Warriors Of Legend (21 page)

The laird had long reddish blonde hair, twisted into war–braids. His dark, soulless eyes locked on hers. Kate’s skin crawled and dread clawed at her stomach. The flat brutality of MacLeary’s gaze threatened to drag her into unfathomable depths of evil.

The soldiers struck her repeatedly until Stephan dragged her from the throng. “Enough!” he barked. “I will marry the surviving heir and reclaim my birthright.”

The clansmen looked at him in confusion.

“These lands were once MacLeary,” Stephen said, his voice deadly soft. “Yet the English invaders will not recognize my claim. So, I chose to extort their laws. By marrying the recognized heiress of the land, my children will gain the barony and their allegiance will be of Clan MacLeary.”

The clansmen roared their approval.

Kate’s heart shriveled in her breast. The blackness of hell now dwelt in her home and held her captive. She closed her eyes fighting to find her courage. It did not matter what Stephan said or what MacLeary had done…she had to stay strong and defy the evil in honor of her family. There was only one choice…

…she must survive. Kate sucked in her breath. Her head spun and darkness threatened to steal her vision. She backed away, still able to hear the soft creak of the ropes that suspended her family in gruesome death. The weight of the air threatened to drive her to her knees. The hall was going to collapse and crush the life from her. She had to run, she had to escape. She spun away and plowed into Montfort.

***

Micah grabbed Kate before she fell, still mindful of the wounds on her back. She stared up at him, her gray eyes wide.

He frowned. “Lady, what is wrong?”

Kate opened her mouth to speak but no sound emerged. Her face was pallid.
Good God, what is wrong?
Micah remembered her near panic last night. Although she had controlled herself admirably, her gray eyes had betrayed her. Now Micah recognized the signs of a complete terror attack. He glanced up and saw his men carousing in the hall. Had they done something to frighten her?

Micah sensed Kate’s need to escape and gently guided her away, his hand not leaving her arm. His worries came true when she nearly collapsed on the stairs. Quickly, out of sight from the others, he scooped her up and carried her to her room.

Chapter Three

Kate’s soundless scream slowly faded until all she could hear was the ringing of her ears. Her body shook like a leaf battered in a storm. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, afraid if she opened them, she would find herself back in that terrible dungeon. She became aware of Montfort’s deep voice speaking softly, soothing the tempest of her fear.

His corded arms wrapped around her. Kate buried her face against his massive chest and took a deep breath, savoring the strength that emanated from him as he sheltered her in the protective embrace of his body. The scent of sandalwood quieted her tattered nerves. For the first time in a year, Kate truly felt safe. No one could touch her with this solid wall around her. She wanted to let herself fade into darkness, forgetting the fear and the terrible memories.

“Kate,” Montfort said, his deep voice easing her tortured spirit. “What happened?”

Her senses fogged by his calming presence, the memory soon faded into the dark recesses from which it sprang. She opened her eyes and blinked, abruptly realizing Montfort had brought her to her room. They sat on a small divan before the fireplace. He had not eased his hold on her, seemingly unaffected by her trembling grip on him. Kate knew she should move away before her actions could be construed as unseemly. She lifted her head but could not bring herself to push away from him completely…not yet.

“Kate, please, tell me what frightened you so?”

She looked up at him. Montfort’s sapphire eyes regarded her with concern. His long black hair fell loose around his shoulders, its color the rich gloss of raven’s feathers. His skin was bronzed from the sun. If a man could be called beautiful, that’s what she would say of Montfort. Kate suddenly wanted to reach up and touch his cheek, to feel the structure of the bone that was crafted with the artistry of a master stone cutter. God did not spare perfection when He made this man.

“Kate, are you all right?”

Montfort’s question finally broke the spell that wove about her. Kate felt a blush rise in her cheeks and slowly pulled away from him.

“Aye, thank you, Sir Montfort,” she whispered, her voice not quite her own.

“Please, call me Micah.” He let her go, studying her intently. Micah stood and moved to the table where the servants had left cups and a flagon of wine.

Kate felt strangely abandoned on the divan. She wrapped her arms around herself trying to fight down the ache of loss. No matter how comforting Micah’s embrace had been, without her family she was completely alone.

Agonizing grief spiraled up from the pit of her stomach, coiling around her heart. Kate curled into the corner of the divan wishing she could disappear. Reality proved a harsh judge. Her family had been murdered by MacLeary.

But Micah had brought all of that to an end. Now he was both savior and thief. He had rescued her from MacLeary only to take her home away. What could she do? If King Henry awarded her inheritance, Micah would depart with his men, leaving Appleby vulnerable to attack again; leaving her vulnerable.

But if Henry awarded the keep to Micah as promised, Kate would not be permitted to stay. Micah would probably send her to a convent. She would be trapped there as effectively as in the dungeon, haunted by her fear and her memory.

Kate couldn’t live like that. She did not wish to be alone any longer.

***

Micah handed Kate a cup of wine and was surprised when she drank almost half of it immediately. She looked so cold and fragile on the divan. He slowly sat next to her, searching for the words that would bring her out of the bastion she dove into. Her gray eyes, still wide with fear, reminded him of a lake at dawn, before the light struck the depths, and the water reflected the pale wash of the sky.

Kate’s skin was like the silk of moonlight without the marks of time. The bruises on her face had faded. Micah’s gaze followed a lock of her rich copper hair that trailed down the cream of her neck and settled in the hollow at the base of her throat. His fingers tingled as he closed his hands around his cup to keep from capturing the lock.

When Micah had held Kate in his arms, shaking and terrified, he had fought to control the heat roaring through his body. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to soothe her awful fear, to protect her, to calm her with his words and touch. He would stand between her and the gates of hell if need be.

Slowly, Micah reached out and wrapped his fingers around hers, trying to ease the death grip she had on her own arm. Kate looked up at him in surprise but said nothing. Her hand gradually relaxed as he tangled her fingers in his.

“Did my men cause you some offense?” While Micah did not wish to push Kate, he had to know what caused her fear. He needed to understand in order to help her.

Kate shook her head. “A memory…nothing more.”

Micah frowned. She had been staring at the great hall where his men drank and enjoyed themselves after a good practice. This would quickly become a fact of life as long as he stayed at Appleby. He could not have her terrorized every time. The poor girl would lose her sanity.

“Tell me what you remembered.” His voice was soft, coaxing.

Kate closed her eyes and shuddered.

Micah’s hand tightened on hers. He instinctively moved closer. “It’s all right, Kate.”

She gulped another drink of wine. “I remembered the night the MacLearys first claimed the castle.”

“What happened?”

“I was brought to the great hall. Men drank and celebrated as your soldiers were. The men…beat me…but my family…” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath. “MacLeary hanged my family…” The sentence ended in a choked sob.

Micah quickly set aside his wine cup and moved hers away. He pulled her to him and held her tightly. Her body quivered with grief and fear. Another sob escaped her.

“It’s all right, Kate,” he murmured, stroking her hair. Micah understood, all too well, how memories could haunt. Abruptly, Kate wept against his chest, her body shuddering with the power of her heartache. Micah’s spirit grieved when he realized he knew exactly the battle raging within her; he knew the strength of the sorrow threatening to tear her to shreds. Micah pulled Kate even closer, whispering soft reassurances, caressing her silken hair, and letting her cry.

When Kate’s sobs had faded to small pants for air, Micah’s hand cupped her cheek, her tears hot against his skin. Gently he lifted her face to look at him.

“Kate, I swear to you, MacLeary will not harm you again, not while I am still alive.”

She blinked in shock. “What?”

Micah brushed away a fresh tear as it trickled down her cheek. “I will not let him touch you again. No one will. That is my promise.”

Kate stared at him as if trying to make sure he was not toying with her. “But…my being alive has clouded your claim to Appleby.”

The bitter dregs of self–loathing coated his mouth. Micah swallowed reflexively and almost choked.
Kate is terrified of me.
He couldn’t blame her. During Kate’s year of captivity, no one had helped her. When Henry finally sent Micah, all he did was take her home away from her. Micah knew exactly how alone she was right now. Kate had no family and no one to turn to – no one but him. She needed an ally more than anything. That meant convincing Kate he bore no threat.

“Nay, Kate, I do not need Appleby.”

She frowned. “Then why fight for it?”

His lips lifted slightly. “Because the Scots had it. Remember, Kate, when I began my battle I thought all the Liulfs dead, slaughtered by MacLeary. I planned to avenge you, but now I’m glad to know that my battle actually saved a life instead.”

Kate’s shock was so great her face went blank of emotion. Micah regretted the tempest she suffered, along with his lie. As she regained control, the spark that returned to her eyes warmed his heart. Kate’s fingers tightened around his and the timid smile that appeared made everything worth it. Yet her smile did not erase the dusting of fear around her eyes. Micah knew he still had to deal with the terrible memory. Kate would have to face her fear or she would never be able to enter the great hall again.

He gazed at her face, beautiful in its perfection. Her lips looked soft and her skin was silken under his fingers. Micah’s body was alive with sensation. He felt Kate curved against him. Every part of him that she touched burned with a glorious fire. He sensed every breath, every movement, with painful awareness. Micah sighed softly, fighting the strange urge to crush his mouth against hers, to explore the taste of her, to discover the power of her spirit.

“You must understand,” he said, trying to distract himself from his rebellious body. “This terrible memory of yours is nothing more than that.” Micah touched a finger to her lips as Kate started to protest. He almost lost himself to the soft warmth of her skin. “Fear is very real,” he forced himself to say. “I shall not argue with that. However, there are ways to conquer it.”

Kate’s eyes were liquid as she looked up at him. “Will you help me?”

She spoke softly but Micah heard the scream of hope. “Aye,” he whispered. Slowly, achingly, he disengaged himself from Kate’s arms and stood. Micah extended his hand to her and waited.

Kate studied him. She straightened her shoulders like the gradual raising of a tower. Micah held his breath, knowing this marked her moment of decision. Would she be a victim of her fears or would she take the step to defeat them?

“Very well,” Kate said with firm conviction. She dashed away the remnants of her tears, deliberately took his hand, and stood.

Micah’s heart lurched and his hand closed around Kate’s gentle fingers. How could she have faith in him after he had been such a threat to her? He pulled her closer. Micah recognized Kate’s intelligence but now he witnessed pure courage. She had accepted his word and his promise without reservation – something he had hoped for, but not truly expected.

God help me, how I wish I could still have that kind of faith.

“Kate,” Micah said, trying to ignore the longing that plagued him. “I will not leave your side. Do you understand?”

“Aye,” she replied, her body shaking again.

Micah led Kate to the door before his actions were no longer in his control.

***

Kate, her arm firmly entangled with Micah’s, entered the hall. Again, her vision tunneled and a huge weight threatened to drive her into the floor. The stone walls seemed to close, crushing her under the awful oppressiveness. Kate couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see. She had to get out. The voices that roared in laughter mixed with the groaning of the timbers.

Evil reigned, a curse upon her home, and all who resided at Appleby would fall victim to it.

“Kate,” Micah said softly, jerking her attention back to him. “I enjoy sitting before the fire in the great hearth. Do you?”

Why wasn’t he afraid? Could he not sense the evil that pervaded the walls? Kate dug her heels into the unyielding stone.

But Micah continued forward, his arm did not release hers. If she did not move, he would drag her with him. He would drag her into death.

“The danger is only in your mind, Kate,” Micah whispered. “You must have faith in me.”

Kate closed her eyes. The terrible shouts rang in her ears. The door opened and the awful memories flooded through. She heard her mother’s screams. Screams that seared her soul…

…Kate and her mother hid in a storeroom. They huddled together in darkness, rats worrying their skirts, until the door flew open and the laird with his son stood before them. Stephan hovered behind, chuckling…watching. What MacLeary did to her mother…

…Kate lunged backward, stumbled, and nearly fell.

Micah’s arms wrapped around her and he trapped her against him. “Kate, I will not let anyone hurt you.”

She heard his heart beating in his chest, a slow and even pace. His strength surrounded her. How could it be that this man felt no fear? Did he not know the danger that awaited him?