"Kill or be killed. Ye wanted tae be a warrior." Cailean held out a hand, and Maeve took it, allowing him to pull her up. There was none of the usual gentleness or understanding in his voice now, and he avoided her eyes when she tried to look at him. "Are ye sure they're all gone?"
"I'm sure," Maeve replied.
"Are ye hurt?" he asked.
She was. She'd been cut and bruised several times, and she was sure that a deep slash in her upper arm was bleeding enough that she would need attention from the healers. But she wasn't going to tell him that, not now. Instead, she just shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm fine."
Cailean grunted. "Come on." He grabbed her hand without looking at her and started into the forest. "We've got tae find our horses."
Maeve followed without a word, shrinking back against his anger, yet at the same time yearning to be closer to him for comfort. She followed, her eyes downcast, and tried not to think about the bodies they left behind, and how close she'd been to being one of them.
15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cailean did not know what to do with all of the fury inside of him. He had never been so angry in his life, never felt his blood pulse in his ears and his hands shake with rage so strongly. He wasn't an idiot; he understood what had happened now, he understood whom he was leading by the hand through the woods.
Mary had lied to them all. That probably wasn't even her real name. Was anything about her real at all? She'd manipulated them into believing she was one thing, but the reality was that they knew nothing about her at all. She could be a spy for the False King for all he knew, one he'd foolishly allowed into their camp and trained in all of their secrets.
Did he believe that? Not in his heart, but then again, he didn't knowwhatto believe. What if it was true? What if he'd given up one of his priceless memories, regardless of his mixed feelings toward it, for someone who had no intentions other than to hurt them?
The worst part was that if he admitted it to himself, that wasn't even the part he was angriest about. He was furious thatshe'd almost gotten herself killed. What had her plan been? It could have been that she was truly trying to lead them away from the rebels, to try to protect them from the coming attackers, but it could equally be that she was just trying to protect herself.
"Cailean…"
He started at the sound of his name. He'd been pulling her through the woods in silence, but when he stopped and turned, he saw that she was pale and shaking, her hand in his cold. They were too deep in the woods for him to make out her expression clearly, but there was a dark patch on her arm that he was sure was blood.
Cursing, he stopped and turned to her. Without a word, he tore a strip off his cloak and wrapped it around her arm. It wasn't much of a bandage, but it would do for now; it would have to. She stood there and allowed him to do it, but she didn't say a word. When he was done, she whispered, "Thank ye."
"Ye're nae gonnae die yet," he grumbled. "Ye told me ye werenae hurt."
"I… I feel dizzy," she told him. "I dinnae ken… I dinnae ken how… Cailean, I've never killed a man before. Those men might have been awful, they might have wanted to hurt me, tae hurt us, but they're still dead because of me. I dinnae ken how tae…"
His fury flared again. "Ye dinnae ken? Are ye sure about that?" he demanded. "Or is it just that killin' men in the heat of battle is a different experience from killin' yer husband in his bed?"
She was visibly startled by his words. "W… what?"
"Dinnae play the innocent. It's ye, isnae it? The Darach widow, on the run for murderin' yer husband." He moved a little closer. "Dinnae ye lie tae me. Nae now. Nae again."
She rubbed her face with her hands. "I… IamMalcolm Darach's widow, aye. I hoped ye'd never find out."
"Clearly," he snarled. He wanted to turn his back and leave her here, but something stopped him, something beyond even his urge to know the full truth. "Is Mary even yer real name?"
She shook her head. "Maeve. I'm Maeve O'Sullivan."
The words were like piercing arrows in Cailean's heart. Not only was she Darach's widow, but she was a daughter of O'Sullivan, two of the biggest supporters of the man who had destroyed his family and taken everything from him before he was even old enough to know what he had. The men who supported the False King who was draining the very life from the country he loved so much.
She'd lied about everything. Why was this hurting him so much? It felt more painful than he knew what to do with, which in turn was making him angrier.
"Did ye murder him?" he yelled, his temper exploding. "Did ye murder yer husband?"
Too late. He realized that he'd scared her, and guilt rushed through him. He hadn't meant to cause fear in her, and seeing her flinch back from him made him want to immediately apologize. He kept his mouth shut, though, dropping her hand and folding his arms.
"If I did…" she murmured, "Would that be such a bad thing? Was he nae yer enemy?"
Cailean froze, taken aback by her words. Would it be such a terrible thing if Mary — Maeve — had rid him of one of his enemies? In theory, no, but in practice, the thought made him feel sick to his stomach. It was one thing to kill a man on a battlefield, but it was quite another to slaughter someone in their bed.
She didn't wait for him to answer, though. She sighed and spoke again. "I didnae kill him. It wasnae me; all I did was be the fool who found his body and allowed meself to be caught standin' over it."
