Part 25 (1/2)
NATHARA CREPT QUIETLY through the darkened castle of Moy. Most of the funeral guests who had arrived earlier today had found a s.p.a.ce to sleep on the floor of the great hall. But Leod had been given a chamber upstairs in the family wing.
She risked much in going to Leod's guest chamber. But Leod was still the best way to be rid of Gwenyth. He could hand her over to the king for ransom or keep her for himself, it mattered not to Nathara. Just as long as Adam would be free to marry her when the handfast was over.
She'd seen Adam with Gwenyth, and it was clear that Adam cared for his wife. Something must be done soon, before he took it in his head to make a binding union of it. That must not happen.
The stench of stale wine greeted her when she opened the door. Leod always drank, but tonight it smelled as if he'd emptied an entire jug himself.
”Come here,” he ordered from the bed where he lay.
As she drew closer, the feral gleam in his eye told her he would be difficult. ”You are drunk, my lord.”
”Aye, but not too drunk. Come here.”
She wanted to run, but she dared not leave until she exacted his promise. She must be sure that Adam was safe from Leod's hatred. And she had to protect her clanswomen.
Despite Leod's drunken state, he'd lost none of his strength or will, and he grabbed her. When she protested, he slapped her face. His ring grazed her cheek, drawing blood, and her heart sank at the knowledge she would bear the imprint for all to see.
Belatedly, she realized her own guilt in aiding and abetting his behavior. She couldn't lay all the blame on him, because it was her own desire to have Adam for herself that had drawn her to him. But she had learned that he was a.s.saulting the village women, and it sickened Nathara. She knew he must be stopped even if it meant giving up her own ambitions.
He sat up and rested on one elbow. ”When are you going to deliver Gwenyth to me?”
”Never, unless you stop the attacks on the women. I am tired of trying to mend your victims.”
Leod frowned and pursed his lips. ”You have no proof.”
”Are you sure I don't?” Now she had his full attention and cooperation. Innocents were suffering because of Leod. Nathara realized how truly selfish she had been and how her entire clan might suffer if Leod were laird.
Shame for her behavior washed over her. Leod must be stopped.
”All right. I'll stop. Won't need to do that once I have her anyway.”
”If you keep your word, I'll turn her over to you at the games.”
”But that could be weeks from now.”
”Aye, time to see if you mean to keep your word.” And time for Nathara to woo Adam away from Gwenyth. Maybe enough time for Leod to finally be caught and brought to justice.
”Juss take her myself.”
”Go ahead and try. A guard follows her everywhere. Best leave it to me.”
”Fine. Juss don't fail me or your fine laird will be dead.”
Nathara slipped into the hallway, intending to head for the castle surgery, where an application of a poultice might reduce the discoloration of her face. Head bowed, she darted toward the steps, running into Daron halfway down them.
”Nathara.” Daron's voice sounded like a beam of warm suns.h.i.+ne on a cold winter day. She pushed aside the image, knowing she must avoid him until she could see how badly her face was injured.
Averting her head, she said, ”Let me pa.s.s, sir.”
”Come, now. I apologize for my behavior earlier. I should not have disparaged you so.”
Saints in heaven, he apologized for a stinging remark?
”You are overset. What is it, la.s.s?”
The narrow stairway made it impossible to pa.s.s by and continue on her way. He pushed against her. ”Go back up the steps, Nathara.” His voice was gentle, but his big body made his order an imperative.
At the top of the stairs, she attempted to move past but he grasped her arm. Pulling her before him, he tilted her head until their gazes met.
His eyes revealed his shock. ”Who did this?”
Fear gripped her. Fear of Leod's rage if she told what she knew, fear of the disgust she would see in Adam's eyes; and strangely enough, she feared, too, what Daron would think.
She shook her head. ”It was my fault, my laird. Do not think more on it.”
Daron glanced down the hallway.
She drew in her breath. She hadn't latched the door tight, and it stood open several inches.
He saw it too, for he turned back to her and said, ”Macpherson.”
”Nay, my laird.”
”I'll kill him.”
”Nay, 'twas my fault. I should not have gone to his chamber when he was so drunk.”
”You've been with him before.”
”Aye.” She hated to admit this to Daron, for he would surely think the worst, but it was either that or tell him the truth and that she couldn't do.
”And has he beaten you before?”
”He did not beat me. 'Tis only that our play got out of hand, my laird. This really is none of your business. I'd ask you to let me go on my way.”
His grip on her arm tightened. ”Why do you do thisa”return to him if he treats you so?”
”It suits me,” she lied. Thinking the only way to be rid of Daron was to disgust him, she toyed with the lacing of his sark, twirling it in her fingers as she moved closer. ”Perhaps you'd like a taste, my laird.”
”Perhaps I would.”
His reply shocked her, as did his kiss. But the shock came not from the harshness she expected, but from the incredible gentleness of the kiss.
She withdrew and made to slap him, but he grabbed her arm.
”Come, now, Nathara. Such theatrics are not necessary. And I can see by your actions that your interest in pain outweighs your interest in pleasure. I thought only to show you that gentleness can be pleasurable as well. Apparently you and Leod are well suited. Good night.”
Nathara made her way to her own cottage, confused and bewildered by the exchange to the point where she forgot her desire to seek herbs in the surgery. She doubted Daron would have offered such kindness if he knew of her scheming to be rid of Gwenyth.