Free Highland Song by Christine Young Page B

from a woman.
     
    There was no gentleness now in Slade’s eyes or in the line of his mouth. He was both frustrated and angry. When he spoke again, his voice was cold and remote. He liked watching her spirit but even more, he wanted answers.
     
    "Be satisfied Rory needed to die," Slade said flatly. "If you’d set me up to kill a man, I’d have to let Bear and Rory have you. You wouldn’t have liked that. Bear isn’t one of those kind men you so favor. Neither is Rory."
     
    "He can’t be worse than Jericho or Bertram," Lainie said bleakly. "My memory isn’t dulled by time. I don’t know what he’s capable of, but it can’t be anything worse than Bertram."
     
    "Bear has a reputation with women that’s too sordid to repeat--even to a spying aristocrat who picks pockets that are filled with secret information."
     
    "Did Bear ever--" but she broke off leaving Slade without the information he sought from her.
     
    Lainie’s voice crumbled into silence. She clenched her fists tight, and it seemed to Slade she fought for self-control while her entire body shook.
     
    "What are you saying?" Slade asked in a low voice, suddenly wondering what could have her emotions tied in knots and her hands shaking so bad she wouldn't be able to hold onto anything including the tiny dirk she kept laced to her calf.
     
    She shook her head.
     
    Slade cursed softly, wishing for the truth, wishing he could shake it out of her. He wasn't a patient man by nature. His eyes narrowed. "What did Bertram do to you?" Slade asked in a low voice that most men would cower under.
     
    Lainie looked at Slade with pain-filled eyes that were full of tears.
     
    "Bertram doesn’t care about anyone," Lainie said bitterly, wiping away the moisture in her eyes. "He just takes…"
     
    Her words withered into a painful silence. No matter how many times she swallowed, she couldn’t force out any sounds.
     
    "Don’t," Slade said.
     
    He put his finger gently over Lainie’s lips, sealing in the words she was trying to speak. He hated himself for his weakness. He wanted to know what had happened, but he couldn’t force her to say whatever was bothering her. Time would eventually tell him what he wanted to know and probably what he didn't want to know as well. He told himself he could wait until she was ready.
     
    "I guess I’ve overstepped polite society this time. You ever want to tell me, I’ll listen."
     
    Lainie grabbed Slade’s hand, but not to push him away.
     
    "Tell me," she said urgently, her lips trembling. "You killed Bear, didn’t you?"
     
    Slade nodded. He could see the wild pulse at her neck. "Rory too."
     
    She let out a long slow breath and whispered. "Thank you, I only wish it had been someone else so I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder all the time."
     
    All gentleness vanished from Slade’s emotions.
     
    "You want me to kill someone else for you? Could that person be Bertram?" he guessed, once again challenging her for answers despite his earlier vow to wait until she was ready.
     
    "I don’t want anyone killed in my name. I just don’t want to live in fear." With the back of her hand, she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
     
    "A man’s life is worth less than a little fear. What on earth happened to you?" Slade asked.
     
    Lainie’s mouth tightened. "Ye have no idea."
     
    "So you do want me to kill him."
     
    "No--yes." Her breath rushed out in a slow hiss.
     
    Slade made a sound, which was too hard and too bitter to be a laugh.
     
    "Which is it?"
     
    She shook her head.
     
    "The truth."
     
    "The truth is I saved your life," Lainie whispered.
     
    "Saved it?" Slade demanded. "You did your best to get me killed. You ran off and left me to fend for myself."
     
    "When--" she began, but he cut her off.
     
    "Disappointed I'm alive?" he interrupted, wondering what her answer might be.
     
    "I turned back to see what had happened," she said, ignoring his interruptions. "Then Rory drew a knife and you were