Chapter Fourteen

I would kill you.

The thought surfaced in her mind like the memory of a nightmare.

Cain sat there under the stars next to her, ready to defend her from her dead father, ready to hear her thoughts about making Scotland strong. Was he the monster that Kenneth and all of Sutherland clan thought him to be?

Her lips felt numb in the wind, and she touched her mouth, sliding a hand down to her chin. Kenneth used to clasp her chin when she was a child to hold her attention as he taught her right from wrong. She dropped her hand. “I would unite the clans as allies with a written treaty between them. The clan leaders would work to remain together through quarterly discussions as a group and with King James.”

“James is not strong enough to keep the clans together,” Cain answered. “Such pacts have fallen apart before.”

“It requires honest and respectful listening and discussing to get the clan leaders to agree to stay together. Diplomacy.”

“I would be honest and respectful, but I have found that others like to shoot and slash rather than talk,” he said.

“Fear makes people attack. Perhaps you should try…I don’t know…not growling at people or ordering them around constantly or riding down on them with your crown and bow and three nightmarish brothers.”

She sucked in a large breath. “Maybe listen to them for a change. Learn their names and who they are. Other people have ideas, some of them sound. Others, besides you and your brothers, are also clever, but when you roll through clans, taking everything over, killing whomever stands in your way, you silence them.”

“I am listening right now to the Sutherland chief, am I not?” He crossed his arms where he sat, the silhouette of a mighty warrior. If he was carved in marble, he could be called The Strength of Scotland.

“Yet you are stripping away my chiefdom,” she said. “Trying to change my people into Sinclairs. If you take their name and their pride, no amount of stargazing will make them strong. The strength of Scotland lies in clan pride and loyalty. Conquered warriors will not fight for the Sinclairs, at least not well. If you conquer the pride of our people, Scotland will weaken.” She watched his face, his brows lowered. Could she possibly change a mind that had been molded by a madman over a lifetime?

In the distance, a horse neighed, and another round of screams rose up. Cain did not reply to her comments, but at least she’d gotten the chance to say them. No one, besides Kenneth, had ever listened to her ideas about creating a strong Scotland before.

She turned toward the bonfires and leaned forward, making Gilla walk. “I suppose we must return, Gilla,” she said. “To the insanity that is the Sinclair clan.” Her horse’s ears flicked toward her in agreement over her assessment.

“’Twas my father’s tradition,” Cain called and caught up to her. “He felt that chaos would weed out the weak.”

Ella rolled her eyes heavenward. “’Tis a bloody idiotic tradition, and you can change it. You can change a lot of things.” She angled her horse across the dark moor and pressed forward into a canter, Gilla’s rolling gait making her feel free enough to smile. Cain moved up beside her, the thud of his horse in time with her own. They slowed as they reached the outskirts of the fires. People milled around, most holding onto their horses while Cain’s assigned man used sweeping arm movements to try to organize the mass.

Cain held his fingers to his mouth, giving a shrill whistle that sliced through the uproar. Behind the press, a horse neighed, and Cain’s massive warhorse pushed through the crowd. Cain waited until his white steed came up to him to dismount Hannah’s horse. “Take her to her mistress,” Cain asked a lad nearby and held the horse’s halter until he grabbed it. He glanced at Ella and then back to the boy. “What is your name, lad?”

The boy’s eyes were wide. “Devlin, Chief Sinclair.”

Cain nodded to him. “And thank ye.”

Shocking. Her mouth dropped open with mock surprise.

He climbed onto his white horse and looked at her. “See,” he said. “I can be…not frightening.”

She closed her mouth, trying not to smile. He is still the enemy. An enemy who had listened to her ideas. Wed him and kill him. Her smile faded away.

Cain turned the horse to face the crowd. “Stad,” he called out, his voice booming up from his gut to cut through the conversations. It was a vicious growl. Most looked paralyzed in fear, except for the man directing everyone, who lowered his arms in relief.

“Wildness served the Sinclairs in the past,” Cain called. “But now we will have order in the walk and save the wildness for the dancing and drinking afterward.” Deep chuckles came from most of the men and several ladies.

“Those animals who have already walked or kicked their way between the flames must be taken home now if they haven’t already run off into the night.”

“Ian’s young stallion has been caught,” Hamish said. “The rest were ridden down, too.”

Cain glanced behind him to Ella. “What order do ye recommend?”

She almost glanced behind herself to see if one of his brothers stood there, but Cain stared directly into her face. Her eyes widened, her lips parting. Before his clan, he was asking a prisoner to organize the blessing?

Ella pressed Gilla forward to come beside him. She cleared her throat and blinked against the smoke that wafted into her eyes. “I would send the wildest horses, one at a time, through first with two strong attendants each and then take them back to their stables to make way for the gentler ones and then the mothers and their foals.”

Cain nodded and turned back to the crowd. “This is Lady Ella Sutherland, who will be my wife in a fortnight. Her advice is sound.” Cain turned to Hamish, whose frantic look had changed to utter bewilderment, his gaze bouncing between him and Ella.

“Lord of the Beasts,” Cain said. “I know that ye, too, have thoughts on making this work smoothly. The two of ye will discuss the order, and ye will see it carried out with the efficiency and masterfulness that ye always employ.”

The man’s chest puffed up, and he managed to close his mouth and nod. Cain looked to Ella. “Can ye work with Hamish to improve this bloody idiotic tradition?” It was a question, not a command, and Ella nodded.

…

Within minutes, Hamish was lining up the stallions with two men each to help hold lead lines. Ella stood with him, pointing, nodding, and listening to Hamish. Whatever she said to him seemed to make the man accept her help. It seemed that she was good at diplomacy.

Cain stood apart, next to Seraph, waiting for their turn to walk between the flames. Joshua sauntered up, a teasing grin on his face. “Very nice, brother.” He nodded to where Ella and Hamish stood. Ella said something, and Hamish actually smiled. Well, it wasn’t a smile exactly, but his usual frown softened.

“Showing her respect,” Joshua continued. “Lasses love it. And before the clan… She will be in your bed before ye know it.”

Was that his intent? “She is quite clever,” Cain said, thinking over her words on the moor. “And I agree that Da’s wild ways need improvement.” Cain slid a hand down Seraph’s neck.

Joshua came around the horse. “Now to make her jealous.”

Cain huffed. “How would that make her more biddable to me?”

Joshua shook his head. “Do ye know nothing about lasses? They can resist carnal temptation much longer than we men, but put another woman in the picture, and they will do anything to keep the man they’ve decided they want.”

“I would not put Ella Sutherland in the category of women who want me,” Cain said.

“Ye have declared that she will be your wife,” Joshua said. “Therefore, she is already seeing ye as her territory. We have our games of war, and lasses have their own games.”

Cain looked over to where Ella stood, her arms up to help Hamish direct a line of horses. Could she possibly think of him as something other than her captor? He’d listened to her sharp mind out on the moor and showed her that he could bend by finding out the lad’s name and putting her in charge of the blessing.

Joshua’s hand came down on his shoulder, and his brother leaned in as if imparting a secret. “I am telling ye, return some of the glances that soft and curvy Viola tosses ye tonight and see what Ella does.”

“Viola Finley?” Cain turned toward the fire to where the voluptuous brown-haired woman stood. She had always been eager to enjoy a night of sport with nearly any warrior. As if the woman could feel his gaze, she raised her eyes to meet it, and her amused smile changed into a seductive grin.

“She has been staring after ye all night.” Joshua laughed. “Ye must be struck foolish by Ella not to have noticed. One grin, and Viola will be spreading her legs for ye. Either gain back some of your humor tupping her tonight or at least give Ella a reason to be jealous.”

It was said that Joshua knew how to win any lass’s heart, or at least her tail, but his advice with Ella sounded too routine, too easy, when nothing about Ella Sutherland was easy.

“Anger and passion are one and the same,” Joshua continued. “Poke her temper,” he said, nodding toward Ella, “and the fire will follow.”

…

The log looked incredibly inviting as two men carried it over to lay on one side of the fire for people to sit upon. Ella held Boo in her arms, having returned from carrying her between the fires. She claimed a seat and snuggled the kitten against her chin, watching Hamish finish directing the last animals.

Ella had never even walked around the fires before, and Cain had put her in charge of coordinating the process with Hamish. And he had allowed her to speak out on the moor without interrupting. Her father would have knocked her down for her insolence and called her a fool for desiring a unification of chiefs to make Scotland strong. Yet Cain Sinclair, the fierce demon of conquest, had let her talk. Perhaps it was a Midsummer miracle, or perhaps Cain Sinclair was not the monster she thought him to be.

Ella watched Pastor John say a prayer over a tiny bug that a little lad had accidentally squashed, helping the boy slow his tears. Children toddled through holding fireflies that they’d caught, swearing to their das that their new friends were pets who must be blessed. Ella smiled as one little girl yawned, her father scooping her up to carry her home for bed. What would it feel like to be loved so?

Soon only adults remained, and the musicians started a lively tune. Boo hopped off her lap, trotting back toward the castle. Ella blinked against the smoke and glanced around the darkness on the outside of the fires where men and women laughed.

“Come dance with me!” Hannah said as she ran over. The young woman tugged her arm, making her rise to follow her to a circle of ladies ringing one of the smaller fires.

“What do we do?” Ella asked.

Hannah leaned in to her. “I have no idea.”

Ella gave her a comical frown. “You have made it very easy for me to sit back down.”

Hannah laughed and clasped her hand while the woman on the other side of her did the same. Trapped. “I am Alice,” the other woman said. “Just kick your legs and follow the others.” Kick my legs and follow.

They moved around the fire in a wide circle. When Alice dropped Ella’s hand and began to turn and move her hips, Ella dropped Hannah’s hand and turned, too, her hair whipping out. She smiled at the freedom in the movement, her feet leaping and stomping in time with the drum that accompanied the pipes and flute. Around and around they danced until they were out of breath and laughing.

Hannah caught Ella’s hands. “I am so happy ye will be my sister,” Hannah said. Ella’s chest tightened. Would she be happy for a sister with secrets that could hurt the Sinclair clan? A sister who planned to kill all of her brothers, starting with Cain? Ella breathed past the ripple of nausea, pushing the dark thoughts away.

Glancing over Hannah’s head, her gaze caught on Cain where he stood watching them with Joshua and Bàs. He was a giant of restrained power, but his hands could move over her ever so gently, his kisses soft and teasing. Ella’s stomach clenched again, but this time the feeling was giddy as her rapidly flying heartbeat thudded deeper with the memory of their kiss. The warmth that rose up within Ella dissolved the tortured thoughts of Kenneth’s plan.

“I am growing hot,” Hannah said above the music.

Ella met Cain’s direct gaze. “So am I.” Even with merriment all around him, he looked only at her. As if she were important. As if she mattered.

Joshua interrupted him, tipping his head toward the barn. Cain glanced once more toward Ella, said something to Bàs, and then walked away. Ella breathed deeply again, shaking the spell he’d woven over her. He is my enemy. The thought felt like a lie.

“Find us a seat,” Hannah said, “while I find us something to drink. Maybe a bit of Aunt Merida’s whisky.”

Ella walked over to take a spot on a log that was vacated by a couple who faded off into the darkness holding hands. Her gaze drifted toward the barn and noticed Joshua striding out. He paused, caught her eye, and walked directly toward her. He jumped over the log to sit down.

“Enjoying the festival?” he asked and held out a flask.

She ignored his offer. “Not the nearly being killed by a wild horse, but yes, the rest has been pleasant.”

“Ye dance well.” He nodded toward the fire where many of the unclaimed ladies laughed and twirled about.

“Your sister is quite excited to be let outside Girnigoe.”

He crossed his legs at the ankles. “Aye.” His smile faded somewhat. “Bàs is following her right now. Perhaps I should take her up to her room before things get started.”

“Started?” she asked.

He nodded toward the couple on the other side of the fire. “With the wee ones off to bed, the lads and lasses enjoy the evening more and more. A bit of whisky, dark shadows, a lively tune in the background, and the fire in Fire Festival takes on a whole new meaning.” He raised his flask as if saluting the carnal tradition.

Ella glanced at several couples kissing in the shadows behind her. “I best be off to the castle, too, then,” she said. “I can find Hannah and take her with me.” Where was Cain? The clan knew they were betrothed, but would that be enough to keep him away from the ladies imbibing in spirits? From what Hannah had said, Cain had many women vying for his kisses.

“Ye may want to stay out here to keep an eye on Cain,” Joshua said as if reading her thoughts.

Her gaze snapped around to him. “Why?”

Joshua shrugged. “Pairing up at Midsummer is a blessing, too, for the couple.”

She pinched her lips tight. “I do not care about a blessing for us as a couple. I am still a prisoner here.”

“Dear almost-sister.” He sighed dramatically. “Whomever ye pair with at Midsummer will warm your heart and bed all winter long. ’Tis a saying, a legend, and pretty much a fact. And I do not take ye as a lass who is willing to share her husband with another.” He jerked his thumb over his left shoulder toward the barn.

Blinking to clear the brightness of the flames from her vision, Ella spied into the shadows where the large form of Cain stood…with a woman. Ella’s spine stiffened. “That bloody bastard,” she murmured before rational thought could remind her that she shouldn’t care.

“Ho now,” Joshua said, pressing the uncorked flask into her hand. “Cain was checking on that new foal of yours, and Viola Finley caught him there on his way out. She is always up for a bit of fun, especially on Midsummer’s Night. But she looks to be pouring on the sweetness with her bodice lower than is proper.” He nodded, his brows raised like he was astonished, but then he smiled wickedly. “I would tup her myself tonight, but it seems she has her sights set on the new chief.”

Ella’s fingers curled into the bladder that Joshua had handed her. She’d never cared about trying to garner or keep a man’s attention before, preferring to avoid them all. But the sight of a woman rubbing her breasts across Cain’s arm ignited a tempest inside her.

She took a swig from the bladder, the smooth whisky weaving a path of fire down her throat. Her face pinched at the strong brew, and she wiped a hand over her lips, handing the flask back to Joshua. “I have no say over what Cain does with anyone.”

Joshua took a swig, too, smiling like a drunken fool. “Just looking out for my soon-to-be sister. If Viola ends up sharing his bed tonight and all winter, ye will lose any influence over my brother.”

Ella turned to the cocky arse. “You think I should use my body to control Cain?”

Both of his eyes opened wide, and he placed a hand at his heart. “Did ye not know? A man’s mind is often controlled by his cock, dear sister. Control Cain’s and ye may control him. Let Viola take hold of it, and she will never let go.”

Joshua was crass, but as she looked back toward Cain with Viola draped over him, the woman’s knee rising to stroke him through his kilt, Ella glared. What if Cain decided not to wed her? What would that mean for her clan if she had no influence over him at all?

Ella stood, striding away from the fire.

“Claws out,” Joshua called. “He likes claws. We all do.” He laughed.

She headed straight toward the situation that, left unchecked, could ruin whatever plans she decided to execute. Laughter and shadows blended the rest of the world away, and the soft tread of her boots over the battered grass was soon eclipsed by the rush of blood in her ears.

“Come now, Cain, just a Midsummer’s Night kiss,” the woman said, her voice like the purr of a contented puss. “Maybe a quick ride inside the barn to relieve some of this tension I feel in ye.” Her hands rubbed along his shoulders, sliding down his tunic-covered biceps. Keeping her elbows in to her sides, her bosom rose up high before him like two puddings on a platter.

“Step away.” Ella halted several yards back.

“Ella?” Cain said, trying to turn toward her, but the woman wouldn’t let go of him.

“Go away, Sutherland,” the woman said with a glance, her pretty face plastered with a fake smile. “I am helping out my old friend now that he is going to be burdened with a wife who despises him.”

Did she despise Cain? Of course. He was her captor, her enemy. He listened to me. He gave me leadership over the fires. He would have saved me from my father.

“I said, step away.” Ella slowly withdrew the sgian dubh she had slid up her sleeve.

“’Tis a saying, a legend, and pretty much a fact,” the woman said, looking back up into Cain’s pinched face, “that a woman who warms a man’s heart and bed at Midsummer will do so all winter long. ’Tis good for the clan for the chief to be satisfied.” Her face turned back to Ella. “And ye seem incapable of doing it.”

The woman’s particular wording made Ella pause, and she glanced toward the fire, but Joshua was gone. A sound made her turn back to see Viola on her toes, planting her lips onto Cain’s mouth. Anger, regret, and jealousy welled up inside Ella, and she didn’t try to restrain any of it. She drew back her arm.

“Ella,” Cain said, pushing Viola back from him with two hands, even though she still grasped his. “I was not—”

She cut him off with a step and flick, practiced a million times. She whipped the dagger through the air. Luckily for Viola, Ella’s eyesight and aim were perfect. The dagger tip turned forward, breezing by the woman to thwack into the wooden beam above her head.

“Shite!” she yelled, ducking and finally releasing Cain’s arms. “What the bloody hell are ye doing?”

“Get your talons off him, you witch.”

“Ye are a bloody enemy. His bed will be cold as ice with ye in it.”

Before Viola could wrap one hand back around Cain’s arm, Ella strode up to him, caught his shoulder, and pulled him toward her. He turned without much hesitation, and she grabbed behind his neck to yank his head down to meet her lips in a kiss.

His mouth warmed quickly over hers, and she slanted her face. The mash of emotions that had been churning through Ella all night ignited like pitch within her. His arms slid around to her back until she felt surrounded by his heat, a fire that scorched without pain. The ache of pleasure roared up through her, and she pressed against him. Against Cain Sinclair.

Her enemy. Her betrothed. Her target.

But the fire burned her tormenting thoughts to ash as one of Cain’s hands found her hair, his fingers climbing through the mass, guiding her lips into place as if they were meant to meld into one. Ella’s body remembered only too well the feel of his power and strength when she’d paid the price of losing the chess game. More. She wanted more.

She raked her nails through Cain’s hair. Eyes closed, only sensation mattered. Even the sound of Viola cursing didn’t pull Ella away from the molten desire raging up like a firestorm through her. She pressed the juncture of her legs against Cain’s hard jack, and he fit her intimately along his length.

With a swoop under her knees, he lifted to carry her away from the barn, his lips still on hers. If people watched, she didn’t care. None of them mattered. Hot and wet, only the feel of Cain’s kiss consumed her. It felt like a promise, a tease of something more, something she had never experienced before. And at the moment, she truly wanted to experience whatever it was that Cain’s touch could do to her.

“Shite,” someone cursed, and she heard them jump out of the way of Cain’s strides. “Sorry, chief.”

Cain broke the kiss, his gaze moving ahead of him in the dark. Ella tried to catch her wild breath and realized his breathing was just as ragged.

“Move,” Cain ordered, and a group dispersed as he marched them through the crowd. Bloody hell, everyone was seeing this. Did she care? These weren’t her people, and any women like Viola needed to know that Cain Sinclair was soon to be hers.

“Where…where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice still breathless.

“To my castle,” he said, his voice raw with unchecked hunger. He glanced down at her, but his stride remained constant, eating up the ground between them and a stone fortress of privacy. “But,” he said, and she watched him swallow, “what happens in my bloody castle is up to ye.”

Lifting her higher into his arms, he continued, his boots thudding across the first drawbridge. Guards stepped aside to let them pass, shadows falling over them.

Ella felt the heat radiating off Cain’s chest as he held her against it, her gaze rising to stare at the solidness of his jaw. His longish hair moved in the night breeze, giving him a savage look, like the ancient Vikings, their blood having flowed through both of their ancestors. With his stern features, it was almost as if he marched off to war. He growled low in his throat. “Bloody damn long way to the keep.”

There was a small scar across his cheek. Where had he earned it? She reached up, her finger touching his warm skin to slide along it. He glanced down and then back up at their path.

“What would you have happen in your bloody castle?” she asked, her words soft over the wild thump of her heart. If she was to die or kill and go to Hell for it, she wanted to know first what happened if she let the fire in her rage unchecked. She wanted to know the pleasure Cain’s molten kiss promised before war and death took all pleasure away.

“Cain Sinclair.” She waited until he stopped before the keep door and turned his face down to hers again. Her finger dropped down from his cheek. “What will you do to me, if I say yes to…everything?”