His Judas Bride

Chapter 6

The door didn't just slam. It slammed with such force Kara expected to hear it fall flat on the floor.It would make it very easy to keep an eye on her if it did which meant she would not be making any kind of sortie from here tonight, although really, what did he think she was going to do? Steal the candle sconces? And sell them in the Lochalpin marketplace?

She was in no fit state to escape. As for spying?What did he think she had? Eagle eyes that could see through clouds of snow and determine a Lochalpin mouse at six hundred paces? If only she had, this would be so much easier.

There was a rustling as the woman peeled off one of Kara's gloves. "I'm Meg, by the way. Now he's gone—"

"Thank God."

"--what do you say to me getting ye out of these wet things?"

Kara pinged her eyes open.Actually, mistaking the Black Wolf for Ewen McDunnagh wasn't her first error recently. First was allowing her father to dress her like a trollop. Second was mistaking the Wolf. Third was when the Wolf furiously ordered the baggage horse on ahead to McDunnagh Castle with all her clothes, because—fourth—she lagged behind. Fifth was when she fell off the horse. Sixth was when he stuck her on his shoulder like a sack of oats. Seventh was virtually accusing him of rape. Need she think what eighth was?

Did she want this Meg seeing the dress and ripping her Jezebel eyes out? When all she wanted was to lie here in peace and tranquility?

"Actually, I don't need any help." She turned over, grabbing her cloak shut. "I--I can look after myself. Thank you."

"Och, don't be si—"

"I mean it."

"Are ye sure?"

"Believe me, I'm used to it."

If she couldn't look after herself the devil would. He always did his own. So Ma had always said about Kara's father anyway. Ma had said not to look at the stars too. To be careful what you wished for. Didn't I wish for your father? And the bloody nightmare that's turned out to be.Meg set the glove down on the pillow.

"How about a bite of supper then?"

"Supper?"

For God's sake, could the woman not go away leave her in peace? Just …

"Ye must be hungry enough to eat a horse."

"Not really." A stable of them now? But she couldn't. Murder under trust, whether she spied so others could wield the knife, or she led an army to a wedding feast, was still murder under trust. The one thing no Highlander did to another once hospitality had been offered.

"Well, that's a pity …" Meg rose to her feet. "Not that horses are what's cooking here."

"I'm glad to hear it. I mean …"

And yet?Oatmeal bannocks. Whatever was roasting on the spit. A nice drink of wild berry wine to wash it down with. My God, something to take away from this sorry day.They were obviously not going further tonight.Not in this weather.

"Nothing would surprise ye?Well, that's just Callm for you. What he wants ye to think. We eat horses. We eat our enemies too. No, no, there's a good broth. And what would ye say to a newly made stew?"

"Yes." She said yes. Unequivocally.

Why shouldn't she fortify herself for what lay ahead?Her stomach was empty as an upended whiskey cask. She hadn't been able to eat so much as a crumb of bread this morning.She'd tried. It had sat in her mouth like a stone.

It wasn't just Ewen McDunnagh her father planned on annihilating. No. He didn't want a useless alliance through a worthless daughter, to the lord of a glen that barred its gates to the world. He never had.

He wanted to demonstrate that a man without sons, a man humiliatingly forced to sue for peace against a smaller clan, an upstart Irish robber other clan chiefs looked down their noble noses at, was as deserving of a place at their table, by taking what none of them could. Lochalpin. So really, once her father had what he wanted, who was going to know she'd broken this sacred law?

Look at that piece of information she'd just been handed about the Black Wolf, not eating horses when everyone said he did. Raw. He'd be more curious than a cat if she didn't swallow every morsel of that newly made stew. Already she'd probably aroused his suspicions. Lagging behind. Showing him the dress.

"Good." Meg smiled.

"I … I mean …"

Her throat tightened largely with fury. The damn dress was soaking. And who knew better than him she couldn't very well sit in her shift? Not even to smooth his suspicions.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't have a change of clothes."

"You mean … "

"He sent the baggage horses on." Meg's brow knitted so she hastened on. "It was just one of these things. I think he thought they were slowing us down."

What a stupid thing to say. If they were they'd not have beaten Kara to the castle. But really, murder under trust, was murder under trust. No wonder her head sweated and her breath tightened. Surely she wasn't about to pass up the chance to avoid further suspicion? Allow herself to be so easily defeated?It wasn't every day she got a chance like this. In fact, for five years it hadn't been any day. This should have been over by now though.She hadn't banked on it not being.

"That's not a trouble, my lady. I can send your supper in here if ye want."

She didn't. But then again, it being sent in here didn't mean she'd to eat it. In fact, she wouldn't.

"Yes. That would be lovely."

For the first time this didn't seem such a good idea. In fact forget the minute; this was getting worse by the second. When going back was no more an option than going on, too.

Well, firstly, there would be no repeat of what wanted to flare where the Wolf was concerned. No more arousing his suspicions either--which made it secondly.

Why should there be? Not when, thirdly, she was getting the hell out of here at the first opportunity.