The Highlander's Touch

Page 89

“Stop!” Lisa cried.
Circenn’s jaw locked, his face contorted with fury. His arm suspended at eye level, the point angled down, ready for one swift thrust into Armand’s heart. When he plunged down, it would be with such anger that the force would likely shatter his blade against the stone beneath the knight’s back. He spared her a glance, and from her horrified expression he realized that she was feeling his internal landscape: barren, bleak, and murderous. Hot. Hellishly hot. He would never understand—not even should he live to be five thousand—why women consistently protected villains. It was simple in a man’s mind: Kill the man who tries to harm your own. But women made it much more complex. They held out hope that evil could be redeemed. A foolish hope, to his way of thinking.
“Don’t kill him, Circenn. He didn’t harm me.” She touched her throat with gentle fingertips. “I will be fine. A few bruises, nothing more. You found us in time.”
“He touched you,” Circenn snarled. “He planned to harm you.”
“But he didn’t succeed.” She appealed to his logic: “Question him, determine what he is after, then banish him, but please …”
She trailed off and he stared helplessly at her. Damn her, he thought. She was deliberately flooding him with mercy, forgiveness, and the cool wind of logic. All those feminine things, they tumbled like snowflakes upon his masculine heat.
Dousing it.
Loath though he was to admit it, she was right. By killing Armand swiftly, he would never know his motives. He needed to uncover the Templar’s purpose, determine with whom he was in collusion and if there were other corrupt knights in his employ. He needed information first. Then he would kill him. He lowered the sword with a low growl of unsatisfied rage.
* * *
Lisa crept down the stairs. She’d tried to wait in bed for Circenn to come up, but had been unable to stand it any longer. It had been hours since Armand’s attack, and although Circenn had promised not to kill the Templar, vowing angrily that he would turn him over to his own brothers, Lisa still felt his murderous fury. Their bond was frazzling her nerves. She had no idea why the knight had turned on her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have questioned him. Perhaps it was simply too upsetting for him to speak of the atrocities he’d endured.
The feast was still under way in the Greathall, the villagers oblivious to the bitter events of the evening. Circenn would keep the problem quiet, resolve it, and no one would suffer for it. She admired his methods. He was a laird who would not trouble his clan with dissension that he could resolve alone.
Moving stealthily, she slipped down the corridor to the study. The door was ajar and she peered in cautiously. He was there, as she’d suspected, with Duncan and Galan.
A dozen grim-faced Templars filed before him, and from the light misting of rain on their robes, she deduced that she’d missed their entrance by mere minutes.
“It is done, milord. We have finished our interrogation,” Renaud de Vichiers said wearily.
“And?” Circenn growled.
“It was worse than we feared. He was doubly a traitor, both to his own brothers and to Scotland. His plan was to abduct your lady and sell her to the English king for his weight in gold, plus titles and lands in England.” Renaud shook his head. “I do not know what to say. It grieves me. Armand was a Commander of Knights in our Order, and highly regarded. We had no idea. I swear to you upon our Order that he acted entirely alone.” Renaud directed his gaze to the floor. “We await your decision regarding the rest of us. We understand if you decide you must send us away from here.”
Circenn shook his head. “I will not hold the rest of you responsible for his actions. You have been loyal to me for years.”
The Templars rustled with murmurs of gratitude and repeated vows of loyalty. “You have been good to us, milord,” Renaud said. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, it was with such fervency that his words sounded stilted. “We do not wish to jeopardize your goodwill in any way. We look forward to a future in Scotland. What can we do to restore your faith in us?”
“It was never lost,” Circenn said, rubbing his jaw. “If Armand hadn’t been acting alone, you likely would have succeeded in taking her. I do not underestimate the powers of your Order, Renaud. I know what you can do when you pit multiple Templar wills against a problem. An attack from multiple brethren would have peacefully lured her where you wished her to go. You do not use violence. You use … powerful persuasion.”
Renaud looked abashed. “I hadn’t considered that, but it’s true. We could have taken her as a group. I forget you know so much about us.” He bowed, a posture of abject apology. “Milord, we would never harm your lady. We shall protect her as our own.”