Reclaimed (A Highland Historical Trilogy) (The MacKay Banshees 1-3) (38 page)

“I
see
that he’s the devious, criminal despot his reputation charges him to be, and he deserves to die screaming,” Connor’s gaze lit with a blood-thirsty gleam.

It all made sense to Soren now. His little Banshee had come to plead his case to the men who’d ordered his death. Finn’s reluctance to end his life stemmed from the fact his very own assassin hadn’t wanted to kill him. If such a sweet and decent lady could find forgiveness for his sins, perhaps he deserved to be heard. She’d been trying to save his life. And he’d gone and cocked it up by trying to save her.

“But he was all
alone
.” Kamdyn had found her voice and employed it still on his behalf. “He organized others who were alone and abandoned, because it was what he knew how to do. My lords, I know they were misguided, but given a chance—”

“Misguided?” Connor said slowly, as though he couldn’t believe the word. “Is that what I tell the children who are cold because of the villages he burned? Or the Highland widows of those who dared stand against his marauders? Do pardon that ye have to waste the time to rebuild ye’re homes, ye’re lives, but forgive this Berserker, he was alone and
misguided
.”

“I understand, Laird.” Though he couldn’t see her face, Soren could hear the tears and desperation building in Kamdyn’s voice. “I also thought thus when I was dispatched to take his life. But I feel that he can find a place among us. Reparations will be made on his behalf and… he’s given back all the property he took and pledged his men in defense of the Highlands. They’ve already saved more innocent lives than they’ve taken and they promise to evermore.”

“It’s not enough.” Finn’s eyes were hard now, unforgiving.

Mouth twisting in an ironic smile, Soren nudged her. Just when he’d thought he couldn’t love her any more than he already did. He should have expected she would attempt the impossible. “They’re right, my little Banshee,” he murmured. “How could I find forgiveness if someone had so wronged you? There would be none. So have I done to their people and they are right to claim their justice.”

“Bloody Christ on the cross.” A horrified, awe-stricken look seized the features of the MacLauchlan laird. “Ye’ve
mated
with yer Banshee assassin.”

Kamdyn’s body tensed and she could feel heat crawling up her neck. “I don’t see how what we did last night has anything to do with this discussion.”

“Have ye accepted him, lass?” Connor asked, eyeing her like her answer may mean the difference between life and death.

“Of course I did—I
do
.” She took a protective step back toward Soren and bumped up against his unerringly solid chest. “Else why would I be here, trying to save his life?”

Two of the three Berserkers seemed to be wracked with indecision. Roderick and Finn both wore inscrutable expressions, but Kamdyn could read the turmoil in their emotional signatures. Their Laird remained provoked and angry. She could feel the love of his people mixing with the pressure to protect and avenge them. He was a good man with a bad temper, and that combination might prove to be the death of hope for her.

“Mated? That certainly changes things, doesn’t it?” A husky, feminine brogue preceded a lovely ebony-haired woman into the courtyard. She wore the circlet of a chieftain’s woman though she looked rather young to be mated to a Berserker who’d nearly met the century mark.

“Lindsay, I told ye to remain inside until this was dealt with,” Connor barked at the woman.

Lindsay waved an elegant, dismissive hand at her surly husband and regarded Soren and Kamdyn with keen amethyst eyes. “Since when have I ever done what you tell me to?”

“Woman, this wee lass could decimate our entire household with her little finger if she had a mind, and I doona like that fact combined with yer sharp tongue.” Connor’s words were delivered with more concern than severity, and his wife’s smile only widened.

“Oh! No. No. No. I would
never
!” Kamdyn put out a hand and belatedly realized that might not have been the best gesture, but the lady didn’t so much as flinch.

Lindsay also strategically placed herself in between the MacLauchlan Berserkers and Soren and Kamdyn, smoothing the front of her fine dress and smiling as though receiving important guests.

“Didna our wedding vows have something to say about honoring and obeying yer Laird and husband?” Connor grumbled, grasping her shoulder and pulling her out of the middle of the courtyard.

“I do honor you, my love.” She cupped his cheek and wriggled out of his grip. “But we both know I lied about the second part.” Turning back to Soren she said, “I believe Finn brought up an excellent question. Why would this powerful, mated Berserker give himself over to you when he’d already cheated death by winning the heart of his Banshee?”

Why, indeed? Kamdyn turned to Soren, who’d remained his usual quiet, unperturbed self. He was looking down at her with the oddest expression, a mix of maybe exasperation and sheer, encompassing devotion.

“She is bound by a contract,” Soren stated simply. “The contract calls for my death and if the terms are not met, she will be severely punished. When my mate could not bring herself to kill me…” he paused and let his shrug explain the rest.

An overwhelming rush of emotion drove Kamdyn’s arms around him, despite their audience. “I realized what you meant this morning. Not because I felt hatred, but because I felt fear. I realized my greatest fear, which was living an eternity without you.” All this was said against his chest, as she couldn’t bring herself to let him go. “I love you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

He flexed and broke the chains that held him, not surprising the gathered Berserkers now that they’d learned of his mated status, which came with an exponential growth in strength. His arms gathered Kamdyn impossibly closer.

“You didn’t have to say it, I would have known when I saw you here,” he said against her hair in a husky voice.

“
You
didn’t have to sacrifice yourself for me.” She pulled back and looked up into blue eyes that were more solemn than she’d ever seen them.

“Yes, I did.”

Lindsay’s teary voice permeated the tender moment. “You simply
can’t
kill him now. There
has
to be another way. You’ve all sold your swords for battle, all of you have killed many who would be considered innocent.”

“War is one thing, Lindsay,” Connor said gruffly. “What he’s done… it’s unforgiveable.”

Kamdyn released her mate and turned toward the emotions she could feel the strongest. “Master Finn, I sense a change in you.” She put all her hope into her eyes, and the fair-haired MacLauchlan cast his gaze away from her, studying the stones of the courtyard arch with a clenched jaw.

“What say ye, brother?” Roderick asked from the doorway.

Finn hesitated, then locked eyes with Soren. “It is true that in the north, where we come from, possession and death are regarded much differently than here.” He turned to his brothers. “Life
is
war. Anything you wish to possess, you must take from those who are weaker than you. You must kill to defend it. It is how we were raised.”

Connor squeezed at his temples and heaved a deep breath before looking at Finn. “What is it that ye’re saying, exactly?” he asked wearily.

“I am saying that my mate and the baby I found abandoned in the snow each had to teach me what the word
innocent
meant. I was sent here to assassinate the two of you, my own brothers, and I would have likewise killed any who stood in my way… Man. Woman.” He looked back at the stones. “Or child.”

Kamdyn’s eyes widened as she could feel the shift of emotion occur in each of the darker MacLauchlan brothers. Astonishment. Uncertainty. Perhaps, understanding? She dared not hope.

“I am saying, that perhaps in similar circumstances, I could easily have become the Laird of Shadows.”

Kamdyn gasped. “I don’t understand. It is you who first called upon my queen for the contract. You were the most adamant that Soren should die.”

Her mate growled from behind her and she elbowed him sharply.

Finn’s eyes fixed above her head once again, holding some kind of silent court with his fellow Northman. “Perhaps, I was somehow trying to put that part of
me
to death, as well… because it still haunts me at times,” he admitted.

Kamdyn looked up and noted that the two Norse Berserkers did have something in common besides their immense, rough-hewn bodies and stunning gem-colored eyes. The more inscrutable, expressionless features they adopted, the more intense the emotions they experienced. It was as though they were incapable of emoting complexity or uncertainty, so they simply hid it until it was all sorted out.

Fascinating.

“Is there not room for forgiveness?” Lindsay stroked her husband’s cheek and his eyes gentled when they touched upon her. “It’s obvious they love each other, and his self-sacrifice has to count for something. Say he promises not to pillage and such, could he not be given some sort of atonement rather than death?”

Connor eyed Soren with absolute skepticism. “Let me discuss it with my brothers.”

“Of course,” Lindsay agreed. “Discuss it amongst yourselves and when you’ve all decided that I’m right, we’ll let these lovers have a second chance at life together. Won’t we?”

Kamdyn nudged her mate, hoping he’d say something to buoy their faith.

Soren grunted then took a deep breath. “I—promise not to pillage.”

Kamdyn elbowed him a second time.

“And such,” he amended.

The Laird looked at his wife, then Roderick, and finally Finn, who held his gaze the longest. After a breathless moment, he turned and addressed Kamdyn rather than the other Berkserker.

“He and his men would have to rebuild what they destroyed. Stronger and better than it was before.” He rubbed a hand over his shorn scalp and finally looked up at Soren. “We Berserkers are protectors of the Highlands. I’d like ye to take a pact that would replace the one against yer life, that anytime ye’re called upon to fight for the Highland people, ye’ll answer that call, no matter the circumstances.”

Soren nodded without taking any time to think about it. “I would do this. My mate’s people would become my people and I would lay down my life for them.” He and Finn exchanged meaningful nods.

“You would become a MacKay?” Kamdyn breathed.

Soren tucked a curl behind her ear. “I would link your name to mine,” he conceded.

“But what about your queen?” Finn asked. “Where would you live?”

Kamdyn offered him her most brilliant smile. “I went to her before I came here,” she admitted. “She told me that if I could convince you to rescind the pact and allow us our future together, we could reside with my Clan as an emissary of the Fae. You see, my brother Daroch found a way to poison Faeries, and they’ve been reticent to much bother with humans since then. So they’ve been in need of someone willing to conduct their affairs here. Also, apparently, I’m a pretty good hand-maiden, but I’m a terrible Banshee.”

The Berserkers seemed to find that plenty amusing.

“Come, my love, let’s go share the good news with my sisters.” Kamdyn pulled him toward the gates, then paused to bow to the MacLauchlans. “Thank you, my lords, for this chance.”

“We’ll be in contact,” Finn promised.

Soren followed her with an odd sort of dazed smile on his lips. “I don’t think your sisters’ husbands will find this news to their liking.

“Nonsense.” Kamdyn eagerly towed him toward the castle gate. She lied, of course, they would hate it at first. “They’ll have their own Berserker brother-in-law. Soren Neilson-MacKay.” She loved the name instantly.

“MacKay-Neilson,” Soren corrected.

Kamdyn patted his arm. “We’ll discuss it later.” She knew exactly when he was most agreeable.

Soren grabbed her and claimed her mouth, pouring all the honesty and hope for their future into his kiss.

Kamdyn clung to him and returned his kiss with all the love she’d discovered, feeling a giddy sense of liberation.

He broke the contact too early, his eyes twinkling down at her with that all-too-familiar arrogance. “I’ll take a mighty long time to be influenced, but I know how persuasive your lips can be.”

The MacLauchlan’s hearty laughter tangled with the Highland winds and followed them home over the moors.

About the Author

Kerrigan Byrne's stories span the spectrum of romantic fiction from historical, to paranormal, to romantic suspense. She can always promise her reader one thing: memorable and sexy Celtic heroes who are guaranteed to heat your blood before they steal your heart.

Kerrigan lives at the base of the Rocky Mountains with her husband and his three lovely daughters. She's worked in Law Enforcement for the better part of a decade.

*Kerrigan donates a percentage of all book sales to
www.womenforwomen.org
to help the innocent survivors of global war and oppression.

To find other books by Kerrigan, visit her website at:
www.kerriganbyrne.com

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