had returned, but if she came from the main pass that meant she had left the glen after all. In truth, he had known she would, if for no other reason than that he’d told her not to. Nothing good could come from such an expedition.

And then three long blasts of the horn made him forget everything except his duty to the clan.

Three blasts meant trouble.

S
COTIA LED THE
way down the trail into the Glen of Caves with Hector right behind her, her sword, dagger, and shield now in his possession.

“Ye are a right wee eedjit,” he muttered.

He was right.

“If Conall and Angus find their deaths this day because you brought the English right to this glen, ’twill be a mark against yer soul the likes of which you cannot redeem yourself from,” he said.

“I ken that,” Scotia replied. Never had she knowingly caused someone to be put in such a place of danger before. Conall was sweet, if not too smart. He did not deserve to die before he found a lass to love him better than she ever had, to give him bairns, and keep him warm on a cold winter’s night. And Angus’s bairns and his wife needed him. What would she do if either man died because of her folly this day?

“If yer chief has any ballocks he shall lock you in chains and keep you somewhere where you can never cause trouble again,” Hector grumbled. “’Tis what I would do with you, were it my decision.”

Scotia stumbled at the thought of being so helpless, but caught her footing before she fell. After being held captive by the English at the Story Stone she had sworn to herself she would never be
held in such a way again, that she would never allow herself to be put in such a helpless position.

If Nicholas commanded this, would she be able to do as her chief ordered? Duncan would say it was her duty to do as Nicholas said, even if it meant a certain death.

She swallowed hard, pressing back the panic that just the thought of being tied up again raised within her. She should run, flee, before they had a chance to do such a thing to her, but—Duncan’s voice whispered in her mind—if she allowed it, or any other punishment without a fight or an argument, it might show her contrition and her understanding of what she had done.

“I might add in a flogging, just to make sure you remembered the lesson,” Hector said. A note of satisfaction in his voice made it sound like he’d just said they would have honey cakes for dinner.

The trouble was, she knew he was right. ’Twas what she deserved. She could not deny that she had failed in every one of her lessons.

She had failed to keep her temper in check. She had failed to think of others before herself, or how her actions might cause harm. She had failed to cover her tracks. She had failed to kill the soldiers herself, running instead. She had failed in every way possible, letting down everyone she loved.

She had failed Duncan most of all.

He had been right. She was not ready to be a warrior or she never would have left the glen when her mind was so full of anger and betrayal. If she were truly ready to be a warrior, she would have afforded him the respect to listen to him, to heed his warning. But she didn’t.

She could see all too clearly now that he was not the one to break faith with her. She was the one who had broken faith with him. He had always been clear that when he deemed her ready, he would champion her right to join the warriors in battle, and she had agreed. She had broken the pact between them, all because her pride was hurt and her drive for vengeance was stymied. No
wonder he was so angry with her. No warrior would go back on his, or her, word. For all her accomplishments with sword and shield, she had failed to learn this most basic lesson.

And now, not only was she not ready to be a warrior, she had thrown away the man who believed she could become one. She had betrayed the trust of the one person who was her constant champion, the one person who truly loved her.

The one person she loved above all others. The thought almost stopped her heart. She loved him. And now she realized that she had been lying to herself for a long time. She loved Duncan. He was always in her mind, by her side, encouraging, teaching . . . hoping she would grow up enough to one day return his love, despite what everyone thought of her, despite her own behavior. And it was only now that she had lost his love that she realized she had loved him all her life.

She was a selfish chit.

If she had listened to him, to allow him to explain the lesson she had just learned the hard way, none of this would have happened. If she’d only trusted him she might be folded in his arms now, telling him of her feelings for him, instead of facing her family and revealing yet another failure on her part.

They should bind her to a tree.

They should banish her to a lonely life where she could bring no more harm to anyone she loved.

It was what she deserved.

It was
exactly
what she deserved.

D
UNCAN SKIDDED TO
a halt as he arrived in the cave clearing just as the Guardians emerged from the path that led to their bower by the burn. Nicholas and Malcolm, along with all the lads they had been training, stood at the far end of the clearing,
weapons at the ready, while the women and the weans scattered into the forest, all except Peigi, who sat in her accustomed place near the cookfire.

He looked at her with raised brows, asking without the need for words why she remained.

“I am too auld to caper off into the forest, lad,” she said, waving a wooden ladle in his direction. “If ’tis the English they will find a fight on their hands from more than you warriors and Guardians!”

Duncan laughed quietly, grateful to the old woman for reminding him that sometimes a person just had to stand one’s ground, no matter the consequences.

“If it comes to that, Peigi, I will gladly fight at your back.”

“Of course you will.” She leaned a little to the side to look behind him. “Where is your charge?”

He sighed. “I dinna ken. I fear she has gone off and caused whatever trouble is coming into the glen, and ’tis my fault for leaving her alone.”

Peigi rose to her feet and stood before him. “She is no child, Duncan.” She accentuated each word with a poke of her finger in the middle of his chest. “For all her foolish tempers, she is a woman grown, and it is she who is responsible for her actions, not you.”

He nodded and rubbed at the place on his chest, where he was certain a bruise would form. “I ken that, but still I feel responsible. I thought she had changed. I was certain of it, but she has not, and in my anger and disappointment, I left her.”

Peigi clucked her tongue against her teeth. “You canna see the lass clearly, Duncan. She has changed these last weeks, but perhaps not enough. Not yet. Do not give up on her altogether. She just might surprise you.”

“She surprised me today when I discovered she has thrown aside all I have tried to teach her and retreated back into her selfish ways.”

Peigi twitched a gnarled hand toward the far end of the clearing. “It seems she has returned.”

The clenched fist in Duncan’s gut loosened. She was alive and appeared unharmed, but Malcolm’s cousin, Hector, accompanied her.

“Go, laddie!” Peigi gave him a push. “Find out what trouble our Scotia brings with her.”

S
COTIA STOOD SILENTLY
next to Hector, facing Nicholas and Malcolm, as Hector relayed what had happened. She dared not look at Duncan as he pushed through the line of lads who still held their weapons—swords, dirks, and rocks—at the ready behind the chief and his champion. If she saw the disappointment still there in Duncan’s eyes, or worse, hatred, she would ken that she had truly lost him. She pressed her lips together and fought to keep her composure.

He stopped just behind Malcolm.

“Denis sent Conall and Angus to watch the pass this one”—Hector glared over at her—“did not tell us of, but they will need help. The archer will make it impossible for our lads to attack them in the open of the pass, and they cannot guard the pass and hunt down the soldiers all alone.”

“I ken where the other pass is,” Duncan said, his voice harsh as if he, too, fought to contain his emotions. She glanced up, unable to keep herself from looking at him, but he did not look at her. “I can follow Scotia’s trail out of it and find the soldiers faster than anyone else can.”

Malcolm and Nicholas both looked back at him. “You ken where this pass is, and that she had left by it, and you said nothing?” Nicholas almost snarled at him.

“He only learned of it today.” Scotia took a step forward to defend Duncan, then stopped when he took a step back, the reality of the loss of him, of his support, of his love, only then really
sinking in. She stepped back, squared her shoulders, and looked only at Nicholas. “’Tis my fault alone that this has happened. He tried to stop me”—she took a deep breath but did not let her gaze falter—“but I refused to listen to his good counsel.”

Scotia heard Peigi’s wheezy laugh and saw her behind the line of lads, nodding her head, her gaze locked with Scotia’s, and Scotia almost felt a push from the auld woman to keep going.

“Time is of the essence, Nicholas,” Scotia said. “The soldiers may have already found their way to the pass. I will go with Duncan. This is a mess of my making, and ’tis only right I should help clean it up.”

“Nay—” Duncan said, but Malcolm cut him off.

“Clean it up?” Malcolm asked. “Do you think this is a spilled kettle?”

“Nay, I do not,” Scotia said. Her temper flared like a flame igniting in her gut, but she kept it in check, calling on all the training Duncan had given her to keep a cool head, to think clearly even in battle, for in truth, this was a battle for her place in the clan. Her life, her future, and the future of her clan depended on how she managed herself in this moment.

“I do not think ’tis a spilled kettle,” she said calmly. “I understand
exactly
what this is. I understand that I have let my selfish needs drive my actions for too long. I have shamed myself. I broke my promise to Duncan, and I take full responsibility for whatever happens. I understand exactly what I have done and how it has put the entire clan in danger, just as I put Myles in danger and it cost him his life.”