CHAPTER 12 #5
Her gray eyes were wide and earnest, and her lower lip trembled slightly, making it clear how vital this issue was to her. Alex found himself deeply moved by her desire to protect the MacDunn women.
“I will speak with Elspeth tomorrow,” he promised, stopping before Gwendolyn’s door. “And I will make certain she abandons these practices immediately.”
“Thank you.”
Her black hair was spilling wildly over her badly wrinkled gown, giving her a sweetly disheveled look that only endeared her more to him.
The memory of lying naked with her last night flooded his senses, stirring his body and heating his blood.
He wanted to lift her into his arms and take her to his bed, to hold her and kiss her and pleasure her until neither of them could bear any more.
But dark crescents bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes, and if it was possible, her face seemed even paler than usual.
He sensed a deep melancholy to her as well, which he attributed to her severe fatigue.
Last night he had kept her awake deep into the hours of early morning, and then she had endured a day that had been both physically and emotionally exhausting.
The sight of her looking so frail troubled him.
“You will stay in bed until these marks under your eyes have faded,” he ordered, tracing them with the tip of his finger. “If I see you appear before then, I will carry you back to bed myself. Is that understood?”
Gwendolyn nodded as she stared up at him.
She would never see him again after this moment, for she would be gone long before the castle began to stir.
There was suddenly much she wanted to tell him, and yet she found she could not speak, for fear her tears would betray her and make him suspicious.
And so she regarded him in silent anguish, memorizing the burnished gold of his hair and brows, the brilliant blue of his eyes, the elegantly chiseled line of his jaw, and that distinctive cleft in his chin that he had passed on to his son.
I will keep you safe, he had vowed, and she knew he believed such a feat was possible, even if it meant he had to die to achieve it.
But he had a son who needed him, and a clan who depended upon him.
She could not let any of them suffer for something as insignificant as the preservation of her life.
“Good night, Gwendolyn.” Alex bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He did not trust himself to kiss her mouth, knowing desire would overwhelm him. “Sleep well.”
She tentatively raised her hand to his jaw, then slowly traced her fingers along the same path she had taken with his son; down the sandy plane of his sun-bronzed cheek, finally stopping at the depression in his chin.
I love you, she told him silently, wondering if he could feel it in her touch. I always will.
“What is it?” Alex demanded, sensing her distress.
She abruptly took her hand away. “Nothing,” she whispered, turning from him. “Sleep well, MacDunn.” She slipped into her chamber and closed the door, then listened. She heard him hesitate a moment, perhaps waiting to see if she might emerge again.
Finally he left, his gait slow but sure as he made his way to his own chamber.
Gwendolyn approached the bed with leaden legs, using her candle to guide her through the shadows.
There was something lying upon her pillow.
Anticipating yet another talisman of iron or horse bone, or perhaps even a bloodstone, which was thought to have the power to break spells, she approached it with weary indifference.
But as she drew closer she saw the shimmering handle of a dirk.
She stopped and glanced nervously around the chamber, thinking that whoever had left this for her might still be lurking in the shadows.
Then she reached out and pulled the dirk from the pillow, freeing the scrap of paper that had been skewered on its wickedly sharp point.
Gwendolyn,
Whatever the price, it will be mine. You will bring the stone to me at the south end of the woods before first light, or I swear I shall not rest until every MacDunn man, woman, and child lies butchered on the ground, and that mad fool’s head has been hacked from his body and placed in the hands of his precious son.
Their fate lies within your power.
Robert
Sick, dark fear spiraled up from the pit of her stomach.
MacDunn. She must show this to MacDunn. She raced toward the door, clutching the note in her hand.
And then she stopped. What could MacDunn possibly do?
she wondered helplessly. He could not prevent Robert from burning the cottages and laying siege to the castle.
Nor could he keep his people trapped within these walls forever.
Eventually the MacDunns would have to go out, whether to find food or to face Robert’s army.
The instant they did, Robert would cut them to pieces.
There would be unimaginable suffering and death, because MacDunn had sworn to keep her safe, and he would fight to the hideous, blood-drenched end trying to keep his word.
She could not let him do that.
She inhaled a steadying breath, fighting to master her panic.
She had planned to leave tonight, hoping to lure Robert away by leaving a note for him with the MacDunns, saying that she was returning to the MacSween lands to retrieve the stone, and Robert and his army should follow her there.
That was impossible now. Robert was giving her an ultimatum, and he would tolerate nothing less than his terms. She had no choice but to go to him.
Once he learned that the stone was hidden on MacSween land, he would not waste any more time here.
He would depart before light, aroused by the promise of finally having that powerful charm within his evil grasp.
No doubt he believed that once he had used it to give him unbridled power, he would massacre MacDunn and his people anyway.
But the moment she held the stone in her hands, she would use its power to destroy Robert instead.