Page 31 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)

"For ye. Just as ye risked yers for me," Neala replied quietly. "Is it true that yer father beat ye for losin' Nessa? Ye must ken we were the ones who took her. And yet ye still kept me secret?"

Ansel picked up his sword and held it loosely in his hand. "Ye are me enemy. Ye have nae right tae be here. Leave. Now."

Neala simply shook her head.

He took a threatening step forward, his hand gripped tight around the pommel of his blade.

"I should cut ye down where ye stand. I gave ye yer chance.

I gave ye every chance. Ye were a spy, a traitor, the blood of me enemy, and I was fool enough tae let ye go.

Ye returned the favor when ye saved me life.

Now we owe each other nothin'. I'm givin' ye one more chance tae leave. "

Her eyes flicked to his sword, but she did not seem concerned. Instead, they filled with a deep sadness. "Ye did more than that for me," she told him, not moving at all. "Ye think I dinnae ken what ye did for me friends? For me. And I ken what ye lost as a result."

Pain stabbed at Ansel's heart so powerfully that he physically stumbled. Baldric's grinning face swam through his mind, that night when he'd promised Ansel nothing would go wrong. He'd waited all night for the signal. Maybe, if he'd just been able to stay awake…

He closed his eyes and shook his head, desperate to rid them of the image. He could not let his emotions bleed in, especially not now.

"I'm sorry that I never kent Baldric," Neala said quietly. "He sounds like he was a wonderful man."

"He was. Much better than I will ever be," Ansel said roughly. "I'm nae him. I never will be. I watched him die, right before me eyes. His last words to me father were that yer brother lives and that the war is lost. And then I watched as me own father cut my cousin's head from his shoulders."

She shivered, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said again. She hesitated, then said, "But why… why did ye nae leave? After that, surely…"

"Ye dinnae get it, do ye? I already told ye.

I'm nae Baldric. I'm nothin' but me father's son.

That's all I was ever born tae be. I killed me mother by bein' born, and me only purpose since has been tae serve him.

" He shivered again, though it had nothing to with the cold.

"What ye ken of me, what ye think of me, is nothin' compared tae the darkness I've seen.

The crimes I've committed. I am nae what ye want me tae be. "

Neala shook her head. "Nessa told me ye tried tae spare people. She told me?—"

Ansel's hand tightened on his sword. "I told ye tae leave!" he snarled, furious at the way his heart was thrumming in his chest. He had fought so hard to stop feeling, and it was crumbling around him just by her presence. "Get out! Go!"

"Ye serve him, but ye must ken it's a fool's game," she insisted. "Kill me if ye want, but what then? Cailean is comin'. The rebel army will soon eclipse the remnants of Ashkirk support. Ye must ken there's nae way that ye can win."

"Win?" Ansel laughed bitterly. "Who said anythin' about winnin '? I dinnae have a choice. I said I'll serve me father, and I will. And when I'm finally cut down, maybe it'll be a mercy for all of us."

She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Ye're wrong. It isnae too late. Ye can still come with me. Leave with me, right now. It will take a lot of work, but the rebels will warm tae ye, just as the did tae Nessa. They ken how tae forgive."

"Forgive." Ansel laughed again, this time with more darkness swirling in. He gripped his sword and moved closer. "I'm long beyond forgiveness, Neala. They'd kill me the moment they saw me, and they'd be right."

"I'd protect ye," she insisted, though for the first time, her voice shook. "I am the true McNair princess, the only woman left in the line they're fightin' so hard tae restore. If I vouch for ye, they'll listen to me."

There was a sudden crashing sound outside, but Ansel barely paid attention. Noise was barely anything new at the war camp. No doubt, another battle had begun.

He closed the gap between them and raised his sword, pointing it to her neck.

"Bein' the McNair princess does ye nae good in Ashkirk land.

I ken yer blood is true, but that will only make me father's men more eager tae spill it.

And despite what ye seem tae want, I am one of me father's men. That's all I've ever been."

For the first time, fear flickered in her eyes, but she looked up at him with defiance in her stance.

She swallowed, her throat moving dangerously close to the point of his sword.

"Do it, then," she said. Outside, there was shouting and the sound of footsteps running away from the tent.

"Do it, and call yer men tae see me body.

Do it, and prove tae yer father that ye truly do follow him—prove tae yerself ye're nae just his prisoner. "

The next beat of their hearts seemed to last an eternity, and Ansel didn't even breathe. He stared at her for a lifetime, lost in her eyes, drowning in her voice.

Then he cursed and shook his head. "Damn ye, woman," he snarled. "Ye should have stayed away."

He gripped his sword tighter, and Neala closed her eyes.

Then he threw the weapon aside. As it bounced off the woven carpet with a muffled clang, Ansel grabbed Neala's face roughly between his hands and pulled her close, pressing his lips hard against hers.