Intimate Enemies Read online

  “If the message never arrived,” continued Ranulf, “then the Murdoch won't be here for nearly two more months, for the wedding.”

  “Payton Murdoch will come to help us,” Lauren said loudly and firmly, for Vanora's sake.“I am sure our men made it to him. It just takes time.”

  “Aye, he'll help us, lass, and that's my point.” James spoke to the rest of the room.“We don't need anything from the English. We don't need to strike any deals with the devil. Scotland's blood is plenty strong enough to defend the Isle of Shot.”

  The younger men were nodding; the women were silent, worried. Lauren uncurled her fingers and placed her arms on the carved wood of the chair, leaning back, thinking furiously.

  Hannah walked into the chamber with a group of others, moving over to one of the tables nearby. She offered Lauren a small smile of encouragement. Lauren had already visited her in the early-morning hours to sketch out the earl's offer and to ask her opinion on what to do. Hannah had been uncharacteristically exuberant at the proposal, and that had been the final catalyst that had driven Lauren to speak.

  “All right then,” she said, once again capturing the attention of everyone.“How about a test? We needn't rush ahead with this. Can we not have a tentative agreement with them, say, a period of days? We work together for … the next fortnight. That's all. And we see what occurs. It could be that it is a trap, I grant you that, although I don't think it is.”

  The memory of his eyes came back to her, deep green, spellbinding. Lauren pushed it away firmly. “We strike a limited agreement, settle on a few areas we patrol together—close to the border between us. We make certain there are never more of them than there are of us in any of these areas. And we stay vigilant of them, as always. What say you?”

  Voices rose and fell, everyone in the room now, not just the council, people debating and testing the idea, agreeing, disagreeing. Lauren waited, not trying to make sense of the babble but rather attempting to discern the tone of it, to see if she could sense the way her people were leaning, whether they were ready to trust her enough for this.

  One voice rang out above the others, silencing the rest.

  “I think it's a fine idea.” The chatter died down, and everyone turned to look at Hannah. She waited for near silence, then addressed the main table. “And I think you're a pack of fools if you turn away this opportunity. It's a gift from God, it is. Hebron MacRae would have seen the wisdom of it, even if none of you do. Don't make Shot suffer for your conceit.”

  Lauren had to bow her head to hide her smile. Bless Hannah.

  James stood up.“Now, Hannah—”

  “Now what?” Hannah stood as well. “You're my brother, James, and I love you. But you have a streak of pride in you that would make a saint flinch. I'm asking you to look beyond that now. Look around at all these faces. Look at our people here. This is your chance to help us all.”

  The man next to Lauren turned his head away. Lauren heard his muffled laughter from behind his hand, and so, obviously, did Hannah.

  “And you, Dougall! Laugh, will you? Go ahead then. And you can be the one to explain to your grandchildren why they've become the slaves of the Northmen, the ones who will steal our beloved home.”

  No one laughed at all.

  Hannah surveyed them, then spoke again, quieter now, her words low and intense. “Have we not lost enough good lives to these invaders? Wa s not the murder of a true and noble laird enough sacrifice for you? Will you now move to make his death meaningless, as well?”

  The council looked away from her, to one another, to the table. Utter silence took the hall.

  “Will you do it?” Lauren asked into the hush, at last rising, looking not just at the row of her father's men but at the whole of the chamber, all the people watching. “Will you have the courage to join with the du Morgans and fend off the Northmen to save our island?”

  “Aye!” It was Carlin, his tone defiant.

  “Aye,” said a few more, and then the others joined in, one by one, all the way around the table, until it was only James who had not responded.

  “What say you?” Lauren repeated severely, looking down at him, not willing to bend.

  His lips pursed, his old eyes squinted, first down to the table again, then out to the crowd, to his sister, sitting calm amid a flurry of anxious kin.

  “A test,” he finally said, nodding.“We'll give them a test, then.”

  And Lauren had to sit down to hide her relief. She had done it! She had persuaded them—at least for now.

  Across the room, Hannah met her look. She offered Lauren a small nod, grave. Lauren returned the nod.

  She prayed to God that the Earl of Morgan had been sincere last night, because now all her hopes—and those of her clan—were riding on him. But if it was an evil trick, she would happily risk her own life to end his before he ruined her family.

  OMEONE HAD BROUGHT HIM HIS clothes.

  That was a relief. Lauren had ordered them taken to him this morning, but had since forgotten. When she entered his room he was pacing in the small space, dressed in his English tunic, looking restless and more than slightly dangerous. The three days he had spent at Keir had left him with a short growth of beard, which only enhanced the sharp attraction of his features. She had not dared to leave him anything honed enough to shave with.

  “MacRae,” he greeted her as she came forward, his voice brusque. “Where are my sword and hauberk?”

  “You'll get them,” she answered. “When you are off our land.”

  The danger in his look grew. He halted near the middle of the chamber. “I'm not leaving without my men.”

  “Naturally.” Lauren gestured to the open door behind her.

  “What's this?” he asked, not moving.

  “You're leaving.”

  Something flickered across his face, disappointment or cynicism, she couldn't be sure. “Too much the coward to take up the fight, MacRae?”

  “Your offer has been accepted,” Lauren said. “We've notified your people that you are returning to them. You and your men are free to go. I'll take you to them now.”

  But he did not alter his stance in the center of the room. Lauren waited, knowing that this was another challenge from him, that he wanted more from her, an explanation. Perversely, she said nothing. Let him ask.

  The edges of his lips lifted, almost as if he could read her thoughts.

  “A ruse, MacRae?”

  “ We have no need to resort to ruses,” she flashed.“If there is a ruse here, it's your own.”

  “What,” he mocked gently.“Don't you trust me?”

  “No.”

  He laughed, once again managing to throw her off her careful balance, and Lauren could have bitten her tongue in dismay. She must stay calm. She was the linchpin holding together her family's end of this wild plan, and if she let this man confuse her, he might just try to sweep her clan out of existence.

  Even his smile did peculiar things to her, made her stomach drop and her thoughts distracted. Lauren fought it, focusing somewhere over his shoulder until she had the strangeness under control again.

  “Very well,” du Morgan said, still smiling. “I believe you, MacRae. It's not a ruse. So—show me my men.”

  She nodded stiffly, then walked out of the room. Arion followed, noting the solitary guard outside the door, who stared at him grimly and then fell into step behind them. He was not to be trusted far enough to roam the halls of Keir with just the daughter of the castle, Ari supposed.

  Her back, he noticed, was trim and straight, finely curved underneath her tartan. She was wearing a gown beneath it again—not like in the battle, when she had worn a man's tunic under her family's plaid, a man's boots, and had fought with a man's weapon.

  It was extraordinary, in retrospect, to think that a woman could so effectively handle such a difficult role, that she had fought as bravely as any man Arion had ever seen. Especially a woman with the seeming delicacy of this one.

  Ari sti
fled a short laugh. No doubt she would not be amused to know his thoughts. Lauren MacRae would probably take the word delicate as an insult, no matter that to him, the rare and unlikely combination of her— refined, exquisite, bold, brave, loyal—seemed nothing less than a miracle.

  Her hair swung back and forth in one long plait, smooth and neat today, much more ladylike and contained than the way he preferred it … like last night, loose and softly falling around her, an invitation to touch her, to sense her. To know her.

  Stop, Ari thought. He moved his gaze to take in the hallway, cold stone and blue-gray darkness, closed doors and winding passageways. She had been right, the other day, in claiming that her home on Shot was so much stronger than his own. Elguire, the du Morgan stronghold here, seemed truly more of a fortress compared to this, being both smaller and unfinished—mostly due to the fact that saboteurs from Keir did their best to tear down new work each time it neared completion. The outer wall was nearly done now, but random attacks still seemed to spark up occasionally. The MacRaes, Ari knew, were nothing if not devoted to their hatred. Which made him wonder how true his lovely foe's words could be. Had her family actually accepted his bargain?

  It seemed improbable. It had come to him from nowhere last night, perhaps born of his unexpected feelings for her, perhaps a reaction to the color of her eyes, or the velvet timbre of her voice—who the hell knew? After she had left, he had thought it over and couldn't believe what he had said. True, it seemed a sound enough plan on the surface. But equally true, you could not put two cocks in the same ring without expecting a fight. This was all probably just some sort of elaborate game she was playing with him, and his fingers itched to hold his absent sword.

  But she stopped outside a new door, very well guarded, and then opened it for him. Arion saw that she had indeed taken him to his men, all seven of them dressed and bandaged and looking as ill tempered and uneasy as he felt.

  “My lord!” Hammond was the first to recover from the surprise of seeing him, followed by the others, and for the moment Arion was caught up in the genuine gladness of seeing them all again. He was surrounded by them, each of them jostling close, looks of relief on their faces.

  “Are you well?” he was asked, and he asked it back to them, until it was established that everyone was fine, that no one had been injured seriously enough to require more than some stitches and a few poultices.

  “They wouldn't let us see you,” said Hammond, in a low tone meant to be heard only among the group. “But we've established there's always at least four by the door, and probably more beyond. The window to this room won't open.”

  “Even if it did,” added Trevin,“the drop to the ground is too far. It's no good to us.”

  Arion nodded, then looked back at the doorway.

  Lauren MacRae and six tartan-clad men stood there, watching them with identical expressions of impassivity. All six of the men, Arion had already noted, were heavily armed, and even Lauren still carried her dirk at her waist.

  Ari turned to his group.“Are all of you well enough to travel?”

  “You think to escape?” It was Trevin, a dubious whisper. “Didn't you understand, my lord? There are too many of them, and we can't scale the wall—”

  “Not that way,” Arion interrupted.“We're walking out of Keir. We're going home to Elguire.” He raised his voice slightly.“Isn't that correct, MacRae?”

  “Aye,” she said, and Ari watched as every single one of his men turned to look at her for the first time. “You'll be walking.”

  Something in her voice put him on alert, made his own glance to her keen and thorough. But she only smiled back at him, an angel of innocence, and Ari realized then that he must have been a great deal more desperate for a woman than he had thought, because even now, with bells of alarm pealing though him, all he wanted to do was walk over there and kiss her— hard, on the mouth. Enough to make her stop smiling at him like that. Enough to make her ask him to kiss her again.

  Good God. Arion exhaled slowly through his teeth. This was getting far out of hand.

  “A trick,” hissed Trevin.

  “Is it, MacRae?” Arion asked, calm and forceful.

  “No,” she said simply.

  “We cannot trust them!” Hammond looked at Ari, almost stunned.“You cannot believe her!”

  “Why not?” Arion asked, just as calm.

  “She's a MacRae,” Hammond said, almost spitting the name.

  The men behind Lauren shifted, hands going to the hilts of their broadswords, dark looks passing among them.

  “Aye, I'm a MacRae.” Lauren came forward into the room, a commanding presence of strength and splendid beauty, pride clear in every step. “The same MacRae who came to your defense, English, when you were decorating my beach with your blood from the Vikings. I'm that MacRae, the one who shielded you from the invaders, the one who then brought you all back here to my home and tended to you, who nursed you so that you might not die as you deserved. It's the MacRaes you should be thanking now for your lives. And it's the MacRaes who are releasing you, ungrateful though you are.”

  “ We were fine on that beach,” Trevin said to her, each word brimming with contempt.“We didn't need your help.”

  “You're either a liar or a fool,” Lauren said flatly.

  Ari placed a hand on his lieutenant's arm before Trevin could take the step forward that might destroy the fragile truce he had managed to form.“Enough,” he said quietly.

  “What do you mean? Didn't you hear her? She said—”

  “Enough!” Ari let the temper begin to show in his voice.“I heard her. Keep your peace, lieutenant.”

  “My lord.” Trevin subsided, though Ari could see he had to bite back more words. The other men stood silent, alternating glances from him to the Scots at the door. Arion knew that the tension in the room would break soon, one way or another, unless he managed to diffuse it.

  “We're going home now,” he said to them all.“Lead the way then, Lauren MacRae.”

  She stood there, still tense and finely spun in her anger, and for a moment Ari seriously thought it was too late, that she had changed her mind and would keep them imprisoned here, after all. But she turned away and walked out the door, some unspoken message passing between her and the guards. Two followed her; the other four stood back, waiting. The one who been guarding his own door jerked his head at Ari.

  Arion stepped away from the cluster of his men and walked after her. He did not look around to see if his group fell in behind him.

  If they didn't, none of this mattered anyway. If they wouldn't follow him out of this castle, then there would be no way any of them would follow a plan to join with the enemy, even if it came from the Earl of Morgan.

  So he walked and listened, and was rewarded with the sound of bootsteps on the hard floor, many of them— more than four people. A very small part of him felt relief. But there was still too much at stake to start congratulating himself.

  Down through the hallways they went, past doors and chambers and groups of Scots. Strangers stopped and stared at them, all of them tartan clad, all of them with wary eyes and cold demeanors, some of them greeting Lauren, most of them just silent, an army of inimical observers.

  They reached what must have been their great hall, truly cavernous, even larger than the one in his own castle on the mainland, though not as richly furnished. Before he could examine much more of it they were outside, engulfed in the brightness of the day. A group of about fifteen mounted men were waiting in the bailey, staring down at them. Holding, Arion noticed, his men's weaponry in addition to their own.

  Arion halted as Lauren walked to the only unclaimed steed. She vaulted into the saddle as easily as a man would, sitting astride and looking down at him. Her brows raised, and her smile was still divinely innocent.

  “I told you that you would be walking out of here. So you are. Come.”

  She clucked at her steed and it turned and ambled toward the gate. The mounted men didn't move
, nor did they break their looks at Arion and the men behind him.

  Ari followed Lauren.

  His men followed him.

  And the Scotsmen surrounded them all, armed and swift and no doubt, Ari thought acidly, highly amused.

  He had never been here before—never awake, at least—and now he could begin to take in the rugged surroundings of this part of Shot. It seemed wilder than his portion of the island, more wooded, less inviting. He could see why Keir was built where it was, on top of a hill amid valleys, looking down at the meadows and woods and even the shore, a clear view from here. He had to admire it all, the cleverness of the layout, the rough allure of this region.

  Elguire was plainly lacking in comparison, even though the land around it was far more cultivated. He understood a little better now why the MacRaes held on so tightly to their pride. Not that Elguire didn't have potential. Once it was finished, it would be as fine a home as any, Arion thought. And it had the appeal of being settled in a gentler area, more open fields of grass and crops, longer beaches and smoother water.

  Lauren kept her horse to a slow walk, which was good, because Ari wasn't going to try to keep up with her. She was having her joke on him, and damned if he was going to make it better for her. He focused on pushing away the anger again. It would gain him nothing. He needed every advantage right now, because he truly didn't know if she meant to release him or not.

  He thought she might. He thought he had read her correctly, last night and this morning, that she had some sense to her, that she was not just the summation of the unyielding arrogance of her clan. There could be no doubt she was intelligent. Ari hoped that it was enough to override whatever obvious advantage she could take of him and his men right now.

  It would be very easy to kill them. It would be remarkably foolish, but easy.

  She rode ahead of him with a natural poise on her mount, not looking back even once. The bright copper of her hair was like a beacon before him.

  His shoulder hurt. He imagined the rest of his men were not faring much better—the battle had not been that long ago, after all. But Ari knew none of them would complain, no matter how bad the pain. He could do no less. It was going to be a long walk back to El-guire. He set his teeth and marched on.