Mad for the Plaid

  Rurik smiled almost dreamily. “Oh, the honors I will receive, most of them because your parents will always think of their beloved son whenever I am near.”

  Nik’s stomach churned. “You know my family well.”

  “I do.” Rurik’s chuckle was as cold as winter. “We grew up together. Remember?”

  “If you are going to kill me, I should at least know who bought your allegiance.”

  The guard came closer, and Nik was struck by the icy fury in his gaze. “It does not matter.”

  “The Prussians, perhaps? They weren’t happy with the last treaty and blamed me for it.”

  “The Prussians do not have the wits to plan something like this.”

  The wits to plan? Who would— “Ah. The tsar.”

  Rurik pressed his lips together.

  “It must be. He knows why he’s been called to meet with us in Edinburgh.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Nik sneered. “I should have known that weak-kneed fool wouldn’t attend this meeting without some sort of trickery.” Ailsa shifted slightly, and Nik was agonizingly aware of her proximity. His fear grew; he had to get her to safety. But how? He shook his head. “Rurik, please. It doesn’t have to end this way. You can change the outcome right now. Put the pistol down and just leave. I won’t follow. I promise.”

  “I do this for me as much as I do it for the money.”

  “But . . . why? Our families—they have always been so close. And you have been my trusted guard for over a dozen years now. Doesn’t that hold any meaning for you?”

  Rurik gave a mirthless laugh. “Lady Ailsa, did you know that in Oxenburg, the royal guard is chosen from the best families, the ones closest to the crown, to ensure their honesty and integrity? It is a rubbish heap upon which the nobility can toss their second-born sons who have no other purpose in life.”

  “I now see it is a foolish custom,” Nik snapped.

  Rurik’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You can change it when you’re king— Oh, you won’t be able to do that, will you?”

  “Your father would be destroyed to know you are doing this.”

  “Which is why my father will never know. But because of my father, I made certain Her Grace was well cared for. For that, you can thank me, for she has been naught but a pain.”

  Nik had to swallow twice to get himself to do so, but he managed a nod. “She is very important to all of us.”

  “She is a favorite of my father’s. Plus, I think she will be particularly kind to me once you’ve met your demise at the hands of the evil men who abducted her.”

  “It will not work. Someone will talk, and you’ll be discovered. The men who abducted Her Grace—”

  “—will not live to see the end of this day. There will be no witnesses. None.”

  Nik’s throat tightened and it was all he could do to keep from looking at Ailsa, though he dared not let Rurik know how much she mattered to him. Good God, how had he so misjudged this man? Was there anyone he could trust?

  Ailsa slipped her hand over his, her fingers warm and strong.

  Yes. He could trust her. I was a fool to ever question you. He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “You have no soul, Rurik.”

  “I have a soul. One cut to shreds watching you change over the years, always taking, always expecting more. You used to be a good friend, someone I could talk to, and you would talk to me. But now . . .” Rurik sneered. “Sometimes days go on end and you never even look at me. Once you became a prince, I became a worthless footstool.”

  “I’ve never thought you worthless. Dammit, Rurik. I wish you’d come to me, told me how you felt. I know I should have noticed, but I’ve been so tangled up in these negotiations that I—”

  “Stop making excuses! You never notice anything unless it pertains to one of your precious missions. I’ll admit I’ve changed over the years, too. I used to think you could do no wrong. That you were better than the others. Now? I don’t care whether you live or die. How could I, watching you get everything you’ve ever wanted, while I am left behind? Am I supposed to just stand by, with nothing? Work my fingers to the bone protecting your ass as if mine isn’t worth the skin covering it?”

  “Rurik, please,” Ailsa pleaded. “Think what you are doing! There must be a way for us to solve this, something that does nae involve pistols.”

  Behind Rurik, a shrub trembled. Nik forced his gaze to never waver from Rurik, but whatever or—please God—whoever it was, moved again, and made their way closer.

  And then closer still.

  Nik caught a glimpse of a brown head as it disappeared behind the ledge of a rock.

  Gregor. Thank God! So Rurik has made one mistake already.

  But it was obvious that the lad was too far away to shoot. He needed to get closer, and was trying to do so quietly.

  Nik wet his lips. He must keep Rurik talking, at least for another minute. “Perhaps I can make it all up to you. What would it take? Money? A castle? Gold? Horses?”

  “Don’t insult me. This is about respect and power. You can give away neither of those.”

  “Fine, then. Would you like more responsibilities? A higher position?”

  “All I want is to end this now.” The guard raised his pistol toward Ailsa.

  Nik stepped in front of her. “I will make this easy for you, but only if you give me your word not to hurt Lady Ailsa.”

  Rurik lowered the pistol a touch. “Make it easy on me? How could it be easier than it is now?”

  “When you shoot me, I will not fall down and die easily. I will come for you, and before I die, I will take your life.”

  Rurik laughed, this time with real humor. “Good God, do you think you’re so high-and-mighty that you can just ignore the effects of a bullet?”

  “I can try. So if I were you, I’d shoot me first, and I would take my time and make certain I didn’t miss.”

  “Nae!” Ailsa sent Nik a wild look. “Dinnae encourage him, Nik. Dinnae—”

  He pushed her behind him as he continued to talk to Rurik. “I’m the reason you’re doing this. So do it. Get it over with.”

  She clutched his arm, trying to push him out of the way. “Nik, dinnae—”

  “Enough!” Rurik snapped. “The time for talking is long past. Lady Ailsa, I am sorry you became tangled in this. But sadly, like your cousin, you have become a complication.” Rurik lifted his pistol and cocked the hammer. “Ah, Your Highness, how many times I imagined doing this!”

  “Nik, please! Dinnae do this. I—I love you!” Ailsa choked back a sob. Her voice was more whisper than else, but her words rang through his mind as loudly as a church bell.

  It was a hell of a time for a declaration, but it didn’t matter now. It couldn’t matter now.

  Nik’s stomach churned, his heart thudding so hard, he could hear it. “Stay back, krasavitsa.”

  Then he met Rurik’s icy gaze, and knew the time had come.

  Nik held his hands open to each side. “As you will.”

  Ailsa gasped. “Nae!”

  Rurik sited down the pistol barrel.

  A deafening roar rang out.

  Chapter 24

  The wind blew over the lawn of Castle Leod, ruffling the grasses, the dead leaves dancing along the ground. Overhead, the gray skies scattered snowflakes that skittered down the cold stone and stuck to the windowsills in icily beautiful patterns.

  “Your Highness?”

  Nik dropped the curtain and turned to Apraksin, who stood just inside the library doorway. “The coaches are ready, I see.”

  “Da. It took quite a while to fit all of Her Grace’s trunks on the luggage cart, but we managed.”

  “She always packs enough for ten women. One of her many flaws. But if the trunks have been strapped in place, then we are done here.” Nik ignored the sinking feeling that pressed on his stomach as he walked to the fire. “Thus ends a very trying chapter.”

  Apraksin watched him. “You’ve had an eventful few weeks.”

&nb
sp; “That I have.” More than he wished to admit. He cut a look at the courtier. “Where is Her Grace?”

  “She is in the blue salon saying good-bye to the Mackenzies.”

  Good-byes. Nik didn’t want to think of those. Just the word made his chest ache anew. “And Rurik?”

  Apraksin’s expression hardened. “He will be in the second coach. I put twelve guards on him, none of them his own. I will be with him as well, and if he so much as moves, I will kill him.”

  “Keep him in irons. He was so angry with me. I do not think that will change.”

  Apraksin nodded. “He will face trial the second he reaches Oxenburg. Your father has demanded it.”

  “He will have to face his own father first.” Nik sighed heavily. “I imagine Rurik dreads that more.”

  “His father is devastated.” Apraksin hesitated, and then added, “He wrote a most kind letter to you and the duchess. It arrived this morning.”

  “He is a good man. He deserved better than this.”

  Apraksin’s gaze flickered over Nik’s face. “We all did.”

  “Any word on the tsar? I saw the messenger arrive earlier.”

  “The tsar awaits us in Edinburgh. I thought to tell you once we were under way.”

  “What does he say about Rurik’s accusations?”

  Apraksin gave a humorless smile. “Naturally, he denies everything and says he is impatient to begin the talks.”

  “Of course.” Nik raked a hand through his hair, suddenly sick of it all—the false words, broken promises, and bloody treachery. They turned his stomach and wore upon his soul. He closed his eyes a long moment, and then said, “I must take my leave of Lady Ailsa and her family.”

  “We owe them a debt of gratitude.”

  “We do. Though, if her cousin had been a better shot, we would not have to take Rurik back to Oxenburg at all.”

  Apraksin smiled. “At least Mackenzie hit Rurik’s arm and kept him from harming anyone else. His elbow is shattered and causes him much pain. I find that most satisfying.”

  Nik might have felt sympathy for the man who’d betrayed him, but the bastard would have killed Ailsa with no more thought than he’d give to slapping a fly.

  Nik’s throat tightened. Had she died, what would I have done? He wished he could stop remembering the moment, but it burned into his mind. Every night since then, he’d awakened sweat-drenched, his heart pounding as if he’d been running from death itself.

  He realized Apraksin was still waiting. “One question. There was a bit of Mackenzie tartan left pinned under the wheel of Hamilton’s coach when all this first happened.”

  Apraksin grimaced. “Rurik wished to leave a trail that led far, far from the tsar.”

  “So he was trying to tie the abduction to the clan war.” Nik shook his head. “Go ahead to the blue salon. I will meet you there shortly.”

  “Very good, Your Highness.” Apraksin looked as if he wished to say something more, but one look at Nik and the courtier bowed, and left.

  Nik rubbed his hands over his face, tired from lack of sleep, and achingly sad. Rurik’s brutal betrayal had hurt in ways Nik didn’t yet understand.

  He walked to the fire and stared with unseeing eyes at the flames. He had to go downstairs and say good-bye to Ailsa under the watchful gaze of her grandmother and cousin. Say good-bye without sweeping her into his arms, which ached to hold her. Say good-bye without admitting what he now knew was the truth—that he loved her madly, more than life itself.

  He propped his elbow on the mantel and covered his eyes with his hand. Why, oh why, had he let her under his guard? She’d disarmed him when they’d first met. Charmed and seduced him as they’d traveled. And then she’d stayed with him after he’d been injured—was that when he’d stopped thinking of himself and started thinking only of her?

  He didn’t know when it had happened, but she was now a part of his heart. Yet Rurik’s betrayal had proved that Nik’s life was not his own and never would be.

  If he did what he selfishly yearned to do—confess his love and sweep her off to Oxenburg—she would become a part of his mad, bitter, harsh world, one that glittered on the outside, while the inside was black and rotting with betrayals and secrets, manipulations and lies. To survive, she would have to build her own walls, protect herself from others, or her tender heart would be stomped to dust.

  And in doing so, she would change, just as he had. Dammit, I cannot allow that to happen.

  He set his jaw. If it cost him his own happiness, then so be it. He couldn’t allow her beautiful spirit to become destroyed by lies and treachery. God knew, they had already killed his.

  I must do this for Ailsa. There was no putting it off. He left the library and made his way to the blue salon, trying to fortify his courage with thoughts of how much safer she would be here, tucked away in her castle in the highlands, far from the pain and ugliness that had become his life.

  “Lady Ailsa, it has been a pleasure.” Lord Apraksin bowed over her hand.

  Ailsa raised her brows. “Would you truly call it a pleasure?”

  He laughed and covered her hand with his. “We can at least agree it was not boring.”

  “Aye, that we can.”

  He released her hand with a smile.

  Ailsa forced her smile to stay in place, although as the moment approached for Nik to leave, she found it harder and harder. She loved him, and he knew it. She’d hoped for a short time her love meant something to him, but once they’d returned to Castle Leod, he’d done what he could to avoid her.

  She didn’t know what to think; all she knew was that she was miserable, as if her soul had been brutally ripped from her body. She wished with all her heart she had not so foolishly admitted the truth, but it was too late now. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

  “Apraksin, you may not have found this visit boring, but it was for me,” Her Grace announced, thumping her cane for emphasis. “I came for some rest, not to be held at pistol point like a sheep waiting for slaughter. Bozhy moj, it took the lot of you a long time to rescue me.”

  “Your Grace,” Lord Apraksin murmured, looking uncomfortable.

  Ailsa managed a smile. The Grand Duchess Nikolaeva had returned to Castle Leod in excellent form. Despite her many complaints, she seemed invigorated following her ordeal, and had even suggested she’d eaten better while being held prisoner than she had at Castle Leod, a comment that had left Lady Edana huffing in fury.

  “In fact,” Her Grace said loudly, “I’m bored right now and would sleep if you would all stop with this senseless chatter.”

  Gregor, who’d been standing by the window watching the coaches line up, released the curtain and made his way back to their side of the room. His head was bandaged, one eye badly bruised, his nose swollen and cut. He moved slowly, still stiff and in pain. “Your Grace, if you must take a nap, then I will do so, too. After so much excitement, life in a genteel house is indeed quite dull.”

  Lady Edana’s smile grew even more taut and she looked as if, for a penny, she’d kick them all out of her drawing room. “Fortunately for Natasha, she will be able to sleep once she’s in her coach, which will be soon.”

  The duchess snorted. “With the state of the roads in Scotland? What do you people do, dig holes at night to discourage visitors?”

  Ailsa had to laugh, which relieved her aching heart a tiny bit. “If I thought that would work, I might be disposed to do so.”

  “At least you’re honest.” The duchess used her cane to poke Lady Edana’s slippered foot. “As for you, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I stole Daffyd from you.”

  Lady Edana laughed, though it was unnaturally shrill. “Oh, Daffyd and I were never— Really, you are mistaken if you think there was ever anything—”

  “Not on his side, I’m sure. But yours? Da.”

  Lady Edana’s face couldn’t be any more red. “You are mistaken,” she said icily. “Besides, I’m certain he and I will return to our usual footing once y
ou’ve left.”

  “Oh. About that. He is to meet me in Inverness and we will travel to Oxenburg together.”

  “He . . . Is he?” Lady Edana’s shoulders fell.

  “Da. It will not last, of course, but it will be enjoyable for a while longer. You, meanwhile, will find another man.”

  “I—I don’t think that’s—”

  “But this time it must be someone younger. You do not look your age, so I do not know why you wish for an old man like Daffyd. He will do for me, but for you? Nyet. You need a younger man.”

  Lady Edana’s disappointed look disappeared behind a flush of pleasure. “Oh. Why I— That’s quite kind of you. I do use the best creams and—” She simpered, and patted her hair. “Natasha, do you really think I need a younger man?”

  “I know so. Find a younger man, but not too young, or you will be bored. The French have a guide: half your age plus seven years.”

  “That’s . . . Goodness, that’s quite young.”

  Her Grace patted Lady Edana’s knee. “You will be able to handle it, I’ve no doubt.”

  Lady Edana appeared quite taken with this idea, and Ailsa smiled to see her grandmother so cheered.

  Apraksin cleared his throat. “Your Grace, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the time has come.”

  “Pah!” the duchess returned. “I do not look forward to this trip. So many holes in the roads. My arse will be black-and-blue by the time we reach Inverness.”

  “Quite,” Apraksin said in a dry tone. He turned to Gregor and held out his hand. “My lord, I hope you will visit us in Oxenburg soon. The king would be delighted to meet the man who saved his son’s life.”

  Gregor flushed and shook the courtier’s hand. “It’s been a long, exciting few weeks and I need some rest before I think about traveling. As exciting as my adventure was, I fear you had the worst of it, having to stay here with nothing to do.”

  “It was terrible. How I wish I’d been with you, eating hard bread and berries and sleeping on rocks.”

  Gregor chuckled. “There were a lot of unpleasant moments between the exciting ones.”