Page 40 of Her Highlander’s Darkest Temptation (Highlanders of Cadney #14)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

F our days. Donall ran a hand through his blond hair and stared out the window of his bed chamber wearily. Four days had passed since his world had been turned upside down by the knowledge of who exactly Lydia was. And still, he had not the faintest idea how to handle the revelation.

The prisoner had passed away the night before, falling into a delirium laced feverish sleep that he’d never woken from, helped along by Evelyn’s remedies.

Donall still felt the lingering cold that had gripped his guts when Ewan had reported the man’s death.

He knew that he’d done the only thing he could, short of a mercy killing, and still it made him feel sick, so much so that he’d refused to sleep the night before, knowing that his nightmares would only have him vomiting up what little he’d managed to eat.

An’ that’s another thing. The nightmares.

Donall turned and splashed water in his face, grunting as the cold shocked his system. He didn’t want to think about the nightmares, for it only reminded him of the one night he’d slept the night through. A night without dreams or memories haunting him.

And Lydia. The one person who’d been on his mind constantly for the past four days - and elusive in every other respect.

True to his request, she’d left him alone and allowed him time to think about their situation.

The problem was that Donall had come to no conclusions regarding his course of action.

He’d meant what he’d said. He had no intention of allowing Rory Cameron to take Lydia as a wife against her will. But beyond that, he hadn’t decided what to tell the Council. He hadn’t decided how to handle the encroachment of the Cameron soldiers, or the threat of Rory Cameron on his borders.

And he hadn’t decided what to do about his fledgling relationship with her. A part of him - the part that still stung and snarled at the thought of her lies - wanted to send her away to the MacDougall or MacLean clans. Send her away and tell Laird Cameron she’d fled, and let that be the end of it.

Another part of him wanted to hold her close and tell her that he understood, that it didn’t matter.

But that, he knew would be a lie. The fact that she’d lied to him multiple times had hurt, and the fact that he’d had to discover her identity from a prisoner hurt leven more.

The trust between them had been, if not broken, then badly damaged, and he wasn’t sure he could truly move past it.

Another part of him wanted to simply put her at arms length. Forget the midnight confidences and the kisses and the night of passion and peace that they’d shared. Maybe he could tell the Council about her, because in some ways, that would be the easiest thing for him.

Donall snorted to himself.

Easy as sleepin’ peacefully seems tae be. And the truth is, I dinnae ken whether it’s that night of sleep lingerin’ in me mind, or because she took me hand an’ accepted me help that day in the forest, but sendin’ her away doesnae feel right.

Donall scowled out the window into the moonlit sky. He should be in bed, and he knew it, but he also knew from long experience that sleep would be difficult to find, and likely as broken as the last four nights had been.

Donall grimaced, then turned and left his rooms, wandering out into the darkened halls in search of some peace or solace.

He stalked out into the back gardens, then on a whim, took the steps to the battlements.

The northeastern watch tower was rarely used, and he made his way toward it, up the narrow stone stairs to the top. He pushed the door open, then stopped.

The top of the tower wasn’t empty as he’d expected it to be. His gut clenched.

“Lydia.”

“My laird.” Her voice was soft, revealing nothing.

“Why are ye out here?” For one moment, he thought she might have been lying in wait for him. Then he dismissed the thought. After all, how could she have known he would come here, when he’d had no idea himself where his footsteps would take him?

“I used to like to find places to hide from my uncle and his lectures and lessons. The tower nearest my rooms was one of my favorite places, because you used to have to go through the storerooms, so Elswith - my maid - could make excuses and watch out for me.” The words were slow and thoughtful, but there was a quality to them, some note that he hadn’t been paying attention to or been aware of, that made him feel in his gut that she was telling the truth.

After a moment of consideration, Donall stepped closer. “’Tis a good place tae stand an’ think.”

“It is.” There was a moment of silence. “I am sorry for lying to you… Donall. My laird.”

“Donall is fine.” He had no desire to be called ‘my laird’ by Lydia. “I ken ye were frightened.”

“Even so, I should have told you the truth.” She glanced at him, then away, and even in the moonlight he could see shame on her face. “If not when you rescued me, then before… I am sorry. But I could not think of a way to broach the subject.”

“I asked fer yer name.”

“I know.” Her admission was quiet. “But all I wanted was to hide for a few days, until my wound got better. To learn, make some coin and disappear quietly into the Highlands, until I could find somewhere safe. And even when I began to think I might not wish to disappear… I was not sure how to change my behaviors. I was not sure you would believe me, or help me after I deceived you. And I thought that if I told you the truth, it would just put you in a difficult position, that it was best you never found out. I wanted to protect you and the clan.”

“I will protect ye. I promise ye that. Me word o’ honor.” Donall blinked, but even as he wondered at his own words, he felt something inside him settle, the awareness of a decision made soothing some of his frustration and irritation. “I just need ye tae promise ye willnae lie tae me further.

“I will not. I promise. And I will tell the truth to whoever asks me.” Lydia’s voice carried its own sort of oath, as strong as his own.

“Daes anyone else ken who ye are?”

“Maisie. She guessed… after ye gave me the dress, she guessed. I… I asked her tae keep my secret. She said she would, as long as she felt I wasn’t hurting anyone.”

Donall made a rueful noise and was surprised to find himself feeling a spark of humor. “Maisie’s loyal tae those who win her respect or her friendship. She’d have told me if I asked, but she’d nae betray ye.”

An’ fer all I originally set her with Maisie so the lass could watch her, I never asked if she’d learned aught. ‘Tis me own fault that I didnae ken sooner.

“I know.”

Donall started to say something else, but a soft rumble of thunder overhead startled him. He blinked up into the sky and realized, with a shock, that the moon was disappearing behind the clouds, and the stars were already obscured. “Lydia…”

Another rumble of thunder rolled overhead, and then, without any more warning than that, the rain came crashing down around them, like a pent up waterfall had been released right above their heads. Donall swore in surprise, then grabbed Lydia’s hand and hauled her toward the door.

It took only seconds to reach the shelter of the tower entrance, but they were still both drenched, soaked to the skin by the time they stumbled into the narrow stairwell. Donall huffed in amusement. “An’ that will teach me tae go walking on the walls fer a midnight stroll.”

“Aye.” Lydia grimaced down at her soaked garments.

She was starting to shiver, and without a thought, Donall drew off his sash and draped it like a makeshift shawl about her shoulders.

The cloth was no dryer than anything else, but Lydia relaxed under the weight and warmth of the extra layer. “Thank you.”

“’Tis naething. But ‘tis best we both try tae get some rest.” Donall guided her down the stairs, then toward the ramparts. Both of them stopped, looking out at the rain-drenched battlements. Donall considered, then pulled Lydia close and tucked her into his shoulder.

Lydia blinked at him, but allowed herself to be pulled close to him. She even nestled close to his side. The warmth of her made Donall’s blood heat, but he forced himself to ignore the soft burst of desire that flowed through him like mulled wine on a winter night.

Together, the two of them darted through the rain.

Donall helped Lydia down the water-slicked stone stairs of the ramparts and across the stones of the courtyard.

The two of them hurried inside the side doors near the servant quarters, which were closer to the rampart walls and unguarded.

Then they were inside, and for some reason Donall found himself half-laughing, half-panting, his chest burning from the short run and his heart lighter than it had been.

“Come. I’ll walk ye tae yer room.” He tugged the sash a little tighter around her shoulders and put a hand on her elbow to guide her toward the quarters she shared with Maisie.

Lydia walked along beside him quietly, and Donall watched her out of the corner of his eye.

Even soaked as she was, she was beautiful, her auburn hair framing her slim, pretty face, and water molding her clothing to her frame in the most appealing way.

Desire surged through him again, but it was held in check by an unfamiliar sense of uncertainty.

Donall probed the sensation with his mind, the way he’d probe a loosened tooth with his tongue or a bruise with his fingers. The laughter and the rain, the promise of honesty, had mended some of the strain between them, but not all of it.

He would have to speak to the Council, to resolve matters and determine a course of action. He had to tell them the truth about Lydia - he couldn’t continue to conceal her identity, not in good conscience.

After tha’ I’ll see what happens.

They stopped at the door of Lydia’s rooms, and Donall dropped his arm from about her shoulders. “I’ll wish ye a good night here.”