Page 85 of Deception of a Highlander

The blade was soundless as it bit into tender flesh. Blue eyes bulged, and blood gushed from the wound. It sprayed her with its slippery warmth and seeped into her dress. He gurgled and sputtered. His body jerked in the throes of final defeat before he fell still.

Bile rose in the back of her throat. The heat of the room, the coppery odor of blood, the metallic taste of it upon her lips, and the pain of her back. She could take no more. Lacking the strength to raise her head, she emptied the meager contents of her stomach where she lay.

“Aaron was furious when he learned I’d refused to kill the man. For my disobedience, he ordered…” She heard herself falter. “He ordered me to be locked in a closet with the body. For three days.”

“That night at the inn, the nightmare ye had where ye felt my neck…” Kieran’s voice startled her, calling her back from hell.

The air smelled of moist earth, and the room was cold. There was no blood, no vomit, and no body.

Mariel hugged her legs tighter. Tears stained the black fabric stretched across her knees. “Please don’t make me talk about this anymore.”

Kieran took a step toward her and stopped. He was so close she could breathe in the scent that had once made her feel so safe, so loved. Her body trembled with want of that comfort.

His expression was softer, almost tender, and his hand reached toward her.

She waited, her body screaming for the slightest of touches, begging for reassurance and support.

But consolation did not come. His hand curled into a fist and dropped to his side. He turned away and walked from her cell.

“Where are you going?”

He faced her once more, his expression hard. Gone was the hint of kindness she had glimpsed only moments before.

“To tell the person this affects more than anyone else,” he said. “Blair has a right to know.”

CHAPTER 32

Mariel did not move off the hard chair, even after the door slammed overhead, announcing Kieran’s departure. She hugged her legs and tried not to think about him waking Blair in the middle of the night. She tried not to imagine the disappointment and the pain in Blair’s gaze.

The door opened, and footsteps clunked down the stairs. Mariel’s heart pounded frantically. Kieran had returned. For the first time since she had peeled off that horrible mask, hope eased the knots in her stomach. Perhaps he had changed his mind. Perhaps he had decided not to tell Blair.

“Mariel.” The voice that spoke was familiar but not Kieran’s. Colin appeared before her cell door.

Disappointment left her reeling. Blair would still learn the truth, Kieran still despised her, and now Colin would witness her shame. Mariel squeezed her legs against her until her arms ached with the effort.

Her confession to Kieran had left her raw. Her spirit was battered, and she was exhausted. No longer did she possess the energy to keep her tears at bay or face the hurt of a friend’s stare.

Her cell door creaked open, and she buried her face against the tops of her knees in a futile effort to hide. She could not face Colin. Not now.

A heavy blanket eased over her shoulders. Startled, she raised her head and found him gazing down at her, the expression on his face free of accusation.

His sympathetic smile showed the dimple in his left cheek. “Kieran said ye looked cold.”

“Colin…” The lump in her throat choked off her words, and tears blurred her vision.

He eased her off the chair onto her stiff legs and said nothing as his arms wrapped around her. He asked no questions, demanded no explanation. He simply held her.

“I’ll no’ tell anyone if ye cry,” he said softly.

And then they came. Bitter tears coursed down her cheeks and melted against the smooth fabric of Colin’s leine. Tears for Jack, tears for Kieran and the pain she’d caused his battered family and tears for her own miserable, broken heart.

Colin’s arms tightened around her as she sagged against him and wept for the years of pain and humiliation.

She was too broken to fight.

* * *

Kieran studied Blair from across the table. Her hair lay against the blue velvet robe like a sable cape, and her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. The rare treat had been brought back from the markets of London for her as a means of pleasure. He hated that it must now be used for consolation.