The Chief Read online

  “This is me. I’m not your damned Lancelot. This isn’t some romantic fantasy, and nothing you do—or no matter how helpful you try to be—is going to change that.”

  She gasped, feeling as if he’d just plunged a dirk into her heart. The blood leached from her face. He’d just shined a light on her deepest, darkest dreams only to stomp on them. Was she so transparent? Had he seen her attempts to please him as some pathetic attempt to gain his heart? She cringed, wondering if he was right. Pride made her say, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Please don’t let that be pity in his gaze.

  “You think I don’t see the way you look at me? What you want from me? But I can’t give you what you want. You are young and full of dreams of knights and romance. I’m a battle-hard Highland chief whose sole devotion is to his clan.”

  “And there is no place for me?”

  “Not in the way you want.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  His face didn’t move a muscle. “Aye, it does.”

  “I think you want it that way,” she said angrily. “You want to be alone—so that it doesn’t have to hurt if you lose someone and you don’t have to rely on anyone else. You’ve started to believe what they say about you. But you aren’t invincible. You are a man. People need one another—even if they make mistakes. Your father was wrong to make you think differently.”

  She saw the pulse below his jaw and wondered if she’d gone too far.

  “You don’t know what you are talking about,” he said. “I knew this was a mistake.”

  Her stomach turned, realizing what he meant. Their marriage was the mistake.

  He didn’t mean it. He must have wanted to marry her a little bit…didn’t he? No one forced him to do anything. No matter how much it hurt, she had to know the truth. “Why did you marry me?”

  He turned, and she could see from his hesitation that he didn’t want to tell her.

  Her chest was so tight she could barely breathe. “What difference does it make now?” she asked hollowly. “Why keep any more illusions between us?”

  He shot her a hard look, not liking her sarcasm. “It was part of the bargain I made with MacDonald. Marriage to you was the price I paid for peace. Although after what has happened today, it may have just cost me exactly that.”

  Her heart felt like it was breaking into a million little pieces, scattering across the floor at her feet. Big, hot tears poured down her cheeks. “And the men you’ve been training are part of it?”

  Curtly, succinctly, emotionlessly, he told her what she’d wanted to know for so long, letting her see exactly what her actions may have cost him. She listened as he explained the terms of his bargain with MacDonald. How they’d asked him to lead the men and how he’d initially refused, but then MacDonald had made him an offer her couldn’t refuse.

  He never wanted to marry me. It wasn’t honor or any special feelings for her that had changed his mind, it was his duty to his clan.

  And she’d done the one thing he could never forgive: putting herself between him and his clan. She felt ill, realizing the danger she’d unwittingly unleashed. Because of her, the safety of his clan and everything he’d fought to achieve since his parents’ death was at risk.

  He would never trust her again. She knew how hard it had been for him to relax his guard just a little, and he would see this as a personal failure. She’d fulfilled his worst fear—that allowing himself to get close to someone would hurt his clan. The promise of the past few weeks was gone. He’d distanced himself from her, this time for good.

  “And now?” she asked. “Do you feel the same way now?”

  She thought his gaze flickered, but it was just the candlelight. “What difference does it make? You are my wife.”

  It was the final blow. Her fantasy had prevented her from seeing the truth. For the first time, she saw things clearly. He was right: He would never be able to give her what she wanted. He would always keep part of himself detached from her. Even if he did care for her, he would never admit it. He didn’t love her and never would. She’d been deluding herself. Making excuses. Convincing herself that beneath the icy shell he cared for her. That the shell was only to protect himself. That he just didn’t know how to show his feelings.

  But she was wrong. Trying to wring emotion from him was like trying to squeeze water from a stone. She hadn’t sought a full cup, only a few drops. But he couldn’t even give her that.

  And she was done trying. She’d given him everything she had to give and it wasn’t enough—it would never be enough.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes. This was how it would be between them. Always. There had never been anything special. It all had been her imagination getting carried away. He wasn’t her Lancelot; he was a ruthless Highland chief who belonged to his clan.

  There was a knock on the door and MacSorley said, “We’re ready, captain.”

  Tor made his way to the door.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said one last time.

  “It’s too late for apologies,” he said stonily. “If you want to help, pray that I find your friend before he brings Edward’s wrath down on us all.”

  Her chest squeezed as she watched him go, trying to burn every detail to memory, her heart knowing what her head had yet to realize.

  “Good-bye,” she whispered, as the door closed behind him.

  She realized she meant it. Perhaps it was inevitable. A marriage forged in treachery was doomed from the start. But she could not go on like this. Pretending. Banging her head against a stone wall. He may have relaxed the boundaries between them, but they were still there—would always be there. His world and hers. It wasn’t good enough.

  She wanted—nay, deserved—more. He wasn’t the only one who deserved happiness.

  Ironically, he was the one who’d helped her see it. She was no longer the frightened girl who’d cowered under her father’s hand or the adoring pup who begged for whatever meager scrap of affection her husband wanted to dole out. She had a lot to give. She could read and write, calculate complex figures in her head, turn a dark hovel into a home, and most of all, love someone with all her heart. If he couldn’t see that, it was his loss.

  Father Stephen was right. She deserved someone who could see what she had to give and would love her for it. Who wouldn’t turn away from her every time she made a mistake. She wanted to be important to someone. Perhaps it was unrealistic, but the alternative was far worse. What Tor offered would not only break her heart, but her spirit. She could live with a broken heart, but not at the expense of her soul.

  She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. There was only one thing to do.

  As Christina sat huddled in the birlinn and watched the menacing stone walls of Dunvegan Castle fade into the haunting morning mist, her broken heart crumbled a little more. Over the past few months she’d come to love the old pile of rocks that made up the forbidding castle and the taciturn occupants that filled its Hall. She would miss them desperately.

  She would miss him desperately. Eyes that she thought incapable of any more tears filled again, but she wiped away the dampness determinedly. She’d made her decision, and now she had to live with it.

  It was over. She was leaving him. The man she loved. She would hold her husband to his vow to let her retire to the nunnery on Iona, a vow she knew he’d never thought to honor. She hated running off like this, but she wasn’t completely sure he would keep his vow if she gave him the chance to object.

  When she’d discovered that there was already a birlinn preparing to go to the Isle of Mull, she’d asked for them to take her to Iona first. It was a little out of their way but easier than arranging a separate boat. There had been no time to pack. She’d boarded with little more than a change of clothes and a few personal items. Mhairi would pack the remainder of her belongings and send them to Iona before returning to her family in Touch Fraser. Her precious folio she left behind. The story only gave young girls fals