Highlander Enchanted(44)

Father Adam’s face brightened. “’Tis a scandal!”

How can a scandal help me? He thought. A tiny part of him wanted him to turn away now, as if it knew the more he learned about her, the less likely he would be to let her leave the Highlands despite their arrangement.

Doubtful, he listened to Father Adam explain the complicated secrets he had uncovered in the documents Lady Isabel carried. As he did so, he began to understand why the priest had been so eager to share the information.

A thoughtful silence ensued after the tale, and Cade’s eyes went to the sickly old man sleeping in his bed. He considered himself shrewder than most men, but he was baffled.

“This doesna make sense,” he breathed at last, unable to untangle the mysteries of the English noble even after learning what they were.

“She carries the land grants once carried by the MacCosse. She has a claim to their lands,” Father Adam said. “She was telling the truth.”

“We ken this. Niall was told thus before by the king’s stewart. How does the daughter of an English noble come by this?” Cade demanded, mind working furiously. “Yer assured of the final writ?”

“I translated it twice. I am certain.”

“Lady Isabel is the illegitimate daughter of our king.”

“Yea.”

“She isna English at all.”

“Nay.”

Cade started to laugh then stopped, baffled by the turn of events. He had not expected this in any way. “How can this be true?”

“I doona ken.” Father Adam shrugged. “But these writs bear the king’s seal. If ye have her, and ye have the writs …”

“I have the MacCosse lands and the secret daughter o’the king, which might force him t’defend her claim. Can it be this is why he hasna allowed any other t’claim the lands?”

“’Tis possible.”

“’Tis madness.” Cade mulled over what he had heard. “A clever man could take her and her lands. Except she’s a prisoner of the man soon to be my enemy.”

“Is that all?”

Cade met Father Adam’s gaze, startled by the elderly priest’s question.

“Black Cade wouldna let one man stand in his way.”

“Ye ken why I canna become him again,” Cade said and rose, pacing away. “Black Cade canna be trusted with the lives of his clan.”

“Black Cade can be trusted to defeat any enemy he crosses.”

“Ye ken what that means,” Cade warned.

“What choice do ye have? I am not so old I canna see we havena the warriors to face Duncan.”

“T’trust my unseillie side is t’trust your devil, holy man.”

Father Adam shook his head. “Yer better than the devil. Ye have mastered yerself. Ye can face Duncan with yer sword and if ye canna win, ye ken how t’use the gifts yer mother left ye.”

It was not a question of whether or not he could, but whether or not he should that troubled Cade. He dwelt on the priest’s confidence, uncomfortable with the knowledge Isabel was in a dungeon or that he was going to have to rescue her, if he wanted her lands.

“I doona fear victory,” he said softly. “I fear the cost of it. War in a foreign land, against a foreign people I will ne’er see again, is different than bringing war to my kin. I inherited war from my father but those I must protect are my mother’s kin.”

“If ye fear for them, then send them away.”

“T’where?”

Father Adam gave a dry chuckle. “The MacCosse lands.”

Cade shook his head.

“She claimed t’be yer wife once and ye have the writ making it so. All ye need is the lass at yer side, and I can officiate.”

“Ye crafty old bastard,” Cade said. His thoughts lingered on the idea of making Isabel his wife – and the rush of heat accompanying such a thought. He had been drawn to her since they first met in the forest. To have her in his bed and her lands under his command … It was more appealing than settling down had ever been. With restlessness in his blood born from war and magic, he had viewed marriage as another dungeon. But with Isabel, he saw something very different, even if he did not know exactly what that was. Her touch stilled the fury of his blood, and his magic welcomed her.

“Ye prefer peace yet would see me at war.” Cade turned his attention back to the priest.

“The good lord believes battle, when warranted, t’be a forgivable sin,” Father Adam replied. “Ye fight t’protect the MacDonald’s and yer own clan. If ye only kill when ye must and ye show mercy, I canna think my god or yers would fault ye for it. Cade, yer already at war. Our clan is already in danger. We willna have a home come winter, even if ye wed the MacDonald’s lass. They ‘ave no land either. If ye can force the king’s hand, we might have our own lands.”

“There is naught fer them on the MacCosse lands. ‘Twould take gold I doona have to shelter them.”

“Or a seillie who can temper the weather,” Father Adam pointed out. “’Twill ne’er hurt t’put distance between Laird Duncan and our clan. We have an ally at the Scottish court, or will, if we possess the MacCosse heir.”

Cade paused at the window and gazed at the storm clouds gathering. His magic had decided already. The clouds were over the MacDonald’s land, where Laird Duncan claimed to be awaiting his decision. Troubled by what lay ahead of him, he was not as eager to face battle this time as he had been when he went off to the Crusades.