Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

When they approached Briorn, the castle lay quiet and slumbering still, the dawn warming the stone walls and only beginning to trace the lines of the landscape. Everything was bathed in amber and pink hues, matching the blush on Agnes's cheeks from the cold. She had not spoken a word to him, only trembling in his arms from time to time.

Leo cursed himself for not bringing a warmer cloak. When they rode in, Hamish was there, as he had been that first morning. The older man had shadows under his eyes, but steel and hope flashed in his gaze in equal measure. With a curt nod, he took Fafnir's reins, helping steady the horse as Leo slid down and then caught Agnes against him.

When she realized he meant to carry her all the way in, she said in a low voice, "Leo, you can put me down."

"I cannae," he replied and headed for the stairs.

"Wait—we're…" she trailed off as Leo carried her to her rooms and gently set her down.

Marta, wise and prescient, was already drawing a warm bath, and someone else had laid out a new gown for her.

"We'll need remedies and bandages," he told Marta, who bobbed a curtsey and scurried off, but not before shooing the maids out of the room.

Leo began to take off his cloak, then his hauberk and bracers, tossing them on the floor. Next, he tossed his sporran, sword, and dirk onto the pile, along with his boots. Soon, he stood in nothing but a kilt and a loose white shirt.

He frowned at Agnes, who was still standing there in her torn gown, stained with both blood and dirt. "Why are ye still dressed?"

"What are you doing?" she asked and hugged herself, then winced as she touched the wound on her shoulder.

"Ensurin' I'm clean to look after ye." He waved a hand at her. "Take all that off." Agnes didn't move, and Leo stared her down. "Or I shall."

"Fine, I—ouch." She winced as she tried to untie her stays, her dark head bobbing as she hid her tears.

Leo came over, fetching up a dirk, and stepped behind her. "Stay still."

She drew in a deep breath, and he wished he could press a kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder, but she seemed a thousand miles away, just as she had been on the loch. Besides, that wound needed tending to.

"Ye still at least trust me with yer life, aye?"

"Yes," Agnes replied softly.

Leo began to cut away the gown, slicing it down the back, even as he lamented ruining Madame Senga's fine work. But the dress had not survived the night—it could not be repaired. He cut it off her, along with her stays, until she stood shivering in nothing but a shift.

"Come here," he said and led her over to a washbasin. "Wait, I?—"

At that moment, Marta returned and hurried over with a basket, averting her eyes at the same time. "Let me ken if ye need anythin' else, Me Laird," she whispered.

"Aye, me thanks, Marta," Leo replied, and she hurried off, all blushes. Picking up a bottle, he pulled out the stopper with his teeth and then held Agnes's arm over the washbasin again. "This willnae be pleasant, but it will clean the cut."

Agnes nodded and gritted her teeth as he poured the pure alcohol over the wound. She groaned and screwed her eyes shut, a hiss of pain escaping her lips.

"Don't use all of it," she said as Leo went to pour more. "You need to clean your wound."

"Aye, fine, get in the bath."

"Do you need help?—"

"I'm takin' care of ye," Leo interrupted. "And I'll give ye yer privacy, dinnae worry."

Agnes nodded and went off.

It took everything in Leo not to turn around when he heard fabric hit the floor. Instead, he gritted his teeth, swiped at the cut that Flora had made, and dumped the whisky over it.

White-hot pain lit up his shoulder, and he swallowed a groan as his entire body seemed to vibrate. Once he was better, he noted that it had stopped bleeding—it had hurt more because she'd stabbed a tender spot, not because she had any great skill with a dirk.

Capping the empty bottle, he set it down and walked to the screen, behind which Agnes was splashing in the bath. Drumming his fingers on it, he cleared his throat and then came around.

"You—you," she protested, hugging her arms around her chest.

Leo almost wanted to laugh, but instead, he smiled sadly. "Let me help ye. I ken that yer arm must hurt. And I willnae look."

Much.

Taking the soft cloth from Agnes, he began to clean her arms, taking care to steer clear of her wound, which had stopped bleeding. It would scar, though, he realized, and a twinge of pain shot through him. He then washed her back in great gentle sweeps, and then her other arm. Then he left her to the rest, rising to his feet and going to ensure they had all the poultices and bandages they might need.

When his wife emerged again, she wore a different, loose white gown with no sleeves, and she had braided her dark hair in a messy plait from the crown. Something about her stepping softly toward him, in her rooms, made his heart throb.

How could I ever think I could keep somethin' so lovely and good?

"Why do you look so pensive?" Agnes asked, stepping up to him, and he blinked.

"Here, has your arm stopped bleedin'?" Leo asked hastily, glancing at her arm. He took her gently by the elbow to inspect it better.

It had stopped bleeding for now, but it still looked bad, and he wondered if she needed stitches.

"I just need a bandage," Agnes said. "It looks worse than it is—it's quite shallow for all that Flora—" She broke off as Leo's hand tightened around her elbow. "It's all right, Leo."

"It isnae," Leo grunted and sat down, pulling out a bandage. "And it never will be. So enough, Agnes."

At that, Agnes tensed up and looked away. Leo fell quiet and then began to bandage her arm, his fingers feeling clumsy, but the bandages were neat and snug. She thanked him, and he looked up at her, noting the bruises on her cheek and forehead. Granny Ro had a remedy for that, he was sure.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Now, I need to look at your shoulder."

Let me bleed, Leo thought, but he nodded and peeled off his shirt, trying not to wince.

Agnes sucked in a breath as her gentle fingers touched the wound. "This needs stitches," she said.

"Nay," Leo said. "Just bandage it."

"Do not be stubborn, Leo," Agnes snapped.

"I dinnae deserve it," he said and dropped his gaze. "How can I, after I…"

After I almost lost you?

"After you what?" Agnes asked.

"Ye are hurt," Leo said flatly and looked up at her. "Stolen away by fiends, by me enemies, battered, stabbed, and nearly…" He swallowed hard.

He'd heard the end of what Jack had said. He'd seen the look in the man's eyes—a similar look he'd seen in the eyes of the other bastards who'd followed Jack in that raid. Agnes had only an inkling of the hell that had awaited her at that brute's hands if Leo hadn't gotten there in time.

"I found ye because ye screamed out a warnin' for Briorn, Nes," Leo whispered, his voice tight with misery, ache tearing through his chest. His wife drew in a deep breath at his words. "Jack had ye, the others kidnapped ye. They harmed ye—put ye in a dark room. I heard yer screams. I heard what he planned to do to ye. Can ye nae?—"

"Leo, this was not you. Do not blame yourself."

"I must. For even in that hell, ye worried for Briorn." He shook his head. "And I havenae forgotten what happened at the loch, what ye said—what I owe ye." He shook his head. "Now, I see I cannae ever…"

Leo lifted a hand to his wife's motionless face, and her eyes flashed with a strange emotion that sent a surge of heat through his blood, even as his stomach fluttered with nerves.

Then his hand fell, and silence followed. Neither of them looked at the other, neither spoke, and Leo thought he might get down on his knees, tell her everything?—

A clatter sounded at the doorway, and Leo jumped up, reaching for a blade, when Lavinia burst inside. The lady swayed in the doorway, breathing hard, and simply stared at Agnes. A minute passed without a word, and then tears flowed down from Lavinia's lovely green eyes, so like his wife's.

Leo knew that she did not even see him. All her focus was on Agnes as she stepped forward and held out her shaking hands. "Oh, oh, my child, you're here, you're all right, you're alive ?—"

Lavinia began to sag, and they both moved, but Agnes made it there first, catching her mother, and the two women embraced. Meanwhile, Leo hastily tugged his shirt back on and ran a hand through his filthy hair.

At that moment, Lavinia shot him a furious look, and he winced. "You gave me your word, My Laird," she said in a fierce voice.

"Aye, I did," Leo said, suddenly feeling weary to the bone, all the riding and fighting catching up with him. "I… never meant for this to happen."

"It is not Leo's fault, Mother," Agnes said. "Be at ease, I'm all right."

"All right?" Lavinia asked and held her daughter at arm's length. "You're beaten and bruised," she hissed when she saw the bandage on Agnes's arm. "Cut and bandaged—no, no . I shall not condone it… I am taking Agnes back to London with me in a week, My Laird." She shot Leo a look. "After all this kidnapping, brigands? She needs to be far away from all of this while you handle this Scottish blood and battling—and she shall not return until you ensure she will be safe."

Leo let out a bitter laugh and rubbed a hand over his face. His mind flashed to Grierson on his knees, the plea from Willy, and the madness of Flora. The smoke against the sunset sky as Briorn fought back a fire.

And then Agnes. Agnes, racing by on the dappled horse. Agnes, stepping fearlessly up to Fafnir. Agnes, being held by the hair by Jack. Agnes, running to save a tiny cat. Agnes, sitting on a rock by the loch, heartbreak written all over her fair, bright face…

"I dinnae ken if I can," he murmured.

Lavinia gasped and pulled Agnes against her, her face tight with misery and her entire body rigid. "You must. Look at you—you are a Highland warrior. If you cannot keep her safe?—"

"Mama, I'm here, I'm all right," Agnes said and tried to hug her back, but Lavinia stepped away, shaking her head. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Lavinia asked and rounded on her. "I cannot lose you just when I've found you again, Agnes. For years, I thought you were a dream—I thought it was the delirium of labor that made me think I had two daughters. I heard you cry. I held you to my breast—and…" Her hands opened and closed. "And then you were gone. I have spent a lifetime missing you, my love."

" Oh ."

Agnes made a choked sound and hugged her again, a rough and genuine embrace that seemed to unlock something in both women.

Leo turned away as Lavinia smoothed a hand over Agnes's brow and kissed it. He pressed a hand against his burning, aching chest, and knew that he had to do right by his mother-in-law and his wife.

When he turned around, they were stepping apart, and Agnes smiled at her mother and then turned to him. Her smile dropped, like a petal on a river, and she stepped toward him. Wide-eyed, she looked up at him, and he held her gaze for a moment.

"Ye are right, Lady Cumbria," he said softly. "For I cannae lose her either."

Agnes drew herself up, her brow darkening, while Lavinia gave a firm nod. The older woman dabbed at her cheeks and reached for Agnes's hand, but Agnes drew away. She stepped up to Leo and shook her head.

"Stay in London for as long as ye want, Nes. See the great city, the world. And if ye ever—if ye want to return, ye ken where Briorn is."

"That sounds reasonable. I knew you were a smart man, My Laird," Lavinia said. "Come, Agnes."

"No," Agnes said and kept her eyes on Leo. "You are speaking for me, husband. And for the first time since we met, you do not see me."

"Agnes—"

"No," she said and drew back from his clumsy reach. "What if I don't want to leave and see London?"

"Of course, ye do. Ye love adventure," Leo said in a rough voice. "And ‘tis for the best."

"It's for the best that Lady MacLarsen leaves Briorn?" Agnes asked in a bitter tone. "So, another order, My Laird?" The sharpness of her voice made Leo flinch. "Even though I am a Lady, I cannot dictate my own life—I must leave it to others. Is that it?"

"No, Agnes," Lavinia said with some alarm. "We?—"

"Would ye give us a moment, Lavinia?" Leo interrupted softly.

Lavinia looked furious for a moment—and more like Agnes than he'd ever seen—before she gave a curt nod and swung around, hurrying out of the room. The door closed behind her harder than befitted a lady, but he didn't blame her.

And the moment it did, Leo surged forward, catching Agnes's face. They shared a wordless, heated look, and then he slanted his mouth over hers. He'd never kissed anyone in such a frenzy, much less Agnes, even as he ensured his hands were gentle and he did not crowd her.

Never had he wanted someone to stay by his side more than this petite outlander. And never had he known that she could not.

Not without putting her life, and his heart and soul, in peril.

Then, Agnes's hands found his shirt and curled into the fabric, trying to pull him closer. Leo almost snarled into her mouth, kissing her harder, stroking his tongue against hers. The beast wanted to take over, and he fought it back. Yet, he tasted her, savored her in a way he had not before, and Agnes let out a gasp against his lips.

Even as he fought not to lose himself in this moment. He could so easily have dragged her to the bed and ravished her. Claimed her again. Consummated their marriage again.

When they broke apart, he all but staggered away, turning and leaning against a wall with both hands splayed wide. Nothing could be heard but their noisy breathing, then soft footsteps as Agnes stepped up to him. Glancing over at her, Leo nearly kissed her again but drew back.

Confusion crossed her face, then she stepped back as though dealt a blow.

That was goodbye.

He could so clearly read the accusation in her eyes, and he nodded. "Yer maither is right."

Agnes lifted her chin. "I never thought I'd hear you say such a thing."

Leo winced. "I cannae risk yer life, Nes. Grierson may start a war for Flora, once he gets his bearings. He's been under Jack's thumb for half a decade, and that kind of pressure does things to a man…"

"You spared his daughter's life— his life," Agnes said in a cold, distant voice. "I think he'd go to war for you."

"Ye have nay idea of the pride and…" He shook his head. "Aye, a better fate than killin' her, but he'll demand payback. Even if it were just Flora, I'd be worried—and he plotted with Jack, me parent's old enemy, and had half of the yeomen of Mosage turned traitor, too. More blood will be shed—'tis the way we take care of things." He paused. "It is far, far too dangerous. Now is the time when the treaties end, as I long waited for. ‘Tis why I became the Beast of Briorn, Nes. And I shall only be Beast from here on out—I must deal with traitors against our clan."

"As Lady MacLarsen?—"

"Nay." Leo turned and went to the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and said in a savage tone to the wood, "Ken that I willnae risk yer life, Nes. Ye willnae be here to witness how this falls apart."

"So, it was another order, My Laird?" she spat at his back.

He pressed a fist against the wood so hard that he thought he heard it crack. In a weary voice, he merely said, "Nes, please. Hear me out. I dinnae ask for much, do I?"

"Not at all, Leo," she said.

"Thank ye," he croaked.

"But hear me out." He went still but did not turn around. "Leave."

Everything in him rebelled at that word. Everything in him wanted to do the opposite. He thought he could break the door down in his rage and grief, even as a crack seemed to go through his entire being, his entire heart.

"Please leave," Agnes continued. "I need to rest."

Leo swallowed and stepped out, only glancing back once to see Agnes pressing her hands to her bed, her head bowed.

Ye will thank me one day, he thought as he closed the door. Even though he wondered how he'd survive to see such a day.