Page 93 of Deception of a Highlander

The blade of his sword caught the rising sun and reflected subdued rays in his shift to the previous position. Every muscle in his body was visibly taut.

Mariel continued before her courage expired, “I’m sorry for not confiding in you sooner.”

Kieran stopped and drove his blade deep into the soft soil, so the hilt thrust out from the earth like a cross. He bent down on one knee and bowed his head low as if in prayer. His prone shadow was outlined by the golden-red glow of the sunrise. Still, he did not speak.

“Kieran,” Mariel said. Her voice filled the tortured silence between them, then broke off in a husky whimper. “I love you. No matter what has happened between us or what can never be, I love you.”

* * *

Kieran’s fist tightened at his side and popped open the newly closed wounds across his knuckles. Her words of love resonated with conviction. He wanted so badly to believe her, and yet he could not still the doubt weighing heavily in his heart.

Why now? Why was she confessing this to him before battle? Perhaps it was another form of manipulation. Didn’t she know he would help regardless?

He looked up and found she had left. The realization was met with a mixture of relief and disappointment.

Beyond where she had been, his warriors broke through the trees and stalked toward him with stoic determination. The sharp rays of the early dawn shone upon them, lighting their weapons with an ethereal glow. The boisterous group was now silent with focused concentration, and the cool morning air crackled with anticipation.

Kieran’s blade would taste vengeance this day.

CHAPTER 36

Kieran crouched low in the thick brush with his men. The chill of morning had not yet ebbed and crept up his bare legs to where his plaid rested against his thighs.

A great lawn stretched before them. The blades of grass were furry white with frost where the rising sun had not yet graced them. Manicured plants and trees, like those he had seen at Hampton Court Palace, lined a cobblestoned lane. The manor itself rose three stories high, pink with precious sandstone. Extravagant carvings of animals dotted the walls and lined the great arching entrance. Balconies rimmed the second and third floors.

The guards wore no uniform or livery as they stalked the perimeter with the disinterest of men who fought for gold. Mercenaries. Kieran knew all too well how they operated. He scanned the manor for Mariel’s familiar form.

She had volunteered to quietly dispatch the guards so Kieran’s men could enter the manor unseen and surprise the English bastards. Already the guards who once walked the lawn lay still in the shadows.

He glanced up to the balcony again, anxious lest the men there notice the absence of the mercenaries below.

Ordinary men would have gotten restless in their wait, but Kieran’s men were warriors and remained as still as the animals adorning the manor.

Their patience was well rewarded when a dark shadow slipped over the wall of the third floor and slinked behind the lanky guard who stood unsuspecting with his back to her.

A dark arm wrapped around his neck, and he disappeared into one of the many alcoves without a sound. Moving with the stealth and grace of a cat, Mariel crept down the prone form of a sandstone lion to where the final remaining man paced the second floor.

Once he turned his back to her, she stretched her body toward the underside of the third-floor balcony and vanished into the darkness. As the guard did his second pass of the balcony, Mariel dangled her upper torso from the ceiling and caught him by the neck as she had the other man. She released his limp form with slow precision, and he slid to the ground. With a graceful somersault, she landed beside him, and he too disappeared into an alcove.

Not a one of Kieran’s men spoke, but the glint in their eyes said it all. They were impressed.

Now she had to make her way into the manor undetected to secure a clear path for them to enter. To surprise or to be ambushed as Hamish had suggested. Regardless, there would be a fight, and they would win. They had to.

Having Mariel alone in the bowels of the manor left Kieran on edge. Time ticked by in slow increments until it seemed to have stopped completely. He glanced at the rising sun, measuring her absence by its ascent. If she were not back before it met the juncture between the two mountains in the distance, he and his men would charge in without her.

They would lose the element of surprise if they rushed in before she returned, but the sacrifice would be worth the protection it might offer Mariel.

The blood turned to ice in his veins. The profession of her love and the heartfelt apology had been said with purpose. What she had spoken was her final confession.

She did not plan to live through this day.

He glanced toward the door, all the more anxious to see her. Damn it, what was taking so long?

His body tensed with the preparation to order his men to attack when a side door eased open, and a slender hand waved them forward. Kieran did a final visual sweep of the area, ensuring no remaining guards lurked. Mariel had done her job well. All the mercenaries were unconscious where they lay.

He nodded, and his men moved silently across the grass and slipped into the door one by one until they were crowded in a narrow hallway.

The door closed soundlessly behind them and plunged them into darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Mariel stood before them with her hand pressed against the wall. It pushed in with apparent ease and revealed a hidden staircase on the other side.