To Tame a Highland Warrior (29 page)

The women in the portraits shared one striking characteristic. They were all breathtakingly radiant, positively brimming with happiness. The men shared a single distinction as well. All nine hundred and fifty-eight males in this hall had eyes of blue ice.

Ronin moved to the portrait of his wife and raised the torch. He smiled. Had some pagan deity offered him a bargain and said, “I will take away all the tragedy you have suffered in your life, I will take you back in time and give you dozens of sons and perfect peace, but you can never have Jolyn,” Ronin McIllioch would have scoffed. He would willingly embrace every bit of tragedy he’d endured to have loved Jolyn, even for the painfully brief time they’d been allotted.

“I won’t fail him this time, Jolyn. I swear to you, I will see Castle Maldebann secured and filled with promise again. Then we’ll be together to smile down upon this place.” After a long pause, he whispered fiercely, “I miss you, woman.”

Outside the Hall of Lords, an astonished Gilles entered the connecting hallway and paused, eyeing the open door in disbelief. Rushing down the corridor, he burst into the long-sealed hall, barely suppressing a whoop of delight at the sight of Ronin, no longer stooped but standing proudly
erect beneath a portrait of his wife and son. Ronin didn’t turn, but Gilles hadn’t expected him to; Ronin always knew who was in his immediate circumference.

“Have the maids set to cleaning, Gilles,” Ronin commanded without taking his eyes off the portrait of his smiling wife. “Open this place up and air it out. I want the entire castle scrubbed as it hasna been since my Jolyn was alive. I want this place sparklin’.” Ronin opened his arms expansively. “Light the torchères and henceforth keep them burnin’ in here as they did years ago, day and night. My son is coming home,” he finished proudly.

“Yes
, milord!” Gilles exclaimed as he hastened off to obey a command he’d been waiting a lifetime to hear.

Where to now, Grimm Roderick?
he wondered wearily. Back to Dalkeith to see if he might lure destruction to those blessed shores?

His hands fisted and he longed for a bottomless bottle of whisky, although he knew it wouldn’t grant him the oblivion he sought. If a Berserker drank quickly enough, he might feel drunk for the sum total of about three seconds. That wouldn’t work at all.

The McKane always found him eventually. He knew now that they must have had a spy in Durrkesh. Likely someone had seen the rage come over him in the courtyard of the tavern, then tried to poison him. The McKane had learned over the years to attack stealthily. Cunning traps or sheer numbers were the only possible ways to take a Berserker, and neither of them was foolproof. Now that he had escaped the McKane twice, he knew the next time they struck they would descend in force.

First they’d tried poison, then the fire at the stables.
Grimm knew if he had remained at Caithness they might have destroyed the entire castle, taking out all the St. Clair in their blind quest to kill him. He’d become acquainted with their unique fanaticism at an early age, and it was a lesson he’d never forgotten.

They’d blessedly lost track of him during the years he’d been in Edinburgh. The McKane were fighters, not royal arse-kissers, and they devoted little attention to the events at court. He’d hidden in plain sight. Then, when he’d moved from court to Dalkeith, he’d encountered few new people, and those he had met were abjectly loyal to Hawk. He’d started to relax his guard and begun to feel almost … normal.

What an intriguing, tantalizing word: normal. “Take it away, Odin. I was wrong,” Grimm whispered. “I doona wish to be Berserk any longer.”

But Odin didn’t seem to care.

Grimm had to face the facts. Now that the McKane had found him again, they would tear the country apart looking for him. It wasn’t safe for him to be near other people. It was time for a new name, perhaps a new country. His thoughts turned to England, but every ounce of Scot in him rebelled.

How could he live without ever touching Jillian again? Having experienced such joy, how could he resume his barren existence? Christ, it would have been better if he’d never known what his life might have been like! On that fateful night above Tuluth, at the foolish age of fourteen, he’d called a Berserker, begging for the gift of vengeance, never realizing how complete that vengeance would be. Vengeance didn’t bring back the dead, it deadened the avenger.

But there was really little point in regret, he mocked
himself, for he owned the beast and the beast owned him, and it was that simple. Resignation blanketed him, and only one issue remained.
Where to now, Grimm Roderick?

He nudged Occam to the only place left to go: in the forbidding Highlands he could disappear into the wilderness. He knew every empty hut and cave, every source of shelter from the bitter winter that would soon ice white caps around the mountains.

He would be so cold again.

Guiding Occam with his knees, he plaited war braids into his hair and wondered if an invincible Berserker could die from something so innocuous as a broken heart.

Jillian gazed sadly at the blackened lawn of Caithness. Everything was a reminder. It was November, and the hated lawn would be black until the first snowfall came to smother it. She couldn’t step outside the castle without being forced to remember that night, the fire, Grimm leaving. The lawn sloped and rolled in a vast, never-ending carpet of black ash. All her flowers were gone. Grimm was gone.

He’d abandoned her because he was a coward.

She’d tried to make excuses for him, but there were none to be made. The most courageous man she’d ever known was afraid to love.
Well, to hell with him!
she thought defiantly.

She felt pain; she wouldn’t deny it. The mere thought of living without him for the rest of her life was unbearable, but she refused to dwell on it. That would be the sure path to emotional collapse. So she stoked her anger against him, clutching it like a shield to her wounded heart.

“He’s not coming back, lass,” Ramsay said gently.

Jillian clenched her jaw and spun to face him. “I think I’ve figured that out, Ramsay,” she said evenly.

Ramsay studied her in stalwart stance. When she moved to leave, his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. She tried to snatch it away, but he was too strong. “Marry me, Jillian. I swear to you, I’ll treat you like a queen. I will never abandon you.”

Not so long as there’s coin in keeping me
, she thought. “Let go of me,” she hissed.

He didn’t budge. “Jillian, consider your situation. Your parents will be back any day now and expect you to wed. They’ll likely force you to choose when they return. I would be good to you,” he promised.

“I will never wed,” she said with absolute conviction.

His demeanor altered instantly. When his sneering gaze slid over her abdomen, she was shocked; when he spoke, she was rendered momentarily speechless.

“If a bastard quickens in your belly you may think differently, lass,” he said with a smirk. “Then your parents will force you to wed, and you’ll be counting your blessings if any decent man will have you. There’s a name for women like you. You’re not so pure,” he spat.

“How dare you!” she cried. The instinct to slap the smirk from his face was overwhelming, and she acted upon it reflexively.

Ramsay’s face whitened with rage, and the red welt from her blow stood out in stark relief. He caught her other wrist and pulled her close, bristling with anger. “You’ll regret that one day, lass.” He shoved her away so savagely, she stumbled. For an instant she saw something so brutal in his eyes that she feared he might force her to the ground and beat her, or worse. She scrambled to her feet and dashed for the castle on trembling legs.

“He’s not coming back, Jillian,” Kaley said gently.

“I know that! For God’s sake, could everyone please just quit saying that to me? Do I look dense? Is that it?”

Kaley eyes filled with tears, and Jillian was instantly remorseful. “Oh, Kaley, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I haven’t been myself lately. It’s just that I’m worried about … things …”

“Things like babies?” Kaley said carefully.

Jillian stiffened.

“Is it possible …” Kaley trailed off.

Jillian averted her gaze guiltily.

“Oh, lass.” Kaley wrapped her in her ample embrace. “Oh, lass,” she echoed helplessly.

Two weeks later, Gibraltar and Elizabeth St. Clair returned.

Jillian was torn by mixed emotions. She was elated to have them home, yet she dreaded seeing them, so she hid in her chambers and waited for them to come to her. And they did, but not until the next morning. In retrospect, she realized she’d been a fool to give her clever da any time to ferret out information before confronting her.

When the summons finally came, she shivered, and the last vestige of excitement at seeing her parents turned to pure dread. She dragged her feet all the way to the study.

“Mama! Da!” Jillian exclaimed. She vaulted into their arms, greedily snatching hugs before they could launch the interrogation she knew was coming.

“Jillian.” Gibraltar terminated the hug so quickly, Jillian knew she was in dire straits indeed.