Reckless Scotland

by Vane, Victoria

  Crimson bloomed on his cheeks and he stood immobile for a moment, as if he had no notion how to respond to her praise.

  “How touching.”

  That voice, she knew all too well.

  She and Connor sprang apart and spun to face the darkened cavern. Flanked by two men, Longford stood several feet away. His face split with a faint smile and his gaze narrowed a fraction.

  “Do you fear me, Arabella?” Longford’s smooth voice sent chills down her spine.

  “Aye,” she confessed. The pulse in her neck sprinted as dread settled in a tight knot in her chest, pressing the air from her body.

  Longford nodded as he paced a step closer. “You should.”

  In a flurry of movement that surprised her, Connor launched himself forward, head first into Longford’s middle, catching the three men unaware. Connor shouted at her to run and she snapped into action.

  She spun on her heel and ran for the narrow path alongside the cave’s mouth leading to the beach below. Her feet slipped on the craggy surface, but she righted her step before she fell off the cliff. Heedless of her injured wrist, she dug her fingers into the side of the wall for purchase. She cast a hurried glance over her shoulder just as one of the men tossed Connor against the cave wall. His head smacked against the rock with a sickening thud and he collapsed on the cave floor in a heap.

  Gripped by terror, Arabella inched along the slick, narrow pathway, struggling to keep her balance. She managed a few feet when a hand wrapped around the base of her neck and hauled her backward into the mouth of the cavern. She landed on her hands and knees. The sharp rock dug into her flesh and she cried out in pain.

  “You foolish bitch,” Longford spat at her.

  Cringing at the harsh words, she sought out Connor’s still form across the cave and her heart plummeted. Blood ran from a wound on his temple to pool beneath his head.

  Rough fingers gripped her hair, tugging her to her feet. Tears flooded her eyes as Longford grasped her neck, crushing her windpipe. His cruel, golden features filled her blurry gaze.

  “Over and over, you’ve caused me naught but trouble.”

  He tightened his grip, and she clawed at his hand, thrashing for air. Spots swam before vision. She raked the tips of her feet over the rock floor, scrambling for solid ground.

  “Drop her. Now.”

  Calum’s enraged voice boomed throughout the cavern, filling her ringing ears.

  At once, Longford’s hand fell away. She dropped on the bottoms of her feet and sucked in a lungful of precious, fresh air. Staggering a step, she coughed and sputtered. The next instant, Longford wrenched her in front of him as he swung to face her husband with the sharpened tip of a dagger pressed against her neck.

  Strong, proud, and furious, Calum stood a short distance away, his hands clenched around the hilt of his sword. Flanking him, her uncle and Liam held battle stances, feet braced apart and weapons drawn. At their feet lay the prone bodies of Longford’s two soldiers. Paces away, Aaron knelt beside his brother, cradling the young man’s head in his lap and tending to Connor’s wound.

  Despite everything—the blade against her skin, the constant crash of waves, Longford’s heavy breath in her ear—she focused on her husband. The harsh set of his countenance, the rigid set of his shoulders, the sturdy flex of his arms conveyed a depth of power and strength.

  A low growl slid from Calum’s throat. “Release her.”

  The old wounds on his face and neck paled against the deep flush of his cheeks.

  Longford tightened his arm around her ribs. “Do you think I would just hand her over?”

  Calum took a menacing step forward, and Longford inched closer to the edge of the cliff.

  “Know this.” Calum narrowed his gaze. “You shall meet your death on this day.”

  Longford bit out a harsh laugh. “Not before she meets hers.”

  He wrenched Arabella aside and shoved her backward. The ground beneath her feet fell away. Calum’s ear-splitting bellow followed her over the edge as she plummeted toward the churning sea.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  For a single, horrifying moment, shock held Calum suspended in disbelief. That crushing final glimpse of Arabella’s pale face before she toppled over the edge flared in his mind as fury seared a hole in his gut. He launched himself at Longford, slamming the arse onto the hard rock floor. He hurled punch after punch, pummeling the cursed fiend’s face.

  The sharp bite of a blade caught him beneath the arm, licking fire down his side, and he grunted. Longford pressed his advantage, tossing Calum off onto his back. Hovering over him, Longford thrust the dagger at his face. Calum grabbed his wrist, fighting to turn the weapon on the bastard. Back and forth, they rolled across the cavern floor near the cliff’s ledge, wrestling for control.

  Too late, Fraser and Liam’s warning shouts filtered through the sounds of his and Longford’s struggles and the roaring drum in his chest. He kneed Longford in the thigh and attempted to fling him off, but the wretched cur snagged hold of Calum’s tunic, sending them both over the edge of the cliff.

  By the sheer grace of God, Calum cleared the rocks jutting up from the waves and slammed into the frigid water, stomach first. The mind-numbing cold jolted his body, and he kicked for the surface. The sea’s current pitched him to and fro as swells crashed over his head. With no trace of Longford above the surf, Calum shifted his focus to saving Arabella.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he dove beneath the white-capped water in search of his wife. Salt stung his eyes and the wound at his side. Heedless of the burn, he searched the gloomy depths, swinging his arms, hoping to snag on to something—anything—that would lead him to her.

  Desperate for air, he surged to the agitated surface and emerged with a gasp. Cold air singed an icy trail from his throat down to his lungs, but determination goaded him onward. Frantically scanning between the crashing waves, he caught a glimmer of ruby and his heart leaped in his chest.

  Arabella’s head dipped beneath the surface several yards away. Far too close for his peace of mind, a blond head bobbed above the water, moving closer to her.

  Despite the encumbering cold, a wellspring of renewed strength hurtled through Calum’s weary body. Dragging in a deep pull of air, he lunged beneath the foaming surface and surged against the strong current. Mindless to the ache in his limbs, he kicked his legs with furious strokes, propelling himself forward. Arms extended in front of him, he stretched for Longford’s clothing, latching on and dragging the man beneath the waves, away from Arabella.

  Each of them managed a glancing blow, but the sea absorbed the force, rendering their struggles useless. The steady roll of waves, coupled with the unforgiving current, pushed them deeper underwater. Longford lashed out with the dagger, grazing Calum’s forearm. Too soon, his starved lungs demanded air. He lifted his knees and thrust his feet into Longford’s stomach, shoving the bastard toward the sea bottom. Calum broke the surface gasping for breath.

  He seized ahold of a nearby outcropping of stone and skimmed the waves until he found Arabella, who struggled to keep her head above the swells.

  “Get to the rocks,” he bellowed over the crash of waves.

  Longford burst from the depths and launched himself forward, but the push of the current shoved Calum aside just as the dagger nicked his shoulder. He kicked away from the protruding rocks and grabbed for Longford, gripping the fool by the throat. With his free hand, he crushed Longford’s cold hand wrapped around the dagger, grappling for control of the blade. Digging his fingers into Longford’s neck, Calum managed to extract the weapon from Longford’s hold.

  Consumed with vengeance, Calum stared into the face of his enemy as an unquenchable wrath guided his actions. Treading the water, he constricted his clasp around Longford’s throat and slammed the bastard against the pile of stone, smashing his head on the jagged rock. Calum yanked a dazed Longford closer and wedged the sharp point of the blade beneath his chin.

  “Rot in hell,” Calu
m spat.

  Longford’s bloodshot eyes widened as Calum flexed his arm, thrusting the dagger through flesh and sinew. With a jerk upward, he embedded the blade to the hilt. Blood spilled from the wound, running over his hand, leaching into the push and pull of the current around him. He released his hold of Longford’s throat and watched as the sea swept the lifeless eyes of his enemy beneath the waves.

  ’Twas done. No one would threaten Arabella again.

  Relinquishing his grip on the dagger, he spun in the water, searching for her over the rise and fall of the waves, where he’d last seen her fighting against the unrelenting current. With no sign of her red hair, dread swamped his short-lived relief, inflaming his alarm. Christ, the weight of her gown must’ve dragged her under.

  Struck by a feverish panic, he inhaled a massive breath and dove into the water’s depths. Salt pricked his eyes, while the frigid water seeped into his bones, slowing him down. Despite the weariness in his aching limbs, he forced his body to withstand the punishing cold long enough to find her.

  By the Saints, he had to.

  Calum raked his fingers through swaying seaweed, swimming around rock formations as he searched the area over. The barest flutter of light fabric caught his eye, a sight he would’ve missed had the sun not chosen that moment to pierce the murky depths. Kicking wildly, he surged ahead and snagged the cloth, tugging Arabella’s motionless form toward him. He wrapped his arm around her middle and raced to the surface.

  Ravenous for air, he panted to catch his breath, filling his greedy lungs. Arabella hung limp against his chest, her head lolled atop his shoulder. Fear clutched his chest and his vision blurred as he fought the roiling surf, desperate to reach the shore.

  “Just a bit further, love. Hang on,” he croaked against her cold cheek.

  The roar of the sea pounded in his ears, mocking his struggles. As soon as his feet touched the rocky seafloor, he lifted her motionless body in his arms, trudging through the heavy push and pull of the current. He slipped on the unsteady rocks and a shout of frustration tore from his throat. With the last of his strength, he strained to rise to his feet, but failed, dropping them both into the swelling tide once more.

  Suddenly, the weight of Arabella vanished from his grasp and strong arms tugged him above water, dragging him onto shore. His bearings lost in the sea, Calum thrashed against the hold, unwilling to let her go.

  “Damn it! Cease your nonsense, boy,” Fraser growled within an inch of his face.

  Dropped on his back on the pebbled shore, Calum sucked in breath after breath. He blinked to clear his cloudy vision. Tremors racked his frame and his teeth chattered. Fraser and Patrick hauled him into a sitting position, stripped off his sodden tunic, and wrapped him in warm furs.

  Clearing his raw throat, he reached for Fraser’s wrist and rasped, “Arabella?”

  Brows furrowed, Fraser stared down at him. Marked concern darkened his solemn gaze. After a hesitant moment, the older man nodded at Patrick, and they lifted Calum onto his sore, unsteady legs. All but carrying him a few yards across the beach, they deposited Calum on his knees beside Arabella’s prone body.

  His worried cousin hovered on her opposite side, clearing wet strands of hair from her face and neck.

  Calum fought the quake in his frame to say, “Turn her on her side. Thump her back.”

  Liam pushed her sideways toward Calum and did as requested.

  He searched her stark white features, anxious for any sign of life. His cousin continued to beat her back in earnest, but naught. She lay cold and unmoving.

  Immediate grief crashed over Calum like the sea’s cursed waves, sucking him deeper into fathomless despair. Agony dug in his chest, hollowing a hole straight to his heart, and struck with a fierce stab. The love of his life was slipping away right before his eyes. ’Twas a fate he would not accept.

  Ceasing his efforts, Liam sank back on his heels. “Calum…”

  “Nay!” Unwilling to give up, he bolted to his knees and shoved Liam aside. He pounded Arabella’s back. Thump after thump, he willed her to open her eyes—to breathe. To live.

  Fraser grabbed his shoulders. “Lad—”

  “Let him try.” Liam waved Fraser away.

  Men stood around them in silence, their troubled gazes watching the scene unfold, but Calum scarcely heeded their presence. His sole focus was Arabella. Moisture scalded his cold cheeks as he gripped her face between his hands. “Breathe, damn you,” he ordered. “You cannot leave me. Not now. Not ever.”

  As if on command, her slight frame jolted and water gushed from her mouth, followed by a series of bone-jarring coughs. Between gasps of air, she clawed at his thigh as she heaved the water from her lungs. Uncaring of who bore witness, when Arabella shifted onto her back and her bleary, emerald gaze found his, Calum wept tears of joy.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  At first, Arabella questioned whether she lived or died. One moment, the waves trapped her in a dark, frozen abyss as water stole into her lungs. Now, she blinked to clear her blurry vision, focusing on the icy blue of Calum’s gaze.

  Was he simply an illusion? Her mind granting one final glimpse of the man she loved before she ceased to exist altogether? Moisture leaked from his eyes, sending a frisson of alarm through her. Why was he crying?

  She tried to rise but her weary limbs refused to obey. She opened her mouth to speak, only managing a croak and series of bone-rattling coughs. Pain swept through her limp body, towing her into complete awareness. Breath after breath, she sprawled on the pebbled shore, filling her needy lungs with sweet, blessed air.

  Alive—she was alive.

  Tears of utter relief pricked her stinging eyes. From somewhere deep inside, a low sob escaped her raw throat. The next instant, Calum hauled her onto his lap and crushed her against his hard, bare chest. He enfolded her in the safety of his arms, swathing them both in furs.

  Starved for his touch, she pressed her forehead against the lukewarm skin of his neck, savoring the steady thrum of his pulse—proof they both survived. Moments ago, she never expected to feel his comforting embrace again. Now, she never wished to leave it.

  “For Christ’s sake, boy, you’re squeezing out what little life she has left.”

  The familiar gruff reproach brought a smile to her dry lips. She leaned away from her husband’s chest to glance up at her uncle. Frowning, he stood over Calum’s shoulder, grasping the hilt of the sword at his side in a white-knuckled grip. Without muttering a word, his hard-set features spoke of his worry.

  Calum framed her cheeks in his palms, drawing her gaze. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  Lines of distress creased his hardened countenance, while his intense stare held her captive. How strange ’twas this same face, so harsh and unyielding when she’d first met him, that had fast become the center of her world. She lifted her uninjured arm to brush her fingers over his old wounds.

  How foolish she’d been to doubt his love when ’twas so plain to see.

  “I thought I’d lost you, too.” She winced at the ache in her throat.

  “I vow I could not bear…” Brows pulled with a frown, he swallowed hard.

  Arabella pressed her cracked lips to his. “Then you shall never have to.” She leaned away and offered a slight grin. “You saved me, Husband.”

  A deep chuckle rumbled from his broad chest. “For once, it would seem.”

  “What of Longford?” she asked with a note of apprehension.

  He shook his head. “He shall trouble us no longer.”

  Swamped with relief, she wrapped her arm around his middle, hugging him close. A hiss slid past his lips and she jerked away. “What is it?”

  He shrugged. “’Tis naught.”

  Unconvinced, she shifted in his lap and pushed the fur aside. She tried to lift his arm to examine him but he resisted. “I said, ’tis naught.”

  Arabella scowled. “Let me see.”

  Rolling his eyes, Calum reluctantly raised his arm and she spotted the
nasty gash along his side. Blood seeped from the cut and her heart flew to her throat.

  She glanced at him in alarm. “You’re hurt.”

  “Naught to fret over.”

  “But the blood,” she insisted.

  He grabbed her chin. “’Tis but a scratch. Naught Aunt Elena’s salve cannot remedy.” Tugging her face closer, he placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. “I’m fine. I promise you, Sweetness.”

  “So the two of you shall live then?” Liam asked.

  Arabella craned her neck to glance at Liam, who knelt a few feet away. His usual roguish grin split his lips. ’Twas then she noticed scores of men and horses gathered on the shore.

  Surprised, she turned to Calum. “How did you know?”

  “A few of the guests noticed the MacRaes had taken flight soon after you and Mairi went missing. My first thought was Longford. I suspected he was somehow involved.” He hesitated then added, “A visitor arrived who confirmed my suspicions.”

  “A visitor?” She frowned at the information. “Who?”

  “You shall see when we return home.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Why can you not just tell me?”

  He chuckled. “’Tis a surprise.”

  Before she could continue to press him, furious feminine shouts erupted further up the beach, drawing their attention. Mairi shoved away from Patrick and ran toward Connor and his brother. She fit her arm beneath Connor’s shoulder to help Aaron support the young man.

  When Arabella spotted Calum’s sister and Connor, alive and walking, albeit with help, a weight lifted from her chest. She’d worried so for the pair of them. Especially after her last view of Connor, lying lifeless and bleeding on the cave floor.

  Calum stiffened beneath her and slid a secure arm around her waist as they watched the trio push through the crowd.

  He pinned his sister with a hard stare. “Have you forgotten my warning so soon?”

  “Christ, Calum,” Mairi argued. “Just spare them a moment, will you?”

  “Spare them?” he repeated in disbelief. “I’ve spared their damned lives.”