Highlander Enchanted(47)

“Ask a woman who she wishes to wed?” Richard laughed.

“Have either of ye got gold with ye?” Duncan asked.

“My family, and her uncle, will –”

“I said, with ye, Englishman.”

Richard cleared his throat. “I do not. But –”

Duncan waved a hand at him. “I willna insult ye by asking, Cade. Have either of ye a contract writ out fer my priest t’examine?”

“Our families had an understanding,” Richard replied.

Cade’s thoughts went to the two contracts in Lady Isabel’s saddlebags. The idea of marriage to a non-seillie left him uncomfortable and second guessing how far he would go for land. With Richard’s claim and gold to back an army of his own, how did he knowingly place the lives of his clan in danger?

How did he not act to save her when she was the sole hope of saving his people?

“I willna insult ye by asking, Cade,” Duncan said.

“I do,” he said slowly.

Both men looked at him.

“Do what?” Richard challenged.

“I ‘ave a contract.”

“’Tis not possible.”

“Is it wi’ ye?” Duncan asked.

“It is at the keep. I can send Niall for it,” Cade replied.

“Laslow!” Duncan bellowed over his shoulder. Seconds later, the head of a servant poked into the solar. “Bring Niall MacLachlainn!”

The servant ducked a bow and left.

“This is treachery,” Richard said, eyes sparkling with anger. “It is not possible for him to have a contract when I was promised her hand!”

“Doona worry, Lord Richard,” Duncan said, unconcerned. “Ye’ll have yer duellum. A contract can be burnt as easily as it can be writ.”

“Ye will fight?” Cade asked, unable to help baiting the Englishman he barely tolerated.

“Of course not,” Richard replied. “I have one of the best swordsmen in England serving me.”

“Who will ye choose, Cade?” Duncan asked.

“I doona need someone else t’fight fer me,” Cade replied.

“Good man!” Duncan beamed. “We can decide who the lass belongs to this night. Have ye any objections?”

“None,” Cade replied.

“None,” Richard seconded.

Laird Duncan clapped his hands. “Come! Let us settle this.”

Cade stood, glaring at Richard. This was not unfolding as he had planned. He did not think there would be resistance to his request for the lass viewed as his property by custom.

They exited the solar. Niall and the servant were in the corridor, and Cade drew Niall to the side.

“Go to the keep. Tell Father Adam I need the writ granting me Lady Isabel’s hand.”

Niall glanced at Richard. “He should not be ‘ere.”

“I ken. Warn the men as well. I willna leave here without at least one enemy.”

“Be safe, cousin.” Niall clasped forearms with him.

“And ye. Go. Quickly.”

Niall nodded and hurried away.

Cade stretched back and rolled his shoulders. He closed his eyes to center himself and found the part of him that wanted to be free, the animalistic Black Cade, half-man, half-unseillie, completely out of control, if he let it free. It was itching to be loose once more, and he dwelt on what Father Adam had told him.

He was a master of himself or at least, he had been forced to master the dark part of him upon returning home. He had not been tested since then. His clan needed the man who could protect and forgive, not the man who could only kill.

He felt in control, until he thought of Lady Isabel hurt and crying in the dungeon. Banishing the vision, he drew a deep breath and released it.

Determined not to loosen the demon within him, he opened his eyes and strode towards the Great Hall. When he set foot in the space, he saw Duncan at the center, belting out orders to his men. They shoved entire tables filled with food to the side to make way for a battle to be fought in the center of the Hall.

Richard and his knights were at one side of the Hall.

“What is this?” Brian asked, sharp gaze on his face. “What did ye do?”

Cade chuckled. “The English bastard claims t’be Isabel’s betrothed. He challenged me to single combat for her hand.”

Brian muttered a curse. “What does he want with more land and gold?” he complained. “We ‘ave neither.”

“But we will,” Cade said. “She’ll bring us both.”

Brian studied him. “Ye can do this,” he said quietly, as if aware of Cade’s troubled thoughts. “One fight.”

“Yea. One fight.” He shifted his sword at his back. “Find the lass. Make certain she is safe.”

“She is there.” Brian titled his head to the side.

Cade looked her way then back, once more charmed by her delicate beauty. He expected her to appear worn down or soiled and was surprised to find her dressed in finery befitting the lady of the hold. Her features bore faded bruises, but her chin was high, and she still wore his amulet, tucked into the bustle of her gown beside the similar medallion he had last seen with the knight left in a Saracen dungeon.

Warm pride slid through him. The fragile woman managed to hold her own, even as a prisoner of Duncan.