Page 15 of Scot of Deception (The Mackintosh Clan #6)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

C astle Stalker stood in the middle of the tidal islet in Loch Laich—four stories of brown stone, naturally fortified whenever the tide was high. Much to Blaine’s relief, though, when he and Kathleen arrived, the tide was low and allowed for passage on their horse, without the need for a boat or for them to wait.

The last thing he wanted to do was wait; he couldn’t stand being outside the security of the castle walls for much longer, not because he was afraid for his own well-being, but rather because he feared another attack on Kathleen was imminent.

He had only just managed to calm her enough for her to be able to ride the rest of the distance. At first, Blaine had feared the shock would be too great for her and that she wouldn’t be able to continue on their journey for a long time, but she proved to be more resilient than he had thought. Now that they were in Castle Stalker, he could only hope she would at least enjoy Fenella’s wedding.

“Here we are,” he said as the two of them rode down the last stretch of the road that led to the gates. “Are ye alright?”

“Aye,” Kathleen assured him, nodding slowly. “Aye, I’m fine now. It’s safe here, right? The Campbells wouldnae attack Castle Stalker.”

“O’ course,” Blaine said, though he wasn’t so certain himself. There was always a chance the Campbells would try to attack Kathleen there, thinking she would be more vulnerable when she wasn’t guarded by her own people. But Clan Stewart was a good ally of Clan Mackintosh and Blaine doubted they would let anything happen to her. If they did, they would have to answer to their allies and explain to them why they had allowed harm to befall her.

Besides, he was there. If anything happened, Blaine would simply whisk her away in the confusion and make sure she wasn’t harmed.

“Blaine Farquharson an’ Miss Kathleen Mackintosh,” Blaine told the two young guards who stood outside the castle gates. “Laird Stewart is expectin’ us. ”

Just as Kathleen’s father had assured him, the two of them were immediately welcomed into Castle Stalker. The gates opened with a groan, the chains rattling loudly as they wrapped around the coils, and the guards waved them inside the curtain walls.

There, a courtyard sprawled before them. Nobles and servants alike roamed about the grounds, the courtyard lively with conversation and laughter. Everyone seemed to have gathered there for Fenella Stewart’s wedding, guests coming in from all the neighboring clans.

A pair of servants approached Blaine and Kathleen after they were summoned by one of the guards who stood just inside the castle gates. The two women were young, and bowed enthusiastically at the two of them. The taller of the two stepped forward.

“Welcome, m’laird, m’lady,” she said. “Shall we show ye tae yer chambers?”

“Aye, please take Miss Mackintosh tae her chambers,” Blaine told the woman, giving her a small, polite smile. “Make sure she’s comfortable.”

Kathleen turned to him with a small frown. “Ye willnae see yer chambers? ”

“I will,” Blaine assured her. “I’ll only tend tae the horse first.”

His excuse seemed to satisfy Kathleen and she nodded with a smile. “Alright, then I suppose I shall see ye later again.”

“I’ll find ye once ye’re settled,” Blaine assured her, and with that, Kathleen followed the two servants inside the keep. Only once she was gone into the distance, too far to notice that anything was amiss, did Blaine turn to one of the guards standing near him and said, “Me name’s Blaine Farquharson. Laird Stewart is expectin’ me. Could ye please take me tae him?”

The guard stood a little straighter once addressed, pushing his shoulders back. “O’ course,” he said. “Follow me.”

Blaine did as he was told, following the man through the courtyard and into the keep. Inside, the place was even more impressive, with towering ceilings, rich tapestries, and colorful portraits on the stone walls. Torches lined the hallways, casting a warm light on everything around them, but Blaine was mostly interested in the layout of the keep than anything else. He needed to know where every possible exit was in case of an attack.

The guard led Blaine down twisting corridors, stopping only when they reached a wide door with animal motifs carved into the wood. The man knocked on the door and, at Laird Stewart’s prompting, opened it to announce Blaine’s presence.

“Me laird, Mr. Farquharson is here tae see ye,” he said. “He claims ye are expectin’ him.”

“Aye,” the laird called from inside the study. “Thank ye, ye can let him in.”

The guard bowed to Blaine—a gesture that he still found strange. He was usually the one to bow; not the other way around; something he did when he entered the room and saw the laird sitting there, behind his desk.

Just like the rest of the castle, the laird’s study was constructed with functionality in mind but lacked some of its warmth. There was large, heavy furniture, there were countless books, a large fireplace that was enough to warm the entire room, and a window to let in natural light and allow the laird to overlook the courtyard and the training grounds. The only decoration in the room seemed to be a rich tapestry with a hunting motif in deep reds and gold, and a portrait of a man Blaine didn’t recognize, but who greatly resembled the laird with his gray eyes and chestnut hair.

And there, behind the desk, sat Laird Stewart. Even seated, he looked like a tower of a man, tall and broad-shouldered. Blaine was a big man himself, and yet he was certain that if Laird Stewart stood next to him, he would look small in comparison.

“Laird Stewart,” Blaine said in greeting as he approached the desk. “Me name’s Blaine Farquharson. I was sent here by?—”

“Och aye,” said Laird Stewart, sitting a little straighter in his seat. “I ken who ye are. Laird Mackintosh just wrote and informed me that ye would be visitin’ us with his niece. Please, take a seat.”

As the man spoke, he gestured at one of the chairs that stood at the other side of the desk, across from him. Blaine took a seat and it was at that exact point that all his exhaustion decided to make itself known, settling deep into his bones. It was as though his body had been waiting for that moment.

“So ye ken I am here tae keep her safe,” Blaine said, forcing himself to sit upright instead of sinking into the chair’s embrace. “I must be where she is at all times.”

“I understand,” said Laird Stewart. “I have already arranged fer yer rooms tae be next tae hers. I assume ye will be attendin’ the weddin’ an’ festivities, as well?”

“If that’s alright with ye,” said Blaine, but what he truly meant was that he would certainly be attending every event Kathleen was supposed to attend. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight. He had clear orders from her father to keep an eye on her at all times, since she was known to do whatever she pleased, whenever she pleased—consequences be damned.

“Well, since it is required,” said the laird, giving Blaine a small shrug. He seemed like a reasonable man, and Blaine was glad about that. The last thing he needed was to have to deal with someone who was hellbent on making his mission even harder for him. As long as Laird Stewart stayed out of his way—and kept his men out of his way, too—then Blaine wasn’t too concerned. “That lassie has always been a handful. Every time she is with me Fenella, I fear she’ll go down the same path.”

Though Laird Stewart’s words seemed harsh to Blaine, his tone betrayed no animosity towards Kathleen—only concern for her and his daughter. He could understand that; that was precisely why he had been hired by her father and her uncle in the first place, after all. And the two men had made sure he knew just how difficult Kathleen could be.

“Watch out fer them both, will ye?” Laird Stewart requested with a sigh. “An’ dinnae fash, ye’ll be rewarded handsomely fer it.”

If there was one thing Blaine never did, that was refuse to be paid extra for his efforts. Still, his main concern was Kathleen, not Fenella .

“I believe it is better if ye have some o’ yer own men watch over yer daughter, me laird,” he said. “I fear that if it comes down tae Kathleen or yer daughter, it will be Kathleen I will save. I have a contract with her family. I cannae ignore that.”

An’ I would never let anythin’ happen tae Kathleen.

But Laird Stewart didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know just how close the two of them had gotten or what they had been up to on their way to the castle.

“I understand, o’ course,” said the other man. “An’ rest assured that naethin’ will happen tae wee Kathleen here. The castle is perfectly safe.”

“Perhaps,” said Blaine. “But we were attacked on the way here. Campbell men have reached yer lands, me laird, an’ I think it would be wise if ye sent some o’ yer scouts out tae find them,” he said, but then felt out of place telling the man how to rule his own clan, so he added, “If ye dinnae mind me intrusion an’ the unsolicited advice. I dinnae ken how many there are. We were attacked by six an’ I killed three o’ them. The rest escaped.”

Laird Stewart’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Blaine, and it seemed to him as though those gray eyes were staring right through him .

“Ye killed three Campbell men on yer own?”

“Aye,” said Blaine. “Well, Kathleen helped me with one o’ them.”

“She did?” asked the laird, sounding entirely surprised by that for a moment. But then, he laughed softly, shaking his head. “O’ course she did. If anyone would dae such a thing, it would be her.”

“She is tenacious,” Blaine said, for lack of a better term.

“That she is. Sometimes I wish me daughter was a little more like her, but Fenella’s a sweet bairn. She never had that… tenacity o’ which ye speak. I think if she did, she would have long since fled the castle fer havin’ tae wed.”

Regret tinted the laird’s words and for a moment, Blaine watched him as he blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t meant to say that at all. And why would he? Blaine was a stranger. Not only that, but he was a hired sword, a commoner, far beneath him. It was hardly appropriate for either of them to engage in this discussion, but the laird’s remorse must have been overwhelming.

“Well, thank ye, Farquharson,” said Laird Stewart, quickly composing himself as he stood. “If there is anythin’ ye need, ye may ask the servants or the guards. ”

Blaine stood as well, bowing to the laird before heading to the door. When he reached it, though, he paused and turned to look at the man one more time, not able to stop himself.

“I humbly suggest ye make sure yer men check every single person who walks in through the gates,” he said. “Campbell men could try tae infiltrate the castle by disguisin’ themselves or slippin’ inside with them. Fergive me insistence.”

“Dinnae fash,” said the other man not offended. “Me soldiers are the best in these parts.”

Blaine tilted his head in acknowledgement, though he didn’t know if he agreed with the sentiment. There were plenty of good soldiers and plenty more who were average or below. Then there were plenty of men like him—men who were trained for years to kill good soldiers like the ones Laird Stewart boasted.

Blaine left the study with one final bow and then asked for the location of his and Kathleen’s chambers to one of the maids. Instead of heading there, though, he took another route, roaming around the castle and the grounds that surrounded it. His keen eyes searched for any weak spots, any points the enemy could exploit in order to slip inside undetected .

Like every other place, Castle Stalker had its fair share of weaknesses—a gate here, a crumbling wall there—but most of them seemed to be well-guarded, at least at that time of the day. He couldn’t say for certain those guards would do their job when it was time for the wedding festivities. Security always tended to be more lax when it came to celebrations, when those were actually the most important times for them to be on high alert, with many of the guards slacking off instead.

It wasn’t often that he found himself in a castle. Sometimes the job required it, but apart from those that, he had no reason to be in one. Still, there was one thing he knew about them: they were all more or less the same. The same high ceilings, the same portcullises, the same decorations of endless portraits and tapestries as displays of wealth.

The same people roamed the halls, literally and like copies of each other.

He had grown to nurture a distaste for them. The people who lived behind their walls were safe, but they also surrendered themselves to this feeling of safety, to the point where they neglected the necessity of fear. Sometimes, it paid off to be living on the edge, to remind oneself that danger could lurk around any corner. No matter how safe a place seemed, there were always ways to breach it.

Only once he was satisfied with his inspection did he visit the chambers he had been given for the duration of his visit. The moment he entered the room, the large bed that stood at the far wall, with its plush bedding and the canopy that hung above it, called to him like a siren. It took every ounce of his willpower to resist the warm embrace of the covers and instead ask for a bath to be brought to him, but it was much needed. He and Kathleen had managed to clean themselves up after the ambush had left them soaked in blood, but he still felt the need to scrub the grime from the travels off his body.

As he sank into the warm water a short time later, he wondered if Kathleen was doing the same thing just past the wall that separated their chambers. He imagined her in a tub much like his, soaking in the water, her breasts just peeking over the surface. He imagined being there with her, kneeling next to the tub to dip his hand in its depths, his fingers seeking her entrance. With a sigh, he let his hand roam down his stomach until he could take himself in his hand, his length quickly hardening as he imagined everything he wanted to do to her.

He didn’t know when his eyes had fallen shut, but he suddenly opened them and released himself from his grip as if he had been burned. What was he thinking? He had already promised himself he would never get that close to Kathleen again. It was not only indecent to be daydreaming about her; it was also self-inflicted torture and he had to put a swift end to it before it even began.

And yet, in the back of his mind, his desire lingered like the last burning embers of a fire that refused to go out.