Page 52 of Scot of Deception
At least he was moving. Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, his hand coming up to wipe the blood off his nose. Even as Kathleen stared at him, though, he avoided her gaze and instead, glued his to the floor. Whether it was because of his shame or because her father was still there, she didn’t know. All she knew was that since he seemed to be alright, she didn’t need to be there.
Turning around, Kathleen headed to the door once more, only for her mother to grab her arm and stop her just as she was leaving.
“What happened here?” she asked her.
Kathleen was in no mood to discuss it with her mother. She already knew what she would have to say to her, and it was nothing she wanted or needed to hear in that moment. Even if her mother loved her, even if she would do anything for her, she was always quick to anger and even quicker to judge Kathleen’s choices. If Kathleen revealed the truth to her, there was no doubt in her mind that she would never hear the end of it.
Instead, there was something else she wanted to ask her mother; something that would either confirm her fears or assuage them.
“Did ye ken Faither had hired Blaine tae be me guard? Did ye ken about his whole plan?”
Her mother stared at her in silence. It wasn’t often that she had nothing to say—if anything, this was the first time in Kathleen’s memory that she didn’t have a response prepared, and that was more than enough for Kathleen to know the truth.
Everyone had known. Everyone had known who Blaine was but her, and she felt like an utter fool.
It wasn’t the fact that her father had hired a man to guard her that bothered her. She had been the one to suggest traveling with guards in the first place, only for her parents to refuse without even taking her suggestion into consideration. Rather, it was the fact that everyone had lied to her about it and had allowed her to make a choice she would have never otherwise made.
Betrayal seemed like too inconsequential of a word for what they had done. She didn’t know how she could ever trust any of them again, let alone anyone else. If her own parents, her own family, were so willing to lie to her like that, then why should she expect anything different from strangers?
There was only one person in all of Castle Stalker who could offer Kathleen any comfort, and that was Fenella. But Fenella had troubles of her own, troubles which seemed bigger to Kathleen than hers. She didn’t want to burden her friend with her problems—and the irony of that was entirely lost to her in that moment.
Kathleen didn’t know where she was going; all she knew was that she couldn’t be in that room anymore, so she pushed past her mother and into the hallway, disappearing around the corner.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The metallic taste of blood filled Blaine’s mouth, settling heavy on his tongue. He coughed and spat a glob of blood onto the floor, feeling around with his tongue for any teeth that may have gotten loose.
He had been lucky—all of them seemed intact and in place. And yet, he could feel every scrape and bruise on his face, every burning cut from Laird Mackintosh’s rings, every dull throb of his swollen cheek, in time with his heartbeat.
But what hurt the most were not the physical injuries at all. Those, he could handle. He had taken many a beating throughout his life, enduring every stab wound, every bruise, and every broken bone with patience. What he could not stomach was the way Kathleen had looked at him before she had left the room—not with hatred, not with disgust, but with a disappointment so cutting and palpable, that it was like a knife to the heart.
She had every right to hate him for what he had done to her, and to never want to see him again, to even wish that her father would end his life. The weight of his guilt and his regret was so unbearable that he almost wished it himself. What other way was there for him to atone for what he had done? Now, sooner or later, word would reach around the castle about him and Kathleen, and after that, the rumors would only continue to spread outwards, reaching other clans, other people. Her reputation would be destroyed. Her life would be destroyed.
It already is. An’ I am the reason fer it.
Heavy footsteps pulled Blaine out of his daze. He looked up to see Bran there, staring down at him with such hatred that that one single glance was enough to chill him to his core. And still, Blaine couldn’t find the words to apologize. What was there to say? No apology was enough to fix what he had done.
“Get out o’ me sight,” Bran hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at Blaine. “An’ stay away from me daughter. If I catch ye near her again, I will have yer head. Nay… I will kill ye meself.”
“Bran—” Laird Stewart said, in a vain attempt to calm down his friend, but Bran was quick to hold up a hand to stop him.
“I dinnae wish tae hear it!” Bran said. “A sword fer hire! A sword fer hire layin’ his hands on me daughter!” Then, he spun around to face Blaine once more, baring his teeth as he spoke. “She’s only a lass. A decade younger than ye an’ ye didnae even respect that. Is that how little ye can control yer appetites? Ye couldnae control yerself near her?”
“It isnae that,” Blaine said through gritted teeth. He didn’t want Bran or anyone else to think this was nothing but lust—animal desire that he could not tame. “I love her. I ken it’s wrong, but I love her an’ I cannae change that. And I dinnae want tae.”
Bran paused, Blaine’s words bringing him to a sudden halt. His confession, though, seemed to stoke the flames of his fury, his face turning a deep shade of red.
“Love?” he scoffed, then threw his hands in the air as he cursed. “Love! Did ye all hear that? The lad thinks he’s in love!”
Anger threatened to bubble over inside Blaine at the mockery. He could sit there and take any kind of abuse Bran saw fit, but he would not accept him diminishing his feelings for Kathleen. “It is love. It’s real an’ I’ll swear an oath if ye dinnae believe me. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love yer daughter an’ I ken all this is wrong, I ken I should have never acted upon these feelings, but I will never regret lovin’ her.”
Walking up to Blaine and leaning in close, Bran pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Lies! How can ye claim ye love her when ye never once considered her? What will happen tae her now?”
Blaine hesitated, blood pooling on his tongue once again. He swallowed with a wince, but when he spoke, his voice was clear and steady. “If ye let me, I’ll wed her.”
The slap that followed was not a surprise. Blaine’s ears rang with the force of it, his head whipping to the side, but he made no movement to avoid it—not even a sound of protest.
“Ye have ruined her,” Bran said. “An’ ye have ruined her life. But even so, I’d rather she never wed than be wedded tae ye.”
