DevilsHeart (23 page)

Leah scanned the courtyard as every available space was
filling up. Fear and tension hung thick in the air.

“My lady?”

She met his expectant gaze. “Let them come,” she whispered.
“Close the gate as soon as everyone is in.”

“We might run out of food.”

“Are there stores outside the walls?”

He nodded.

“Has there been any sign of who has done this?”

He shook his head.

She swallowed hard, angry and frightened. “If you think it
is safe enough, take some men and bring in as much food as you can. I won’t
turn anyone away.”

He inclined his head. “Yes, my lady.”

She thanked him and ran back inside. The morning passed in a
blur. She assisted wherever she could, awestruck by the healing skills of Mòrag
and many of the other people around her.

Mòrag chased her down to get her to eat something midday.
Leah had tried to assure her she would eat as soon as she’d finished helping
one last injured man, but Mòrag was having none of it. With all the authority
of a five-star general, she ushered Leah into the kitchen and commanded her to
eat the soup waiting for her at the table. She even stood over Leah’s shoulder
until she took a bite.

“There is a good lass,” Mòrag praised, patting Leah’s arm.
“It is hard, especially early on, to remember it is not just you you need to
look after.”

Leah’s lifted tentative eyes up and nodded, at last
acknowledging what she had thought was a secret until two days ago when Màiri
alerted her it was common knowledge.

“Does he know?” Mòrag asked, brushing Leah’s hair over her
shoulder.

Leah shook her head. “Not yet.”

Mòrag nodded with an understanding smile. Her gray eyes
glistened with gathering tears and she took a deep breath, turning away from
Leah. “Well, eat up, my lady. I want a fat little baby crawling around my feet
by this time next year.”

Leah laughed, touched by the emotion on Mòrag’s face.

As she was finishing her soup, Mòrag carried another
ladleful over to her and poured it into the bowl, making another comment about
chubby babies. But then she stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she waved the
empty ladle toward the doorway.

“You take yourself right back out of here. Your lady is
taking nourishment now.”

Leah turned to find a young warrior standing in the doorway,
casting fearful eyes between her and Mòrag.

“I-I beg your pardon, my lady, but this is important.” He
shifted from one foot to the other in anxious agitation.

Leah’s stomach sank. Ugh. She didn’t need more bad news. Not
now. “What is it?” she asked in a bare whisper.

“A battle. To the south. I was sent to warn you.”

Leah shot up from the bench. “With who?”

“Dunlops. Most of the men have gone. There will be just a
few of us here with you and the clan until it is over.”

Dunlops? Wasn’t that the name of the old laird David had
originally wanted her to marry? Rathe had recently been in talks with the old
man, giving his clan permission to use her land to the south. Why would he
attack them?

Leah nodded and sank back down to the bench in a heap.
“Thank you for letting me know.”

“I will send men to the walls to keep watch, my lady.”

She nodded, her hand shaking as she grasped her spoon. “What
is your name?”

“Paul.”

“Thank you, Paul.” She shifted back to her soup, her vision
blurring with angry, frightened tears. Just what the hell were they going to
do? Where was Rathe?

As the young man’s footfalls died out down the hall, Mòrag
patted Leah’s shoulder again. This time the motion was more awkward, more
hesitant.

“Eat up, my lady. There is naught you can do but wait.”

Leah lifted a bite to her mouth and paused. God, what she
wouldn’t give to see Rathe standing before her. Have him pull her into his arms
and assure her everything would be all right. That she and the children would
be safe. That everyone in the clan would be okay and no one would get hurt.

Mòrag’s food was always delicious, but this time it sat like
a lead weight in her stomach. Leah managed to finish it anyway before heading
back into the great hall. But there was little else she could do. Instead, she
sought out a corner in which to sit with Màiri and Daniel. Neither child wanted
to venture far from her, their normally playful antics subdued by the tension
hanging over them.

But then shouts carried in from the courtyard. A hush fell
over the great hall and a chill of dread slithered down Leah’s spine. She
hugged the children closer, reveling in their comforting warmth.

Paul emerged as he threw the door to the great hall wide
open. “My lady!”

She froze as all eyes turned to her. Swallowing the rising
lump in her throat, she kissed the children on the head before passing them off
to Flora. Butterflies gnawed around inside her stomach. She placed a nervous
hand over her abdomen and made her way toward Paul.

His face was as white as a sheet as she approached, his eyes
rounded with fear. “It is the MacTavish,” he whispered. “He wishes to speak
with you.”

Andrew?
Apprehension washed over her and she glanced
back toward the children who were watching her every move. What on earth could
Andrew have to say to her?

She followed Paul into the courtyard. Dread uncoiled within
her. The silent crowd parted to allow her through. When she reached the other
side, Paul offered her his hand and motioned her up the stone staircase leading
to the walkway along the defensive curtain wall. As she gained the last step, a
mass of men on horseback spread out before her. Her limbs tingled in fear, threatening
to give out on her.

Andrew sat upon his horse at the head of his men just
outside the castle gate. A broad smile crossed his face as he caught sight of
her. “You are a fair sight to behold, Lady Leah,” he called in English.

She bristled at the smug air of self-satisfaction on his
face and answered him back in Gaelic. “What do you want, Laird MacTavish?”

His brows raised. “Impressive,” he remarked, switching to
Gaelic. “Why I have come to rescue you, of course.”

Her lips parted in shock. Rescue? “I do not need rescuing.”

He pursed his lips together and nodded in an obvious attempt
to pretend to consider her words. But then he shook his head. “No, I believe I
shall continue with my plan to rescue you.” He snapped his fingers. “Come down,
my lady. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

She shook her head in amazement. Was this guy serious? “No.”
Her voice cracked with nervousness.

His eyes widened. “What was that?”

She took a deep breath, anger creeping in to replace some of
the fear. “I said ‘no’.”

He shrugged. “Then we shall lay siege, my lady. The entire
Sinclair clan sheltering inside with you will perish. Some by arrow, some by
flame. Rest assured, I will reduce this sorry pile of rock into a mass of
blackened rubble unless you come with me now.”

Her knees turned to rubber and almost gave out on her until
a pair of hands steadied her around the waist. Paul had followed her up the
stairs and now stood at her side.

Panicked, she threw back, “That’s not rescuing. That is
blackmail and kidnapping.”

Andrew shrugged again. “Details, my dear. Now, what will it
be? Will you die along with the Sinclairs or give yourself up to save them?”

She shifted her eyes back to Paul. “Do we have enough men
fighting off the Dunlops now to defend us when they get back? Tell me
honestly.”

Paul’s face fell and he dropped his eyes from hers. “I fear
not, especially coming from another battle. The MacTavishes are fresh. It would
be a slaughter.”

Her heavy heart sank, draining away her last bit of hope.
She couldn’t send those men to almost certain death. Nor could she risk the
lives of the children and the entire clan who had come to her for protection.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Flora standing with
Màiri and Daniel in the doorway of the keep. Màiri’s eyes were wide and rounded
as she stared back, clutching her rag doll to her chest. She had no choice.
Rathe wasn’t coming to save them and something must be done to protect her
family. If she stayed, they would all die.

And she couldn’t do that to Rathe. He might have been a
hardened warrior used to a harsh and brutal way of life, but he had a good
heart and a fierce love for his family and clan. It would be one thing for him
to lose her, but there was no telling what the loss of everything and everyone
he loved would do to him. It might destroy him and she couldn’t allow that to
happen.

Besides, if she went with Andrew, there was a chance at
least she
could
survive whatever lay ahead of her, right?

“Well, my lady?” Andrew shouted. “You are testing my
patience.”

Her mind whirled. Could she trust him to keep his word and
not attack as soon as the castle gate dropped? “Move your men back!” she
shouted in a rush. “And I will come out. But not before you are at a safe
distance away.”

He chuckled. “You do not trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone who would threaten the lives of
innocent women and children!” she snapped.

He nodded and placed his hand over his heart. “Just to prove
to you, my lady, that I am a man of honor, we will move back. I swear I shall
not attack as long as you come out peacefully.”

She turned to Paul. “As soon as they move far enough back,
drop the gate.”

He shook his head. “The laird—”

Tears stung her eyes as panic arose in her throat. “You have
to do this. I won’t let anyone die because of me.”

“My lady—”

“Please,” she pleaded. “As the laird’s wife, you have to
obey me, right?”

He shook his head again, casting his gaze to the sky.
Resignation dulled his brown eyes as he turned them back toward her. “I am
truly sorry, my lady.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together in an effort to
prevent the tears from falling. “How long would it take for Rathe to get to the
MacTavish keep from here?”

“About a day. Maybe a bit more with a large contingent of
warriors.”

Rathe could die if he came after her. Tempting as it was to
tell Paul to not let Rathe go into battle for her, it would do no good. Rathe
would fight for her, come hell or high water. And he would avenge her if the
worst happened and she did not emerge from this alive.

She grasped Paul’s forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you.
Keep them all comfortable and send word to Rathe as soon as it is safe to do
so.”

She turned and ran down the stairs. Màiri broke free from
Flora and dashed toward her. She threw herself at Leah as they met in the
center of the courtyard.

“Mommy, what is happening? I am scared,” the little girl
asked in a mumble, pressing her face into the crook of her neck as Leah sank to
her knees.

A deep, cavernous ache expanded in Leah’s chest, threatening
to break the last thread of her control. She clasped Màiri to her, fighting
back a sob. She couldn’t break down. Not now.
Oh God, please, not now.

The heavy wooden gate creaked behind her. She was running
out of time. Mòrag and Flora rushed toward them with Daniel clinging to Flora’s
chest.

She pulled back from Màiri and brushed away the little
girl’s tears with her thumbs as she held her face in her hands. “Don’t be
frightened, all right? But I have to go away for a little while.” Her voice
cracked in a mixture of fear and regret.

Màiri shook her head. “Mommy, no, please!”

The tears won out and spilled from Leah’s eyes, running in
rivulets down her cheeks. “I have to, little one. I have to. Just remember I
love you, okay?”

Màiri nodded, her lips quivering into a pout.

Then it hit Leah—she might never see Rathe again. Her
stomach dropped. He didn’t know how she felt about him, how much he meant to
her. He’d already given her so much she thought she’d never have. Freedom to be
herself. Confidence. Love. Real, all-consuming love. She owed him so much.

She held Màiri by the shoulders and stared into those green
eyes that looked so much like Rathe’s. “When you see Daddy, I need you to tell
him something very important. Tell him I love him, okay?”

Màiri nodded. “Will you come back?”

Leah wanted to say “yes,” to reassure her she would indeed
come back and have it be true. She tore her eyes away from Màiri’s and kissed
her cheek, their tears mingling. “I will try, my love,” she whispered into the
little girl’s ear.

A shout from outside the castle walls carried into the
courtyard. “I am still waiting, Lady Sinclair!”

She closed her eyes, praying for any kind of assistance, and
stood. Màiri clasped her hand and Leah caught Mòrag’s gaze. The older woman’s
eyes were filled with tears as she wrung her apron between her fingers.

“Don’t let her watch this,” Leah pleaded. If nothing else,
she didn’t want Màiri’s last memory of her to be one of her being led away by
her father’s mortal enemy. “Please.”

Mòrag nodded, opening her mouth as though to speak but then
clamping it shut.

There was just one more thing to say, one more request
before she turned away from these people she’d grown to adore over the past two
and a half months. “If something happens to me—”

Mòrag did speak then. “My lady—my dear, sweet, lassie—no.”

Leah shook her head, determined this one last wish be
carried out. “Don’t tell him. If I don’t…just don’t tell him, please.”

A flicker of understanding flashed in Mòrag’s eyes and she
nodded. The older woman was always true to her word. Leah had no doubt, if
worse came to worst, the secret of her pregnancy would never come to light.
She’d make sure no one in the clan would ever utter a word. Rathe would never
know she’d been carrying his child. There was no need for him to know. It would
only tear him up.

She leaned forward, kissed Daniel and then down to do the
same to Màiri before prying the little girl’s fingers away from her hand. Leah
spun around just as the tears overtook Màiri.