The Highlander Series (96 page)

Her eyes flickered dispassionately as her gaze rested on him. He wanted to touch her but, God’s teeth, he didn’t know where he could lay hand on her that wouldn’t hurt her.

“I was standing at the brook. When I looked up, I saw men on horses across the water. I knew I would never be able to run up the hill before they caught me so I ran along the bank, but they quickly caught up to me.”

He slid his hand over the top of hers where it rested on her lap. He eased his fingers underneath hers and rubbed his thumb along her knuckles. Her hand was tiny in his, and he was reminded of how small and slight she was.

“One knocked me to the ground and backhanded me. I put my fingers in his eyes and scratched him.”

“Good,” Caelen said gruffly.

“I escaped a moment but was caught by another man.”

For the first time, her voice wavered, fringed with emotion as she broke off and fixed her stare into the fire.

“ ’Twas naught I could do,” she whispered. “He hit me. He tore my clothing. He … touched me,” she choked out.

Caelen went completely still. He tried to swallow but couldn’t manage it. “Did he rape you?”

She turned her gaze back on him, her eyes wide and startled. “Nay. He groped my breasts. He bruised me and humiliated me. He gave me a message for you.”

Relief that she hadn’t been molested was tempered by the fact that she’d still been sorely abused. And now it appeared as though it had all happened because someone wanted to hurt what was his.

“Tell me his message.”

“He said that no McCabe is safe from Duncan Cameron. Not Mairin. Not Isabel. Not anyone who a McCabe calls dear. He said to tell you that my face is a token of Cameron’s esteem.”

He ground his teeth together so hard that he feared breaking them. His jaw ached as he tried valiantly to keep his rage at bay. His wife needed gentleness and understanding from him. Not a warrior bent on killing everyone in his path.

“What then, Rionna?” he asked gently.

Her eyes found his again, so dark and troubled. There was shame and pain in the golden depths. She looked … beaten. Not just in body, but in spirit. It was like a dagger to his gut.

“They left and I crawled up the hill to the courtyard. I don’t remember much else.”

His chest hurt. His stomach heaved. The idea that his proud, spirited wife was beaten so badly that she had to crawl on the ground like an animal.
Crawl
.

It was too much for him to bear.

He stood abruptly and turned away so she wouldn’t see the ugly rage on his face. It took him a moment before
he could breathe normally again. Then he turned back to see Rionna staring into the fire, so still and rigid.

He went back and knelt beside her, touching her chin until she turned to look at him. “Have you slept?”

She was confused by his question. Her eyes became cloudy. The fact that she couldn’t answer told him that she likely hadn’t slept at all beyond brief moments by the fire.

Not waiting longer for her to respond, he carefully looped his arms underneath her body and lifted her as gently as he was able. He held her close to his chest and rested his lips atop her head as he carried her to the bed.

He settled her onto the mattress and pulled the furs over her body so that she’d be warm. “I want you to rest. You have need of your sleep, Rionna. I’m here now. Nothing will hurt you.”

She dutifully closed her eyes, but she was still tense. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her brow. “Sleep now, lass. I’ll be here when you awaken.”

At his words, she relaxed a bit and seemed to sink deeper into the bed. Some of the strain around her eyes and mouth eased and she let out a tiny sigh.

He stroked a hand over her hair until she seemed at ease and then he rose and backed from the bed. Her eyes opened and she locked her gaze with his.

“Be at ease, Rionna. I won’t leave. I have need to speak with my men and to see to your care. Sarah says you’ve refused food.”

She didn’t respond but the look in her eyes suggested she still had no desire to eat.

“You have to keep your strength up. I’m going to bring up some broth, something that won’t hurt your mouth or jaw to chew. You’ll eat it.”

He expected sparks in her eyes at his command. He’d never issued one yet that hadn’t elicited a scowl or outright defiance on her part. But her eyes remained dull,
and she turned into her pillow, closing her eyes. He’d all but been dismissed.

Cursing under his breath, he turned to the door to find Gannon standing against the wall just outside. Gannon straightened when Caelen softly closed the door behind him.

“How is she?” Gannon asked.

“They beat the hell out of her,” Caelen bit out.

“Who?”

“Cameron’s men. They gave her a message to give to me. The sons of bitches brutalized her. There isn’t a part of her face or neck that isn’t bruised.”

Anger glittered in Gannon’s eyes. “Cameron has no compunction about waging war against women. But why now? Why Rionna? What is the point? Why not just attack? They obviously knew you’d gone out on the hunt.”

“He wants to draw me out,” Caelen said grimly. “He wants to make me angry enough that I do something foolish like charge after him in the dead of winter with inferior warriors, where if we survive the cold and starvation, we’d be easily defeated once we confront him at his holding.”

“He must think you a fool,” Gannon said in disgust.

“It matters naught what he thinks. What matters is what he will
know
when my sword slides through his heart.”

“I think you may have to fight your brothers for that honor. He has brought much harm to Mairin and Keeley.”

“And Rionna,” Caelen said. “He thinks to weaken us through our women.”

“ ’Tis not much mark of a man when he wages war against those weaker than himself.”

“I want you to send word to Ewan and tell him what has happened. Tell him there are new threats against his
wife and daughter and that Cameron has escalated his attacks. Then I want you to put men on an around-the-clock watch. I want someone watching all approaches to the keep at all times. I want you working with the men immediately. They’re going to train and train hard. They should have plenty of motivation now if they had none before.”

Gannon nodded and started down the hall.

“Tell Sarah to bring up water and broth for Rionna,” he called after Gannon.

Gannon held up a hand in acknowledgment before disappearing down the stairs.

Caelen quietly reentered the chamber to check on Rionna. She hadn’t moved from where he’d put her on the bed. The furs were pulled over her shoulders and her eyes were closed.

Wanting to see if she was truly sleeping, he leaned close and listened to her soft, even breathing. When she didn’t stir, he drew away and went to add more wood to the fire so she’d be warm.

When the flames were blazing once more, he sank into the chair and bowed his head. He’d been so cavalier in leaving for the hunt. Food had seemed like the most important priority. He’d thought to feed his clan and
then
see to its protection. His first action and decision as laird and he’d made a huge mistake. A mistake his wife had paid dearly for.

Rionna pressed gingerly at her still swollen eye, wincing when she touched a particularly sore spot. Caelen was below in the courtyard directing the training of the men. He’d left her after making sure she ate a good meal and instructing her to rest.

’Twas the truth, she’d had more rest over the last week than she could bear. She’d wallowed. She’d sulked. She’d dealt with her fear and her sense of failure. Now … Now she was just furious.

Furious with the men who’d trespassed on her lands. Furious with the cowardice of Duncan Cameron. Furious that she’d been rendered helpless against a vicious attack.

No longer could she accept her husband’s decree that she become a meek, feminine version of whatever fantasy he’d built in his mind of the perfect wife. That wasn’t who she was. He should have given more thought to stepping in to marry her if he wasn’t prepared to accept a wife he considered wholly unsuitable.

She dressed in trews and a tunic she saved for what she viewed as special occasions. It was soft. No holes, no stains, and the hem was finely stitched.

It was overlayed in red velvet with gold stitching. It
had taken every coin she’d saved for three years, but it was the finest thing she’d ever owned.

She wiped at the dirt on her boots and rubbed a finger over the toe where the leather was so thin that a hole had nearly been worn. She had need of a new pair, but it was a luxury she couldn’t contemplate, not when everyone else in her clan had shoes and boots just as worn, if not worse.

Still, she could dream of how a new pair would feel on her feet. Fur lined. She could practically feel the softness surrounding her toes.

She stood and her hand went automatically to her throat where she tested the soreness. It still hurt to swallow and her voice had a soft rasp that hadn’t yet gone away. She probably looked a fright, but after so many days, she was ready to be out of her chamber.

She took to the stairs, feeling a moment’s panic that she’d left the safety of her chamber. She stopped midway down, black dots swimming in front of her eyes as she panted for breath.

Such weakness infuriated her. She clenched her fist, slammed her eyes shut, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in deep breaths.

For too long she’d hidden in her chamber because the idea of going out terrified her. It was a weakness she’d never admit. The attack and the days following were a humiliation she’d live with for the rest of her life.

“My lady, you shouldn’t be out of your chamber. Do you need my aid returning? Is there something you have need of? I would be happy to fetch it for you.”

She glanced up to see Caelen’s commander standing on the stairwell, blocking her path down. His hand gripped her arm and concern burned bright in his gaze.

She brushed off his hand with a push of her own and
nearly took a step back from the warrior before she caught herself. She forced her chin up and then leveled a calm stare at him.

“I am well and nay, I do not require anything. I’m on my way below stairs.”

“Perhaps ’tis best to wait the laird. I’ll summon him and tell him you’d like to leave your chamber.”

She frowned. “Am I a prisoner in my own home? Am I not allowed out of my room without the laird’s permission?”

“You mistake me, my lady. ’Tis my concern for your well-being that drives my statement. I’m sure the laird would want to escort you himself once he’s ascertained whether you’re well enough to be below stairs.”

“I can ascertain for myself that I am well enough to be up and out of my chamber. Kindly remove yourself from my path so that I may continue downward.”

Gannon didn’t look happy with the dictate. He wavered a moment, clearly trying to decide whether he should cleave to his initial idea.

She wouldn’t wait. Knowing he would do nothing to harm her, she pushed at his chest until he relented and stepped aside. He didn’t allow her to pass, though. He cupped her elbow and took her hand in his, tucking it around his arm.

“At least allow me to escort you. I would not want you to fall on the stairs.”

She nearly yanked her hand from his, so great was her frustration. But she was getting what she wanted and she didn’t want to risk him forcing her back to her chamber and summoning Caelen, who’d likely burst a blood vessel over her apparel and the fact that she was out of bed.

When they reached the bottom, she retrieved her hand and hurried away from the warrior. She had no clear
direction in mind, only that she wanted to be away from Gannon.

Fresh air was top on her list of priorities, but she couldn’t go into the courtyard. Caelen was there training with the men. She opted to go through the kitchens and out the side where the distance between the keep and the stone skirt was greater and she could see the mountains in the distance.

Ignoring several of the women’s surprised exclamations on her way out, Rionna breathed deep as soon as the crisp air hit her in the face.

It was heavenly. Freeing. Her throat and lungs seemed to open up and loose the horrid constriction she’d lived with for so many days.

She stepped into the snow, enjoying the loud crunch and the coldness seeping around her toes. Finally, she felt alive again. Reinvigorated.

The wind whipped at her hair and sent a shiver down her spine. She’d completely forgotten her cloak, so in a hurry had she been to get out of her chamber.

Clutching her arms around her waist for warmth, she walked along the wall of the keep, leaving small footprints in the fresh powder.

As a child, she had lain in the snow and made shapes with Keeley. They’d pretended to be snow princesses waiting for their prince to rescue them. He wore only the warmest furs and the finest clothing. His steed was unmatched in beauty and speed. He’d ride in, wrap her in his furs, and bear her away to a land where it was always warm and sunny.

Rionna laughed softly. Such imaginations she and Keeley had. Always with their heads in the clouds. The worst day in Rionna’s life had been the day her father had attacked Keeley. And then Rionna’s mother had cried Keeley a whore and banished her from the clan.