Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy #3)(73)

Cameron arched his eyebrow in surprise and Rionna held her breath until she nearly swayed from the horse. Oh God, let him still be alive. They couldn’t have arrived with Caelen too awfully long ago. She and her men had ridden without stop and they’d picked up a fresh trail halfway here and followed it until they reached the keep.

“Open the gate,” Cameron shouted.

A few moments later, the wood creaked and groaned and the heavy gate began to swing open. She remained atop her horse and waited for permission to enter.

Soon enough, Cameron and her father appeared at the entryway and one of Cameron’s men came forward to assist her from her horse. When her feet hit the ground, her knees nearly buckled, but by sheer force of will she remained standing and allowed her horse to be led away.

“ ’Tis an interesting tale you spin, mistress,” Cameron said as he stared at her. “You have my attention.”

Rionna looked at her father, wondering if he was too cowed by Cameron to offer words of his own. He stared back, his expression flat, and his eyes glittered with suspicion.

“Is he dead yet?” she demanded.

Finally Cameron shook his head and she went weak with relief. “Nay, not yet. He’s only just arrived. Tell me, how did you come so quickly?”

“When my men bore me the tale of what occurred, I refused to believe my good fortune until I laid eyes on him myself. If ’tis true that my father captured Caelen McCabe, then ’tis my thanks I must offer.”

“What is this nonsense, daughter?” Gregor finally demanded.

Cameron held up his hand. “ ’Tis only one way to solve this riddle. Come, my lady. ’Tis cold and you’ve traveled a great distance.”

Rionna slid her hand through Cameron’s outstretched arm and smiled gratefully up at him. “My thanks, Laird Cameron. ’Tis the truth I’m weary, but my relief was so great, I would not stop until I begged sanctuary at your door.”

“Sanctuary? My dear lady, what would make you cry sanctuary?” he asked, as he guided her through the courtyard and up the steps to the keep.

A warm blast of air hit her as did the stench. Her nose curled and it took everything she had to keep her stomach from rebelling.

The tunic she wore disguised the swell of her belly and she wasn’t far gone enough for her condition to be evident. The last thing she wanted was to reveal that she was carrying Caelen’s child.

“Aye, sanctuary. Think you that I would be safe from Ewan McCabe once it was learned a McDonald took his brother?”

“Why do you want to kill your husband?” Cameron asked bluntly.

He gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs in front of the fire, and it was with great relief she did so. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could remain standing.

“Does it matter?” she asked in a level voice.

“I find it hard to believe you left the protection of your clan in the dead of winter so that you could be the one to kill a man who is for all practical purposes already a dead man.”

“I hate him,” Rionna spat. “I hate all of the McCabes. They have run roughshod over my clan. ’Tis the truth, I had no great love for the leadership of my father, but at least he was a McDonald. I have been humiliated by the McCabes at every turn. If you won’t allow me to do the killing, I would at least like to witness it. And I would seek your protection until this matter with the McCabes is done.”

“You are an odd woman, Rionna McDonald. Or should I say McCabe?”

Rionna bolted to her feet, drew her sword, and leveled it at Cameron in a show of bravado she hoped impressed him or further convinced him she was just daft enough to want her husband dead. She was so desperate at this point, she was grasping for straws and she well knew it.

“I’ll not be called by that name,” she hissed.

He pushed aside the blade of her sword as if it were nothing more than a pesky fly. “And I’ll not have a female brandishing her sword at me in my own home.”

He motioned her back to her seat and then turned to glance at Gregor McDonald, who stood on Rionna’s other side.

“You have me curious, Rionna. What did Caelen McCabe do to draw your ire?”

She glanced at her father, knowing that it was here that he would be convinced and he would lend credibility to her tale, no matter how absurd it sounded to Cameron.

“He insisted I act and dress as a female. He took my sword from me and forbade me to pick it back up. He mocked and humiliated me at every turn. He … He sorely abused me.”

Cameron chuckled and then glanced at her father. “What manner of woman did you raise, Gregor?”

“She thinks herself a lad,” Gregor said in disgust. “Nothing I ever did made her act and dress as she should. I washed my hands of her years ago. ’Tis the truth he probably bedded her and this is the source of his ‘abuse.’ ”

Cameron’s gaze swept lingeringly over her body in a manner that made her grateful she’d bound her br**sts. He looked for sign that she was indeed womanly, but in her current manner of dress, she looked lean and shapeless, just as a young lad would.

She shivered at the lust in his eyes. In spite of, or perhaps because of, her eccentricities, Cameron looked upon her like he’d like nothing more than to tumble her to the ground for a quick rut. Or perhaps ’twas because he coveted what Caelen had already had. Trying to discern the mind of a man was impossible.