The Betrayal (6 page)

“O
h.” Kylia gave a sigh as she looked around. “This is every bit as lovely as the Mystical Kingdom. Is this your home?”

“Nay.” Grant slowed his mount to allow her to enjoy the beauty. “We have another day’s ride before we reach my fortress. But the countryside is much like this. There are meadows surrounded by glorious mountains, the peaks wreathed in clouds. And running through the land is a loch so clear you can see to the very bottom.”

She could hear the warmth in his tone. “It would seem you’re missing your land and your people, my lord.”

“Aye. I only hope they’re missing me, as well.”

She turned to glance at him over her shoulder. “And why wouldn’t they miss their laird?”

“I’ve failed them. Failed to protect them from harm. Failed to protect them in war by leading my warriors into a trap, causing them pain and humiliation. They have a right to doubt their leader.”

“You couldn’t know you were being betrayed by someone you trusted. Soon enough they’ll know the truth.”

“I pray it is as you say, my lady. For all I know they may have already called a council to declare another leader in my stead.”

As they came up over a rise they caught sight of a flock of sheep grazing in the meadow. Several figures could be seen moving among the animals.

Grant veered off the path he’d been following, urging his horse into a thick stand of trees. He slid to the ground and reached up to lift Kylia down.

“Stay here.” His voice held a hint of steel as he pulled himself into the saddle.

Surprised, Kylia stared at him in bewilderment. “Where are you going?”

“To stop those thieves from stealing sheep.”

She caught his arm. “How do you know they’re thieves? Perhaps they live in that cottage across the meadow.”

He pointed to the plume of dark smoke curling above a thatched roof, forming a haze on the horizon. “Peasants and sheepherders don’t burn their own cottages, my lady. That can only be the work of villains.”

“They’ve set fire to the cottage? I’d thought it nothing more than a cooking fire.” Before she could say more, he took off with a thunder of hoofbeats.

Kylia stared after him in amazement. He’d had only a few precious moments to assess the situation, but he’d moved with all speed to help people he didn’t even know.

Though he’d cautioned her to remain here, she ignored his words. She bent down to retrieve a broken tree limb, thinking to help. As she straightened, she was yanked backward, causing the stick to slip from her grasp. Before she could utter a sound she was lifted off her
feet and tossed roughly over a man’s shoulder. Though she kicked and pummeled him with her fists, he ignored her feeble protests as he raced across the meadow to join his comrades.

Just as suddenly, she was set on her feet. An arm came around her, holding her firmly, while the edge of a knife was pressed to her throat.

Her captor shouted at Grant, “The woman dies unless you lower your weapon at once.”

Kylia was horrified to see Grant do as the man commanded. The moment he lowered his sword, the band of thieves set upon him, attacking with knives and fists. All she could do was watch with a feeling of sick dread as he was knocked to the ground.

She heard a low rumble of laughter from the man behind her. The sound of it had her trembling with a feeling she’d never known before. Anger. A terrible anger at the injustice of it. The feeling had her blood running cold.

She closed her eyes and began to chant. Softly at first, then growing louder as the anger built, becoming a slow, simmering rage.

The hands holding her seemed to lose their strength. Her captor let out a gasp of surprise as
he dropped weakly to his knees in the grass. All he could do was watch helplessly as Kylia turned on him, arms outstretched, and continued chanting words he’d never heard before.

Grant’s attackers let out a roar of laughter at the sight of her.

One of them shouted, “She holds her arms like swords, thinking to frighten us.”

“Aye,” another jeered. “And spouts foolish words that have no meaning. Get up, you fool,” he shouted to his comrade. “Why are you leaving us with all the work?”

Their laughter died in their throats when their weapons slipped from their fingers as though tugged by invisible strings, landing on the ground at their feet. Before they could move, Grant bent and retrieved his own weapon. Then he paused to touch a hand to Kylia’s cheek. Just a touch, but she felt the warmth of it through her veins and found the words of her chant dying in her throat.

The thieves used that moment of silence to flee, leaving behind the flock of sheep, and the menacing man and woman. Even the one who’d
threatened her was on his feet and racing to the safety of the surrounding forest.

One of the thieves caught a bleating lamb and tossed it about his neck before disappearing with his comrades into the trees on the far side of the meadow.

Grant gave her a look of concern. “Are you truly unharmed, my lady?”

“Aye. Don’t worry about me. Go after them, my lord.”

Instead of doing as she urged, he raced toward the burning cottage. Just as he disappeared inside, the roof collapsed inward.

“No!” With a shout she began running after him.

By the time she reached the cottage, the fire was so intense it was impossible to see past the wall of flame. Twice she tried to dart into the fire, only to be driven back. In desperation she drew her cloak firmly around her head and face until all but her eyes were covered. Then she forced her way past the falling timbers into the very heart of the blaze, where Grant was holding the body of a man in his arms. Behind him
was a woman holding an infant, while a terrified toddler clung to her skirts.

Seeing Kylia, Grant shouted, “Lead them out of here. Quickly, for the last of the timbers will soon collapse.”

Ignoring the fire that licked along her skirts, Kylia draped her cloak around the woman’s shoulders before scooping up the child. When she realized that the woman was too terrified to move, she caught her hand and dragged her along, step by slow, painful step, until they had escaped the wall of flame. They dropped to their knees, choking and gasping for air.

There was a great roar as the cottage exploded, the walls collapsing inward, sending flames shooting high in the air. For the space of a heartbeat Kylia watched in horror, knowing no one could survive such a thing. A feeling of immense sadness stole over her. She’d saved strangers, but couldn’t save the man whose image had been with her since childhood.

As the flames and smoke billowed skyward, she caught sight of two figures lying in the grass on the far side of the cottage. With a cry she
stumbled toward them and dropped to her knees beside Grant.

His skin was black from soot and ash. His clothes still smoldered as he coughed and struggled for breath.

“Praise heaven you’re alive.” Kylia touched a hand to his cheek.

Between coughs he managed to whisper, “See to him.”

The stranger’s arms were badly burned, as was his face. What worried Kylia more than his burns were the wounds to his neck and chest, bleeding profusely.

As she began stripping away his tunic, the woman approached and fell to the grass weeping. “Oh, my beloved Ewald. Please don’t leave me.”

Kylia touched a hand to her sleeve. “Not all these wounds were caused by the fire.”

The woman shook her head. “The thieves forced their way into our cottage. While I did my best to protect the wee ones, Ewald defended himself with nothing but his fists. Those monsters left him to die, then set fire to the roof before turning to our flock.”

At her husband’s moan, she turned pleading eyes to Kylia. “Please, my lady. Can you ease his pain?”

Kylia felt a wave of frustration at her inadequacy. If only Allegra were here. Her older sister would know exactly what to do. She was about to explain that she knew little about healing burns when she caught sight of the child’s tears. They touched her as nothing else could. This was no time to be faint of heart.

She gave a sigh. “I’ll do what I can. I’ll need water.”

At once the woman dashed toward a nearby stream, returning with a brimming bucket.

After bathing the stranger’s wounds, Kylia soaked a cloth in the water and lay it over his charred flesh.

The woman carried a blackened jug from the smoldering ruins and set it beside Kylia. At her questioning look the woman explained, “Spirits, my lady. My man rarely drank, so the jug is full. You might use this to cleanse his wounds.”

“Aye.” Kylia poured a liberal amount of whiskey over the wounds, and proceeded to
bind them. When she had finished, she wrapped him in her traveling cloak.

She looked up to see Grant returning from the stream, where he’d bathed his burned flesh. Though she could read the pain in his eyes, he made no mention of it as he began cleaning several fish he’d caught.

When the meal was ready he passed it around, seeing that the woman and her children ate their fill.

As if in a trance the woman ate, all the while staring at her sleeping husband. “What will we do if the thieves return?”

Grant knelt beside her. “Have you no clan? No family or friends nearby?”

She shook her head. “Our families live in the village. We came to this far meadow because it seemed a fine place to raise our family and tend our herds. But now that the thieves know we are helpless, they’ll wait until you leave and attack again. Next time, they’ll see we are dead so they can steal the entire flock.”

Grant knew the truth of her statement. Though it grieved him to put off his return to his own home, for he was anxious about the
safety of his people, he couldn’t leave this family alone and helpless.

He patted her hand and glanced over at Kylia. “The lady and I will stay until your man is strong enough to travel. If you desire, we’ll accompany you to your village, where there will be family and friends to tend to your needs.”

The woman closed her eyes while giving a sigh of relief. “I thank you, my lord.” She turned. “And you, my lady.” She cuddled her infant in one arm and drew her toddler to her before looking around in alarm. “Alas, I can’t even offer you shelter from the night.”

“We need nothing but this fire. I’ll keep watch while you and the wee ones sleep. On the morrow, I’ll set about finding some way to make your journey back to your clan possible.” Grant gave her a gentle smile. “My name is Grant, laird of the clan MacCallum. The lady is Kylia, of the clan Drummond.”

“I am Flora. And these are our children, Ian and Donald. We are of the clan Kerr.” She drew close to the sleeping man and lay down in the grass, gathering her children to her bosom. Ex
hausted by their ordeal, they soon joined him in sleep.

Kylia got to her feet and hurried toward Grant, who was already striding toward the woods. “What can I do to help?”

He paused and turned. In his eyes was a look that warmed her more than any touch. “You’ve already done so much, my lady. Your courage leaves me without words.”

She shook her head, sending dark curls dancing. “It was your courage that saved these people, my lord.”

“Nay. It was nothing compared with what you did.” He reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

At once she felt the rush of heat and wondered that her heart didn’t leap clear out of her chest.

He kept his hand there a moment longer, loving the look of softness that came into her eyes. He found himself enjoying the quick rush of heat, and the slow, steady throbbing in his loins. After the ordeal they’d been through, touching her was a reward, like coming home.

She could feel the change in him. A tension
that conveyed itself to her, as well. As she started to pull back he closed a hand on her shoulder.

“I must kiss you, my lady.”

“This is hardly the place…”

Her words were cut off abruptly as he dragged her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. His mouth covered hers in a kiss so hot, so filled with hunger, it unleashed a matching hunger inside her.

His was such a clever, agile mouth. Strong, firm lips. A tongue that dueled with hers. The taste of him, so potently male, had her head spinning, her heart racing. The blood in her veins seemed to ebb and flow, causing the ground beneath her feet to shift and tilt until she was forced to grasp his waist to keep from falling.

“My lord. Wait.” She pushed away, struggling for air. “I can’t think when you kiss me.”

His smile was quick and dangerous. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, my lady.” He drew her close and ran soft, nibbling kisses along her temple, down her cheek, to the tip of her nose.
“There’s no need to think when we can feel such as this.”

The sweetness of it had her relaxing in his arms until he took the kiss deeper. There it was again. That little jolt to the heart, and then the warmth sliding through her veins, leaving her sighing with desire.

This time it was Kylia who reached for him, her arms encircling his neck, her body straining toward his. With her mouth on his she poured herself into the kiss, feeling the heat, the excitement, the flutter of danger.

Her body felt so alive. As though with one touch, he’d opened her up to all that was new and possible. She was, she realized, already wildly in love with this man. She wanted to tell him. To shout it out for the whole world to hear. What’s more, she wanted desperately to show him. And she did, by returning his kisses with a fervor that had them both gasping.

“How soon,” she whispered against his lips, “before we leave for your home?”

The sweetness of her breath mingled with his. He breathed her in, wanting more than anything in the world to taste more. To take more than
her kisses. He wanted her with a fierceness that was like an ache.

He dipped his head and kissed her again, while his hands moved over her, pleasuring them both. With each touch, each kiss, the fire within them grew. The need within them churned, until they were half-mad with desire.

Cautioning himself to go slowly, Grant drew back. “I know you’d like the comfort of my home, my lady. I know I’ve already asked much of you, but I would beg another favor.”