Once a Warrior (33 page)

“We heard it from an ancient seer we passed today.” He controlled his urge to smile at Harold’s sudden interest; his cousin, unlike Malcolm, had long believed in the visions of seers. “Beyond these woods you will be exposed for many miles, with no chance of finding cover. If you make camp here, your men can cut branches and make comfortable shelters.”

“Nothing worse than an army of wet, cold warriors trapped in a storm,” remarked Gavin, shaking his head. “Puts them in the foulest of moods.”

“The seer said the storm would be over by early morning,” added Malcolm reassuringly. “You could start out at first light and greet your betrothed dry and rested.”

He watched as his cousin weighed the benefits of stopping and waiting for the storm to pass. That would give him and Gavin time to get back to the MacKendrick lands long before Harold and his army arrived.

“The thought of riding through a storm holds little appeal,” Harold finally confessed. “And although the night seems calm, I cannot disregard the vision of a seer. Robert,” he said, turning to the warrior beside him, “order the men to make camp. We will rest here until morning.”

Ariella drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she slowly guided her horse through the feathery black columns of trees. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest, and her jaw was clenched. Her people had pleaded with her not to venture into the woods, but she had been adamant. She could not bear the thought of her little sister spending the night alone with a group of savage warriors. Of course Agnes was with her, but the poor girl was so meek, it might well be Catherine who was doing the comforting. Because Roderic had threatened to kill Catherine if Ariella appeared with an escort, she had forbidden anyone to follow her. Despite her fear for her sister, she had not brought the sword. She was going to try to stall Roderic until Harold arrived with his army, which might be as early as tomorrow. Once he came, she prayed Roderic would realize he was hopelessly outmatched, and release her, Catherine, and Agnes.

If not, he would kill them.

Niall and Gordon had vehemently opposed her plan. They had wanted to send out a heavy force of men to ring in Roderic’s camp and then attack. Ariella had pointed out that any weakening of the forces in the castle left the women and children vulnerable, which might be exactly what Roderic was hoping for. Also, while Malcolm had taught her people much about defending a castle, she did not believe they were any match for Roderic’s brutal warriors. It was better that her clan remain safely behind the castle walls until Harold arrived.

A faint rustling jerked her from her thoughts. Squinting through the darkness, she saw a shadowy figure emerge from behind a tree, his bow and arrow aimed at her chest.

“Move and you’re dead.”

A pale glimmer of moonlight threaded through the trees and lit the man’s face. Ariella instantly recognized him as the one called Gregor, who had fought Malcolm the night her castle had been attacked.

“I am Ariella MacKendrick,” she informed him evenly, her hand casually slipping to the dirk concealed in the folds of her cloak. “Kill me, and your master will never get the sword. Then it is you who will be dead.”

His brow arched in surprise. Ariella could not tell which confounded him more—her threat, or the fact that she had dared to make one.

“You will come with me,” he finally growled.

He roughly grabbed her horse’s bridle and glanced around, searching the darkness to see if anyone had accompanied her. Satisfied she was alone, he began to lead her through the woods. He wove his way deep into the trees, taking her back and forth, perhaps thinking to confuse her. If so, it was a futile effort. Ariella had grown up in this dense growth, and there was no pat of it she did not know.

After a while the scent of smoke began to filter through the air. Her amply built escort led her closer to the aroma, until the orange glow of flames spilled thinly into the shadows. As the light grew brighter, more than a dozen filthy, rough-looking warriors emerged from their hiding places behind trees and rocks. They leaned on their bows and swords and stared at her with dark, menacing desire. A few of them licked their lips, as if anticipating a taste of her.

Ariella glared at them, suppressing her fear with hatred.

“What sweet have you brought us, Gregor?” asked a tall, scrawny warrior with greasy brown hair. He reached out and grabbed Ariella’s leg.

Gregor smashed his massive fist into her admirer’s gaunt face, sending him flying backward with a yelp.

“Touch her again, Tavis, and I’ll kill you,” he promised. His gaze raked over the other men, whose leers had deteriorated into expressions of uncertainty. “She belongs to Roderic.”

“Roderic already has a woman,” complained a heavyset man with a dark, matted beard.

“And now he has two,” snapped Gregor. “Where is he?”

“Over there,” said another, pointing with his sword. His mouth split into a smile, revealing a jagged row of rotting teeth. “With the plain one.”

He meant Agnes, Ariella realized, fervently praying that Roderic had not harmed her.

She dismounted and followed Gregor through the camp. It seemed there were only about twenty warriors near, but she knew there were others hiding in the woods, watching for intruders. Many of the men lay listlessly beside sputtering fires, their arms or legs bandaged in tattered, grimy rags. Ariella wondered if their injuries were a result of the attack on her clan. However they had gotten them, it was clear Roderic knew he could not breach her castle with such a shrunken, dilapidated force.

That was why he had forced her to come to him instead.

They found Roderic sitting before a fire, contemplating the flames. He looked up in surprise as she and Gregor approached, and then he smiled. The light cast a warm glow across his handsome features, but Ariella could find nothing even remotely attractive in his appearance. The idea that she had once been captivated by the solid structure of his body, the pleasing contours of his face, and that fall of golden hair, of which he was so vain, made her stomach tighten with fury. How could she have thought, even for a moment, that this barbarian was the one to wield the sword? She focused her gaze on the thick, corded slash across his cheek and experienced a grim satisfaction.

Soon you will have a cut so deep, nothing will stop your foul life from draining into the ground.

“Good evening, Ariella,” he said pleasantly, rising as if to meet a welcome guest. “I must confess, I had not thought to see you quite so soon.” His gaze swept over her; then he frowned. “Where is the sword?”

“Where is Catherine?” she demanded evenly.

“Ah, ever the concerned Ariella,” he drawled, apparently more amused than irritated. “Your compassion was what first drew you to me, was it not? I was the handsome, gravely wounded stranger, and you the enchanting fair maiden eager to take me home and nurse me.”

“I am not accustomed to leaving people to die,” Ariella returned. “Unlike you.”

“I am a warrior,” he reminded her. “Leaving people to die is my business.”

“You are a murderer and a common thief,” Ariella corrected acidly. “Killing in battle is not the same as murdering innocent people in their homes.”

“It was most unfortunate, that business with your father,” he remarked, shaking his head. “You know,” he continued blandly, “I would not have killed him had he given me a choice.”

Only by incredible force of will did she manage to keep from spitting in his face. That, and the realization that if she roused his fury too much, Catherine and Agnes would be made to suffer.

As her people had been punished when she had cut his cheek.

“Of course you meant to kill him, Roderic,” she returned tersely. “He was trying to protect me. You would have killed anyone who stood in your way.”

He considered a moment, then shrugged. “I find myself weary of those who tell me what I cannot have,” he admitted. “I wanted you and the sword, and saw no reason why I shouldn’t have them. I’m young, strong, and a superb warrior. I would have made a great laird.” He moved toward her, his green eyes flickering in the firelight. “Even you, Ariella,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke her cheek, “once found me desirable.” He bent his head until his lips barely grazed the skin of her ear. “Remember?”

She jerked away, revolted by his touch, his vanity, by everything about him. “I didn’t know what you were then,” she snapped. “I didn’t understand what evil dwelled within you.”

“You wound me,” he said, mockingly placing his hand on his chest. “But no matter. Tonight my spirits are high, and I find your insults amusing. In the months to come, however, I will take pleasure in teaching you to curb your tongue.” He grasped her chin firmly between his fingers as his expression hardened. “Now, where is the sword?”

She raised her chin. “You still haven’t told me where Catherine and Agnes are.”

He blinked, as if he did not know whom she was speaking of. Then he tilted his head back and laughed, releasing his hold. “You are still worried about Agnes?”

Uneasiness rippled through her. “What have you done to her?”

“Nothing,” he replied, trying to control his amusement. “Nothing she didn’t want.”

Her unease bloomed into panic. “By God almighty, Roderic, if you’ve touched her—”

“Bring Agnes to me,” he ordered Gregor, cutting her off.

Ariella watched as Gregor lumbered heavily across the camp. A tent had been erected in a small clearing some distance away, and a guard stood watch in front of it. The man stepped aside as Gregor approached, permitting him to open the flap a crack and call Agnes’s name. After a moment the fabric doorway parted, and Agnes emerged. Her carriage was straight and her gait even as she walked toward them. She appeared neither surprised by the sight of her mistress, nor afraid of the prospect of facing Roderic.

“Agnes,” said Ariella anxiously, “are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Ariella.” Her gaze went to Roderic. “Did she give it to you?”

“Not yet. She wanted to make certain you and Catherine were all right first.” His mouth curved in amusement.

Apprehension tightened in Ariella. Why were Roderic and Agnes so at ease with each other?

“Catherine is fine,” Agnes assured her. “She is asleep in the tent. Give Roderic the sword,” she instructed, moving beside him, “and we will all go home.”

A harsh realization began to seep over Ariella. At first it was so incomprehensible, she resisted it. She stared at Agnes, vainly trying to rationalize her blithe demeanor and the fact that she chose to stand near her abductor. A wash of firelight spilled across the fabric of her plain grown, which was clinging tightly to the generous curves of her body. A sharp intake of breath caught in Ariella’s throat.

In that moment, the small, round swell of Agnes’s belly was as undeniable as the terrible truth that it revealed.

Agnes recognized her shock and laid her hand protectively over the child growing within her. “Give Roderic the sword, Ariella,” she repeated, almost pleadingly.

“You told him,” murmured Ariella, her voice hollow. “You were the one who told him about the sword when he stayed with us.”

“Aye, I told him,” Agnes admitted.

“Why?” she demanded, still reluctant to accept the girl’s betrayal. During the five years Agnes had worked in the castle, she had always seemed caring and reliable. That was why Ariella had entrusted her to look after Catherine when her father had been killed. With Agnes’s support Ariella had been able to take on more responsibility in managing the affairs of her clan. How could this meek serving girl be the one who had jeopardized the safety of her clan? “Why would you betray your people like that, Agnes?”

“He loves me,” Agnes said simply. “And Roderic will make a good laird. You once thought so yourself.”

Ariella shifted her gaze to Roderic.

He tossed her a look of arrogant amusement.

“He doesn’t love you, Agnes,” Ariella informed her coldly. “He is incapable of loving anyone except himself. He told you that so he could use you. And you were foolish enough to believe him.”

“He said he would come back for me, and he did,” Agnes argued. “And he has promised me that once he is laird of the MacKendricks, he will marry me.”

“He didn’t come back for you,” Ariella retorted. “He came back for the sword.”

“Not just the sword,” qualified Roderic. His gaze burned hotly into Ariella. There was no mistaking his meaning.

Ariella resisted the urge to draw her cloak tighter around herself. He would never touch her again, she swore.

She would kill him first.

“Did you try to drive MacFane away?” she demanded, still overwhelmed by Agnes’s treachery.

Agnes nodded. “Once I knew you were alive, I wanted to get word to Roderic, so he would come back. But then MacFane came and began to teach us to fight. I was afraid Roderic might be killed if we learned too much from him. Since MacFane didn’t seem to like staying with us, I followed him into the woods and shot at him, hoping his anger would make him leave. Unfortunately, I hit you instead.” She looked genuinely remorseful as she finished, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“And the spur?”

“By that time MacFane knew who you really were. The clan was coming to respect him, and our fighting skills were much improved. I was afraid you might decide to give him the sword, so I put the spur under his saddle. I was sure he wouldn’t want to stay after that, especially since the clan could see how weak he was.”

“That was your error,” said Ariella tautly.

Agnes regarded her uncertainly. “What was?”

“Thinking MacFane is weak.”

Roderic snorted. “You are so fond of looking after injured beasts, you can’t see them as they really are.”

“You are right,” Ariella agreed. “The fact that I nursed you is evidence of that.”

“MacFane may have taught your people a few tricks about fighting, but the man himself is little more than refuse. He has been since the day Gavin dragged him home in a cart, mangled and useless. And still he was made laird. By what right?” he demanded, his voice thick with contempt. “Because he was Laird MacFane’s son? Any fool could see I was a far better choice to lead the MacFanes than he. But when I tried to convince the council of that, they rejected my claim.”