Once a Warrior (26 page)

“I told you I would replace any ruined vegetables,” growled Ewen. “You shouldn’t bother MacFane with such trifling matters.”

“It’s no bother,” Malcolm reassured them.

“What do you think of the parapet?” asked Bryce. “Gavin here has had us working night and day, but it looks splendid, don’t you think?”

Malcolm noticed Ariella standing in front of the entrance to the hall, watching as her clan greeted him. She was dressed in a plain dress of dove gray, but the simplicity of her gown could not begin to disguise her beauty. Her eyes met his. Then she quickly averted her gaze, as if she could not bear to look at him.

“MacFane? What do you think?” demanded Gavin.

Malcolm glanced distractedly up at the parapet. “It looks fine.”

He returned his attention to Ariella, only to find her gone.

“We hauled all the rocks back up to the wall head and stored another fifty,” reported Hugh.

“And we’ve been making hundreds of arrows,” added Graham. “So we are well stocked if Roderic decides to return.”

“Very good,” he murmured, suddenly uneasy. Why had Ariella not remained in the courtyard with her clan? Was it possible the memory of what had happened between them made her unable to tolerate his presence?

“You must be tired, MacFane,” said Gavin. “Perhaps you would like to rest before you tell the council of your journey.”

“Why should a great strapping lad like that be tired?” demanded Angus. “Why, when I was his age, I went on great journeys for months at a time and never felt tired.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” remarked Dugald, shaking his head, “as you never had cause to go anywhere.”

“I will meet with the council now,” announced Malcolm. “Then I will make a tour of the castle, and you can all show me what has been done in my absence.”

“And then will you give me a riding lesson?” asked Catherine, her eyes huge and pleading.

“Not today.” He chucked her gently under the chin when she frowned. “But tomorrow I will.”

“Do you promise?”

He glanced back at the castle, still uneasy over Ariella’s cool reception. “I promise.”

He could not stay here any longer.

She had spent the last two hours desperately trying to convince herself that perhaps it didn’t matter if Malcolm were here when Harold arrived. After all, Malcolm understood that her clan was in need of a powerful laird with an army. Despite all he had achieved here, they both knew he could never be that man. But then Ariella thought of her people racing out to welcome him home, dropping everything to be near him, surrounding him with warmth and admiration as they excitedly relayed their problems and accomplishments during his absence. She thought of little Catherine’s beaming face as Malcolm had lifted her onto his horse, and his tender expression as he gently swept an unruly lock of hair off her forehead. A turmoil of emotions had enveloped her as she’d witnessed that moment, rendering her unable to meet his gaze.

When he had first arrived, her people had regarded Malcolm with disappointment, suspicion, even flagrant contempt. Yet he had withstood their antagonism and scorn, had even endured their attempts to drive him away, and, drawing upon a patience and determination she had not believed him capable of, Malcolm had managed to earn the friendship and respect of every one of them.

And when Harold arrived, he would destroy it.

It was inevitable that he would do so. Her people would not embrace the stranger she knew was destined to be their rightful laird. Their hard-won loyalty to Malcolm would not permit it. She had planned to wed Harold before Malcolm’s return and take time to apprise him of all that Malcolm had done for her people. She had hoped to persuade her new husband to treat Malcolm with fairness and dignity, and to guard the secret of his past, if only out of respect for her. That was impossible now. Harold would arrive at any moment to find there, the man revered and adored by the MacKendricks, responsible for the slaughter of his clan’s women and children. The insult of her people’s cool reaction to him, combined with Harold’s loathing of Malcolm, would almost certainly lead to Harold’s exposing the truth about Malcolm’s past in appalling detail. And then, after shattering her people’s illusions, Harold would complete Malcolm’s degradation by banishing him from her clan. Malcolm would be publicly humiliated and then exiled, as he had been before.

She could not allow that to happen.

“You wished to speak with me?”

She whirled around. Malcolm stood before her, his enormous figure blocking the shaft of sun that had been warming her as she’d stood gazing at her lands from the battlements. His expression was unreadable, but weariness and pain were chiseled deep in his brow. The long days spent in the saddle and nights upon the hard ground had obviously taken their toll on his damaged body. What he needed now was a few days of rest, combined with some hot, relaxing baths and the soothing touch of her massages. Instead she was going to send him away, back to his crude hut and the lonely, barren life he had led before coming here.

Guilt swelled in her throat, so thick she thought she would choke.

“It seems your journey was a success, MacFane,” she remarked, trying to sound casual.

Malcolm folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the parapet, adjusting his weight in a vain attempt to relieve the throbbing in his leg. It was clear Ariella was flustered by his presence, but the fact that she was willing to see him alone quelled the unease that had been gnawing at him throughout his meeting with the council. She looked utterly delightful as she stood facing him, her sunlit hair dancing in fiery strands over her shoulders, and her wide gray eyes regarding him with grave intensity. Desire heated his blood. He longed to take her in his arms and crush his mouth to hers, to feel the silk of her cheek caress the roughness of his jaw, to pull her soft form against him and hold her tight, as he had that glorious night they defeated Roderic.

Instead he remained where he was, achingly aware that she could never be his.

“Our negotiations went well,” he replied. “We have secured alliances with four clans who have agreed to come to our aid if needed.”

Our aid.

“That is good news,” said Ariella, startled and unnerved by the fact that he was including himself when referring to her clan. She inhaled deeply, reminded herself of her purpose, and quickly concluded, “That means you can leave now.”

So that was what was troubling her, Malcolm realized, wondering why he had not recognized it immediately. His last words to Ariella had been in this very place, he recalled, resisting the urge to smile. And he had told her he could not stay much longer. Obviously she was worried that because he had secured alliances for her clan, he was going to abandon her, even though she had not yet found the perfect man to fulfill her expectations of a laird. But he had just spent twelve endless days away from her. The idea of leaving her now was inconceivable. Nor could he imagine deserting her people, who had welcomed him back with the same exhilaration and affection he had enjoyed a lifetime ago when returning home from battle.

“Lay your fears to rest, Ariella,” he said, moved by her concern. “I am not going anywhere.”

Panic swept through her. “But you must!”

He raised a quizzical brow.

“What I mean is—you have already done so much for us,” she amended, affecting a calmer tone. “You have accomplished far more than I expected—but we both agreed it would be only for a short while. Now that my people have learned to defend themselves and you have secured these alliances, I am sure you are anxious to collect your payment—which will be handsome,” she assured him brightly, “and return home.”

Exasperation pricked his patience. Exasperation coupled with disbelief. Was she saying she did not want him to stay?

“Your clan is still a long way from being able to defend itself,” he pointed out. “They have mastered only the most rudimentary level of training, and I am convinced they can do much better. The fortifications of the castle and wall are also far from complete, and I must ensure that they are properly executed. I will not leave until I am satisfied the MacKendricks can adequately defend themselves from even the most skillful—and brutal—attacks.”

Desperation rose within her. Harold would arrive at any moment. Why didn’t Malcolm just agree to take his payment and go?

“You cannot stay, MacFane.”

Malcolm regarded her curiously. “Why not?”

She hesitated. The fact that she was about to marry the man who had seized everything from him would injure Malcolm past bearing. If she was to protect him, he must leave without learning his cousin would once again reap what had initially been his destiny.

“You must realize by your welcome today that the clan has become exceptionally fond of you,” she began, grasping for an explanation less painful than the truth.

Malcolm frowned. “What of it?”

“I am concerned that they are growing too attached to you, MacFane,” she confessed. That part, at least, was true. “Their loyalty to you will make it difficult for them to welcome their new laird when he arrives.”

“Have you found your laird, Ariella?” he asked, his voice deceptively casual.

His gaze was so intense, she feared he could see the truth. “No,” she lied, shaking her head. “I have not. But when I do—”

“When you do,” interrupted Malcolm, profoundly relieved, “it will be
his
goddamn problem whether or not he can command the respect and the loyalty of your people. God forbid he might actually have to earn it,” he mocked, “as I did. Regardless, I fail to see why I should leave because your people have finally started to like me.”

“I hired you, MacFane,” Ariella protested. “It is up to me to decide when it is time for you to go. And I believe it is best for my clan that you leave now.”

“Thank you for making your feelings clear on the subject,” he drawled. “But I fear you have underestimated my commitment to your people, Ariella.”

“Your commitment to my people has been fulfilled—”

He closed the distance between them and firmly grasped her chin with his hand, forcing her to look up at him. “Listen well, Ariella,” he ordered. “I will
not
compromise the safety of this clan by leaving before the fortifications are complete and the people sufficiently trained, just because you fear this spectacular warrior you haven’t found yet might object to my presence, or because you think your people have grown overly attached to me.” His expression was resolute and his grip almost painful as he finished, “Is that clear?”

Ariella jerked herself free from his hold and glared at him in helpless frustration.

“Good. Now, if you will excuse me, I have much work to do.”

She watched in silence as he slowly limped toward the stairs.

He could not stay here, she reminded herself miserably, abhorring the thought of what she was about to do.

However he might hate her, she would not allow him to be destroyed once again by Harold.

“You must help me in this,” pleaded Ariella.

“Maybe MacFane will understand,” Elizabeth argued desperately. “Maybe he won’t mind you marrying Harold, and he and Gavin will decide to stay.”

“He cannot stay,” Ariella insisted. “Even if he wanted to, which he wouldn’t, Harold would never permit his presence here. Harold is the one who punished him by taking his title and banishing him from his clan. How could Harold be laird of the MacFanes and the MacKendricks, and accept Malcolm’s living here?” She shook her head. “It is impossible.”

Tears began to well in Elizabeth’s eyes. “But why can’t Gavin stay?”

“Gavin would never abandon Malcolm. Their friendship is too deep. And even though he followed him willingly into exile, he must not be here when Harold arrives. It is possible Harold holds him partly responsible for what happened. I do not want to rouse our laird’s anger.” She laid a comforting hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Elizabeth swallowed thickly. “I never believed MacFane was the one. None of us did, from the day you brought him here. But somehow, during these past weeks—”

“Nothing has changed,” Ariella interrupted. “He is still the same crippled, drunken man he was before. Harold MacFane is the rightful guardian of the MacKendrick sword, and as soon as I marry him, he and his army will keep us safe from Roderic. But the clan has become dangerously fond of MacFane. I believe their loyalty to him will make them resist my choice. Since Harold will arrive any moment, we must send Malcolm away immediately. I will not have the clan face their new laird with divided loyalties. Nor will I subject Malcolm to the humiliation of watching Harold lay claim to that which he has helped build and protect these past months. After all he has done for us, he does not deserve to be repaid so cruelly.”

“But to drug Gavin—”

“Gavin will not go willingly if he discovers MacFane is being abducted,” pointed our Ariella. “He must also be drugged so he cannot interfere with our plan. You are close enough to him that you can gain access to his wine, make certain he drinks it, then let Andrew and Duncan know when he is asleep. By the time the clan rises tomorrow, MacFane and Gavin will be gone, and our new laird will be on his way.”

“But what if MacFane tries to come back?”

“He will not return.”

“How do you know?”

“Rage will keep him from coming back,” Ariella murmured, glancing out the window.

Outside she could see Malcolm slowly walking toward the gate, his uneven stride betraying his exhaustion. At least a dozen MacKendricks crowded around him as they excitedly described the work accomplished during his absence. Little Catherine was pulling impatiently on his hand in an attempt to gain his attention. Malcolm stopped, looked toward where she was pointing, then ruffled his fingers affectionately through her hair.

When had they developed such a close friendship? Ariella wondered. And how would her little sister react tomorrow when Ariella told her MacFane had left during the night?

“Rage will keep him from returning,” she repeated, her voice aching. “And the knowledge that if he returns, Harold will expose the hideous truth of his past to those who have come to care for him.”