Betrayed (13 page)

Her fingers stirred at the loud curse, and then she was stretching arms and limbs in all directions, uncurling like a playful kitten.

Krayne’s eyes went back to tracing the bloody streaks.

I did not do this.

As I am Krayne Johnstone, Laird of Wamphray, I know I did not do this.

Emerald eyes flickered wide on him.

He stared back, not sure what to say or do.

He knew the moment she became aware of where his hand was. She screamed, a silent scream that opened her mouth and fed stark terror into her eyes. Krayne jerked his hand away, scowling as she rolled off the other side of the bed, not stopping when she hit the floor, and scrambled to the furthest corner.

She hunched down, stretching the torn shift over her knees, and peered up at him through the stringy raven mess of her hair.

“Please,” she sobbed. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“I have done naught,” Krayne roared at the accusation.

He wasn’t an animal. He hadn’t done this.
Had he?

He jumped off the bed, relieved to find his britches still firmly tied at his waist. And then he saw the splattered blood staining the leather near his groin area.

“Amber.” He spoke as he approached her corner, his voice brittle with dawning horror. “Tell me what happened last night.”

She curled silently into herself, burying her head in her lap.

His jaw tightened. The last thing he remembered was throwing back a mug of spiced wine, straight after he’d decided to cease torturing them both and leave.

What followed was a black crater.

Except for the evidence he’d awoken to.

Something inside him must have snapped last night. That final mug of spiced wine, one drink too many, one day too many of hearing voices from the past had pushed him over the edge of sanity. He’d rutted her so hard last night, he’d torn her open and drawn blood.

Even so, he backed away from Amber, refusing to believe that what his eyes saw was real. At the door, he hammered with his fist, his gaze never leaving her crouched, pathetic form. And that’s when he saw it. She was looking up again, the defiant glint of green unmistakeable. The pert stubbornness of that chin somewhat comforting.

Whatever he had done, he had not broken her.

Some of the darkness lifted from his sombre thoughts. Vengeance was a familiar bedfellow and left little room for regret. Still, he damned the troublemakers of lore for snatching his memory.

As soon as the door opened, he pushed past Gavin. “I’m sending Mungo up with a bath fer the lass.”

Krayne hurried down the stairs and through the great hall, ignoring Adam’s shouted greeting. Whatever had brought the chief here could wait.

After stopping in the kitchen to order hot water sent up, Krayne left through the rear castle door. The portcullis still open from admitting Adam, nothing deterred his direct path to the widened section of the river he favoured for bathing.

Without hesitation, he stripped naked, draping his britches and shirt over one of the thick bushes sheltering the bathing spot. When he saw the red splotches on his britches, Krayne cursed anew and plunged into the icy water, swimming powerful strokes across the current to the far side and back. His head cleared, and another possibility came to mind. If Amber’s broken maidenhead was responsible for that blood, then he had been her first.

A strange feeling twisted Krayne’s gut. Not remorse. This felt worse, worse than regret and worse than guilt. He put extra energy into his strokes, commanding himself to think of Stivin, of Red John streaking naked across the field, of Amber’s desperate lies to hide the fact that she’d watched Stivin die.

My uncle will never exchange Stivin for me.

He wants me dead.

Amber may have been a virgin, but she was far from innocent.

Krayne emerged from the river, shaking the worst of the water from his hair and body before he dressed. Something in all of this did not feel right. If only he could recall the moments between drinking that wine last night and waking up this morning.

On returning to the great hall, Krayne ushered Adam into the chamber leading off the hall used for private conferences.

“Ye look like hell,” he told Adam as he shoved a mug of whiskey at him.

“I’m just from the Albany trial at Sterling,” Adam said, brows fiercely crossed. “Jamie has gone too far. He had Albany beheaded there and then.”

“I’ve little sympathy fer the lot of them,” Krayne muttered.

Albany had enjoyed his short reign as regent, though mayhap not as much nor as long as his father had, and would never have negotiated Jamie’s release from King Henry if left to his own devices.

“If Walter Stewart and the bishop had not intervened and personally gone ta England, Jamie would still be a guest of Henry,” he went on. “Albany ransomed our king eighteen years too late and he’s naught but a weakling bastard pinned ta his father-in-law’s shadow. Even so, mind this, Jamie willna live long ta regret this day. He dismisses the ties of kinship and friendship easily, yet he canna fight his enemies alone.”

“Aye.” Adam emptied the mug of whiskey down his throat, then swiftly changed the subject. “William Jardin tags hot on my heels. I agreed ta meet him here an’ confer a truce.”

“Yer nesting with vermin now?” Krayne spat. His day had just gone from bad to hellish.

“I’ll ignore that insult but once,” Adam warned, “fer I know well from whence it comes.”

Krayne shot to his feet and folded his arms across the slab of his chest in challenge.

“Jardin is under the impression that he needs collect his niece’s body,” said Adam slowly.

“And he didna mention this when he first slithered inta Lochwood on his belly?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Adam rose to stand level with Krayne and met his gaze steadily. “Then again, the rat has always thought o’ himself first, an’ others nae at all. I assured him that, had ye indeed taken an’ innocent lass ta hostage, he’d surely find her once more ensconced at home on his return, unharmed at that.”

Five daughters and no sons gave Adam a vastly different perspective on women, and well Krayne knew it. “Hardly innocent, but Amber Jardin is here.”

Adam’s jaw pulled tight. “Unharmed?”

“Amber’s guilt is exceeded only by her flawless deceit,” Krayne barked as his own guilt erupted. “Christ.”

He marched to where he’d left the flagon and poured himself a whiskey. He’d not had a mind to feed the ache in his head, not until this moment. When he turned, Adam was waiting to hear the rest.

“I might have—I did…” Krayne scrubbed his jaw, loathing the words that must be spoken. “The lass may no longer be intact.”

“Ye raped a maiden?” Fury built in the shadows of Adam’s cold gaze. Compassionate rage that only a father of daughters could comprehend.

“
If
she were indeed a virgin, that state only expounds her deceit and the games she plays,” Krayne bit back, wishing he could put as much faith in his argument as his tone demanded Adam do. “There’s nothing more tempting than a virgin siren. Stivin never stood a chance.”

“This time, Krayne, ye go too far.”

“Amber as good as murdered Stivin.”

“She’s naught but a silly lass wi’ more idle time than wits an’ Stivin rode himself inta Spedlin so far I know.”

Krayne’s mouth opened, but no protest was forthcoming. By God, he wanted nothing more than to blame Amber. To make her suffer. For Amber’s betrayal struck deep and her sin went beyond her part in Stivin’s death. She’d known. For days she’d known that Stivin was dead. While he’d lusted after her, believing ’twas no more than a waiting game they played, she’d known. And played that game. And thrust a bitter wedge through his heart where naught but he could see, smell and taste the vile odour of thick, red-smudged betrayal.

Just then the door opened to admit Duncan. “Jardin approaches wi’ an army.”

“See he gains clear entry,” Adam issued.

Duncan blanched. “Ye canna—”

“Aye,” Adam interrupted sternly. “I can an’ I will. Watch his bedraggled band o’ misfits carefully an’ bring Jardin here ta us.”

“Do as yer chief commands,” Krayne told his brother.

Scowling, Duncan backed out of the chamber while Krayne sought another drink. At this rate, he’d be too sozzled to care what happened next.

Adam turned on him. “Ye’ll make yer peace wi’ Jardin.”

“’Tis a little late.” That truth gave Krayne his first glimmer of satisfaction this day. Then he thought of the cowering state he’d left Amber in, and the glimmer dulled. He downed his whiskey and slammed the glass on the table.

The two men waited in tense silence until Jardin barrelled inside the room. “I’ve come fer my niece.”

“Aye, and good riddance,” Krayne replied with no intention other than to provoke. He stood forward, feet wide apart and arms crossed.

Jardin’s sword came out. He’d prepared himself for a show of grief on learning that his niece was dead. His fury on learning that the witch yet lived cleaved through any common sense.

As the mangy-bearded bastard lunged at him, Krayne deftly raised the stool he’d recently vacated as a shield. Jardin’s blade splintered the stool in two. Armed now with the lethally sharp-edged pieces, Krayne feinted left, narrowly evading another attempt to pierce his heart and gained the advantage as Jardin rocked forward. A powerful kick in the man’s side sent Jardin sprawling to the ground.

Adam sighed heavily as he watched, wishing himself well retired and free of this particular obligation. Jardin sprang up and the fight continued. As unevenly armed as they were, Krayne was now toying with the lesser warrior. Even so, Adam refrained from calling a halt, lest he distract Krayne with fatal consequences.

Once Jardin was flat on his back, his sword flung to a far corner and a boot pressed to his throat, Adam said quietly, “Leave be, Krayne.”

Krayne stepped down harder. The face beneath him tinged with blue. “Even Jamie understands self defence.”

Jardin gargled a protest.

“Aye, and still I’d know yer well-aimed barbs fer the planned ambush they were.”

Krayne released the pressure slightly.

“Ye swore ta protect me,” Jardin whined hoarsely at Adam.

“Nae against yer own rash temper,” Adam said bluntly, then to Krayne, “Ye’ve already defeated the mon, now release him.”

Krayne removed his boot, but not before spitting on the sweat-drenched face.

Watching Jardin go for his sword in the corner, Adam called, “I willna stop Krayne a second time.”

After a small hesitation, the sword was sheathed. Jardin kept his distance on the other side of the room.

“I would speak ta Jardin in private,” Adam told his cousin.

Krayne walked out before the blind urge to defy his chief and kill the scurvy bastard became too much. Ignoring Duncan’s hard stare as he passed, Krayne made his way up to the solitude of his solar, firmly shutting the door and the world out behind it. He threw himself into the high-back chair and put his feet up on the table. With a mug of ale in his hands, he felt marginally in control again.

It didn’t last long.

Adam rapped twice on the door, then barged inside. “A truce has been drawn up. Ye’ve bedded the lass and now ye’ll wed her.”

Krayne swung his feet off the table and rose to his full height. He stared at Adam in disbelief, then realised the man was serious. “I’ll do no such thing.”

“’Twas nae a request.”

A grin as hard as steel and as threatening as a pointed sword crossed Krayne’s jaw. “I yield ta ye in most things, Adam, but not in the taking of a wife. Not in choosing the mother of my children.”

“I was given ta understand the lass was comely.”

“And who exactly have ye been speaking ta behind my back?” Krayne bit out. “Red John? Gavin?”

Adam’s brow rose. “Duncan, actually, though I didna ken the lass had
that
many admirers.”

“I should sew Duncan’s lips closed at that bold-faced lie. He canna abide the lass.”

“Then he has had a change o’ mind.”

Krayne gave a bitter laugh, not ready to believe. “I willna have her.”

“Yer age is beyond that o’ taking a wife and begetting sons.”

“So I am seeing.” For, if he were already married, he’d not be in this position. “I will consider the matter, but I willna consider Amber Jardin.”

“Because she is a Jardin?” Adam snapped.

“Because she is made in the same mould as my mother,” Krayne responded just as sharply.

Adam sat down heavily. “Joanna made a mistake.”

“She deliberately deceived me. She deceived all of us.”

“Yer mother has bin closeted in that convent ever since. She doesna even know about the feud she unwittingly began. Think on this, Krayne. Wed the Jardin lass and make peace fer all our sakes.”

“Too much has been done that canna be undone.”

“I didna raise ye ta lie down in defeat.”

“Ye didna raise me at all.”

“Aye…” Adam’s smile held remorse. He’d guided the twelve-year-old laird, but Krayne had grown up overnight and refused to be treated as any less than the fully competent adult he thought himself to be.

At the smile, Krayne reined in his temper. In truth, wedding Amber plucked a harmonious chord within. But he saw it for naught more than soothing his guilt and, by all that was holy, Amber had sins enough to offset his, did she not? “I will compensate Jardin fer his loss with cattle.”

“He wants this wedding. He seems ta think it is the only thing that will redeem him from bein’ cursed, but which I presume he means the feud. I promised the mon a Johnstone marriage by the end of this day.”

Krayne could no more deny the lust Amber stirred in him than he could lie to himself. Whatever he knew her to be, he’d wanted her. But the distance between mistress and wife was too far to travel and the journey was forever, ’til God saw fit to end it. He shook his head at Adam. “Ye ask too much of me. Amber Jardin is the hornet that will sting the deathblow ta my sanity.”

“She is but seven and ten. How much poison can there be in her sting?”

“I seek a mild wife with no sting at all. A simple woman with no a complex seed in her body. Amber is a Jardin through and through. She connives every moment of every hour ta her own advantage.”