Page 35 of Highlander's Secret Heiress
Lachlan was not moved. He laughed heartily as he saw Alyth weeping, despising her even more.
“Ah, tears,” he mused. “The ultimate woman’s weapon. You can save them for someone whose heart is not as hard as mine, Alyth MacAdams, because they have no effect on me!”
This was a lie. Alyth’s tears were certainly having an effect, although not the one she wanted. They were making Lachlan angrier than ever.
“Leave my wife out of this—you know nothing about her. She was the noblest woman I know, someone who sacrificed her life to save her child’s, and it wasyourfamily who murdered her!”He poked a forefinger into her chest for emphasis. “Would you do such a thing for your child?”
Alyth hesitated, and Lachlan took it as a no.
“I thought not,” he sneered. “Why are you really here? Tell me the truth, now, before I become really angry!”
Alyth looked up at his face, which had become so dear to her that she could not bear to see it so distorted with rage. She shook her head and put her face in her hands, weeping even harder than before, and for a moment Lachlan felt a pang of sympathy before he hardened his heart again.
He would not be swayed by these crocodile tears, he resolved. He had always prided himself on being a good judge of character, but he had to hand it to Alyth MacAdams. She was a very good actress, and she had completely manipulated him into doing her will with her beauty, her intelligence, and last but not least, the charms of her body. Lachlan cursed himself for being so stupid.
Alyth gradually began to calm down, but when she met his eyes again, tears were still running down her face.
“I told you that I wanted to find the pendant and go on my way at once,” she said sadly. “Davina gave me the pendant—she must have found it on her own—and when I told her I had to go, she begged me to stay. I thought about it for a long time because I knew how hurt she would be, and I knew how much I would miss her, but I had to go in the end.”
“So you thought you would sneak out in the middle of the night and let her find out in the morning?” he asked disgustedly. “Did you even think about how that would make her feel? No? Because you are a typical MacAdams, with no concern for anyone but yourself!”
Alyth shook her head vehemently. “No,” she cried. “I do care—very much, Lachlan.” She raised herself to kneel beside him and gripped his arms. “I wanted to stay and tell you everything,but I knew that you and Davina would be better off without me. And I stayed because I fell in love with you, and that made it almost impossible for me to leave. I think you feel the same about me, do you not?”
Lachlan looked at her in horror and disbelief. “Are you mad, woman?” he demanded. “Love you? I despise you with every fibre of my being!” He stood up and pulled Alyth to her feet, then reached down to pick up her clothes, which he thrust into her hands.
“Get dressed, and leave, and if I ever see you again on my land I will personally escort you to the dungeons. As well as that, I will attack your family too and make sure that the peace lasts this time because there will be none of them left!”
He turned to leave, but Alyth grabbed his arm and he whipped around to face her, frowning at her fiercely.
“Lachlan, please—” she began, but he shook himself free.
“It is ‘M’Laird’ to you, Alyth MacAdams.” His voice was thunderous as he pulled on his breeches. “The only word I want to hear from you now is ‘goodbye’.”
He opened the door and stepped outside. The morning air was bitterly cold, but he hardly noticed it; all he wanted to do was distract himself to stop himself thinking about Alyth.
He could, of course, drink himself into a stupor, but that was a coward’s way out, and he would only feel worse for it later. No. Today there were rents to collect, tenants to see, problems to solve. He had better things to do than waste his time thinking about an enemy, no matter how beautiful she was.
Alyth took the Robertson guards’ horse and rode swiftly out of Leithmuir Castle without looking back. The guards were ratherstartled to see her go; they had never seen her riding a horse before.
Just before they opened the gate, Gavin Ballantyne stepped forward. “Jeannie!” he said, looking astonished. “Where are ye goin’?”
Alyth stared at him sadly, and tears sprang to her eyes again. “My name is not Jeannie, Captain,” she replied. “I am not who I said I was. Ask the Laird, he can tell you everything, and please say goodbye to everyone for me. I am sorry to be leaving you, but I’m afraid I have no choice. Goodbye.”
Gavin opened his mouth to ask another question, but he never got the chance. Alyth urged the horse into a trot, then, as soon as they were over the drawbridge, a canter. Gavin stood looking after her, baffled, and resolved to speak to Lachlan as soon as he got the chance; his instincts told him that something was not right.
Alyth did not intend to rush and tire out both the mare and herself, so she kept to a reasonable pace. Where possible, she tried to stay under the cover of the trees, but this was not easy, since the Highlands were not heavily forested. When coming out from undercover, she always scanned the land around her for bandits, but this was difficult, due to the hills and the rocks which impeded her view. The Highlands were lovely, but their ruggedness had many disadvantages. It was certainly not the romantic place many people thought it was.
However, she was armed with a broadsword, a dagger, and a small but lethal crossbow. As well as that, her intuition was so finely tuned that she could sense the presence of an enemy by the prickling of her skin.
While she was riding, she thought of Davina and Lachlan, and found herself weeping again. She could picture Davina’s little face clouded with disappointment when she realised that she was never going to see her Jeannie again. Lachlan wouldhave to hold her and tell her that everything would be fine, that he was sure she would see her again at some future time.
Alyth visualised Lachlan having to read Davina’s stories himself, and imagined the bitterness and anger he would feel towards her. Why had she fallen in love with him, her sworn enemy? What if she had provoked him so much that he started another war with her father?
She began to weep again, unsure of whether she would be able to bear the guilt and the shame of knowing that it was all her fault.
Alyth was so engrossed in her misery that her usual finely honed instincts did not alert her as they usually did, and before she had a chance to react she found herself surrounded by a party of five horsemen in the livery of the Robertson Clan.
Almost without thinking, she drew her broadsword and slashed at the nearest rider, knocking him off his horse, which reared up and trampled on him.
