Unbreakable (Highlands Forever Book 1) Page 3

  “God damn all Sutherlands,” Alex said, positioning John’s head on his lap.

  John struggled to take a full breath but managed a weak smile. “The Sutherlands breed like rabbits—twould take a lot of damning to get them all.” He coughed up blood.

  Death eventually claimed every man, and Alex could sense it in John already. Like a flickering flame, the faraway look in his brother’s eyes meant one thing. “Let me get the bastard that shot ye in the back.”

  “Nay.” John gripped Alex’s hand, holding firmly. “Stay with me, Brother. I doona want to die alone.”

  “Ye’re no dying,” Alex lied.

  John snorted. “Ye canna always be right.”

  “I can.” Alex looked over his shoulder, then left and right to make sure there were no Sutherlands left unchecked.

  “Promise me…” John squeezed his fingers. “Doona leave again. Stay. Claim the lairdship.”

  “Ye’re Laird MacKay, not me.”

  “Alex!” John closed his eyes.

  “I’m here.”

  “I’ll have another oath from ye.” John gazed up at him.

  “Anything.” Another lie.

  “Doona let them burn my body as Da did. Bury me in the kirk as is fitting for a laird. With my sword and shield—wearing my plaid and boots. I’m a bloody Highlander, not a fooking Viking.”

  For the first time Alex could remember, the sting of remorse hit him—tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, but he swallowed that pain. He’d not let his brother see him cry like a woman or bairn. Never. “Aye,” he said, admiring John in that moment—not only for his bravery but for his words. “Whatever ye wish.’

  “Alex!” John called again. “I see Ma. Da.”

  No. Alex wouldna let him go. “Stay with me,” Alex whispered.

  But it was too late. John took a rattling, shallow breath and dinna move again.

  Alex closed his brother’s eyes and gently lifted his head off his lap. That regret instantly turned into something the devil would claim—an insatiable need to slaughter Sutherlands. And when he killed the two in sight, he’d seek more out.

  Keely’s guttural cry brought Alex back to the present and pierced his heart. But he’d not give her the satisfaction of seeing the pain and regret on his face.

  “How?” she sobbed, kneeling beside the husband she’d never claimed. “When did he die, Alex?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “If I’d only known Earl Sutherland was…”

  “What?” Alex spat. “What would ye have done?” He moved closer.

  “Saved him.”

  He laughed. “Tis partly yer fault he’s dead.”

  Keely wobbled to her feet and faced him. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks stained with fresh tears. “How dare ye blame me for his death. I havena seen nor spoken with this man since the night I left. Call me anything ye wish, curse me, hate me … but don’t ye ever say something so evil again. Tis true I never loved him, Alexander, but I respected him enough to leave before I broke his heart.”

  So beautiful … so unbelievably self-righteous in her darkest hour. “Mourn the husband ye so conveniently claim when it benefits ye greatly.”

  He headed for the door, not wanting to spend another moment alone with her.

  “Alex…”

  He stopped, but dinna turn around. “Aye?”

  “When are ye going to mourn the brother ye forgot?”

  “When Hades freezes, woman.”

  Chapter Four

  Dear God, Alexander… Her heart clenched. What had started as a journey of absolution had turned tragic. She’d never considered seeing Alex again. He’d abandoned his home on the morning of her wedding. Sinking to her knees, Keely tried to forget the past, but couldn’t. On the eve before her wedding, Alex had sought her out in her bedchamber. Knowing the danger if they were caught together, she’d begged Alex to leave. Of course, he refused, barring the door and demanding answers.

  “Do ye know what ye’re doing to me, lass?” he’d asked.

  What about her own heart? Had he ever considered what she was feeling? Keely searched his face for the answer, but only found resentment in his eyes.

  “Tis the only time I ever remember ye not being able to speak.”

  “P-please go, Alex.”

  “Are ye in such a hurry to be rid of me?” He scrubbed his stubbled chin. Usually clean shaven and dressed with care, the man standing before her resembled an outlaw, unkempt, his plaid a wrinkled mess. “A few nights ago, ye were in my arms, promising ye’d be mine—kissing me wildly, begging me to claim ye.” He advanced, backing her into the stone wall. “Give me hope, Keely—just a scrap of it and I’ll wait a lifetime for ye…”

  Oh, that she could… But silence was the price of her future happiness, that and giving up the only man she’d ever love. “What lass wouldna beg for ye to claim her?” Keely asked. “The devil has blessed ye with charms hard to resist.”

  He chuckled mercilessly, fingering a strand of her dark hair. “Then surrender to those charms, lassie—yer heart will follow after I’ve loved ye.”

  Unable to escape, Keely hugged her middle protectively, a meager attempt to keep his roving gaze from noticing how hard her nipples were, wishing her nearly transparent chemise was a cloak of thick wool and fur. “I must go to yer brother’s bed a maiden.”

  Alex seethed, pointing his finger at her. “Aye,” he confirmed, “Ye’ll go to his bed a virgin, but get a cold reception, for I’ll run my sword through his worthless heart.” Alex thumped his chest. “Ye betrayed me, lass. Sold yer soul to a man with a title, nothing more.”

  Keely closed her eyes, grieving her loss, unable to tell him what she really wished to say. Suddenly she was being tugged away from the wall. Opening her eyes, she met Alex’s dark stare as his mouth slanted over hers, his strong hand cupped at her nape, forcing her to accept his kiss. A cruel kiss, meant to dominate and remind her of who she really belonged to.

  Keely didn’t need reminding as their tongues swirled together in anger and desperation, his scent overwhelming her senses, his taste as pleasant as ever.

  “That’s right, lass,” he whispered against her parted lips. “See how easily ye open up to me.” He pumped his hips, pressing his hard length against her belly. “Feel what ye do to me.”

  She planted her palm on his chest, intending to push him away. Instead, she savored the hard muscles she felt through his shirt, unable to ignore the feel of his thundering heartbeat against her fingertips. This was what true love and passion was supposed to feel like. Tears stung her eyes then, but she swallowed her cry. Sacrifices must be made, sometimes, even if what she was expected to give up meant everything in the world to her.

  She gazed up at Alex, wanting to commit his face to memory—from his brilliant green eyes, to his narrow, straight nose, to his full lips. No man had ever caught her attention the way Alex had. Nor had she ever desired another man. “Leave me.” It wasna a request.

  As if something had suddenly come over him, Alex shoved her away, growling with anger. “Ye’re not worth the trouble,” he spat. “Ye reek of betrayal, the vile taste upon yer once sweet lips and tongue.”

  She said nothing as Alex stormed toward the door and punched the wall.

  “Curse ye, woman, and all who serve ye.”

  Crushed by the five year-old-remembrance that felt as if it had only happened yesterday, Keely returned her attention to the present, to John. Using the edge of the table as leverage, she raised herself up, her legs still wobbly.

  “I came here to beg forgiveness, John.” She stared down at his face, reaching for his cheek. Cold to the touch—her husband-in-name-only appeared to be sleeping, even though she well understood the finality of death. “I wish ye peace. Love. Happiness in the heavenly realm—for I know no other man who deserves it more than ye.”

  Laird John MacKay had always been kind to her. Willing to let her wait to consummate their marriage. She bowed her head, remembering his words—th
e ones he’d spoken after he’d carried her to their bedchamber on their wedding night.

  “Ye canna force love, lass. And I willna do so with ye, though every part of my being craves ye like a madman.”

  She’d thanked him for his generous consideration and crawled into bed still wearing her gown and slippers, too afraid to undress in front of her new husband. Instead of joining her, John poured himself a cup of wine and sat in a chair in front of the hearth, drinking himself to sleep on what should have been one of the happiest nights of his young life.

  Once his light snore was heard, Keely crept from their bedchamber. It had taken every bit of courage she could muster to leave what promised to be a union filled with mutual respect and admiration. For no other man in the Highlands would have given her the gift of time like John. Not even Alex—who she loved with all her heart. Nay, Alex would have claimed her, and she would have offered herself like a sacrificial lamb, married to him or not.

  Easier than she thought it would be, she crept past the revelers in the great hall and ran to the stables. Not a squire or stable lad was in sight. Everyone had been invited to her wedding celebration, high and lowborn. She found her mare in a stall in the back of the stable, and with the skill of a seasoned soldier, saddled her mount, then secured her only bag before she climbed up.

  Once she was outside, Keely pulled her hood up and looked about. Soldiers were always on patrol. She leaned forward and patted her mare’s neck. “If we doona leave now…” She heeled the beautiful horse her sire had bought her a year ago in the ribs. “Go.”

  Once she finished with John, Keely approached the chancel, the sacred area of the kirk reserved for the priest. Sitting atop the wood altar was a gold cross. How she wanted to take it in her hands and weep. Considering herself unworthy of touching the holy relic, she simply admired it.

  “Tell me what to do, Lord. Direct my hands. Speak to my heart. Please…”

  When no answer came, she returned to the table where her husband rested. She covered John’s big hands with hers, wishing she could breathe life back into his body.

  “I am sorry, milord,” she sobbed. “Sorry I never gave ye the chance to love me. Sorry I dinna explain myself before I ran away. Sorry I ever met yer brother that day near the loch. I wonder where we’d be now if fate hadn’t brought us together.”

  She leaned over the table and placed a tender kiss on John’s lips.

  “Judas kissed the Lord before the Sanhedrin guards arrested him in Gethsemane.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to place the man’s voice.

  “Lady Keely,” the priest said as he came to stand on the other side of the table. “Some of the women told me I would find ye here.”

  “Father Michael,” she said, feeling uncomfortable in his presence. The priest had presided over her wedding. “If ye doona want me here…”

  “Tis not my choice to make,” he said. “God calls his children home at the most inconvenient times. But his wisdom is greater than my own. So, I accept ye, child.”

  “Ye’ve shown me more mercy than any of the MacKays.”

  “Did ye expect to be welcomed as a long-lost friend?”

  Keely stepped back from the table and licked her dry lips. “I dinna know, Father.”

  The priest rested his hand on John’s forehead. “I’ve outlived the sire, and now his first-born son. What future awaits this clan?” He whispered a blessing and then invited Keely to follow him to a wooden bench. “Sit,” he said.

  She scooted to the far end and folded her hands in her lap.

  “I will ask the same question I am sure everyone is thinking when they see ye. Why did ye return?”

  She should get up and walk away. Arguing with Alex was one thing, but revealing her deepest secrets to a priest was like playing with fire. There would be no half-truths shared in the presence of God or her dead husband. Today must mark the beginning of her new life. “To seek absolution,” she confessed.

  “From who?” He rubbed his chin.

  “From John.” She gazed in the direction of the table. “But it seems I am too late.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “God.”

  “A prayer offered from any kirk would have gained the Almighty’s forgiveness.”

  “Perhaps,” she said, not completely in agreeance. Her eyes grew hazy again as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “Cowards hide from the past. Twas only right to come back here.”

  “Ah,” he uttered. “But cowards also run away from their responsibilities.”

  She knew what he was implying, and though she didn’t like it, she couldn’t deny his words. “There is no excuse for what I did. But please remember, Father, I was very young. Sixteen.”

  “I’ve presided over the marriages of lasses not a day over thirteen.”

  Keely knotted the material of her skirt between her hands. “I doona doubt it, Father Michael. But for me, it wasna the right time or with the right man.”

  He swallowed, never taking his gaze off her. “I admire yer courage, lass. But the laird is gone. Rest easy, yer past will be buried with him.”

  “But not my heart.”

  “Nay,” he said. “Ye will have to live with that for a long time.”

  Finished with the confession, she stood. “Thank ye for speaking with me.”

  “Where will ye go, Keely?”

  She shrugged, feeling very much alone. “I canna return to Dunrobin. My association with the Sutherlands is forever severed after what I’ve seen here today.”

  “A wise choice.”

  “If my sire will take me…”

  “Would it help if I sent him a missive explaining how sincere ye’ve been—how sorry ye are for running away?”

  “I don’t regret running away, Father. I’m sorry for the way it happened, though. There’s a distinct difference.”

  “I’m well aware.” There was an intensity in his gaze she hadn’t noticed before. “Would ye indulge an old man and confide in me why ye dinna stay with John?”

  She cleared her throat and tried to find the strength to answer. “B-because I never loved him.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Who did ye love, lass?”

  “No one.” Had she just lied again? Before a priest and on consecrated ground? “Forgive me, Father Michael. Fear once again overrode my sense of truth. Twas Alexander MacKay I wanted and loved, not John.”

  Father Michael patted her hand. “Ye are forgiven. Under the circumstances, the truth matters not, for ye have no place here now. Yer only connection to Clan MacKay will be buried with Laird John tomorrow. Go in peace, Lady Keely. I will pray for a successful reunion with yer sire.”

  She curtsied, determined to leave the MacKay stronghold before the sun set.

  *

  Keely loved me? Alex had never left the sanctuary. Instead, he hid in an alcove and listened to everything she said. Her words did nothing to change his mind about her. In fact, it made him distrust her even more. For if she’d truly loved him, why did she pledge herself to John?

  As he strolled away from the kirk, he shook his head. Women were capricious creatures. He’d never let another beautiful face manipulate him. He’d never believe another woman’s sweet lies or open up his heart to one. Plenty of foolish men would, but Alex refused to be counted among them.

  Tomorrow he’d bury his brother and oversee the election of a new laird. As long as a MacKay sat upon the chieftain’s chair, he cared little about what happened afterward. He’d already done more than he’d ever planned by staying to defend his clan against the Sutherlands.

  His galley awaited his return—as did the princes of the far east. In the land of Mohammed, infidels were free to do as they liked, so long as they didn’t curse the Prophet or Allah. Alex could live with those stipulations more than he could live in this place where too many ghosts haunted him.

  “Milord.” Jamie joined him in the courtyard. “Some matters need yer attention in the great hall.”

&nbs
p; “I left ye in charge, Jamie. We are kinsmen, and it’s my intention to put yer name before the council to elect ye as the next chieftain.”

  Jamie came to a dead stop. “Me? Laird?” He shook his head. “The council convened while ye were out.”

  The news pleased Alex. The less they relied on him to solve their problems, the better the chances of this branch of Clan MacKay surviving. “And what did they decide?”

  “Tis better for all of the council members to speak for themselves.”

  “Every warrior has the right to vote, Jamie.”

  “Aye,” he said. “Several names were put before the council.”

  “And?”

  Alex followed his tight-lipped cousin into the great hall. The only other time he’d seen such a showing of blue and green plaid was on the battlefield. As he approached the high table, the men stood.

  “Be seated,” he said. “Formality isna required here. We are all MacKays.”

  “But not all of us are lairds,” Craig, one of his brother’s captains, pointed out.

  “I’d prefer to wait until John is in the ground before we choose the next chief. But under the dire circumstances, I understand yer need to take a vote.”

  “There’s no need, milord,” Craig said.

  Alex sat down, looking into the crowd. “Why?”

  “We already voted,” Jamie said.

  “Without me? I dinna have a chance to vote.”

  “Yer choice wouldna matter, Alex,” Craig said. “The decision was unanimous.”

  “All right.” Alex would listen to what they had to say. These men would be left to hold together whatever remained of his family, so their opinions mattered more than his.

  “Before God and all men representing Clan MacKay, we pledge our lives to our new laird.” Mathe, the eldest and highest ranked captain of the bunch, pushed his chair out and knelt before Alex.

  Jesus Christ above… This was the last thing Alex expected or wanted. He wasna meant for the laird’s seat, and dinna deserve it after being gone so long. If these honorable men knew what had taken root in his heart since the night he fled home, they’d surely change their minds about him. There was more to being a laird than just carrying the blood of his sire and brother. It required patience and judiciousness, a healthy fear of the Almighty, and respect for men less fortunate than himself.