Betrayed (14 page)

Adam made one last attempt to sway him. “A strong hand would easily tame her.”

“I pity the man given that duty,” said Krayne dryly.

“So be it.” Adam kicked back the stool as he stood and walked out the door.

Krayne watched him go with an unsettled feeling in the base of his gut. Honour mocked his refusal to wed the lass he’d ruined. Resentment warred with responsibility for turning away the one sure end to the bitter feud. Guilt soaked up the aftermath.

God’s truth! He might as well marry the wench. His peace of mind was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Instantly furious at where his thoughts were leading, he grabbed a nearby mug and aimed it at the door.

Had Duncan come through that door one moment sooner, he would be sporting a decent bruise on his temple.

Krayne’s scowl went over his brother’s shoulder as Adam followed in. “Duncan has naught ta do with this.”

“That’s fer him ta decide.” Adam turned to Duncan. “’Tis my wish that ye wed the Jardin lass.”

Silence descended like a black fog.

Krayne kept his glare fixed on Adam, every nerve pricked in anticipation of his brother’s vehement refusal. What was taking so long?

Adam developed an instant thirst and gave the Wamphray brothers his back as he went to the long table beneath the window to pour three mugs of ale. He came back, set one mug before Krayne, and still no one said a word. When he handed over Duncan’s mug, he caught the lad’s eye and held it firmly. “Well, what have ye ta say?”

Tension gripped Krayne’s gut. His fingers closed around the mug stiffly.

Duncan threw back his ale, then took a deep breath. “Aye, I’ll do it.”

Pictures of the raven-haired siren in his brother’s arms, in his brother’s bed, stormed Krayne’s head. The tension exploded and he roared at Duncan, “Have ye gone mad? Need I remind ye who threw her inta the pit and why?”

“Hold yer temper,” said Duncan. “’Tis the right thing ta do. Aye, Amber led Stivin a merry dance, yet my anger at the lass cooled long afore now. If any is ta blame, then ’tis I fer plannin’ the raid against yer orders.”

“’Twas not the raid that claimed Stivin’s life.”

“Was it not?” Duncan walked up to the table and lowered his voice. “Then tell me, brother, how the lass might have betrayed Stivin if there hadna been a raid? Tell me, then, what might have sent Stivin chargin’ inta Spedlin ta see her safe?”

“I’m thinking she wouldha found a way ta destroy him anyway,” Krayne muttered quietly, reminded of Jardin’s story about how she’d peered from Spedlin’s shadows as Stivin fought his way to her, to his death. “I’ll not allow ye ta sell yerself fer misplaced guilt,” he commanded.

“Ye misunderstand.” Duncan picked up the stool Adam had kicked over earlier and set himself down to his brother’s level. “The lass is bonny. She stirs my juices wi’ naught but a glance. ’Twould be nae punishment ta take her inta my bed every night.”

Krayne was on his feet, hands slammed down on top the table with a trembling force that had Duncan straining backward. “Ye’ll not wed Amber Jardin.”

“One o’ ye
will,
” Adam intervened, coming up to stand beside Duncan. “There will be a wedding at the hour of None, make nae mistake aboot that, Krayne. If yer nae willin’, ’tis yer good fortune that Duncan is.”

Duncan pushed to his feet. “Our cousin Elwin of Carnsalloch has made me an offer ta captain his moss-troopers. We’ll depart on the morrow. Have nae fear, Krayne, there’ll be nae Jardin residing under yer roof.”

Krayne’s hands clenched into fists. “No Jardin will chase ye from yer home.”

“Faith, Krayne, I know well I lack skill an’ command when compared wi’ Alexander. Ye’ll ne’er oust him as yer captain, and I wouldna want that. I’ve been contemplating Elwin’s offer fer months—”

“Go ta Elwin fer all I care,” Krayne told him harshly. “But, mark me well, ye’ll not be going with Amber.”

“Why?” Adam and Duncan asked in unified confusion.

If I canna have her, no one else will.

The truth hit him in the gut and Krayne sank down into his chair.
He
was the one who’d surely gone mad.

He looked from Duncan to Adam, then back to Duncan. “She’s been in my bed.”

Duncan’s jaw went slack.

Adam’s gaze hardened.

There, Krayne thought, the matter was closed. No one would be getting Amber today.

“Even so, I will take the lass.”

“Yer head is swimming in custard pudding, little brother.”

Duncan cleared his throat a few times at the black expression he was up against. “If ye willna have her, then my mind is set.”

“Nay.”

“Now what?” Adam growled.

Krayne narrowed dangerously silver eyes from his brother to his cousin.
Damn them both to hell.

And yet, with the decision he’d abruptly come to, layer upon layer of some dark, oppressive binding seemed to unpeel from his head, his heart, his body. He dismissed the light-headed feeling as nothing more than restored honour, duty and responsibility.

“I will wed the lass,” he growled. “That is what.”

Amber hugged the blanket closer to her chest as the door swung inward. ’Twas only after she’d stepped from the bath that she realised she had nothing to wear. Her pulse rattled when saw that it was Krayne who walked inside.

He lingered near the door, watching her with a brooding expression as she sat stunned upon the bed.

“We have much ta discuss,” he told her.

He looked oddly vulnerable, those grey eyes were dull and tired. The madman who’d broken her trust last night was gone. But she already knew that. After his hasty exit on waking, she no longer worried that he’d finish what he’d started.

“What have you to say?” she asked at last with a boldness she did not feel. Had he recalled the correct memories of last night? Did he know about the drugged wine and just how much she’d changed the scene?

She stood to face him, sending up a prayer that he remember naught.

“I’m not sure where ta start.” He folded his arms across that broad chest, then changed his mind and brought up his hands to push back his hair. “I’m sorry, lass. I’m sorry fer what I did ta ye last night.”

Relief spread through her, and she was not about to set him straight. Krayne was not a man to take such trickery in stride and would not spare her the time to plead her case. And whether he’d harmed her or not, her emotions this morning were all real and she would never forget or forgive him the horror. He’d made her tremble like a trapped fox and the memory of panic and terror seemed to have grown roots around her heart.

Krayne might be sorry now, but she had no doubt that in his drunken state he would have done his worst if he had not mistakenly drugged himself.

“I accept your apology,” was all that she could offer.

Krayne nodded grimly. Her tone told him clearly that acceptance was not the same as forgiveness. She’d made some attempt to comb her hair with her fingers; the mess of raven knots was swept from her face to fall down her back. Slim fingers held the blanket closed at her throat and at her waist. Her chin was lifted high even as she nibbled her lower lip in worry.

Something inside him cracked.

She reminded him of a butterfly that had yet to realise it was injured. Fragile and defiant. A yearning to throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness took him by surprise. He needed her to know that he was not a beast. His brief surge of vengeance had evaporated like a shallow puddle on a hot day, and he’d made the decision to walk away without taking his revenge.

Yet what could he say?

He
hadn’t
left.

The reiver in his blood had won and he’d stayed to raid her body.

Krayne shut down the thoughts of regret and walked further into the room. What was done was done. There was just one more thing he needed to know. “Did I hurt ye overmuch?”

Amber’s pale cheeks flushed.

“Of course I did,” he said, reading her response as an affirmative. “Amber…” He stopped a foot from her, not sure how to continue.

As Krayne drew close, Amber fought the instinct to retreat. Her natural abhorrence of showing fear won out and she stood her ground. When he finally halted his approach, he was near enough to touch.

The shadow of his unshaved beard gave him a wild, ragged appearance. Against her will, something inside her reached out to this man who’d kidnapped her, thwarted her escape attempts with bemused irritation, and frustrated her into childhood fits of temper. At times he’d tormented her lips and body with little effort; more recently he’d mauled her heart with cruel intent.

And, aye, he had the ability to capture her gaze with ease and hold it more firmly than any chains or locked door, as he was doing now. His eyes were neither a cold grey nor glinted with silver. She knew that if she looked hard enough, she’d see into his soul. His barriers were all down, and the effect on her was staggering.

The roots released and in that moment she did what she’d thought impossible only moments before.

She forgave him.

“Amber,” he started again, “please, sit down.”

“I’d rather stand,” she murmured, her mind swamped on another matter. Should she confess now and spare him further torture?

“Will ye please just sit down on the bed?”

She edged back from him restlessly. She could never confess. Krayne would never understand. He’d wring her neck with those steel-braced fingers first and ask his questions later.

“So that I can ask fer yer hand ta wed,” he finished.

Instantly hollow knees buckled and she dropped, her bottom landing solid on the bed.

“Will ye marry me?”

She looked up at him incredulously. “Ha-have you gone mad?” He gave a short laugh and her incredulity turned to scorn. Of course he didn’t want to marry her. “Your humour eludes me.”

“Nay, lass.” Krayne sobered. “’Tis merely that I accused Duncan of that very thing not long ago. I’m asking ye ta be my wife in all seriousness.”

What hurtful game was he playing now? “Your entire family should be locked away at the top of a forgotten peel tower and the key melted down,” she lashed out, fighting her own battles as a glimmer of hope flickered. “How dare you jest at my expense?”

“No doubt, I deserve that,” he said, dropping to his knees before her, roughened knuckles grazing underside her chin. “Yer uncle and my cousin are below, contracts drawn and a priest summoned.”

“My uncle is here?” she gasped, jerking her head away from his touch.

“And my cousin, Adam, who is also chieftain of the Johnstones,” explained Krayne. “Both are quite insistent on this wedding.”

“Your chieftain ordered you to marry me.”

“Adam doesna command my private life,” growled Krayne, then his voice softened as he added, “’Tis a good alliance that will end the Johnstone-Jardin feud.”

“My uncle doesn’t see it so,” Amber said. What in heavens was William up to now? “I would gladly have married Stivin—”

“Christ Almighty.” Krayne sprang to his feet, all tenderness gone as he glowered down on her. “Do ye never know when ta hold yer tongue?”

Amber met his glare. “Where is Stivin? I demand to see him.”

“We will not speak of Stivin. I willna be held responsible fer my actions if ye utter that name once more.”

“And you want to
marry
me?” She pushed off the bed and to her feet. “You sound as if you’d rather pike my head after all. My answer is no, I will never be your wife.”

“Ye canna marry Stivin now,” Krayne said.

“I know that well enough.”

Of course she knew, thought Krayne darkly. So what the hell did she want with seeing Stivin’s lifeless body? Beggar pardon from his departing spirit for her many sins? ’Twas too late. Stivin was long buried and his soul moved on. “Ye’ll have ta make do with me.”

They stood toe to toe, and she had to bend her head all the way back to hold his stare.

Raven hair crossed her cheeks and tumbled down her back, stark against her ashen face.

Placing both hands on her slender shoulders, he said, “I didna come here ta fight.”

She shrugged his hands off and side-stepped him to go stand by the window, looking out. “You want this marriage no more than I do.”

And there was a truth that could not be denied, Krayne admitted as he watched the blanket pull tighter around her back. He did not want this marriage, yet he had resigned himself to it. He had every intention of exerting himself to do his duty. But not against Amber’s wish. He’d already forced her body to his iron-will of revenge, he would not force her down the aisle.

“Scottish law prevents marriage without the consent of both parties,” he told her. Determined family members, however, had plenty means at hand to obtain such consent from a weak lass. Krayne wondered just how far Jardin would go. “If ye willna have me, I’ll make sure yer uncle doesna try ta persuade ye otherwise.”

“I’m sure you will.” Amber whirled about to face him. “Don’t pretend to do me any favours. You want out of this unsavoury match as much as I.”

Irritation rustled beneath his skin. He wouldn’t lie and pretend he wanted this. He feared Amber would bring enough deceit and games into this marriage for the both of them.

And yet, mayhap Adam made a wise observation. She was yet young—young and foolish and vain. Mayhap in time…He rubbed at his jaw, wondering what kind of miracle he hoped for. “I seek no excuses from this wedding, but I willna have an unwilling wife. If ye are not willing, I swear ta protect ye from yer uncle’s wrath.”

She threw her hands up on a huff and the blanket fell away from her shoulders, parting the front, showing a glimpse of ripe, dewy breasts before she hastily tugged it up again.

“I wish—I wish fer a—a peaceful, well-run home.” His wishes scattered as his shaft thickened in instant reaction. Lust was the one thing they shared, he recalled. Most marriages were built on much less.

He stared at her now-covered chest, watching her fingers grip the blanket hard enough to turn her knuckles white, and thought on a hundred ways to eradicate her memories of last night.

“Wishes are for stars,” Amber said into the heated silence.

Krayne brought his gaze up to meet those beautiful green eyes, and saw her quick mind working in the flashing depths.

“I willna be an overly harsh husband, fer I expect my wife ta give me no cause. My one condition to this union is that my wife be obedient, dignified and
faithful,
in mind and body,” he warned, then thought it prudent to add, “And there’ll be none of the theatrics and intrigue that’s best suited fer Jamie’s court and left outside Wamphray’s walls.”

“You don’t ask for much, do you?”

“In truth, I ask fer very little.” A wisp of black silk fluttered across her eyes and his fingers strained to wipe it away, mayhap lingering on the creamy skin of her cheek. His jaw locked down and he folded his arms. In this, he was resolute. “A willing wife would gladly seek ta please me in all ways.”

“Passion’s teeth,” Amber erupted at his overblown ego. “As tempting as you make it sound, I decline the dubious pleasure of being your
willing
wife.”

“So be it.”

Taken aback at the flatness in his tone, Amber said no more. If she’d wavered once or twice in favour of this marriage, his quick capitulation set her straight. Duty and honour had brought him to his knees, and his obnoxious arrogance had arrived like a hundred timely moss-troopers to save him at the last second.

“Ye’re free ta leave,” said Krayne, waving a hand at the door. “Jardin awaits ye down below.”

Amber’s feet turned to lead. Her uncle had threatened to lock her up until he’d wedded her…to one of two men who gave Krayne angelic aspirations by comparison.

When she didn’t move, Krayne left the room in long, unhurried strides. Amber commanded herself to follow bravely to her fate. She made it to the door with reluctant steps, to find Krayne barring her way.

He held up a pair of britches and a snow-white linen shirt. “Ye’ll be needing these.”

She grabbed the clothes and spun back toward the bed, but not before a sob escaped.

“Tell me what ye want, lass,” he said, coming up from behind.

Amber stood still, breathing deeply and unevenly. His hands fit on her waist and she gasped.

“Dinna fear, I’ll not hurt ye again.”

“I’m not afraid,” she told him, biting back another sob.

He turned her slowly in his arms and tipped her chin up until she met his eyes. “Marry me, lass. I willna mistreat ye, that I swear.”

He sounded so sincere, Amber almost said yes. “You don’t love me.”

Massive shoulders lifted in what didn’t quite amount to a shrug. “’Twill be no hardship taking ye ta my bed.”

Amber paled, even as butterflies played havoc with her pulse. But she would never lie with him. He could never discover that her maidenhead was intact. She was not such a fool as to think she’d survive the repercussions.

Mistaking her sudden loss of colour, Krayne silently cursed his foolish words. “I would give ye time ta recover afore I assumed any husbandly duties.”

She flinched, and slipped free from his arms.

Krayne commanded himself to do better. “I sail fer Byzantine in three days. Ye will have the solitude ta accustom yerself ta my household.”

“Byzantine?” she asked breathlessly. “Will you be gone long?”

His jaw tightened. She looked up at him in anticipation, as if she hoped that he’d be gone more or less forever. He was no martyr, and yet he felt the need to sacrifice something. He could give Amber this, as much time as she wanted in exchange for what he’d taken from her. “Long enough fer ye ta adjust afore we begin our married life.”

Amber’s mind ticked over. She would be free to come and go as she pleased at Wamphray. And go she would, as far and fast as luck would take her. Krayne would be in the middle of some ocean, miles and miles away.
Mary and I could be safe in England before he even knows that I am gone.

“I, too, have one condition,” she told him, the bold decision made. She was caught up in a feud that had naught to do with her; she had no choice but to use it now to her advantage. “I have a woman, Mary. I would have her brought from Spedlin.”

“I will see ta it.”

“Thank you.” Amber returned to the bed, staring at the britches and shirt strewn across it. Krayne would be furious when he found her gone. The blow to his pride would be enormous.

But pride was all he’d lose, she assured herself, and she would not be here to suffer the brunt of his black rage. Once the annulment had been secured from England, he’d be relieved to find himself no longer shackled to his
duty wife.

Suspicious thoughts sat heavily in Krayne’s gut as the hour of None descended. Amber had slipped too quickly from a vehement refusal to acquiescence and he knew her well enough to smell a rat.

Father Goodlin stood before the makeshift altar at the end of the hall that had been cleared for that very purpose. Jardin, and the two of his men who’d been permitted to remain for the occasion, sipped quietly on their ale at one of the trestles. At the bottom of the stairway, Alexander and Adam stood conversing in low tones, their eyes trained upward for Amber’s approach.