The Renegade's Heart (28 page)

“At Seton Manor, I saw nothing,” Gavin
retorted. “I saw no honor and no thirst for justice. Two years I
have spent in the service of my lord Duncan, sent by my father to
squire and learn to be a knight.” The boy sneered. “I have learned
nothing from Duncan. He might as well be a woman, or a priest, for
all he does is pray.”

Stewart had to avert his gaze from the boy’s
fury, for he spoke aright. More than once the old laird had
confessed to Stewart – while in his cups – that his sons had been
born in the wrong order. Time had only made the truth of their
natures more clear.

Gavin jabbed his finger back toward
Kinfairlie again. “I have learned more from my lord Murdoch in but
a fortnight than in the past two years. He would fight for justice.
He would do what needs to be done, whether the task is pleasant or
not. He does not merely fall to his knees and beg God to solve his
woes.”

Duncan’s nature was better suited to
contemplation than to making war, but Stewart could not criticize
his laird before these boys. “Justice lies in the hands of God,” he
said, knowing it was not a compelling argument even as it crossed
his lips but unable to think of another.

“God aids those who aid themselves,” Gavin
cried. “So my father has always said. And I can only pray now that
God will aid my lord Murdoch, for those dispatched to be of aid to
him have chosen to abandon him to his fate.”

Stewart shook a finger at the boy. “You know
not of what you speak. I am charged with ensuring your safety and
welfare, as well as guaranteeing that you learn what is
right...”

“How is it right that Duncan suspected the
location of his stolen relic but did nothing to regain it? How is
it right that he dispatched his brother to defend his own
justice?”

“He is laird...”

“If my lord Murdoch had not returned, what
would he have done? He could have sent another to do his bidding.
He could have sent you to collect his prize. Instead he prayed for
its return and we watched, our bellies growing more empty with
every passing day.” Gavin spat in the road, his eyes dark with
hostility. “A man does not stand aside and let those beneath his
hand suffer.”

Stewart frowned.

“A man shows a care for those pledged to his
service,” Gavin retorted. “As my lord Murdoch has done with
us.”

“Shows a care?” Stewart echoed, incredulous.
“What have you learned in his service? To thieve? To rob the
innocent? To terrorize women? That was no good initiative you took
this night...”

“I have learned to protect the back of an
ally,” Gavin retorted. “To ensure the safety of one dispatched on a
perilous mission. To challenge those who would deceive, but not do
injury to any. To see to a horse’s welfare, even at one’s own risk.
To keep a pledge, no matter the price.”

Stewart felt his lips tighten. “He agreed to
our departure, indeed, he insisted upon it.”

“Because he saw the
bean-nighe
,” Gavin
fairly spat the words that sent a pang through Stewart’s heart.
“Because he knows he is to die and he would see us safely
away.”

A
bean-nighe
. Stewart was horrified.
These apparitions were either Fae or the ghosts of mortal women
lost in childbirth, depending upon whom one asked. Either way, they
washed the garments of those soon to be dead. “He saw her
washing?”

The boy nodded.

“And you did not see her?”

Gavin shook his head.

So, she had been washing Murdoch’s garment.
He had seen her as a portent of his own demise. This did, indeed,
change all.

“When was this?” Stewart demanded.

“The night after we returned the horse. The
night after the laird routed Kinfairlie forest. He saw her, but I
saw only his fear.” Gavin held Stewart’s gaze, his own bright with
conviction. “He is a man to the end, and I would die in his service
rather than return to watch my lord Duncan spend all day upon his
knees.”

With that, the boy turned his horse and began
to ride back toward Kinfairlie.

“Gavin!” Hamish said in astonishment, looking
between Stewart and Gavin. “My lord, he defies you.”

Stewart turned his own horse, his mood sour.
“And worse than that, lad, he is right. To Kinfairlie now, with all
haste!”

* * *

Isabella heard the horses being mustered and
the hunting party ride out. She paced the chamber in rising
frustration, hating that she was powerless in this situation.

And that no man would listen to her.

Indeed, it was enough to make her furious.
There had to be a solution! She had only to think of it. Isabella
paced with greater speed, but could not imagine what she could
do.

She jumped when metal struck the stone sill
of the window.

She spun to see that it was a grappling
hook.

Isabella heard the sounds of someone climbing
the stone wall. Friend or foe? She listened at the door, but there
was only silence in the corridor beyond. Then she ran across the
room as quietly as she could and flattened herself against the wall
on one side of the window. The wind was crisp off the sea and when
she peered out the window, she could discern the silhouette of a
man climbing the wall from below. He kept his head down and was
completely in shadow.

She leaned a bit further to get a better look
just as he glanced up.

Murdoch grinned recklessly at her, hauling
himself hand over hand toward the window with new speed. “Are you
always peering out of windows, my Isabella?” he teased.

Isabella was so relieved to see him that her
knees weakened. “Have you come to surrender to my brother?”

Murdoch laughed and she was delighted to see
that he looked more hale. He reached the sill and pulled himself on
to it. Their faces were almost level as he crouched there, the wind
tossing his hair, and his eyes glinting. “I do not believe he would
listen to any word I uttered to him.”

“He did not listen to me,” Isabella
confessed. “Indeed, I have never seen him so angry.”

Murdoch sobered immediately. “Did he strike
you?”

“Alexander? No. He shouted. He swore and he
confined me to this chamber.” Isabella grimaced. “And he rode out
to hunt you down. They mean to burn Kinfairlie forest.”

“Then he will do no more than destroy his own
holding.” Murdoch spoke matter–of–factly and stepped into the room.
He was fast beside her and she tipped her head back to hold his
gaze. His eyes were more blue again, to her relief.

“Is that why you came? To learn his
intent?”

“No. I came to apologize to you.” Murdoch’s
smile flashed and his arm slid around her waist. “Forgive me,
Isabella. I wanted only to see you safe.”

He bent, hesitating when their lips were only
a finger’s breadth apart, his gaze searching hers. Then his smile
turned secretive as his gaze dropped to her lips.

And finally, when she thought she could not
bear to wait any longer, he kissed her. He kissed her so thoroughly
that Isabella knew she was not the only one who had thought
overmuch about their earlier embraces. She wrapped her arms around
his neck and drew herself against his chest, liking how he slanted
his mouth over hers and deepened his kiss. He pulled away with an
effort, holding her tightly even so.

“You saw her,” he said with low heat. “She
would destroy you, I know it well, just as I know her power is
greatest in the forest.”

Isabella could see one of those blue tendrils
on the flesh of his throat and the sight of it, newly appeared,
transfixed her. It seemed to grow as she watched. “You risk much in
coming here. My brother hunts you...”

Murdoch brushed his lips once across hers to
silence her, his own words a mere whisper. “Do you not know yet, my
Isabella, that I would risk even more?”

Isabella could not help but smile at him. “I
knew you did not truly want me gone.”

“I did want you gone.” Murdoch spoke with
heat. “You can have no idea what price she might demand of
you.”

Isabella studied him. “The same she claims
from you?”

He looked away, troubled in truth. Isabella
watched him swallow. “I came also to warn you, Isabella. That you
can see her puts you in peril.” He met her gaze again, his own
completely serious. “You can never go into Kinfairlie forest again,
not so long as she is resident there. And if you confront her or
another of the Fae, you must never look into their eyes. It is how
they snare mortals, and once you look, you cannot willfully escape
their realm.”

“You looked,” Isabella guessed.

“I did not know who she was. I thought her an
alluring woman, no more than that.” He grimaced. “I was a fool. I
looked and became her captive.” He studied Isabella. “Three years
she kept me captive in that realm, three years that felt to me like
mere weeks.”

“But you are not in the realm of the Fae now.
I could see you even before I drank the potion.”

“Because she released me, but on her own
terms.”

Isabella framed his face in her hands. “Tell
me.”

Murdoch swallowed. “I said I would surrender
any thing to return home again. She never named her price, and I
thought she simply gave me my wish.” He laughed without humor.
“That is not her nature. There was a price, but she did not confide
it in me. I believe that it amused her to watch me realize the
truth.”

Isabella felt cold then, for she knew what
she had seen. “It is your heart she holds in thrall, is it
not?”

Murdoch nodded. “By the new moon I will
either be dead or snared among the Fae for all time.” He shuddered.
“I suspect it makes little difference.”

Isabella pushed her hands through his hair,
wanting only to drive the cold from his skin. She saw that his ears
had become pointed slightly, both at the lobes and the top. “She
would make you into one of them.”

“Or kill me in the process. I suspect that
she fears as much, for she tries to tempt me to surrender willingly
to her again.” He lifted Isabella’s hand and pressed a kiss into
her palm. “And now you know my dark truth, Isabella. I would pledge
to you, but I fear I will not ever have the chance.”

Isabella’s heart clenched. “But there must be
something we can do! There must be a way to thwart her plan and
save you!”

“I do not know it, my Isabella. And I fear
the price of any release might be too high.”

“What do you mean?”

Murdoch did not answer her. “I will make my
time in this realm count for some thing.” He closed his hand around
hers, his gaze boring into her own, and she felt the heat of her
skin warm his. His voice dropped to low urgency. “Tell me where the
relic is, Isabella. Let me do this one deed for my brother, my
father’s memory and my home.”

“I will not,” Isabella said. “Because I will
not have you seek it alone. You have need of assistance and you
have need of me. We will go together or not at all.”

Murdoch smiled, to her surprise, a warmth
dawning in his eyes. “I suspected you would say as much, but the
choice had to be your own. I know not how this adventure will
end.”

“I know how I would have it end,” Isabella
said with heat.

Murdoch kissed her with sweet power, the
press of his lips against hers sending a chill through Isabella. He
was so cold, but in the past, she had warmed him with her embrace.
She caught his face in her hands and kissed him back, pouring all
her admiration for him into her touch. He pulled her closer and she
felt the heat gather between them.

And in his skin. When they parted, they were
both breathless. He was less pale and his eyes sparkled more blue.
“Does the cold retreat?” she asked with hope.

“In your presence, it does.” He grinned
crookedly at her. “Perhaps you
can
heal me with your
touch.”

He made a jest but Isabella was not so
certain that he was mistaken. How could she break the Elphine
Queen’s hold over Murdoch? There was no answer in any book, she
knew that, but she must be able to reason it out.

“All the more cause to take me with you,”
Isabella said and he smiled.

He traced a finger down her cheek. “I can
think of a thousand reasons, my Isabella.”

He might have kissed her again, but there was
a clatter of hoof beats. Murdoch peered out the window to look
toward the stable. He eyed Isabella with consideration. “Is the
relic here at Kinfairlie?”

Isabella shook her head.

“But you know its location?”

“I know the villain’s destination.”

Murdoch considered her for a moment. Then he
leapt to the sill with an athletic grace Isabella admired. He
offered his hand to her and smiled. “Time to go, my lady.”

“Where are Stewart and the boys?”

“I bade them ride for home.”

“You wanted them to be safe.”

“All comes to fruition, Isabella. I will take
no innocents into this battle.” Murdoch’s gaze locked upon hers as
if he would will her to understand her choice.

Isabella put her hand in his before she
realized his meaning. If she went with Murdoch, no matter what
happened between them, it would be assumed that she had been
intimate with him and that her virginity was lost. Indeed, it
seemed that Alexander had made that conclusion already.

If she went with Murdoch, and he did not
return, she might not be able to wed.

If she went with Murdoch, and he did return
with her, her choice might compel Alexander to at least hear
Murdoch’s offer for her hand.

Isabella did not have to consider the
repercussions more than that. She did not want to wed any man other
than Murdoch and she believed that would never change. Without him,
she would content herself with the healing arts.

But if she went and he survived – due to her
aid or not – and if he still wished to court her, she would be glad
to wed him. Isabella would go, and she would do what she could to
ensure that Murdoch survived.