“You bitch,” he growled. Forcefully, he pushed her aside. “How could you?”
She staggered but did not fall. “Rory, you don’t understand. I can explain. It’s not how it looks.”
“I’m sure it’s exactly how it looks,” he snapped. There was only one explanation. “You spied on me when I told Alex where the flag was hidden.” His penetrating gaze fell on her guilt-stricken face, daring her to deny him. But she could not.
His earlier suspicions rushed to the forefront of his consciousness, no longer blinded by emotion. The pieces fell into place, and it all made horrible sense. Sleat’s ready agreement to a handfast, Isabel’s searching of the kitchens, the tempting, sometimes indecent clothing, and her eagerness to share his bed even when she knew there was no future. All led to one unmistakable conclusion. Isabel was in league with her uncle. She’d come to Dunvegan under false pretenses.
A fresh stab of pain shot through his chest.
She’d never loved him.
She’d lulled him into a besotted trance, bewitching him with her beauty, and led him down a treacherous path he had sworn never to travel. He’d fallen in love with the enemy and allowed his judgment to be clouded by beauty, lust, and love. Worst of all, because of her, he’d broken the alliance with Argyll. He’d chosen a woman over his duty to his clan. And for that failure, he could never forgive her. She’d made a fool out of him.
Blood pounded through his body. The initial tumult of emotions gave way to an all-encompassing rage. His fists clenched at his side as he felt the pressure building from inside, threatening to erupt in a violent maelstrom. The intensity shook him to his core. He held himself rigid, not trusting himself to move. For a moment, he could have killed her for doing this to him. To them.
“God damn you, I trusted you.” His hands gripped her arms as the force of his fury unleashed like a whip.
Her eyes widened. “Rory, please—”
The vein in his neck pulsed as every muscle in his body strained with restraint. “You are in league with your uncle. You came to Dunvegan under false pretenses and planned to steal the flag. The handfast would be your way out.”
“Yes, but—”
Confirmation squeezed him like a vise. Something inside him died. She might as well have slipped a dirk into his back while he was sleeping; the effect was the same. He felt as if someone had splayed open his chest, pried out his heart, and twisted it until there was nothing left. Nothing but the cold, aching void where there used to be something beautiful.
He did not let her finish. “You’ve spied on me and my family, intending to betray us. You’ve whored yourself and manipulated your way into my life. I assure you, further explanation is not necessary.”
She recoiled at his crudely spoken words. But he didn’t care. “No, Rory, you have it all wrong. I may have come here under false pretenses, but once I grew to love you and your family, I knew I would not be able to go through with what my uncle had planned—”
“Enough!” he roared. The mention of Sleat had snapped whatever tenuous control he had over his anger. He thought of how completely he’d fallen for her lies. But he was fooled no longer. “I refuse to listen to any more lies from you. Consider yourself lucky that I do not dress you as the harlot you have acted so convincingly and send you back accordingly. Your uncle might appreciate the irony.” He looked at her with all the contempt that filled his blackened heart. “Pack your things and leave before I decide to put you where you deserve—do you know what we do with spies at Dunvegan, Isabel?”
This couldn’t be happening.Dear God, what had she done?
The panic that rose in her throat seemed so palpable, she could almost taste it. It thickened her tongue and smothered her breath. But it was not the threat of imprisonment in that dank dungeon that caused her fear. No, it was Rory who terrified her. The thought that he might not listen to her frightened her more than she had ever dreamed possible.
He couldn’t send her away. She had to make him understand.
Tears streaming down her face, she clutched at his sleeve, trying to force him to listen. “Rory, please, I would never give my uncle the means to destroy you and your family. I intended to trick him. See, look.” She turned around, raced back to her trunk, and pulled out Bessie’s shawl. “See, it’s not the flag. I intended to send him this instead.”
Rory studied the shawl, seeming to recognize that it was not in fact the flag. “It doesn’t matter. You spied on me. How do I know that you did not intend to switch that for the real Fairy Flag?”
“It was an accident. I did not mean to spy on you. I heard noises….” She lifted her chin and met his gaze, ready to weather his scorn. “And as to the other, you’ll have to trust me. I love you, I would never betray you.”
“Trust,” he spat. “Never. You will leave here immediately. I wish to never lay eyes on you again.”
His voice was like a shard of ice cutting through her heart, stopping her cold. This was the man she’d feared if he’d ever discovered the truth, the emotionless stranger who looked at her with wintry eyes. He stood so close, she could see the golden tips of his lashes, the dark shadow of stubble already appearing on his jaw, and the subtle, angry flare of his nostrils as he spoke. An hour ago, she’d had the right to touch him. To place her hand on his face and lift her lips to his. No longer. He was so close, but immanently unreachable.
She gazed up into his cold, unyielding face. His eyes glinted with steel, his mouth a tight line before the hard square of his determined jaw. “You must believe me that I planned to tell you as soon as I was sure you would not repudiate the handfast. I wanted to tell you the night you were injured, but I was scared. I feared that you would not forgive me.”
“You were right,” he said stonily. His eyes never flickered.
“You claim to love me, Rory, won’t you even hear my explanation?”
He laughed ruthlessly. “Surely you realize that I lied when I said I loved you, Isabel. I felt sorry for you. Sorry that your family had so obviously neglected you. I was grateful for all that you had done for Margaret, and you seemed so pathetically needy. Remember, when I spoke those words I thought I was dying.”
Her head jerked back as if he’d slapped her. It couldn’t be true. He had to love her. It couldn’t be just pity. Could it? She felt the stab of truth. He wielded his weapon well; he knew just how to hurt her. Still, she knew they had sharedsomething.
“Deny you love me if you will, but after the happiness we have shared these past few months, I know you must care something for me.”
