As much as he despised retreating, ’twas a risk he could not take.
“Turn around! Go back, now,” he shouted over his shoulder.
The group of men wasted no time guiding their mounts backward down the narrow, icy bluff at a slow, but steady pace. Unable to turn his large-boned stallion to face frontward, he nudged the beast into action, steering him hindquarters first. A few yards down, the animal’s front hoof slipped on the icy rock, and the breath seized in Calum’s chest. Another loud, earth-shattering snap ricocheted through the inky blankness of night only to be swallowed by the blanketing flurries of snow.
’Twas by the sheer grace of God that the sturdy warhorse regained his footing along the slick ice. Heart banging in his chest, Calum pressed the animal onward as quickly as the beast could manage the dangerous terrain. A strong sense of urgency prodded him to get off the accursed trail. As soon as the pathway widened enough to turn his mount, he tapped the horse’s sides, carefully steered the beast around to face forward, and then goaded the animal into a gallop, hastening down the cliff.
And none too soon. Within moments, the ice-covered rock further along the trail split with a deafening bang and shattered apart, sending a spray of rock and ice raining down into the darkened valley below.
Damnation, ’twas close. Too damned close by his estimation. Saints, he might’ve led every single one of them to their deaths.
Heart pounding a furious rhythm with the erratic thrum in his neck, he flanked the other men in no time. Eager to reach the safety of relatively flat earth, he surged ahead of his cousin and Patrick, reaching the bottom of the passageway.
Desperate to feel the sturdy ground beneath him, he dismounted in one swift motion, his booted feet sinking in the gathering snow to his ankles. If the flurries continued to fall at such a steady rate, it’d soon reach his knees.
His cousin’s mount clopped down the rock face, kicking up snow beneath his hooves. Liam reined the gelding alongside Calum’s horse and sprang from the saddle. His face contorted in anger, he stomped through the snow until he stood in Calum’s face.
“Saints alive! Why the devil did you not listen to me? I told you ’twas not safe. We could’ve slid right over the edge!”
While Liam’s anger was founded, the harsh rebuke frustrated Calum more. He spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m well aware, Liam.”
In his haste to reach Mairi, he’d ignored his cousin’s sound warning, allowing his own stubborn foolishness to cloud his judgement. If anything had happened to his kin and men, he would’ve never forgiven himself. Alas, if something were to happen to his sister…
Liam shoved at his shoulders. “Your damned pride might’ve gotten us killed!”
Vexed with his own reckless actions and his cousin’s reminder, Calum returned the gesture, sending Liam back a few paces.
“I said I damned well know!” he roared in frustration.
Patrick jumped from his mount and darted in between the two of them, pushing Calum and Liam apart. “’Tis enough. The pair of you fighting helps naught.”
Calum shook his head in disgust. “What the hell else was I to do? Leave Mairi with that arse, MacRae? By the Saints, Liam, you would’ve done the blasted same.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, raking away the snow pelting him. “Christ, now how the devil am I to bring her home where she belongs?”
’Twas harsh to accept—the fact that he’d failed his sister.
“Have you not heard a word Symon and I have said?” Liam snarled. “Since we departed this morn, both of us have assured you that Mairi shall come to no harm by MacRae’s hand. You know this as well as we do. This”—he flailed his arm at the falling snow and cliff passage—“was for naught. Either we catch our deaths in the cold or slide over the edge of the bluff and plummet to our deaths. Use your blasted, big head, Cousin. ’Tis time to retreat. Once the weather eases, we shall return and find up a way up that godforsaken cliff.” He settled a gloved hand on Calum’s shoulder. “She will not come to harm with MacRae. Saints, you know this.”
Calum bared his teeth. “I’m not worried with him harming her.”
Liam frowned. “Then what?”
He cast a dry stare at his cousin. Surely, the man jested. Liam had witnessed the pair together. No doubt, his kin had spied the same longing reflected in both their eyes just as he had. He trusted MacRae with his sister slightly less than a starving pack of wolves.
Understanding dawned in Liam’s features and his mouth sagged open. “Hell.”
“Aye.” Calum breathed out with a lingering white billow of air.
“Well, unless you can sprout a pair of wings, I see no way up that damned cliff. Not in this storm.”
He remembered the path they’d taken the year before. “What of the beach pass?”
Liam remained silent, but his scathing glower spoke volumes.
Nay, of course they could not attempt the worn, narrowed footpath. With the icy conditions and dampness from the sea, they’d slide straight over the edge in a heartbeat.
“Then we find shelter against the storm and make camp for the eve. We can try on the morrow,” Calum proposed.
“Nay, Calum.” Patrick tugged the pelts tighter around his neck. “’Tis not a prudent notion. Not this eve. We risk freezing to death in this weather. ’Tis best to return home as Liam suggested before we catch our deaths.”
Calum could not believe his numb ears. He glared at his old friend. “You act as though you have no care at all for Mairi. For Christ’s sake, she’s your betrothed.”
Patrick threw his hands up in annoyance. “Of course, I care for her. I would not have traveled in this wretched mess if I did not, but what would you have us do, Calum? We’re not prepared to withstand the cold for much longer. I’m sorry, old friend, but there is naught we can do to help Mairi for the moment. At least we can return when the weather eases with air in our lungs and our limbs intact.”
Calum yearned to rail and curse at Patrick, but his friend and cousin had spoken the truth. They were ill-prepared against the snow, freezing wind, and unforgiving, icy terrain. He could not allow his own folly to risk his kin’s lives.
Liam placed a hand on Calum’s shoulder. “Come, Cousin. Let us return home and seek warmth.”
Saints, what a damned mess. Too many disturbing thoughts hammered away inside his head. “Forgive me for not listening. ’Tis that I merely worry. What if she’s not here? What if they never made it through the storm? Or worse, what if they slid over the edge as we nearly did?”
Liam’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “You did not doubt MacRae had taken her before we departed. In truth, every single one of us knew who’d taken her. Just as I have no doubt they cleared the passage before the storm worsened. I understand your worries, Cousin, but standing here in the freezing snow railing at each other shall not bring her home any sooner.” Liam’s hand fell away and a smirk lifted a corner of his mouth. “Now, if you please, I’m eager to return home. In case you failed to recollect, I have a comely wife on the verge of giving birth any day. ’Tis truth, I’d prefer not to miss the arrival of my son or daughter.”
Guilt stabbed at Calum for his thoughtlessness. He’d not given one speck of thought to the arrival of Liam and Nora’s firstborn.
“Saints, Liam. I should not have—”
“Stop.” Liam held up his hand. “You did not force me to accompany you. I did so because I care for Mairi. We are kin. This is not the end of the matter, Calum. We shall bring her home where she belongs, but not this eve. Come, let us return to our wives before we are snowed under.”
The thought of leaving Mairi with MacRae vexed the hell out of Calum, but what other choice did he have at present. Nodding his assent, he sloshed through the snow toward his stallion. The horse tossed his mane and pawed at the snow around his hooves. ’Twas apparent his cousin and Patrick were not the only ones eager to return to the safety and warmth of home.
After he hoisted himself in the saddle and dressed in anoth
er warm fur he’d pulled from his saddlebag, he aimed a parting glance at the accursed, crumbling passage. He may have failed to bring his sister home that eve, but once the snow abated, God help Aaron MacRae.
Chapter Seven
Mairi swam into consciousness, blinking at the near darkness in the bedchamber. A soft, faint light emanated from the dying crackle of flames in the hearth across the chamber. She raised her head to peer at the window slit, but the furs blocking the opening gave her little indication of time. Whether morn or eve, she still felt wholly exhausted. Dropping her tender head on the pillow, she burrowed deeper in the warm furs and wished for naught more than to fall into the sweetness of oblivion once more.
Her entire body ached from the tense ride the day before. Alas, ’twas a trip she must repeat if she thought to return home. Not that she anticipated the journey, especially given the snowy conditions, but her brother must be frantic with worry.
Resigned to the daunting task ahead of her, she sat upright and stretched the sore, stiff muscles in her back and shoulders. The lump on the back of her skull throbbed with an aching twinge. Undoubtedly, lying flat on her back had not helped. Yawning, she wrapped a fur around her shoulders and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. As soon as the soles of her bare feet hit the freezing stone floor, she yelped in surprise.
Holy Mother, if that did not yank her into full consciousness, naught else would.
Shivering from the chill in the air, she sprang to her feet to cross to the hearth. Spying a large lump of furs laid out before the dying flames, she frowned as she moved a few paces closer. Cautious, she leaned over to inspect the covered mass. She pressed her cold toes against the pelts and shoved hard, earning her a muffled groan. The coverlets shifted and a dark head peeked through the top of the pelts.
How the devil had she not heard anyone enter her chamber? And more importantly, who would dare?
Annoyed by the person’s audacity, she gripped the top of the furs and ripped away the thick coverlets. Connor’s bleary eyes sprang open and his mouth parted, mirroring her own surprise.
“What in God’s name are you doing in here?”
Scrambling upright, Connor flapped his mouth open and closed twice. His gaze darted to the low-burning embers in the hearth. “Jesus, ’tis damned cold. Allow me to build the fire before we speak.”
As if she had any trouble figuring that out on her own. Sweet Mother, her toes were frozen to the stone floor.
Connor rose to his knees to grab more wood beside the hearth to feed the flames. She wasted no time dashing across the chamber on numb feet. Jumping onto the bed, she tucked her chilled limbs beneath the warmth of the furs. Saints alive, she did not look forward to the day’s journey in the frigid temperatures.
As the fire licked higher, spitting crackles and hisses in the hearth, the dim chamber lit with a bright glow. Once Connor finished his task, he returned to his nest of furs he’d spread over the floor and wrapped himself in pelts. For an instant, she considered joining the young man on his pallet to soak up more of the fire’s heat.
When he glanced at her, she lifted a brow. “I do not suppose you’d mind telling me why you’re in my bedchamber?”
Or rather, Aaron’s bedchamber. Though, she failed to correct herself.
Buried from head to toe in furs, he rolled his sleepy eyes. “Aaron was in a mood last eve and took mine. Seems he’s a bit vexed with me.”
Mairi snorted. “I cannot imagine why.”
He cast her a dry stare. “I’ve said I’m sorry. What more can I do?”
“I should not even be speaking to you at all, but we’ll get to that in a moment. So, why did you not simply share the chamber with your brother?”
“He would not allow it,” Connor muttered. “Said I should bed down in the hall. Alas, all the good spots close to the hearth were taken and my blasted teeth were chattering.” He shrugged. “I thought you would not mind sharing a chamber for one night.”
“Would not mind?” She blinked in disbelief.
Apparently, the solemn lad she’d met in the past had grown into a daring, spirited young man. He thought nothing of proper decorum. Not to say she gave a twig either way, but ’twas merely the principle of the matter. Especially after his wretched scheme the day before.
“Of course, I mind.” She glared. “I trusted you, Connor, and you disappointed me. Do you have any notion the difficulty you’ve wrought for me and my kin?”
“I know, I know.” With a furrowed brow, he hung his head. “Believe me, I hope to make amends, Mairi. ’Twas never my intent to anger you or Aaron, in truth.”
The urge to severely scold him for his thoughtlessness pressed on her, but she somehow managed to guard her tongue. Mayhap, ’twas the creases of remorse marring his features, as if he truly regretted his actions.
“Why did you do it, Connor?”
He peered at her in earnest. His dark, soulful eyes reflected a wealth of understanding unusual for one of such a young age.
“You’ve seen him. He’s not the same man he once was, Mairi.”
Aye, she’d noticed the change in his demeanor. An embittered, angry Aaron MacRae replaced the kind, honorable man she remembered. Granted, fate had not been kind to him or his brother. ’Twas a pity that hardship had weighed on him to the point he’d compromised his integrity. Rather than share her opinion, she merely waited for Connor to continue.
“My brother’s a good man, Lady Mairi,” he explained. “He’s always been a good, decent man. Since our father’s death and the unfortunate events with you and MacGregor’s wife, guilt eats at him. With each day, it seems to grow worse. In the past year, he’s not taken one step toward taking over the clan as he should’ve done the day our wretched father died.” Connor shook his head in irritation. “He feels as though he’s not worthy of the position.”
She frowned at the information. “Then who is laird?”
“He blasted well is,” he asserted in a near shout. “Everyone in the clan looks to him as laird but he dismisses them. ’Tis truth, he spends his days with repairs around the holding, but he’s distanced himself from everyone.” He met her direct stare. “’Tis why I brought you here. He cannot continue the course he’d taken. Nor can our clan. I’d hoped you might change his mind, especially since…”
She waited for him to spit out the rest of his statement. When he remained silent, she prodded. “Since what?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You must know I’ve heard by now.”
For a moment, she held her breath. “Heard what?”
“Come now, Mairi. I speak to what few allies we have left. Someone must since Aaron will not,” he muttered. “I’ve heard tidings of your upcoming marriage to Laird MacEwan.”
The air in her lungs whooshed out in a noisy rush. “Oh.”
Sitting a bit straighter, she’d not anticipated Connor or his brother catching wind of her arrangement with Patrick. For some inexplicable reason, a pang of guilt accompanied the knowledge. But why should Aaron care in the first place? ’Twas evident the man never planned to set eyes on her again, if his reaction the night before was any judge. If he had, then mayhap she might not have accepted the first—well, only—offer that happened to come along.
Regardless, she could not help but squirm a wee bit in the sights of Connor’s watchful gaze.
With a wry grin, he added, “You may put your mind as ease. I’ve not mentioned a word of it to Aaron.”
Despite her best efforts to remain unaffected, her shoulders slumped with relief. “It matters not, Connor. I’ve agreed to wed MacEwan this coming spring.”
Even though the words rang false to her ears, the lad bolted to his knees in response. The furs dropped from his shoulders in his haste. “You cannot wed him!”
She gaped at Connor for several heartbeats before her indignation stepped in. “Why, in God’s name, should I not? Your brother feels naught for me, nor I for him.” The blatant falsehood nearly scalded her tongue. “There’s naught between
us. You’d do well to remember that. I’m sorry, Connor, but the only way I might help your brother is by leaving this place altogether.”
A scowl etched over his features. “You’ve no notion what he feels for you.”
Frustrated with the whole affair, she lashed out, “Nay, ’tis you who has no notion. Now, be gone with you so that I might tidy up and break my fast before I leave this wretched place for good.”
Dragging to his feet, he grumbled beneath his breath and wrapped a fur around his lean frame.
Unable to decipher the muttered words, she called after him. “Was there something more you wished to say?”
Without meeting her gaze, Connor shook his head and shuffled to the door. Pausing with his hand on the latch, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll return to escort you to the hall. In the meantime, I’ll send Kate up with some fresh water and linens.”
The sooner the better by her estimation. Once she filled her belly with warm fare, secured a horse and bundle of furs, she would be on her way. And damned if she would spare a glance at what she left behind.
*
Despite the cold emanating from the stone walls, Aaron dipped his hands into the basin on a pedestal near the hearth and splashed water over his face and bare chest. He propped his forearms over the rim and stared at his reflection as the ripples settled over the surface. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes from a lack of sleep, while deep creases folded his brow. Stubble covered his cheeks and jaw, but after such a restless eve, he could not bother to shave.
He wondered if the storm had eased and the snowfall slackened. How long before the horrid, troublesome mess melted enough to send Mairi home where she belonged?
Christ, however was he to manage with the woman in residence? The mere thought pained his already aching head.
’Twas apparent, he’d have to do his damnedest to steer clear of the lass. He could not afford to fall prey to her comely smiles and witty banter. If he allowed himself to succumb to the woman, he suspected he’d not survive her leaving him a final time. Then again, considering her brother’s foul disposition, Aaron would likely not survive regardless.
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