Page 79 of Cottage in the Mist
“What am I going to do?” she asked Jeff, forgetting for a moment the other people present.
“You tell him the truth. All of it. And if he truly loves you, he’ll understand.” Easy for Jeff to say. Lily blew out a breath, running a hand through her hair.
“But first,” Alec added, “you’re going to have to convince him that I’m no’ the enemy. If you’re right, he’s coming for me even as we speak. And while I dinna wish you or yours any harm, if I’m forced to do so, I will defend what is mine.”
Looking at the hardened warrior sitting beside her, Lily had no doubt that he meant every word he said. Maybe Bram was right. Maybe she had no place in this world. And yet even as she had the thought, she rejected it. Bram wasn’t Justin. And she wasn’t going to give up. Some things were worth fighting for.
“All I ask is that you give me a chance,” she said. “Let me try to reason with him.”
“I’ve no taste for battle with the Macgillivrays. So you need have no fear of my initiating hostilities against your Bram. But if he attacksTigh an Droma, I’ll have no choice but to join the fight.”
“I understand.” And she did. It wasn’t as if Alec could allow Bram to destroy him—especially for something he didn’t do. But her heart railed against the possibility that fate would win out and Bram would die.
“Remember that nothing is set in stone,” Jeff said, clearly reading the expression on her face. “There’s still time to change things. To explain to Bram.”
“Yes, but we have to find him first.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Dougan said, returning to the group. “I’ve just talked to a scout. Bram Macgillivray and his men are almost here.”
Long shadows stretched across the meadow, the trees ringing the clearing already blending together as the sunlight continued to fade. Beneath his thighs, Bram felt his horse shift, muscles tensed, waiting for his command. Iain and Ranald flanked him on either side, Frazier and the rest of Iain’s men arrayed behind them. Across the way, Alec Comyn’s men too sat at the ready, weapons drawn, horses prancing. But although he was aware of the warriors, it was the center group that held his attention. By some fluke of placement a last golden ray of sun fell over the three people gathered there.
Alec Comyn rode with the command of a king. His dark hair curled wildly around his head, his green eyes piercing even at this distance. Beside him rode a tall man with blonde hair. The man from Bram’s vision. His clothes were an odd mixture of familiar and strange, and although he seemed comfortable on his mount, it was clear that he was not as comfortable with the claymore he held in his hands. If Iain was to be believed, this man was Katherine’s brother.
But why then was he riding with the Comyns?
And more importantly, what manner of lie had Lily perpetuated?
For there was no doubt in Bram’s mind that the woman beside Alec was his kin. There was no mistaking the blue-black curls and the glittering green eyes. Fool that he was, he hadn’t seen it until now. Hadn’t recognized that he’d been duped by his worst enemy. It was as if the curse of the Comyns had beenvisited upon the Macgillivrays all over again, and he had been stupid enough to fall right into their hands.
Although at least he’d left her behind.
His gaze traveled from her tousled head to her boot-clad feet. She rode astride, a quiver of arrows at her back. But unlike the others, she had not armed herself. Instead, her eyes never left his, her chin quivering even as she held it aloft. Always the brave one, his Lily.
His horse moved forward, and Alec shifted his, protecting his own. God, how had Bram been such an addlepated ninny? He’d allowed his heart to rule his head and now it was breaking in light of her betrayal. Everything that had passed between them was a lie. She’d tricked him into believing she was his savior when, in point of fact, she was his worst enemy.
As if privy to his thoughts, Lily swallowed, her hand at her throat, her mouth forming a soft ‘o’ of surprise. And despite his anger and frustration, he felt his body react. Damn the woman. She was a temptress of the worst kind. A Comyn. And just like her ancestor, she’d stop at nothing to destroy him and his kind.
Anger turned to rage, and he spurred his horse forward, intent on finding satisfaction at the end of a sword. Alec answered in kind, further blocking access to Lily, his claymore held high—at the ready. The movement to protect only served to goad Bram further, some part of him still believing that Lily belonged to him and that no one had the right to protect her save himself.
But even as he had the thought, he banished it. His Lily had never truly existed. This woman was a Comyn. An enemy. First, last and always. He rode forward, ready to engage, aware that Iain and Ranald called to him from behind. Ignoring them, he closed the distance, Alec’s men rumbling as they too prepared for battle.
He was close enough to see the determination in the Comyn’s eyes. And then suddenly Lily spurred her mount around Alec, coming straight at him, her shoulders set in defiance. He fingered the hilt of his sword, his arm raising to take the blow. And then he met her eyes, crystal clear, like a slow moving burn. And for a moment, he forgot his anger, his heart reaching out for hers.
Frozen, he sat atop his horse, the sounds around him fading until there was only the two of them. “Why?” he managed to choke out, his sword arm falling to his side.
“It’s not what you think,” she said, shaking her head, tears filling her eyes.
“Then say you’re no’ a Comyn.” He already knew the answer. It was literally as plain as the nose on her face, but some part of him longed for her to deny it.
Instead she dipped her head, sucking in a fortifying breath, then lifted her face back to his. “I can’t do that.”
His heart shriveled, actual pain ripping through his chest. “Then there’s nothing more to say.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong. There’s so much to say. Nothing is as it seems. But you’ll have to take that on faith. You’ll have to believe me. Because to understand you have to trust enough to hear what Alec has to say.”
“I’ll never trust the man who killed my father. I canna believe you’d ask that of me. And besides, now that I know who you really are, I’ve no reason to put any faith in your words.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Alec Comyn said, pulling his mount up beside hers. “And I’ll no’ see you calling her a liar.”
