Chapter Eighteen

Kirk darted toward the figure, cocking the dagger back in preparation to throw.

“Hold, man!” The sharp whisper was edged with urgency.

Kirk froze, ready to launch the dagger from his fingertips at the slightest provocation.

“Show yerself or lose yer life,” he rasped into the darkness.

“It’s Colin MacKay.” The man stepped forward, one hand raised defensively and the other wrapped around the hilt of the sword at his hip.

Kirk let out a ragged breath through his teeth. “Ye ken that I could have killed ye four times over before ye could have unsheathed that sword, dinnae ye?” he snapped, his relief mingling with annoyance. “What were ye thinking, sneaking up like that?”

“I was thinking that Patrick MacDonald told me to reach ye as fast as I could without killing my horse,” Colin shot back. He eased his hand back from his sword but kept his hard, wary gaze pinned on Kirk.

Slowly, Kirk tucked the dagger back into its sheath in his sleeve. “I wasnae expecting ye so soon. Patrick said that ye were still in the Lowlands with the Bruce.”

“Aye well,” Colin said, stepping closer so that he could lower his voice. “The Bruce launched another siege on Berwick a month past. I was with him until we got word that a member of the Bodyguard Corps had been attacked. He sent me to the Highlands with all haste a sennight ago. I was on my way back to the Bruce’s side when I ran into Patrick just outside Inverness.”

Apprehension coiled in the pit of Kirk’s stomach.

Colin paused, his jaw working. As the moon slipped through the scuttling clouds overhead, the light caught Colin’s eyes. They glittered with dark anger as he stared at Kirk. “It seems that after attacking one of the Bodyguard Corps, a man kidnapped one of our charges,” he said at last. “A Highlander, from the description. Dark hair. Pale blue eyes. Sounds like ye, does it no’?”

“Let me expla—”

“Since Patrick told me where to find ye, he saved me the step of having to hunt ye down and slice that traitorous throat of yers if need be,” Colin interjected flatly. He paused then. “But since Patrick seemed to think ye had something to tell me first, I suppose I can hear ye out before I gut ye.”

“The lad—the member of the Corps—is he all right?” Kirk asked, ignoring Colin’s icy threat.

“His name is Will Sinclair,” Colin shot back.

Shite . The Sinclairs were well-known and powerful allies of the Bruce. Kirk had crossed paths with Garrick Sinclair a few times, since the man worked in the King’s camp and had been in the Bruce’s inner circle for years. Robert Sinclair, Garrick’s older brother, was Laird of the clan, and Daniel currently held the Bruce’s ancestral castle against the English in the Lowlands. If Kirk remembered correctly, Will Sinclair was a cousin of the influential brothers.

“Is he all right?” Kirk repeated quietly. Even if the lad hadn’t been a member of a powerful clan, and even if he hadn’t been part of the Bodyguard Corps, it still sickened Kirk to think that he’d wreaked more carnage.

Colin glared at him for another moment before answering. “He’ll live, though it remains to be seen if he’ll lose his right eye.”

“Shite.” This time, Kirk spoke the curse aloud. “And the others?”

“Minor injuries,” Colin replied. “They’ll be fine, though they all want the hide of the traitorous Scot who took them down and kidnapped their charge. And I cannae blame them—for believing ye to be a traitor, that is.”

Desperate anger shot through Kirk’s veins. “It was yer bloody idea to make me a spy—yers and the King’s,” he bit out. “Ye were the ones who sent me into that vipers’ nest and told me to become one of them.”

“And so ye have,” Colin replied in a heated whisper. “Mayhap a wee bit too well. Have ye lost sight of the larger mission, Kirk?”

“Ye think I would do any of this if no’ for the Bruce’s cause?” Fury now coursed hotly in his blood, pounding in his ears. “Ye think I would harm my own countrymen, kidnap an innocent woman, and drag her across Scotland just for fun? Or for the sick pleasure of it?”

“Ye tell me,” Colin said. “Ye are the one who has supposedly become a member of the Order of the Shadow. Mayhap they made ye forget who ye are truly working for. Mayhap ye wanted to forget.”

Rage burned up the back of Kirk’s throat—rage and shame, for Colin’s words had struck dangerously close to the truth. Hadn’t Kirk told the King of Scotland that he’d thought of deserting, fleeing like a traitorous coward after Carrickfergus? And hadn’t he seized on the chance to earn his way out of the King’s service, even if it had meant becoming one of the cold-hearted mercenaries employed by the Order?

Aye, Kirk had wanted to forget—he’d wanted to forget Carrickfergus and everything this damned long, bloody war had taken from his soul. The Order had allowed him to turn off his emotions, to ignore the last shred of honor left in him, and hide behind the blank mask of a soulless bounty hunter.

And the truth was, taking the mission for the Bruce, though seemingly a noble act, had allowed him to forget, too—forget the price of simply following orders. Lillian’s life now hung in the balance because he’d taken first the Bruce’s assignment, and then the Order’s.

But that final thread of conscience left in his heart had not yet snapped.

“I havenae turned against ye, if that is what ye are accusing me of. I did as the King wished. I made myself one of the Order of the Shadow. I am doing all this for him—for the cause.”

“And for yerself—for the freedom the King promised ye,” Colin added softly.

Kirk could not deny it, so he remained silent.

“Were we right to send ye into their midst?” Colin asked. “Have ye gathered all that we need to take them down?”

Kirk stiffened. “Does that mean ye trust that I am still loyal to ye?”

“I trust ye about as much as I trust a sunny day in the Highlands to hold,” Colin replied, lifting one eyebrow. “However, the Bruce still believes in ye—and in this damned mission.”

Kirk exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He was treading on very thin ice, but it was holding—for now. Colin could bark and bluster all he wanted as long as the Bruce still stood behind Kirk.

“I’ll tell ye all I’ve learned,” Kirk said quietly, “but I’m in a bind, and I dinnae see a way out of it. My mission to infiltrate the Order and the Bruce’s wish to protect Lillian Fitzhugh are now at cross-purposes.”

“Aye,” Colin said, frowning. “That is as I feared. Ye have the lass, then?”

“That is why I sent for ye.” Kirk stepped aside and pointed toward their little camp. Lillian still lay fast asleep. Her small form rose and fell with even breaths, and her chestnut hair shone auburn in the red light of the glowing embers.

“It took me these past nine months just to earn enough trust within the Order to be assigned a mission,” Kirk said. “And the first one I get is to capture a woman under the Corps’ protection. I tried no’ to hurt those men guarding her, but I couldnae risk coming under suspicion from the Order either. If it looked like I didnae do my job, there’s no telling what they’d do to me.”

Kirk thought of the man who’d failed to capture Lillian before him. He now lay in pieces inside Roland Gervais’s desk. And that poor fool hadn’t even betrayed the Order, he’d simply failed his assignment.

“As I said, ye proved yer allegiance to the Order—mayhap too well,” Colin said. He nudged his chin toward Lillian’s sleeping form. “But the lass is meant to be under the Bruce’s protection. We cannae allow her to fall into enemy hands.”

“And if I fail to deliver her, the Order will have me killed,” Kirk hissed. “If ye dinnae care for my life, then mayhap ye’ll care that ye’ll lose yer insider within the Order. If I go down, so do yer chances of eradicating the bastards who have thwarted the Bruce’s cause time and time again. ”

Colin grunted in annoyance. “Then I ask ye again—tell me what ye’ve learned so far. Mayhap it is enough to take down the Order before ye have to turn the lass over to yer employer.”

“I fear it isnae,” Kirk said, his own frustration rising once more. “The Compound—where the Order isolates and trains all the bounty hunters they employ—is in a vast forest in the heart of England. They watch the men carefully there, no’ only for their skill, but to make sure they can be trusted. Some of the men had been there more than a year without being sent on a mission when I arrived.”

“And who makes the decisions? Who coordinates the payment and selects the men to go on an assignment?”

“I believe it is all run through a man named Roland Gervais,” Kirk said. “I’ve only met him once, and I was blindfolded when I was taken to him.”

Colin rubbed his jaw. “I havenae heard the name, but it is something to go on at least. What else can ye tell me?”

“The bounty hunters use a series of safe houses that the Order has established. Most are in England, but a few are in the Lowlands. In fact, this abandoned cottage is one of them. They pick spots in ruin and isolation, places where other travelers wouldnae stop and prying eyes willnae go looking. A man in the Order can move from spot to spot with his quarry, avoiding people and roads nigh all the way to the Compound. ”

“Do ye ken the locations of the other safe houses?”

Kirk hesitated. “Aye. I was given a map.”

Colin must have sensed Kirk’s wariness, for he stiffened. “Give it to me. We could use it to start dismantling the Order even before they realize we are onto them.”

“Aye, but bounty hunters only see the map when they are sent on an assignment. There are only a few men on missions at any given time, and for all I know, they give us each a different map to protect their network,” Kirk countered. “If ye start hitting the safe houses while I’m in the field, they’ll ken someone has betrayed them—someone on a verra short list that includes me.”

“Then what would ye have us do? Wait indefinitely?” Colin hissed.

“God, nay,” Kirk ground out. “I want out of this bloody mess as fast as possible. But while I’m undercover within the Order, even a whiff of something suspicious afoot puts my life—and the Bruce’s mission—in danger.”

“What do ye want then?” Colin asked testily.

Kirk drew in a deep breath. “I need more time.” It pained him to say it, but he couldn’t rush this. If he were to truly take down the Order and get out of this war once and for all, he needed to do everything right. “More time to gather information on Roland Gervais—where he conducts his business, how wide the Order’s reach is, if there is anyone else pulling the strings—all of it.”

Colin muttered a curse. “Time, MacLeod, is the one thing ye cannae have more of. The longer ye stay in the Order, the more likely it is that ye’ll be found out. Besides, the Bruce cannae sit idly by and let ye turn one of his assets over into enemy hands.”

Involuntarily, Kirk’s hands clenched to fists at his sides. “I ken that. And Lillian is far more than an ‘asset,’ as ye call her. She is a good, innocent woman. She should never have been put in the middle of this.”

Colin’s sharp eyes dropped to Kirk’s balled hands, then drifted beyond his shoulder to where Lillian slept. When his gaze returned to Kirk once more, a new light of comprehension sparked there.

“Ye care for her.”

It wasn’t a question. Kirk opened his mouth to deny it, but the words stuck in his throat.

“I…”

Colin’s breath hissed through his teeth. “Christ, man. What are ye thinking, getting involved with her?”

“We arenae involved ,” Kirk fired back, finally finding his voice. “I just…as I said, she should never have been dragged into this. It doesnae signify aught just because I have enough honor left to hate that an innocent woman is in the middle of this.”

That was true enough, but so much more lay beneath those words. Kirk’s heart twisted painfully. If he couldn’t admit it to Colin, at least he could admit it to himself .

He cared for Lillian.

He grew sick at the thought of hurting her—of anyone hurting her. She deserved so much more than this. She deserved a life of peace and happiness, to greet the world each morning with that sharp mind of hers filled with curiosity and excitement, not fear and pain. And he wanted to be there to see it—to see hope and joy light her delicate features, to see all the good she could do in the world.

Instead, he would be the one to break her, to ruin her life.

“Ye say ye need more time, but more time willnae change the fact that the Bruce will no’ allow Lillian Fitzhugh to fall into enemy hands,” Colin said softly, breaking into Kirk’s thoughts.

Desperate anger lanced through Kirk, snapping his control. His hand shot out and gripped Colin’s arm. “What would ye have me do, then?” he demanded. “I cannae keep her safe and complete my mission for the Bruce. I cannae fail to turn her over to the Order, but nor can I see her harmed.”

Colin jerked free of Kirk’s hold, squaring his shoulders. “I’ll give ye a sennight. One sennight. Do with it what ye will, but I’d suggest trying to figure out a way to save yer hide from the Order, for when yer time is up, I’ll hunt ye down and get the lass to safety if ye havenae released her.”

“Ye are giving me a death sentence—and forfeiting my mission to learn the Order’s secrets,” Kirk hissed. “ If I dinnae deliver Lillian—”

“They’ll kill ye,” Colin cut in. “But if ye give her over to the Bruce’s enemies, I’ll kill ye myself for acting as a traitor against the cause. The lass isnae yer concern. She’s the Bruce’s, and he wants her alive and under our protection. If ye still havenae learned enough to take down the Order when yer sennight is up, figure out a way to stay alive and amongst their ranks.”

Kirk ground his teeth against the urge to throttle Colin. They’d strung him out into an impossible situation: willfully fail his mission with the Order, yet somehow manage to remain in their trust—and keep all his body parts intact.

“Ye cannae expect me to—”

“MacLeod.”

Both Kirk and Colin whirled at the low growl of a man’s voice.

Logan Mackenzie stood before the crumbling cottage, the hard lines of his face lit by the dying embers of the fire Kirk had built.

And he had Lillian in his hold, one hand covering her mouth and the other clutching a dagger.

Logan’s cold gray gaze shot between Kirk and Colin. “What the bloody hell are ye doing, MacLeod?”