Page 28 of In Bed with a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #7)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

A laric sat there, shocked to stillness. Even his mind was blank, unable to process everything he had heard.

He had always known Lucia was hiding certain truths from him. He had always known she was lying by omission, but the weight of her lies was much heavier than he had ever thought they could be, and it all circled back to her brother.

“Ye were with the Ravencloaks this whole time?”

Alaric’s voice was weak even to his own ears as he spoke. The betrayal was too much for him to bear, the wound too fresh and raw, though he didn’t know if it would ever heal. This had all been his mistake from the start, he supposed. He should have never trusted Lucia. He should have never trusted a woman he knew was lying to him and he should have known better than to think she could love him when all she was after was revenge.

He was nothing but a tool and he had given everything up for her. He had ruined a perfectly good alliance between the MacGregors and the Sinclairs for a woman who had never truly loved him. Not only that, but he had also put his clan in peril. For all he knew, Clan Sinclair would be seeking their own revenge soon, once they found out what Alaric had done.

“I didnae say that,” Lucia said, though it wasn’t entirely a denial. She was still standing in front of him, her head bowed and her gaze glued to the ground, never once daring to look up at Alaric. Her voice trembled as she spoke and that was enough to send a pang of pain through his chest, but he did his best to ignore it, to push any feeling aside. It would only make it harder for them both, showing weakness at such a time. “I was helpin’ Ronan. Nae one in the Ravencloaks ever kent who I was. The few who met me only met me when I was wearin’ a mask.”

Ye always wear a mask… I dinnae ken who ye truly are.

“Ye kent me braither was in the Ravencloaks,” Lucia continued. “Ye kent that already. An’ ye kent what kind o’ man he was.”

“But I didnae ken about ye,” Alaric pointed out. Lucia had never revealed to him that she had helped her brother with strategy and attacks until now, that she was operating from the shadows of the organization. Even if Ronan had been the only one to know, that didn’t lessen the blame that fell on her shoulders. How many people had suffered because of her? How many people had died?

And how much had she helped Callum with his plans to collude with the English, even unknowingly?

Alaric didn’t know if he could ever forgive such a thing. He, too, had hurt his fair share of people, but they had all been enemies of his clan. Who had been the people hurt by Lucia’s plans, he wondered? What kind of people did her brother target?

Innocents, many o’ them. That is certain.

“Nay. Nay, ye didnae,” Lucia said, her voice dropping to a whisper. Alaric soon found that he couldn’t even bear to look at her, even as she was clearly plagued by guilt. Every time he glanced up at her, more bile rose to the back of his throat, sickening him. His stomach was tied in knots, his chest ached, his eyes burned; nothing but rage and regret flowed through his veins. No other person had ever made him feel like this before and the feeling was as unwelcome as it was startling, though there was something undeniable, something which made him realize the depth of his true feelings for Lucia—it was only possible to feel this betrayed, this hurt and broken if one loved the source of this grief beyond anything else.

Alaric sprang off the bed, pacing in front of it for a few moments. It wasn’t only the countless lies Lucia had told him; it was everything else they had shared. It was the fact that she had let him fall for her, even going so far as to claim she had fallen for him. It was the fact that she had let him ruin his life for her and risk his clan and everything he held dear just because he was in love. For all her claims that she cared for him, how could Alaric believe it now that she had entirely shattered the illusion of trust they had shared?

Because that was all it was, he thought; an illusion, nothing but smoke and mirrors.

He couldn’t take it anymore. With a few long strides, he walked right past Lucia without another word, slamming the door behind him as he left the room.

Then he came to a sudden halt. There was still so much he wanted to tell her. The need to pour out everything that was on his mind was too strong, even if he knew that his words would hurt them both. How could he walk away when Lucia had wronged him? How could he forgive and forget?

Did she even care, he wondered? Was her regret real or was it simply another mask that she had donned just so she could get away with everything she had put Alaric through?

With a decisive breath, he grasped the door handle and threw the door open once more, heading back into the room. Once again, he slammed the door shut and Lucia flinched at the sound, though Alaric had never seen her so skittish before.

A part of him, no matter how small, couldn’t help but feel bad about it.

“What were ye thinkin’?” he demands, his eyes wild and full of rage. “Why would ye dae this tae me? Why would ye ruin me betrothal? Dae ye ken what damage ye have done tae me? Tae me clan? All because ye wished tae have yer revenge? Ye could have done it on yer own, could ye nae? Ye could have found Callum on yer own an’ killed him if ye so wished. Ye were always a part o’ the Ravencloaks.”

“I wasnae,” Lucia said in a small voice, shaking her head vehemently, but Alaric hardly listened.

“But nay. Nay, ye decided tae use me an’ ye had nae regard fer the consequences I would have tae face,” he continued, as though Lucia had never even spoken at all. “Ye tricked me intae thinkin’ ye loved me just tae use me as a tool tae get what ye wanted. Are ye proud o’ yerself? I hope it was worth it, Lucia, I truly dae.”

It was then that Lucia met his gaze for the first time since the beginning of their fight. For the first time, too, Alaric saw that her eyes were shining with unshed tears—tears which then quickly began to fall, carving paths down her cheeks.

“Ye’re right,” she said, voice breaking into a sob. “Ye’re right. I used ye an’ that is terrible o’ me. I have nay excuse fer what I did, what happened tae ye when ye were abducted just fer me gain. Except that I didnae ken ye. But all that changed when I fell in love with ye, Alaric. That wasnae a lie. It isnae a lie. Naethin’ else has mattered tae me ever since I fell in love with ye, an’ I wished tae tell ye the truth, I really did. I kent what it would mean fer us but I also kent ye deserved tae find out everythin’ I have done, how everythin’ started. Please… please believe me when I tell ye I never meant tae hurt ye. I didnae think we would… I didnae think I would have these feelings fer ye or that ye would have them fer me. I thought… I thought we could keep our distance.”

That was hardly a good enough excuse as far as Alaric was concerned. Nothing Lucia could tell him could make him feel any better, especially not when she was so blatantly telling him that she had, indeed, been using him. It was one thing to know it and another to hear it from her own two lips, admitted so brazenly.

Her guilt was obvious, hanging heavy in the air between them, but that wasn’t enough. It meant nothing to Alaric. It only proved that Lucia wasn’t entirely heartless, but that didn’t lessen the sting of her betrayal.

Still, seeing her so broken, crying for the first time in front of him and allowing her emotions to show, stirred a certain sadness within him, a terrible, uncomfortable weight in his stomach that told him he was wrong for not even listening to what she had to say. He still cared about her, no matter how much she had hurt him, he still wished to comfort her, provide her with a shoulder to cry on and tell her that everything would work out in the end. However, his rational self knew he had to keep his distance.

What was done was done. There was no taking back the betrayal, the pain, the anger. There was no changing what Lucia had done to bring them to that moment.

“I… I cannae bear tae be around ye,” Alaric said. There was nothing more for him to say. He could make no promises nor could he give her a reassurance. He needed time and space; he needed to be far away from her. “I must think.”

As he spoke, he made his way out once more and was not surprised when Lucia didn’t even attempt to stop him. Before he left, though, he paused by the door and turned to look at her, swallowing around the knot in his throat.

“Dinnae leave the castle,” he said. “Promise me. It isnae safe out there, Callum an’ the Ravencloaks are still here.”

Lucia nodded wordlessly, wringing her fingers nervously. Suddenly, she seemed much smaller than usual, as though her entire body had deflated. Gone was the pride with which she always carried herself. In its place, there was nothing but guilt and fear.

It seemed like an empty promise to Alaric, but he had to trust she would listen to him and stay within the castle walls. Lucia may have been impulsive and controlling, but she was no fool and he hoped that even though she was driven by revenge, she would realize just how dangerous it was to leave the castle all alone.

With that one final warning, Alaric left the room and closed the door behind him. He hoped that once he returned later that night, Lucia would be long gone, confined within her own chambers, but until then, he would spend his hours elsewhere.

The castle was still up in chaos, the attack still fresh and its effects still felt. Though the soldiers had managed to put out all the fires, there was still much to be done and discussed, and Alaric knew no one would be getting any sleep that night. With that thought in mind, he made his way to Evan’s study, thinking that he would surely find him there. When he opened the door he saw him, Bonnie, and Isabeau, all of them with a drink in hand, looking weary and haggard—more so than Alaric had seen them in a long time.

If the looks of concern they gave him, though, were any indication, he thought he must have looked worse than all three of them.

“What is the matter with ye?” Evan asked, always the one to get straight to the point. “Why dae ye look like that? Are ye hurt?”

“Nay,” said Alaric with a sigh as he walked over to the desk and poured himself some wine in a spare cup from the silver tray that stood there, next to a pile of documents.

“Is Lucia hurt?” Isabeau asked. At the mention of her name, Alaric almost spilled the wine as his hand trembled, but he took a deep breath and managed to compose himself, before he downed the entire cup and promptly refilled it.

“She’s fine,” he said. “But she… she isnae who we thought she was.”

Evan, Bonnie, and Isabeau all stared at him in confusion, though no one prompted him to say more. They all knew he would explain, he only needed some time.

Collapsing onto the last empty chair in the room, one that stood near the window that overlooked the courtyard where the soldiers were still running around and patrolling, making sure no one from the Ravencloaks would come within the walls, Alaric took another swig of his wine. For a while, he stared at the soldiers in the courtyard in silence, until he managed to gather his thoughts enough to tell his family everything that had happened—how Lucia had sought out revenge for her brother’s death, how she had helped him when he was part of the Ravencloaks, how she had used Alaric to get what she wanted.

“Even after everythin’… she still lied tae me fer so long,” Alaric said as he finished his explanation of the events that had led them all to that night. “She kent how much the clan means tae me. An’ she claimed, she still claims that she loves me, but how can she love me when she has lied tae me this whole time? How can she say that? How can she expect me tae believe her?”

An’ does it matter if I dae? Even if she loves me as she claims, she still lied. She still used me. I could never trust her again.

The three of them listened to his story quietly. Alaric didn’t miss the way Isabeau averted her gaze, fidgeting with the embroidered edge of her sleeve. Alaric knew that in the short time she and Lucia had known one another, they had also grown fond of each other, and he could only imagine that this was hard on Isabeau, too—finding out that a woman she had considered a friend had brought such sorrow to their lives, especially her brother’s.

“I suppose ye must decide what is more important tae ye,” said Evan after a short pause. “Yer pride or the lass ye love.”

Alaric considered his brother’s words. It was true that he loved Lucia. He loved her more than he ever thought possible and he had hoped for a long and happy future with her, but he knew what the right decision was. He couldn’t be selfish. He couldn’t even consider the possibility of forgiving her. He could only focus on making amends and trying to help his clan as much as he could, even if it meant he would never find true happiness again.

After all, he didn’t even know if he could forgive her, despite the feelings he still had for her.

There was only one way forward and he had to take it, along with the pain.