“Rhian says—Rhian says Saerla is touched by the gods. Special.”
“She would say that, would she not?”
“Saerla walks only lightly in this world. She receives Visions—”
“All the more reason to eliminate her, lest she offer undue advantages to our enemies.”
“Rhian—”
Viciously, Rory interrupted him. “I do no’ care wha’ Rhian says. Yer woman has ye wrapped around her finger. I will no’ listen to ye.”
Pure anger shone from Leith’s eyes. “Then I will no’ stay here. My woman and I will leave at once for MacBeith.”
Pain tore through Rory once again, transmuting to the pure flame of anger. Would Leith turn on him also, as Farlan had done? He gritted his teeth, and his hand flew to the hilt of the sword he wore. “Try it. Ye be my heir. Ye will no’ leave.”
“Aye, so? I am a prisoner here now, am I? Mysel’ and Rhian?”
“She may go anytime she chooses. As for ye, cousin, ye ha’ made yer bed. But”—he lowered his voice to a growl—“if ye wish to protect yer woman as Da always said, ye will step carefully around me.”
“D’ye threaten Rhian in order to coerce me? Big, strong man ye are! If ye harm Saerla, Rhian will go mad wi’ grief. She will turn wild.”
Rory gestured at the letter still spread on the table. “Moira MacBeith had only to agree wi’ my terms. She had only to cede her lands, and Saerla would be goin’ home today.”
Away from him. Out of his life.
And good riddance.
A storm of agony looked at him from Leith’s eyes. “Do wha’ ye will, cousin. And turn on me as ye may. I will ha’ no part in it. Slaughtering that brave wee thing—”
“So ye turn on me instead, d’ye? Just like Farlan.”
“If I must.”
“Ye swore fealty to my father, and to me. Ye and Farlan both did. If yer woman has stolen yer balls, ’tis no’ my fault.”
“Ye bastard!” Leith thundered.
And there it was. The breach that had no doubt begun to widen the first time Rhian MacBeith smiled at him. The first time she crooked a finger and took him to her breast.
Fool.
Aye, so, Leith had come back from MacBeith with his loyalty already fractured. Now the rift was wide.
“Get out o’ my sight.”
“Rory—”
“I said go.”
Leith did not stir. “How will ye do it, Rory?” One corner of his mouth twitched in a bitter grimace. “How does a great man like yoursel’ go about slaughtering a woman?”
“Slit her throat.” Just as she would have done to him.
In a flash, one powerful flash, he was back in the bed—his bed—with Saerla lying beneath him. Safe and warm. Sheltered.His. And his heart, his heart was at peace as it had never been.
The feel of her. The taste. The heat that had convulsed and quivered around him, half stealing his soul.
The prick of cold metal at his neck.
