Stealing a Kilted Heart (Temptation in Tartan #8)

Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“ W hat dae ye mean she’s gone?” Knox asked, his ceremonial dress suddenly forgotten. He was in the middle of getting ready for the wedding when Magnus came into the room, claiming no one could find Fia, and his clothes hung off him half-buttoned, his heart beating a mile a minute.

“We cannae find her,” Magnus said again, his tone carrying an urgency that only served to worry Knox even more. “Effie said she had gone tae pick flowers outside the walls, but she hasnae been seen since. We’ve looked over the whole castle fer her an’ she’s naewhere tae be seen.”

“How can this be?” Knox asked. Could it be that she had gotten cold feet, he wondered? Could it be that she had fled, regretting ever agreeing to marry him?

But no, she had been so excited for this day. She had waited for it with bated breath and Knox could not believe she had simply fled.

She wouldnae dae this. She wouldnae.

Which could only mean that something had happened to her—though what that could be, Knox couldn’t guess. According to Effie, she had been just outside the castle walls, where it was safe. It couldn’t have been brigands; it couldn’t have been an accident either. Someone would have heard her ask for help, Knox knew, and he also knew Magnus would have already sent men to look for her in the surrounding area.

Knox had to reach out for the nearest wall to steady himself. The entire world seemed to tilt off its axis, his vision going blurry and fuzzy around the corners. Panic, cold as ice, swept through him violently and for a terrible, terrifying moment Knox was convinced he would never see her again—at least not alive.

He quickly pushed such thoughts out of his mind. Nothing could have happened to her, he told himself. The guards would have heard it, seen it; someone would have done something.

And yet, despite the desperate attempt to force his logical mind to take over, his panic and fear didn’t dissipate. He was scared for her. He knew she wouldn’t have left on her own accord and so he couldn’t help but dread whatever it was that had pulled her away.

His knees almost buckled at the thought of what it could have been. The only thing that kept Knox upright was another thought—that Fia needed him.

“There is somethin’ else,” said Magnus.

“What?” Knox demanded, stepping up to him on shaking legs. “Tell me.”

“Callum is gone as well.”

Knox’s blood ran cold. What has he done tae her?

There was no way Fia had left with him of her own accord. There was no way she would follow that man anywhere after everything he had done to her.

“We have reason tae suspect he is workin’ with Alistair Gordon,” Magnus added, reaching into his pocket to bring out a pile of letters. “One o’ the men in his group found these. Most o’ them are in code an’ the rest dinnae provide any useful information, but look at this one,” he said, as he picked a letter from the stack and opened it for Knox. “Doesnae this look like Clan Gordon code?”

Knox’s spies had intercepted plenty of communication from Clan Gordon and as he looked at the symbols on the paper, he thought Magnus was right. It did, indeed, look like their code, and though they hadn’t yet decoded it, it was all Knox needed to be convinced Callum was, in fact, working with Laird Gordon. There was no doubt in his mind. There was no other reason for him to have such a letter in his possession.

Even for Callum, this was a new low, Knox thought. He had known the man was ambitious, that he was willing to do plenty of things to get what he wanted, but he did not think treason was one of them. His father had loved the clan. He had done much to help its people and Knox’s own father. How could Callum to come along and destroy that legacy?

Or was it Knox who simply didn’t inspire loyalty, he wondered?

It was true that he had not chosen Callum for the position of war leader. It had been the wise choice, the one that made most sense, not only to him but to Magnus as well. And naturally, he had expected some sort of pushback from Callum, but it he had never expected this. To go not only against him, but also against Fia, against the clan itself and its people, it was all too much. The betrayal stung like a knife wound, sharp and tender and raw, and the force of it was so staggering that once again, Knox felt as though the floor was sinking under his feet, pulling him under.

His father had commanded respect and loyalty so effortlessly, so naturally, that Knox had always thought it would be the same for him. Now, he couldn’t help but question it; he couldn’t help but question himself as the laird of the clan, to second-guess every decision he had ever made. He didn’t know how Callum could have put everyone in Clan Stuart in so much danger by colluding with the Gordons. He didn’t know how he could possibly stomach the betrayal, the knowledge that his actions could very well be Clan Stuart’s undoing.

He couldn’t think of this as his fault, Knox realized. Perhaps somewhere along the way, he could have done something to pull Callum to his side, to show him the right way of doing things, but ultimately, it was Callum who had made this decision, knowing the consequences. It was Callum who decided to put everyone he knew in danger, simply to have his revenge.

Gritting his teeth, Knox looked Magnus in the eye, rage flaring up inside him. “Rally the men. By nightfall, I want us tae be in Castle Gordon.”

The siege was inevitable—only Knox had thought it would be his castle that would be under it, not Gordon’s. And yet there he was, his men attacking Castle Gordon, pouring in through their defenses and wreaking havoc in their path. Everything around him was on fire. Everywhere he looked, there were corpses and blood seeping into the ground, drenching the earth. Everywhere around him, the clang of steel against steel was deafening, the screams of the fallen soldiers who were injured, lying on the ground in the hopes that help would arrive or crawling themselves through the battle in the hopes of finding help, mixing with it in a wild cacophony.

Death and devastation. Knox would have done anything in his power to stop this before it even begun, but Alistair Gordon had other ideas in his mind, and Callum, the traitor, had helped him with them.

Cutting down anyone in his path mercilessly, Knox looked for Fia. It was the only thing on his mind, the only thing he cared about in that battle. Failure was not an option. He could imagine her in Gordon’s hands, frightened and perhaps even hurt, in pain. His rage flared inside him, bubbling over with every passing moment.

He was going to kill him. And he was going to kill Callum, too, with his own two hands.

As he crossed the courtyard and made his way into the keep, Knox had a select group of men with him. He hadn’t thought Malcolm would be put to the test quite so soon, only two weeks after he was given the role of war leader, but now Knox had left him in charge of the attack while he, Magnus, and a dozen more men infiltrated the keep, searching for Fia. It was not an easy task. Out of all the places in a castle, the keep was the most well-protected, but in the chaos of the battle it was possible for Knox to find an entrance at the back that wasn’t as heavily guarded, he and his men spilling inside the structure and splitting up to search the place. Knox’s feet thudded against the stone floors as he ran, swiftly dealing with every guard who came his way as he moved deeper and deeper into the keep, searching for its most guarded room.

He knew that was where Gordon would be keeping Fia. Somewhere inaccessible, somewhere away from everything and everyone else.

And then he found it. Turning a corner, he saw two men standing guard outside a room, waiting impatiently because they could not joining their fellow soldiers in the fight. The moment they spotted him, they both unsheathed their weapons and began to advance, but Knox was ready for them.

His boots left bloody prints behind as he approached the two men with caution. The first to attack was the larger of the two, throwing himself at Knox with a cry, their swords meeting in the air as Knox parried the blow. The other man soon joined him, trying to circle Knox so he could attack him from behind, but Knox blocked his way, keeping him where he was.

The odds were already against him, he wasn’t going to let him lessen them.

The sound of steel against steel filled the hallway, the ringing noise echoing off the walls. With a feint to the left, Knox caught the smaller man by surprise, forcing him to leave an opening he immediately took advantage of. Sending his blade in an arc, Knox struck the man down, slicing him from shoulder to hip, but he didn’t have time to rest before the other attacked once more, forcing him to step back.

He was a more formidable opponent, their swords meeting again and again with relentless power. But when the man went for what he thought could be the killing blow, he left himself unguarded, too confident in his own speed, and all it took for Knox was one swipe of his blade to strike him dead, watching as he fell to the floor.

And then the way was open.

Falling to his knees in the puddles of blood, Knox looked for the keys to the door and found them on the larger man. He quickly unlocked it, blinking as he tried to adjust to the dim light of the room compared to the bright, fire-lit night outside.

But there Fia was, pacing back and forth. She came to a sudden halt when the door opened.

And there was Alistair, standing right in front of her.

“Laird Gordon,” Knox said, wiping the blood off his blade onto his sleeve. “This is a new low, even fer ye.”

“Is it?” Laird Gordon asked with a humorless chuckle. “I’d say it’s a low fer ye, considerin’ it was yer man who came tae me.”

It was a cruel remark, intended to hurt Knox, and it succeeded. Thoughts of failing as a laird because of Callum’s betrayal had already been plaguing him, torturing him moment after moment, ever since he had found out about it. The more he thought about it, the more he considered all the things he could have done differently—he could have been more patient with Callum, he could have had him learn under Magnus or one of the elders, he could have spoken to him about his performance and his desires. He could have done many things, which may or may not have worked in the end. But instead, he had allowed his anger and his frustration to get the better of him.

There was one thing for certain; he would never make such a mistake again. But no matter how much he blamed himself, he also couldn’t help but think Callum could have come to him instead of going to the enemy. He had been the one to throw everything away with his arrogance and his self-centered attitude. The way he had hurt Fia, just for a foolish bet, the way he had betrayed his entire clan for his personal gain, the way he had proven himself reckless and useless time and time again—it all spoke of a man who was bound to betray his own people if the circumstances favored such a choice.

But knowing that didn’t make the situation hurt any less.

“Callum made his decision,” Knox said through gritted teeth. “An’ it is on him. He decided tae betray everythin’ an’ everyone he kens. An’ if he betrayed his own clan, dae ye nae think he will betray ye, too?”

Letting out a chuckle, Gordon shook his head. “He can try,” he said. “But I ken he isnae loyal tae me anyway. Our alliance is merely one o’ convenience. I will hold nay grudge once he decides it is nay longer beneficial.”

“But he will if ye decide so first,” Knox pointed out. “He isnae one tae take such things lightly.”

“Then I shall simply have him killed,” Gordon said, so casually that Knox couldn’t help but shiver. “Somethin’ ye should have done a long time ago.”

Gordon was an imposing figure in the room, tall and broad-shouldered, with grey eyes that reminded Knox of the steel in his hands. There was no warmth to him. The sneer he seemed to perpetually wear twisted the scar that ran from his brow to his cheekbone, and even Knox, who had seen his fair share of evil men in his life, felt uneasy around him, as though he exuded a strange aura that permeated everything around him.

“I’m nae like ye. I’m nae a monster,” Knox said and then his gaze slid to Fia, who was staring at him, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “Are ye alright?”

She managed a nod, but before Knox could say anything else, Gordon stepped in front of her, cutting her off from his view. Slowly, Fia backtracked, putting several paces’ worth of distance between her and Gordon, but whether he didn’t notice or he didn’t care, Knox didn’t know. He only knew that Gordon’s gaze never once left him, and he could only be thankful for that. He didn’t want Fia to be his target. If he could keep all of his attention, if he could keep him away from her, then they had a chance.

“How marvelous that ye came here tae save a peasant lass,” Gordon said, making Knox grit his teeth to stop himself from responding. “If only yer faither could see ye no… what dae ye think he’d say?”

“Leave me faither out o’ this,” Knox said in a low, venomous tone. “An’ out o’ yer mouth.”

Ever since that day, when his parents died in what everyone deemed an accident, Knox was convinced it had been Gordon who killed them. He had never had any solid proof, he had never had anything other than this gut feeling and a few coincidences that pointed him the right way, but he knew it in his bones. He knew that he was the one responsible, and no matter what anyone said, they couldn’t change his mind.

Gordon laughed, but the sound lacked any warmth, any mirth. “Ye’ve always been right, ye ken,” he said, as he began to circle him. Knox stood still, watching him from the corner of his eye, waiting to see what he would do. He wasn’t going to fall for his taunts, not when Fia’s life was at stake.

“About what?”

“About yer parents,” Gordon said. “Yer maither, when she died… she squealed like a pig.”

A gasp sounded from the other side of the room, where Fia had hidden herself in the shadows. Momentarily, Knox glanced at her to find her half-lit by the light of a torch, her hand covering her mouth as she looked at Gordon with disbelief and disgust written plainly on her features. When she glanced at Knox, her eyes were shining with tears.

White-hot rage gripped Knox then, all-consuming and blinding. Reality came crashing down upon him, the truth slicing through him like a blade. He had always known; always. But hearing it from Gordon’s lips, finally having this confirmation that he had been right all this time, filled him not only with a need for vindication, but also with unbridled fury, the dam inside him finally broken.

How dared he speak of his mother like that?

A cry tore itself from Knox’s throat as he turned around to swing his blade, his rage guiding him as he tried to strike Gordon down. He was fast, though, expecting the blow, and he blocked it, the clash of their swords drowned out under their wild roars, like two rabid animals trying to tear each other apart. Knox was relentless in his attacks, striking again and again only for Gordon to meet him halfway, always on defense but never once faltering.

“An’ now I’ll kill yer precious wife in front o’ ye,” Gordon said through heavy pants as Knox took a moment to steady his feet, reminding himself that he couldn’t only rely on his rage to win this fight. “An’ ye’ll hear her squeal like a pig, too.”

He’s only tryin’ tae taunt me. He wants me careless. He wants me weak.

Knox wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He would do anything it took to kill him, not only to save Fia, but also to avenge his family. After all these years, he would finally have his revenge, and he would know that his mother and his father could finally rest in peace.

Much to his relief, when his gaze searched for Fia, he found her once again in the shadows, where she had been since before the start of the fight. He found her plastered against the wall, trying to make herself as small and invisible as she could, keeping away from Gordon just as Knox needed her to do. The more she remained out of his field of vision, the more she kept herself away from the action, the easier it was for Knox to focus on the task at hand—killing Gordon once and for all.

Another bellow was torn from Knox as he attacked again. This time, he conserved some of his energy, baring his teeth as he tried to corner Gordon, crowd him against a wall. But the man was slippery, making sure he was never pushed against one, and so Knox was quick to change tactics.

If he couldn’t get to him, he would let Gordon be the one to come.

It was a risky plan, one that could easily end in his death. But Knox was determined, and so he gave the impression of a tired-out fighter, making mistakes that were small, yet significant. And when he left his right side open, that was when Gordon finally struck, going for the killing blow.

Only Knox jumped out of the way before the blade could slice him, and with a swift twirl behind Gordon, he plunged his blade through his back with a grunt, blood fountaining out of the wound.

The only sound Gordon could make was a soft gasp as his knees hit the floor. Above him, Knox stood frozen, heaving, drenched in blood—some of it his own, some of it Gordon’s, some of it from all the other men he had killed that night. So many lives had been lost. So many had been struck dead by his hand.

And then Fia’s hand closed tenderly around his shoulder, and he turned around to face her, falling into her embrace.

“It’s over,” she told him, running her fingers through his bloody, matted hair. “Hush now… it’s all over.”

It was the truth, but it was still difficult to believe. Adrenaline still coursed through Knox’s veins, his heart beating like a drum, and the only thing that kept him from collapsing on the floor, was Fia, holding onto him like that.

Footsteps echoed outside the room then, fast and frantic, and Knox was quick to tear himself away from Fia, putting her behind him. He waited with bated breath, counting the seconds in his head, waiting to see who it was—friend or foe.

When the group of men appeared at the door, the first thing Knox saw was a friendly face.

“Magnus,” he said, sagging with relief. His friend was in a similar state, sword drawn, covered in blood from head to toe, but he seemed unharmed, much to Knox’s relief. Instantly, Magnus entered the room and grabbed him, pulling him into a crushing hug and patting his shoulder.

“Ye’re alright?” he asked, and Knox was quick to nod.

“Ye?”

“Aye,” said Magnus. “More than. Look who I found.”

Knox looked over Magnus’ shoulder at the door and saw Callum there, beaten and bruised, surrounded by soldiers. Two of them had apprehended him, holding tightly onto his arms, his hands bound behind his back.

And Knox still had his sword in his hand.

“I’ll kill ye, ye bastard!” he roared, sidestepping Magnus to get to Callum, but Fia was quick to come in his way, holding her hands up.

“Wait!” she called. “Wait… it isnae worth it, Knox. He isnae worth it. Look around… look at all this blood.”

“What’s a little more?” Knox asked. “He deserves it.”

But Fia wouldn’t hear it. Even as he tried to walk around her, she once again got in his way, stopping him.

“Please, listen tae me,” she said, her hand coming up to rest on his cheek. That calmed him a little, grounding him, bringing him back to his body, but the rage still burned hot inside him. “The humiliation will be a much greater punishment if ye imprison him fer treason. Callum is a proud man. He’d rather die than be humiliated like this.”

Knox glanced between Fia and Callum, watching as the man gritted his teeth. He didn’t know if Fia was right; he didn’t know if it was the right call at all, but her compassion moved him unlike anything else.

Besides, he didn’t think he could ever say no to her.

“Fine,” he said, relenting. “Take him back tae the castle an’ throw him in the dungeons.”

The last thing Knox saw before his men dragged Callum away was his murderous glare, like a promise this wasn’t over.

He could try to escape all he wanted, Knox thought. But he would fail.

With a sigh, he let his sword fall to the floor and grabbed Fia, pulling her into his arms. She was alive, he told himself; she was safe. There was no one left to threaten her anymore, and if there ever was, they would meet the same fate as Gordon. He wouldn’t let anyone harm her and live.

“I love ye,” he told her, pulling back to press a passionate kiss to her lips, needing to feel the life force within her.

“An’ I love ye. An’ I kent ye’d come fer me,” Fia said, gazing into his eyes. “I kent ye wouldnae let them hurt me.”

“O’ course,” Knox said. “Nae one will ever touch ye, mo ghraidh . Ye have me word.”

As long as he lived, Knox lived for her.