Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

Thora saw the despair on Aedan’s face, the crushing grief that mirrored her own feeling of desolation. She saw the shock of it sweep over him, the way his heart broke and shattered in his eyes at the truth that had been revealed.

She couldn’t move. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to run away. She wanted to strike at Lachlan Ross for what he’d just done. She felt warm tears falling down her cheeks while her gaze never left Aedan’s empty eyes.

Then she saw the guards converging on them, from all around the courtyard, and realized that they had far greater problems. “Aedan, we need tae leave.” He didn’t move. “Aedan!”

He looked lost, utterly destroyed by the truth that Lachlan had revealed, and her voice couldn’t reach him. Thora reached for him, intent on shaking him to his senses.

Then Mac was between them, delivering a harsh slap to Aedan’s back that made him blink in shock. “Me laird, there’s nay time! We need tae go!”

Awareness came back to Aedan’s features, and he swung up into the saddle of his horse, Mac not a second behind. Thora scrambled to follow suit.

Even as fast as Mac had roused them to action, it was late. The nearest of the guards lunged at them with a sword. Mac kicked his horse forward and hit the guard with the hilt of his own blade, then whipped around and cut another’s arm, deep enough to make him drop his weapon with a cry.

That cry was enough to shake Aedan out of the remains of his stupor. The laird of Clan Cameron drew his own sword, the blade snapping out like lightning to strike a man across the head with the flat, before he roared an order. “Tae the gate and down the road. Go!”

The men needed no urging, and neither did Thora. Almost as one, the horses surged forward, toward the open portal.

Two of the guards moved to shut it, while others barred their path. Thora caught a glimpse of young Keevan’s father among the interceptors. Their eyes met, and then the man’s step faltered sharply, stopping the warrior and several of his comrades, giving Thora and the others a chance to get away. It looked as if they stumbled, but over the head of another warrior who tripped, Thora saw him mouth the words ‘Thank ye.’

Then they were gone, out the gate and down the road in a wild race for safety, heading back toward Castle Cameron. Thora rode blindly, her head down and her shoulders hunched against the wind and the stinging tears in her eyes. It hadn’t escaped her notice that not once had Aedan looked in her direction, nor had he called to see that she was safe. In fact, had it not been that the whole party was riding at near breakneck speed, she would have thought he was trying to outrun her.

The worst part of it was, she wasn’t sure she could fault him for it. She badly wanted to outrun her own conscience.

Why? Why hadn’t she heeded the warning of her gift? She’d known the danger of keeping secrets. And yet, she’d convinced herself that there would be time, once they were safe, to tell Aedan the truth. Now it was too late, and she was left hoping that she might at least have a chance to explain herself to him.

They finally stopped in a small town, some several candle-marks from Castle Ross, and a little over half a day’s ride from Cameron Castle. Mac got them permission to use a stable to sleep and rest their horses, but Thora was so lost in her thought she never realized how they went there and when they actually stopped riding. She cried during most of the road but now what she felt was numbness and fear that she’d never be able to fix her relationship with Aedan. She felt empty.

Inside the stable, Aedan studiously ignored her. It was Mac who helped her unsaddle her horse and she tried to read the man-at-arms expression, but he was impassive. “Mac…”

“I’m nae the one ye need tae speak tae.” With that, he turned away. His message was clear.

Heart heavy, Thora made her way to Aedan, where he sat apart from the rest of his clan. “Aedan…”

“Ye deceived me.” His voice was flat and harsh.

“I… I kent ye wouldnae listen if ye kent I was from Clan MacLeod.” She swallowed. “Aedan I swear…”

“Dinnae speak an oath tae me. Yer words are all lies. I’d sooner trust the word o’ Lachlan Ross than ye, and he stabbed me in the back.” Aedan finally turned to face her, and Thora flinched at the rage and devastation in his eyes. “Everything ye said was a lie.”

“Nae everything. Only me name…”

“And ye expect me tae believe that. Tae believe any words ye say, when I ken yer very identity was a falsehood.”

“My feelings were…”

“As much a falsehood as yer name, fer all I ken. Ye lied tae me, betrayed me.”

“Aedan I had tae…”

“Dinnae speak me name!” The words were a roar of anguish. “Dinnae dare tae speak me name as if ye were anything tae me but a liar who tricked me intae caring fer ye.”

Thora flinched back, unable to speak as he closed his eyes and regained his composure. When he opened them, the utter contempt and rage in them made Thora want to sink into a bog and never climb back out. But there was something else that stung even more: pain.

“Ye demanded a bond o’ me, afore we began this venture. A bond fer me aid in return fer yer promise tae heed me choice when all was done. Me side o’ the bond is fulfilled - I’ve given ye all the aid I can in discovering Laird Ross’s schemes. I’ve even helped ye escape. Now ‘tis yer side o’ the bond that needs honoring.”

His voice was colder than the wind outside as he continued. “Yer promise was that, when the task was ended, I could say whether ye were tae stay or go, and ye’d heed me. And so ye have me decision: When the dawn comes, ye’ll board the boat back tae yer island, return tae yer clan and never come near me again.”

Thora felt the weight of the geas, the magical obligation imposed upon each other, settle over her. Her heart sank underneath it and she felt tears prickling. “Aed– Laird Cameron. Please. If ye’d let me explain…”

“I dinnae wish tae hear any sort o’ explanations from ye. Ye have me decision. When dawn comes, I wish nay more than tae see ye gone from me life forever.”

The words settled on her heart like the tolling of a death-knell. Thora bowed her head beneath their weight, and the heaviness of Aedan’s scorn, and slowly turned away.

She’d been a fool. And now she’d lost the trust of the man she loved - and would never see again after daybreak.

Thora settled into the straw at the far side of the barn, and let the tears flow silently. Her heart felt like it was shattering into a hundred pieces.

Worse, she knew it would never, ever be whole again.

Aedan’s night passed sleeplessly. He could hear Thora crying, but his own heart ached far too much for him to care.

Lies. Everything she’d said, everything she’d done, had been a deception. The visions might have been real, but they were the only truth in a web of deceit that she’d woven around him.

Thora MacLeod had stolen his heart, and he would never get it back. All he could do was return home and prepare to face the treachery of Lachlan Ross as best he could. Alone.

By the time dawn came, he felt sick, his eyes gritty and his mood foul. His first impulse, as the rays of the rising sun turned the air around them crimson, then lightened to pale gray skies, was to saddle his horse and ride away, until he reached his castle and could hide, getting completely and utterly drunk. His clan wasn’t expecting him to return to his duties for several days yet, so he could spend the time courting oblivion and trying to stem the bleeding of his soul.

But they’d want to know what had happened to the supposed ‘Lady Cameron’. He had to think of something to tell them…

With a snarl, Aedan slammed his foot into the support of a nearby manger, then grabbed his cloak and stalked outside, only pausing long enough to tell one of the men to bring him his horse when the rest of them had broken their fast. He was in no mood for food.

The weather was chill and cold, with no snow but an overcast of gray clouds - a perfect fit for his mood, actually. Aedan wrapped his cloak tighter around himself as he stomped his way through the slush to the edge of the village and tried in vain not to think about how he’d wrapped his cloak around Thora when they’d made the journey to Castle Ross. She’d been so small and cold…

Aedan groaned and slumped against the stones of a small garden wall. Why did everything go back to Thora? He’d scarcely known her a fortnight, and yet he couldn’t think of a single thing that didn’t lead back to her. The thought of her was like a wound in his soul, bleeding and raw and screaming in pain, and yet he couldn’t stop prodding it, like a small lad picking at scabs and crying because it hurt.

When had everything become so complicated? And why… why had he allowed himself to fall in love with her? Why had he not kept his distance, the way his instincts had first urged him to do? He should never have let her close.

He should never have let her persuade him to accept her ruse of married life. He’d known it was too dangerous. Why had he agreed? Why had he ever let it be anything more than a reluctant deception? And why had he never questioned that a woman so skilled in weaving tales might not have woven one for him?

Footsteps crunched on the ground behind him, and he looked up to see Mac walking toward him. Feeling heavy as the stones on which he sat, Aedan heaved himself to his feet. “Are the men ready tae go?”

“They’re mostly still eating. I came tae see how ye were faring.” Mac’s voice was quiet.

Aedan scoffed bitterly. “And how dae ye think I’m faring, when I’ve discovered the woman I cared fer betrayed me and lied tae me.”

“So ye dae care fer her. I thought as much.” Mac’s voice was soft, full of compassion.

“But she lied tae me, Mac.”

“Aye. But would ye have listened, if she’d given ye her name? Her real name? Or would loyalty tae Lachlan Ross have seen ye tossin’ her out on her ear?”

“I…” Aedan shook his head. They both knew the answer to that question. Thora had known the answer to that question as well. That was why she’d lied to him in the first place.

“So, she might nae have thought she had a choice. And dae ye truly think she lied about everything? Or just her name?”

“She played me fer a fool.”

“Nae so much…” Mac stepped closer. “Tell me something… did ye sleep with her?”

Aedan scowled. “What business is it o’ yers?”

“’Tis nae. But ye have tae ask yerself, given that she’s a laird’s sister, a noblewoman, would she have let ye so close if ‘twas all a lie? Ruin her future?”

Aedan opened his mouth to retort. Then he closed it again.

He’d noted her shyness for himself, her reluctance to get close. He’d been the one to push the boundaries between them, outside of the moments that had been necessary for their deception of Lachlan Ross. “I…”

“Ye dinnae have tae answer, me friend.” Mac put a hand on her shoulder. “But… ye ken more o’ her relationship tae ye than I dae. And ye’re the only one who can decide if ye want tae let the one untruth she told ye destroy all that might have been real between ye.”

The words hit home harder than Lachlan’s sword the day before. “What are ye saying?”

“I’m saying that ye and the lass had something. Something that went beyond yer names and clans. Ye ken ye have tae wed soon… dae ye truly want tae face a loveless marriage, kenning what ye’ve seen ye could have?”

No. No, he didn’t. Sending Thora away had hurt almost as much as learning how she’d deceived him. He shuddered. “But how can I trust her?”

“Ye have tae decide. But if ye cannae trust her… what daes yer heart say, me laird?”

His first instinct was to snarl in anger and stalk away. His second was to shout a vehement denial. But after that… there was a soft whisper, deep inside, that murmured a truth he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. But the truth was there. “I… I cannae trust her… but I dinnae want tae live without her.”

“Then ‘tis best tae talk tae her. But ye’d best be quick. The birlinn tae Skye was dockin’ even as I came tae find ye.”

The words jolted him into motion even before he had a chance to think about what he was doing. All he could think of was Thora… and the desire not to lose her. Not yet. Not like this, not because of words spoken by the betrayer of his clan.

Aedan raced through the village, toward the docks. The snow and mud underfoot was treacherous and uneven, forcing him to slow his steps despite his desire to hurry.

He emerged at the edge of the village, scant yards away from the docks with Mac on his heels. The birlinn was tied up where Mac had said it would be, and passengers were embarking. Aedan’s heart leapt into his throat as he spotted jet black hair nearing the gangplank up to the birlinn’s deck.

Then he spotted the dozen or so men in the colors of Ross Clan approaching from the other side, and his heart fell. He hurried forward. “Thora!”