Page 102 of Highland Ruse

Later he would tell his people about Delilah and their deception against MacKenzie, of course, but not until he was ready. And it would be Torra who would determine as much.

When he and Delilah slipped into Torra’s chamber, they found Percy kneeling beside the bed and stroking Torra’s hair. The madwoman sat in the large bed with her legs tucked against her torso and her arms crossed tightly over her shins.

Percy gave Delilah a worried glance and moved away from Torra for Kaid to approach.

The MacKenzie heir did not react when Kaid stopped beside the bed. She continued to shake her head repeatedly. “Shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here,” she mumbled over and over again.

“Lady MacKenzie.” Kaid said her name in the same voice he used for his men while training.

The muttering stopped and she looked up sharply. The skin under her eyes was bruised from exhaustion, and the wrinkles on her brow and around her lips were more pronounced.

“I’m Kaid MacLeod of Sutherland, laird of the Clan MacLeod. Do ye remember me?”

She nodded.

He knelt beside the mattress. “I’m the rightful laird here, just as ye’re rightful laird of the MacKenzies.”

She swallowed and shook her head. “Ye canna say that. I canna be here.” A tear tracked down her face, leaving a wet trail in its wake. “I dinna belong here.”

“Where do ye belong?” he asked.

She squeezed her arms more tightly against herself. “In the dungeon,” she whispered. “Where no one can see me.”

“Ye’re a laird,” Kaid said. “Ye dinna belong in a dungeon. Ye belong on the seat of authority and leading the MacKenzies.”

Torra looked down at the tangled bedsheets and shook her head. “I canna.”

“Why?” Kaid asked.

“Because they’ll kill me.” She was staring off at something she couldn’t see.

The tinkling of bottles clinking against one another sounded behind him, followed by the moist grassy scent of steeping herbs.

“Ye have protection, Torra,” he said.

She looked up at him, and again he was struck by how much older she appeared than himself when it was rumored they were the same age. Thick threads of white shone in her red hair.

“Ye have me and all of the MacLeod clan,” he said. “Yer brother has been tormenting my people and yer people for years. They all will gladly protect ye and stand against him.”

She shook her head. “Not my brother. His mother was here when she died, before she could marry Father.”

“So yer half brother.” Kaid’s heart thumped faster with her confirmation of the rumors. “And a bastard.”

“If ye call him that, they’ll beat ye. Kill ye.” She shook her head vigorously. “Beat ye and kill ye. Beat ye and kill ye.”

Kaid put a hand up to stop her. “Is that what happened to most of yer clan? Did he kill all his own people?”

Torra stopped chanting, lowered her face to her knees where her legs were tucked against her and loosed a low sob. Kaid’s stomach dropped. Surely MacKenzie did not kill off his own people? What would be the point of being a laird with no one to rule?

“Help me,” Kaid said. “Take back yer people. Be their laird. They need ye even more than my people need an alliance with ye.”

Torra shook her head and her hair fell around her like a red curtain, blocking her from his view. “I canna help ye.” She curled her hand in a fist. “I canna help ye,” she repeated with finality.

Kaid stared down at her, incredulous. Surely she could understand the logic of what he said and realize she would be protected.

She was his only chance at peace with the MacKenzies.

“Lady MacKenzie,” he said.