“They wouldn’t, or you wouldn’t?” she challenged him, daring him to say it to her face. The betrayal she felt in that moment was almost more than she could take. She had thought she had found a friend with Archie, only for him to turn around and treat her like this. It was sick, twisted, so monstrous she could hardly bear it.
“It doesnae matter,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low fury.
“And you think that killing me will end your problems?” she snapped at him. “You think that Arran and Amelia won’t come after you for revenge?—”
“Not if I convince Kiernan that they were the ones who killed ye,” he replied. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest.
“You… you what?”
“Those letters that you sent to yer sister, they show that you were intending to return to them,” he continued, grinning, though it did not reach his eyes. “And when you turn up dead… well, Kiernan will think that they’re the ones who did this. That they couldnae stand to see one of their own with him, and so, they killed her.”
A lump leapt into her throat. It made sense. Too much sense for her to refute. If Kiernan found out that she had been fearful of staying at the Keep, and that she had been planning on leaving, then he would take her death to have come as part of that. The thought made her want to vomit, but, as she felt the pressure of Archie’s blade against her stomach, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she sent up a prayer to whoever might have been listening in that moment, praying that they would save her from this fate, before the man she had believed to be her friend betrayed her in a way she could never return from.
16
Kiernan woke early that morning, his eyes flipping open as the light began to pour in through the window. He woke with a certainty in his heart about what he needed to do, about how he was going to deal with the issue of Mary once and for all.
Rising to his feet, he dressed himself quickly, humming a tune to himself to distract his racing thoughts. He would be lucky if Mary had not already abandoned him, after all that had transpired between them. After all, he had hardly acted as a loving husband should, brushing her off when she had reached out to him with all the care and affection she carried within her.
He could still remember the look on her face when they had argued in his study, and he was far too proud a man to go back to her at once and admit his mistake. A part of himself he supposed he would have to work on, now that he was a husband. Because he longed for something real with Mary, something true, no matter how their union might have begun. Even if it had sprung from a place that was anything but honest, the connection they shared was undeniable, and keeping his distance from her this past week had been nigh-on impossible.
She’d be in her chambers now, as she had been most of the time since their clash. She had barely come down for dinner, though he had seen her traversing his mother’s garden a few times. He had caught sight of her through the window of his study, trailing her hands along the drooping branches, stepping through the fiery leaves, looking almost as though she was a nymph passing through the forest. She seemed as delicate as the flowers that lined the path, but, at the same time, he knew she contained a strength that he had barely begun to understand.
He strode through the corridor that would lead him to her room, his mind racing as he tried to form the words that would most convince her of his certainty. He was not sure anything could undo the cruelty he had thrown her way with such harshness the other day, but he had to try. If they were to stay married and share their lives, he would have years to prove himself to her. It was just a matter of keeping her in the Keep and convincing her to give him a chance, no matter what he might have said and done.
His footsteps slowed as he reached the stairs that led up to her quarters, in the tower that overlooked the river below. Would seeing her in there be too much for him? When last the two of them had met there, the two of them had soon found themselves tangled in one another, words giving way to touch. He would have to find some way to control himself this time. He did not want to let his desire rise too quickly within him. The last thing he wanted was for Mary to believe that he only saw her as some vessel for his pleasure, when he desired her for so much more than that.
But, before he could pick up his feet again, he heard a voice calling his name. Glancing around, he saw Richard striding towards him, a furrow in his brow. Kiernan paused, sensing at once that there was something amiss.
“Aye, what is it?” he demanded, and Richard reached him, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Ye’ve got a visitor.”
He frowned. A visitor? He had no plans to entertain anyone, at least that he knew of.
“Tell them to leave. I’ve got mare important things to?—”
“It’s Amelia Aitken.”
He froze on the spot. Mary’s sister? What on earth was she doing here? He knew at once that this had to be important. He could not imagine that an Aitken would breach the walls of this Keep were it not a matter that required immediate attention.
“Tell her I’ll be with her in a moment,” he replied quickly, running a hand through his hair. He glanced towards the stairs, wondering if he should call Mary down at first to let her know her sister was there, but he did not want to keep his guest waiting. Following Richard, he made his way down to the great hall, where, sure enough, Amelia was there waiting for him.
Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes fixed on him with the anger only a sister could muster. He nodded to her in greeting.
“My lady.”
“Where is my sister?” she demanded, her voice echoing around the lofty room surrounding them.
“A pleasure to see you again too,” he replied, an edge of sarcasm to his voice. “Would ye care to explain why you have graced the Keep with your presence, my lady?”
“Because I received a letter from my sister that had me concerned,” she snapped back. “And I want to see her. I want to make certain she is alright. Now, where is she?”
She planted her hands on her hips, glowering up at Kiernan with a formidable fury in her eyes. As she spoke, the doors opened once more, and Arran stepped inside, carrying his young son in his arms. He looked less than pleased to have to be in sucha place, but he moved to his wife’s side, putting an arm around her shoulder, showing his support of her even in this difficult time. He must truly have cared for her, if he was willing to enter the house of his enemy in such a way, let alone bring his son there.
“I’ll fetch her,” Kiernan replied, glancing between the two of them suspiciously. He didn’t much like the thought of them being here, in his home, his Keep. But, he supposed, he would have done the same thing if he’d had his suspicions that someone in his family had come to harm, and he could not blame them for making certain Mary was in safe hands.
