The Betrayal

CHAPTER Eleven

They lay, still joined, their breath coming hard and fast as they struggled to settle.

Grant pressed his mouth to her temple and tasted the salt of her tears.

Tears?

He rolled to one side and gathered her into his arms, brushing away the moisture with his thumbs. “I’ve hurt you. Forgive me, Kylia. It was selfish of me to want…”

“Nay.” She touched her hand to his mouth to still his words. “You didn’t hurt me. It was just so—” she searched for a way to make him understand “—incredible. Is it always like this?”

His poor heart took one hard bounce, then returned to its natural rhythm. He’d feared it might never beat again.

“It is if the two lovers truly care about each other.”

Lovers. The word caused a flutter in the pit of her stomach.

“And are we…?” She licked her lips. “Do you…?”

Seeing her confusion, he pressed his mouth to her temple. “We are and I do.”

“You…love me?”

“Aye.” He whispered the word against her mouth. “If you’ll let me, I’ll show you how very much I love you, my beautiful Kylia, in a hundred different ways. Starting with this.” He ran kisses over her face, her throat, then lower, to her breast, and heard her rapid intake of breath.

Aware that he was fully aroused once more, she pushed away and stared up at him in surprise. “Is this possible? Again?”

He nibbled her neck, sending delicious tremors all through her body. “Not only possible, but extremely pleasurable, my lady.”

“Aye.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving herself up completely to his ministrations. “You have the most amazing powers, my lord.”

“You see, my lady. You’re not the only one.” The warmth of his laughter trickled over her senses as he drew her close and began to show her, in the only way he could, just what she meant to him.

As the night wore on, the two lovers were so wrapped up in each other, neither of them felt the way the wind picked up, chilling their heated flesh while sending the branches of the trees thrashing about wildly. Overhead, dark clouds billowed and boiled as thunder rumbled in the distance.

From deep in the forest came the chilling howl of a wolf. Grant lifted his head and struggled to hear over the wild beating of his heart. Just then lightning flashed across the midnight sky, followed by a rumble of thunder that shook the earth beneath them.

He dragged air into his lungs and waited for his head to clear. When he looked down at Kylia, he could see her struggling to calm her ragged breathing as well.

His first inclination was to curse the elements. Instead he touched a hand to her cheek. “It would seem that nature is against us, my lovely Kylia. From the sound of that thunder, we’re directly in the path of the storm. It wouldn’t be wise to remain here.”

“Where will we go?” Her words were little more than a whisper.

“Since neither of us is in the mood to sleep now, I think we’d be wise to take up our journey until we find shelter.” He caught her chin and tipped her face to stare into her eyes. “Do you believe me when I say I wish it were otherwise?”

Her breath came out in a long, slow sigh. “Aye. For I wish it, too. But I’ve no desire to be struck by lightning in a Highland forest.”

“Especially when, by this time on the morrow, we’ll be warm and dry within my fortress. My first concern must be your safety and comfort, my lady. My love,” he added softly, sending her heart soaring.

When they were dressed he caught her hand and twined his fingers with hers, aware that both of them were trembling.

He took up his sword. “Come. We’ll saddle the horse and be on our way.”

When they reached the campfire, they saw the wolf pup still sleeping in his wrap.

Kylia looked down at the little mound of fur. “May I take him along?”

Grant looked doubtful. “He’s a wild creature. He belongs in the forest with others like himself.”

“But his wounds aren’t yet healed. If we leave him here, he’ll have no defense against his predators. Please, Grant. He’s so small and helpless.”

Grant looked into those pleading blue eyes and knew he’d already lost the battle. He would give her anything she asked, no matter the cost. “Bring him along. Though I’ve no doubt the hounds at my fortress will soon send him running back to the forest to escape their wrath.”

“Perhaps he’ll prove you wrong.” She bundled the pup into her arms and moved along beside Grant as he carried the saddle toward his mount.

“So, my sweet Kylia.” While he saddled his horse, he glanced at her. “Will the wolf become tame? Or will he lure the hounds to the wilderness?”

“Why can they not coexist? Who’s to say they can’t learn from each other?”

They both knew they weren’t speaking only of the creature in her arms. They came from such diverse worlds. And yet, somehow, they’d managed to find common ground in their love.

He looked down at the little ball of sleeping fur. “I suppose you’ve already given him a name?”

“Aye. Wee Lad.”

“Wee Lad. And what will you do when he’s not so wee?”

“Then I shall call him simply Lad.”

“I suppose you’ll start thinking of him as your child.”

“Perhaps. Who’s to say?”

As rain pelted them, he lifted her to the saddle and pulled himself up behind her. When he took up the reins, he felt again the way his body strained toward hers.

This thing between them was far from ended. Loving her had only made him hunger for more.

He ought to be grateful for the storm. It would keep his mind off the storm raging inside him. Even now, when he should have been sated, it was there. The thunder of need, the lightning of desire, the likes of which had never been seen before.

For now, he would have to be content to shelter her body with his, even though it meant hours of torment while he breathed her in and wanted her with a desperation that bordered on sheer madness.

The rain fell for hours while their horse picked its way across moss-covered boulders and slippery ravines. They kept to the cover of the forest, which offered them scant shelter from the storm.

By the time dawn painted the sky with touches of light, Grant pointed to a cave. “We’ll stop here awhile and refresh ourselves.”

Kylia was grateful when he lifted her from the saddle. She placed the pup on the floor of the cave and unfolded their precious bundle of food. Soon they were warmed by a fire, and soothed by the first food they’d eaten in hours.

Grant watched as Kylia offered tiny pieces of cold mutton to the pup. After only a few bites the little eyes closed once more. Though weak, the animal seemed to be breathing easier.

Grant knelt before her with a knowing smile on his lips. “I know I promised to take you to the shelter of my fortress. But first, my love, I must taste your lips again.”

She drew back, laughing. “You know where this will lead, my lord.”

“Aye. Where it led us all through the night.” He drew her close with a growl of pleasure. “But it’s only an hour more. And this hunger is so great.”

“It is the same for me…”

And then there were no more words as they came together in a firestorm of passion.

“I’ll hold Wee Lad until you’re seated, my love.” Grant reached for the sleeping cub and helped Kylia into the saddle before pulling himself up behind her and handing her the precious bundle. He urged their mount forward, wishing he could spare Kylia this discomfort, for they were again facing into the bleak, bitter rain.

Not once had she uttered a word of complaint. Yet he’d felt her shiver, despite the warmth of her cloak.

Against her temple he muttered, “If you could but tame this weather, our journey would be easier. I suppose what I’m asking is only possible in your kingdom.”

She turned her head slightly and gave him a smile. “Why didn’t you say you wished the rain to stop? I thought perhaps your people needed it for their crops.”

“They do. But I’d just as soon it rained on the morrow, so our journey today would be less tedious.”

Kylia fell silent, and Grant concentrated on the steep trail ahead of them. He was surprised when, just minutes later, the rain ceased and the sun slipped from behind angry clouds.

“Did you do this?” His tone was incredulous.

“I wished it.” She gave him a shy smile. “But I also asked my mum and gram to do what they could. Their powers are far greater than mine.”

Grant shook his head. “You constantly amaze me, Kylia. What other powers have you failed to mention?”

She gave him an impish smile. “The truth is, I have no idea, for in my kingdom our powers seemed limitless. I just assumed everyone had them. Now that I’m in your land, I realize that much of what we took for granted there is absent here.”

“How do you explain it?”

She shrugged. “Mum told us that there was a time when all people had the gifts of healing, of knowledge, of sight. But some abused their gifts, using them for personal gain. Some used their gifts against others, causing a great war that brought death and destruction to the land. Afterward, those who had started the war found their gifts had diminished. They became jealous of those who still had the gifts, and persuaded those like themselves to turn against the gifted ones, calling them witches. Many like us were hunted and killed. Others were imprisoned until they renounced their powers.”

“And that’s why your family fled to the Mystical Kingdom?”

Kylia nodded. “When we were just children, my sister Allegra took pity on the mother of a lad who had drowned. Allegra brought the lad back from that other world, and though his mother rejoiced, there were many who were scandalized. After being warned that we might be imprisoned as witches, we fled in the night.”

Grant shook his head. “What fools are we, that we would drive away the kindest creatures I’ve ever known?”

Kylia felt her heart swell at his words. Perhaps, if enough of his kind agreed with him, her family could one day return to this land and live without fear of punishment. It would be so grand to share their knowledge of healing, to put an end to war and hunger and mistrust among people.

But a part of her remained unconvinced. The barbarians they had encountered along the way had no desire for peace. And even one of Grant’s own people had betrayed him. Was it possible to live in peace as long as there were evil ones among them?

“Look, Kylia.” As they crested a ridge Grant reined in his mount and pointed.

“Is this your home?”

“It is. The village is known as Duncrune. My home is Duncrune Castle.”

There was a softness in his tone, a tenderness that spoke, more than any words, what was in his heart.

She studied the rolling meadows, abloom with heather. In the valley was a lovely little village, with thatched-roof huts. Each home had a little garden and sturdy outbuildings. In the distance were green fields dotted with flocks of sheep. And standing on the highest ridge was a turreted fortress glistening in the afternoon sun.

She closed her hands over his, gripping the reins. “It’s beautiful, Grant.”

At her words he felt the curl of pleasure and knew that he’d been waiting for her reaction. It mattered more to him than he cared to admit.

“It has been in our clan for generations. And has been my home since I was born. It would pain me to lose it to another.”

She turned slightly so she could look into his eyes. “You’ll not lose your ancestral home to another. Not without a fight.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “You constantly surprise me, my lady. I didn’t know you were capable of such fierceness.”

“Only where you are concerned, my lord.”

He bent close to brush a kiss over her cheek, sending heat spiraling down her spine. “Such loyalty. May it always be thus, Kylia. And may I always be deserving of it.”

As he urged his horse along the village lane, and the people realized the laird had returned, they began waving and calling. Women peered from upper windows or paused while hanging their clothes to wave and shout. Crofters and tradesmen and farmers stopped their chores to lift their hats in greeting. Children halted their games to stare in openmouthed surprise as the laird and the fine lady rode past.

As Kylia watched, she had no doubt of the real warmth and affection of these people for their laird. They appeared to be truly delighted that he had returned to them. Who among them would betray him?

As the horse drew near the castle it broke into a gallop, eager for the comfort of its stable. They clattered into the courtyard and almost at once the doors were thrown wide and a handsome young man came rushing outside. Though not as tall as Grant, he was much wider both in shoulders and in girth. A spark of merriment lurked in his gray eyes as he shouted, “Grant. You’ve been gone too long.”

“Aye, Dougal.” Grant slid from the back of his mount and embraced the sunny-haired young man.

“Was the journey difficult?”

“It was. But well worth it.” Grant turned and lifted Kylia from the saddle, keeping her within the warmth of his arms. “For look what my journey yielded.” He caught her hand and led her closer. “Kylia, of the clan Drummond, this is my brother Dougal.”

“Dougal.” Kylia smiled shyly. “Your brother speaks lovingly of you.”

“And well he should. For I’m his staunchest admirer.” The younger man chuckled at his little joke. “Welcome, my lady.” He pointed to the bundle tucked into the crook of her arm. “And what is this? Have you brought your bairn?”

That had both Grant and Kylia laughing.

“Not a bairn, but a wee pup.” She opened the wrap to reveal the sleeping creature.

Dougal stepped closer, then looked startled. “A wolf?”

“Aye. He was wounded, and I couldn’t leave him at the mercy of predators.”

“She’s named him Wee Lad. And I warn you, Dougal, she’s begun thinking of the pup as a pet.”

They looked up as Hazlet, wearing her usual nun’s garb of black gown and veil, stepped into the courtyard.

“Aunt Hazlet.” Grant crossed the distance between them to press a hand to her shoulder. “As you can see, my journey was successful. Come and meet the young woman who agreed to leave her Mystical Kingdom to aid in my search for the traitor.”

The smile on his aunt’s face faded as she lowered her voice. “You’ve actually brought a witch here to our home, Grant?”

“She isn’t what you’d expect, Aunt. Come. Help me make her welcome.” He placed a hand under her elbow and led her across the courtyard. “Kylia, of the clan Drummond, my aunt Hazlet.”

Kylia’s smile was warm. “Your nephew has spoken lovingly of you. How lucky he and Dougal are to have you in their lives.”

“Indeed.” Hazlet caught sight of the pup in her arms. “Is that what I think it is?”

“A wolf pup, Aunt. His name is Wee Lad.” Dougal couldn’t hide his delight as the hounds circled Kylia’s feet, sniffing at the hem of her gown. One of the bolder ones actually stood on hind legs to sniff at the bundle in her arms, until Grant ordered it down. “I must warn you, my lady, that your pet could well become a tasty morsel for the hounds.”

“Then I shall have to keep special watch to see that doesn’t happen, Dougal, until he’s big enough to do the same to them.” Kylia watched as the servants gathered around Grant, bidding him a warm welcome home.

After greeting them with affection, he began the introductions. “I present the lady Kylia of the clan Drummond. My lady, this is Mistress Gunn, who has been housekeeper of Duncrune Castle since my father was a lad.”

Kylia nodded toward the stick-thin little woman who dropped a curtsy as though meeting the queen.

When she straightened, Grant added, “Have the servants prepare the western wing for our guest, Mistress Gunn.”

“The western wing? But that would put your guest in the chambers beside yours.”

“Aye.” He saw his aunt’s stern gaze sharpen.

“This is our cook, Mester.” Grant turned to a woman as round as she was tall, with a stark white linen apron tied around her ample middle. “Mester, the lady Kylia.”

The cook bowed her head before wiping her hands on her apron and taking a step backward, as though afraid to get too close to a witch.

“Our stable master, Gresham.”

Tall, gaunt, wearing his plaid tossed over a saffron shirt with voluminous sleeves, the man looked more like a preacher than a Highland stable master.

He doffed his cap and greeted Kylia with a long, assessing look, before saying, “Welcome, my lady.”

He took up the reins of their horse and led it across the courtyard.

“And the man who has fought beside my father, and my father’s father. Finlay MacCallum is a cousin to me, and a trusted friend.”

Kylia’s smile was as warm as sunshine. “Finlay.”

“My lady.” The old man’s smile was equally warm. “I bid you welcome to Duncrune Castle.”

“Thank you.”

“Come inside and warm yourselves.” The housekeeper pinched one of the serving wenches, who held the door and stood aside allowing them all to enter. “While Mester prepares a feast, I’ll fetch tea and ale to the great hall.”

As Kylia stepped inside, she drank in the sight of soaring staircases, highly polished banisters, and a massive chandelier with its hundreds of candles casting their light from ceilings high overhead, supported by massive wooden beams. Ancient tapestries, depicting the history of the MacCallum clan, lined the walls.

At the far end of the hallway were ornately carved doors leading to a chapel. The sweet smell of incense drifted from within.

Grant suddenly paused and caught Kylia’s hand in his. Those around them looked on in startled silence as he lifted it to his lips and said almost reverently, “May you find the warmth of welcome in my home, my lady.”