As quick as she fell, she was on her feet again, running in earnest for the village. The settlement within sight, she tugged at the wool tartan over her mouth and a shrill scream tore from her throat, echoing through the frigid silence of winter. Alas, she was unable to outrun the pounding hoof beats behind her.
A strong arm snagged her around the chest and hoisted her in front of him. The rider slapped a hand over her mouth to cut off her outraged shout. She bit down, her teeth sinking into her captor’s glove. He hissed out a muffled curse and yanked a fur over her head and upper body, stalling her movements. Fear bolted through her limbs for only a flicker of a moment. Determined to fight, she thrashed against the solid frame restraining her. His thick arm squeezed against her stomach.
“Stop wiggling. You’re going to make us both fall,” a deep voice growled near her ear.
A healthy measure of alarm and confusion hurtled through her. The horse’s gait gained speed, or she might’ve found a way to throw herself from atop the saddle. Of course, she’d more than likely injure a limb. Howbeit, a broken ankle or arm was preferable than being kidnapped. Not one to concede defeat, she maneuvered her arm until she had enough room to repeatedly jab an elbow in the fiend’s ribs.
He grunted. “For Christ’s sake, stop. I’ve no wish to hurt you, Lady Mairi.”
The use of her name gave her pause. A ridiculous notion filtered through her reeling mind. That voice…surely, it could not be.
Almost afraid to speak, she croaked out, “Aaron?”
Tugging the fur from her head, he brought his mount to a halt within the safety of the forest. He yanked the wool covering from his mouth and immediate recognition hit her like a slap to the face.
“Connor?”
An uneasy smile lifted the young man’s lips. “’Tis good to see you, too, Lady Mairi.”
Saints, the lad had surely grown into his lanky frame since she’d seen him last. The youth she remembered had sprouted into a rather large, handsome young man who immensely favored his brother. A swift wave of relief quashed her panic, only to be replaced with a swell of anger.
“What the devil are you doing?” she demanded with a scowl. “You’re as blasted mad as your brother.”
A hint of desperation hung from his features. “Aaron needs you.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Nay, he needs a swift kick to the—”
“He’s dying.”
Air whooshed from her lungs in a noisy rush.
“What?” The word left her mouth in a breathless whisper.
“He burns with fever. The clan healer does not expect him to survive.” His dark gaze shifted over her head to the village barely visible through the pine boughs. “He calls for you, Mairi.”
If that did not rob her of speech, naught else would. The man she’d thought of only moments before lay on his sickbed, dying?
A sharp sting of pain pricked her chest. For the last year, she’d clung to the irrational hope Aaron might someday come for her. The realization that the strong, honorable man she’d pined for, day after day, might soon depart this life nearly rent her heart in two. She opened her mouth to speak, but emotion clogged her throat, making the feat impossible.
Connor’s gaze beseeched her. “I implore you, please. At least give him this small measure of peace before he…”
What the young man left unsaid shook Mairi to the core. Her mind spinning, she bit the inside of her cheek. The salty tang of blood filled her mouth. Holy Mother, did Connor have any notion what he asked of her? To steal away with him, without speaking to her kin, to visit a man her brother had expressly forbidden her from seeing?
She dared not…did she?
Was she truly considering the rash request? Oh Saints, she was.
“I cannot simply leave without word. I must speak to my family.”
Even as she spoke the words, she knew in her heart ’twas impossible. How the devil could she tell her family—and intended groom—of her plans to hie away with the enemy? Another notion struck.
“Christ, we’ll soon be snowed under, Connor.”
“Nay, trust me. We shall outrun the storm, but we must leave now. You cannot tell Laird MacGregor. You know he’d never permit you.” He huffed a frustrated sigh, his brows tugging low. “For Christ’s sake, I’ve lingered in these woods for two days, waiting for you to stray from inside the keep. In the time I’ve wasted, my brother might’ve…”
Guilt pummeled her from all directions. Conflicted, she chewed on her bottom lip as she considered the impossible request. Saints, she should tell Calum, but he’d forbid her in a blink of an eye. No doubt, he’d likely not appreciate Connor showing his face on MacGregor lands. Somehow, she suspected the young man might receive an extended stay in the dungeons, while she anticipated a lengthy, imposed sojourn in her bedchamber.
But, what of Aaron?
How could she live with herself without seeing him one final time? For the rest of her life, she would dwell beneath the weight of regret. Damnation, was there ever truly a chance of her refusing Connor?
“Come, Lady Mairi. I must have an answer,” he prodded.
Saints, she’d lost what was left of her ever-loving mind.
Surrendering to the tumultuous pull of her emotions, she expelled a shaky breath. “All right. But, you must bring me home once I’ve seen him.”
Nodding, Connor’s gaze flitted away to the pelts covering her lap. “Bundle up. We must make haste.”
Doing as she was bid, she wrapped herself in the thick furs and slung a leg over the saddle to ride astride in front of him. Without another word, he spurred his mount onward, deeper into the dark forest he’d materialized from.
All the while, a foreboding unease perched in the pit of Mairi’s stomach. Had she made the right decision, or the single, worst mistake of her life?
Chapter Two
“Are you certain?” Calum gritted out between clenched teeth.
Arabella held her breath, awaiting her husband’s volatile response. Despite her mounting alarm, she grasped his strong hand between both of hers, hoping to tether some semblance of reason within him.
“Aye, Laird. I saw it with my own eyes.” Faolan, one of the clan’s elders residing within the village, insisted. “My Bess heard a scream and we unbarred the door to see what was amiss. That’s when I saw them…a lone rider near the loch. He’d grabbed Lady Mairi and vanished into the forest.”
“You say you caught a glimpse of tartan?” Patrick queried with a terse snap.
“I cannot be sure, but I’m almost certain ’twas green and blue.” Faolan nodded as if to assert his claim.
Liam exchanged a quick, pointed glance with Calum. At once, Arabella divined the direction of the men’s thoughts. As soon as Faolan hastened into the hall with word of Mairi, her mind had sprung to the very same conclusion.
How could it not?
She winced as a noticeable tremor shook through her husband’s arm. She tightened her grip, clinging to his hand. ’Twas of little use. Calum bolted from his chair, disentangling her grasp on him.
“I vow I will kill the arse with my bare hands!” Her husband’s bellow of outrage boomed through the great hall, gaining a flinch from each person seated around the high table, Arabella included.
“Assemble a party. We ride this instant.”
Startled by his rash decision, she jumped to her feet, snatching his sleeve. “Calum, wait. How can you be sure ’tis MacRae? What if another clan has taken her?”
Liam cast her a droll stare. “I know of no other clan donning those colors who would dare commit such an offense against the MacGregors. Come, Arabella, did you truly believe he would’ve forgotten her?”
If she were completely honest, nay. Not even with a year gone since they’d last seen the MacRae brothers did she think for one faltering moment that Aaron had forgotten Mairi. Nor had Mairi forgotten him. In truth, ’twas not a matter of if MacRae would reenter their lives, but merely when.
Despite the direction of her own thoughts and evidence she could not refute, Arabella appealed to reason. “But ’tis been more than a year. After all this time, why now?”
“I’ve no notion, nor do I give a damn. I simply care that MacRae has my sister. Again.” Calum yanked his sleeve free from her fisted hand.
“Nay, wait.” She snagged his arm once more. “What of the storm? You cannot think to ride in this weather.”
He whirled to face her in a flash, his scarred features a mask of fury. Anyone else might’ve cowered beneath his imposing, icy blue stare, but never her. Lifting a hand to palm her cheek, he dipped his head to place a lingering kiss on her lips.
“Do not fret, Wife. I’ll return with Mairi by the morrow.” He whispered in her ear, “Look after our son.”
’Twas no point arguing with her stubborn, determined husband. She’d learned early on ’twas a fruitless effort. Instead, she offered a wan smile and nodded as he signaled for Liam, Patrick and Symon to join him in the stables.
“Calum,” she called after him.
He paused to peer over his shoulder.
“Be careful,” she urged.
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Aye, Wife.”
Once Liam soundly kissed Nora on the lips and released her from his firm embrace, the other woman met Arabella’s gaze. The same worry weighing in her belly reflected in Nora’s eyes.
Not a single person in the hall, besides Arabella, attempted to question the men’s assumption as to the rider’s identity. After a sordid past with Aaron MacRae, ’twas an obvious conclusion every single member of the clan drew of their own volition.
Arabella’s gaze locked on Patrick, who rushed across the hall to join Calum and the others. She could not help but feel a wee bit vexed whenever the thoughtless man dined in the MacGregor hall. ’Twas not that long ago she’d badgered the truth from Mairi. Her friend admitted she’d no true desire to wed Patrick and had simply agreed to the match for Calum’s sake. In truth, after Mairi revealed her true feelings, Arabella thought of naught but the insensitive manner in which Patrick asked for her friend’s hand each time she peered at the MacEwan laird.
As the two’s wedding day drew near, Arabella urged Mairi to speak to Calum and refute the match, but the other woman refused to displease her brother. Despite her unwavering feelings for Aaron, Mairi never spoke outright of him. But ’twas not hard for Arabella to surmise where her friend’s heart truly laid. She’d witnessed the undeniable spark between the pair the prior year. Anyone present along the shore that day with a pair of eyes in their head could not deny the connection between them. ’Twas glaringly visible for all to witness.
If Aaron MacRae did, in fact, have Mairi, there was no doubt in Arabella’s mind that her friend would come to no harm in his hands. The coming snowstorm was another matter entirely. Not only was Mairi out in the frigid mess, but now her husband was heading out in it as well. Cuddling her son closer, she placed a kiss along his forehead while he yawned, and sent up a quick prayer to protect her loved ones.
Though, one notion continued to circle round and round in her mind, one she’d not spoken of to her caring, overprotective husband. Alas, what Calum failed to consider was his sister might not be as unwilling a captive as he imagined.
*
The day swept by in an almost unbearable, shivering blur of frosty white. Snow continued to fall at a steady pace. Too soon, small flakes turned to flurries, slowing progress and casting a veil over visibility, especially once the somber day bled into a gloomy eve. Storm clouds concealed the moon from view, casting her and Connor in near darkness. The further north they traveled, the more the stinging wind grew painfully frigid.
Despite the layer of thick furs bundled around her, Mairi gritted her teeth against the harsh cold. Too many disconcerting notions tumbled through her mind. Two prevalent thoughts pounded, over and over, in her head—how the devil was she to reason with Calum when she returned? And more troubling, what of Aaron?
What if she and Connor were too late?
The faint roar of the sea blended with the wind’s howl, signaling they neared the MacRae holding perched atop the climbing cliffs overlooking the sea. Apprehensive of what was to come, Mairi hunched deeper in the furs and attempted to dismiss the nagging unease slung like a burgeoning weight around her shoulders. Once Connor’s shaggy-coated horse began the ascent up the steep, snow-covered pass, her rigid body stiffened in fear. The higher the animal climbed, the more the icy path narrowed until she could peer over the edge of the darkened bluff.
“Connor,” she yelled through the wool tartan covering the lower half of her face.
His arms tightened around her middle as he reined the thick-boned animal along the steep face of the cliff. “We’ll make it. Just close your eyes.”
Close her eyes? Close her damned eyes?
If her fingers had not been fused to the pommel of the saddle in terror, she might’ve hit him for the ridiculous suggestion. Saints, one misstep and the pair of them and the blasted horse would slide over the edge of the crag and plummet to their deaths in the darkened rock valley below.
Close her eyes. What a mad, foolish statement. Of course, she was fretting. Sweet Mother, she was utterly petrified with fright.
With each yard they gained, her heart drummed a swifter beat until she imagined the organ might rip through her chest. Halfway up the cliff, one of the horse’s hooves slipped on the icy rock and the beast lurched toward the edge. A squeal of terror tore from her throat and echoed through the pitch black of night. She squeezed her eyes shut against the inevitable, anticipated fall. The howling wind bore in her ringing ears.
“Ho there,” Connor shouted as the beast righted its footing.
While the animal continued the treacherous climb toward the MacRae Keep, Mairi strung together a litany of prayers to every saint her frayed mind could recall.
“Duthac,” Connor shouted near her ear.
Momentarily confused, she yelled, “What?”
“Do not forget Duthac.”
’Twas then she realized she prayed aloud. Not that she cared a lick. For good measure, she prayed to Duthac, patron saint of Tain.
“Any others?” she asked.
“Nay.” His arms squeezed her middle. “We’re nearly there.”
She peeled her eyes open and almost rejoiced at the sight. The narrow, ice-covered rock passage along the cliff wall widened. Around a bend, the horse clomped onto an expansive slope of open land to her ever-loving gratitude. At least if she tumbled from the saddle, she’d survive the few feet to the hard, frozen ground, rather than a sheer drop from the side of a bluff. Boneless with relief, she slumped against Connor and expelled a measure of worry in one long, jagged breath.
Once they passed through the crumbling walls of the front gate, Mairi observed a handful of torches illuminating the MacRae Keep in the flurry of snowfall. She scanned the sparse settlement and dwellings scattered throughout the outer courtyard, searching for signs of life. Aside from smoke trails rising from the rock and daub chimneys, not a soul stirred out of doors. Not even a patrol. ’Twas not surprising, given the bitter, winter wind.
Connor reined his mount to a halt near the front steps of the keep and lowered Mairi to the ground. On numb legs, she wavered on her freezing feet, her teeth chattering from the cold. Within moments, Connor joined her, gripping her arm to prevent a slip. He released a shrill whistle that carried on the wailing wind. Left a jittering mess after their dangerous ascent of the bluff, she almost jumped out of her skin.
Before she could curse the young man for his rudeness, the front doors banged open and a great giant of a man, covered from head to feet in hide and pelts, stomped down the snow-covered steps. Frowning, the large male narrowed his gray eyes on her as if her appearance somehow displeased him. Truth be known, she was not pleased to see him either. Whoever the man was.
Nodding in greeting, Connor handed over the reins and patted his horse’s flank. “Please, will you see th
at Mac is warmed, brushed down, and fed well, Niall? He deserves a great deal of coddling after the past few days.”
Without a word, the stern-faced Niall took the bridle from Connor and led the heavy-boned gelding through the courtyard to the stables in the rear.
Shivering, Mairi managed to grate out, “You named your horse son?”
Connor shrugged. “’Tis as good a name as any.”
Sliding an arm behind her shoulders, he guided her up the stairs and through the opened entryway into the darkened warmth of the keep. Once they stepped inside the dim entryway, the front doors slammed with a jarring boom. Yelping in surprise, she might’ve tripped over her own boots had Connor’s steadying hand not grabbed her. Thoroughly out of sorts, she tossed a nasty scowl at the two guards inside the front entrance who’d sealed the doors.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mairi could’ve sworn she caught the pair smirking. Waving away Connor’s prodding hand for her to move, she whirled to face the guards. Struck by the oddness of their reactions, she narrowed her gaze at the stone-faced soldiers, but neither budged a muscle.
Despite the day’s vexing journey and exposure to the frigid cold, her judgment remained as sound as when she’d awoken that morn. With Aaron on his deathbed, what would the pair of guards have to smile about?
Unease spread down the length of her spine, pushing her closer to the edge. Intuition screamed something was amiss with the situation, but she could not place her finger on precisely what troubled her most.
“Come, Lady Mairi. We must go to Aaron now,” Connor prompted, nudging her toward the main staircase.
Her suspicion grew when he would not quite meet her gaze. Before she spat out a query, he tucked her arm beneath his and towed her up the steps. She snatched a glance inside the dim great hall as they passed, catching a glimpse of the prone bodies of clan members inside who’d bedded down for the eve.
“Wait—”
“We’ve tarried long enough,” Connor insisted.
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