“I’m coming,” Elora blurted with relief, but she faltered when she noticed the tears flooding Firtha’s eyes.
She grabbed her sister’s maid by the arms. “What has happened?”
“Temperance is in the field beyond the stables. She—”
Elora did not stay to listen to Firtha’s explanation. Instead, she hitched her tunic up and set out at a run. In a flash, Nathan was at her side. Together, they raced out into the courtyard just as Declan was leading a charge of warriors out of the stables.
“My lady,” Declan said, drawing his mount to a halt next to her. Before she knew what was happening, Nathan was lifting her onto the saddle behind her guard. Then Declan kicked his mount in the flanks and they charged forward. Glancing back, she saw Nathan swing up behind Caleb whose black steed raced ahead, passing Declan and the other warriors.
“What has she done now?” Elora shouted for Declan to hear.
“Firtha came racing through the gates moments ago, claiming that Tempest was trying to ride the new horse.”
Elora’s chest tightened. “Not the one from Egan?”
“Aye, my lady, the same.”
Her stomach dropped out. “God have mercy,” she prayed.
They rounded the outer wall. Caleb had reined in his horse. Declan brought his mount alongside and signaled for the other riders to stop. Elora shifted her gaze beyond to the distant field, and it was then she saw her sister. “Nay,” she cried as she watched Temperance holding fast to the horse’s black mane while the beast bucked and kicked.
“Ride!” she bade Declan.
“Nay,” Caleb snapped, his face drawn with worry. “If we charge toward her, it will spook the mare even more.”
Nathan reached over from where he sat behind Caleb and squeezed her hand. “Wait here with Declan. We will save her.”
Fear pulsed through her, choking her words. She nodded and Caleb nudged his mount forward at a gentle trot.
“Nathan,” she called.
He looked back.
“She’s all I have.”
He held her gaze, his jaw set firm. Then he turned back around.
“Fear not, my lady. Nathan and Caleb will save her,” Declan said, but she could hear the fear in his voice.
Fists clenched, she watched her sister struggle to keep her seat. “Don’t give up, Temperance!” Barely breathing, not daring to blink, she prayed under her breath and kept her gaze fixed on the distant field.
Straightening in her seat, she could see that the chestnut horse had ceased her bucking and was now stomping at the ground, thrashing her head from side to side. She reared up on her hind legs. Temperance held her grip. Then suddenly, her sister was galloping across the field, bent low on the horse’s back.
Tears flooded Elora’s eyes. “She’s doing it! She’s riding her!” Laughter bubbled up her throat. “Declan, she’s riding her!”
“Would ye look at that,” her guard said with a tone of wonderment in his voice.
Ahead of them, she saw Caleb draw up on his reins. His black mount shuffled in place as Nathan and Caleb both watched. Nathan turned around and waved back at her, a smile shaping his features. Then she shifted her gaze back to her younger sister who was riding the horse as if they were one and the same—like a schooner sailing across the open seas.
Temperance reached the end of the field and spun her mount around, charging back the way she’d come, her black curls fanning out behind her.
Elora’s heart swelled with pride. “She’s amazing!” She watched in wonder at the skill with which Temperance managed the headstrong mare. In that moment, she was struck by how blind she had been to her sister’s gifts. Temperance wasn’t simply reckless—she was fearless. She was strong, and she had grown into a remarkable woman.
She squeezed Declan around the waist. “Look at her! Look at how she rides. I bet not a warrior in yer charge could ride so well.”
“I dare say ye’re right, my lady!”
Suddenly, a covey of grouse shot up in Temperance’s path, the birds flying off in every direction. Elora sucked in a sharp breath as the wild mare reared up on her hind legs, tossing Temperance to the ground.
“Get up,” Elora cried, but her sister lay unmoving while the horse bucked and kicked, narrowly missing her.
“She’ll be crushed!”
“Look!” Declan shouted, pointing at Caleb and Nathan who had charged ahead.
When they reached her sister, Caleb slid from his mount, gathered Temperance up in his arms, and dashed away to safety while Nathan took the reins and chased after the spooked mare.
“Ride, Declan!”
They charged forward, and when they drew close to where Caleb was sitting with Temperance lying in his arms, Declan drew his mount to a halt. Elora slid to the ground and dropped to her knees beside her sister.
“Temperance,” she cried and gasped when she saw blood oozing down her sister’s cheek.
“She’s alive,” Caleb said, holding Temperance close. “But she has a nasty gash on her head.”
Summoning her strength, Elora took a deep breath and stood. She turned to Declan. “Ride to the village and fetch the midwife.” Then she turned to Caleb. “We must get her back to the castle.”
He cradled Temperance in his arms and stood. “I will carry her.”
Her heart pounding, fists clenched, Elora watched Declan race off toward the village while Caleb carried her unconscious sister toward the castle. Fear pulsed through her, assaulting her defenses. She fought for calm, for breath. But something fierce brewed within her, tumultuous and demanding. She pressed her hand against her mouth as a well of emotion threatened to choke the very breath from her body.
“Elora!”
Her chest hitched. Nathan raced toward her with the wild mare in tow.
“Elora!”
She started to run to him. When he drew close, he slid to the ground.
“Nathan,” she cried, racing into his open arms. A sob tore from her throat as she threw her arms around his neck. He crushed her close.
“I’ve got ye,” he crooned and her control shattered.
She pressed her face into his neck. Her tears fell freely. It all poured out of her—her fear for her sister’s life, the weight of caring for her people, Egan’s claim, her indecision, and her newest fear...the fear that she was losing her heart to the very man who now held her in his arms, crooning soft promises that everything was going to be all right.
Chapter Fifteen
Elora sat on the edge of her sister’s bed, waiting for Temperance to at last open her eyes. The midwife had dressed her wound. Layers of linen were now wrapped securely around Temperance’s head, taming her raven-black hair. Elora reached out and touched one of her sister’s curls. Elora’s flaxen hair had come from her father, but Temperance took after their mother in appearance—dark hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, although their mother’s eyes had never shone with the same fire that burned in Temperance’s bright gaze. The only thing her mother’s eyes had ever held was suffering.
Elora stroked her fingertips down her sister’s pale cheek. She looked so innocent and fragile, lying in the center of her four-poster bed with the blanket pulled up to her chin. For a moment, Elora felt as if she were a child again. She closed her eyes against the memory that rushed to the fore of her mind of another time she had kept vigil at a Brodie woman’s bedside. Elora had only been ten when her mother died, but she would never forget her mother’s gaunt cheeks or desperate eyes or the promise Elora had made her mother on the very day she drew her last breath.
Temperance’s eyelashes fluttered, drawing Elora back into the present.
Holding her breath, she leaned close, waiting, watching. Then her sister stirred and slowly opened her eyes.
“Elora,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Tears stung Elora’s eyes. “Ye gave me such a fright.”
Temperance’s smiled faltered. “I ken ye’re going to tell me how foolish I am.”
; Elora leaned close, cupping her sister’s cheeks. “Nay, sweetling. ‘Tis I who have been the fool.”
Her sister’s brows drew together. “Ye’re not going to scold me for riding Storm?”
Laughing softly through her tears, Elora asked, “Is that the wee beastie’s name then?”
With a look of incredulity in her eyes, Temperance nodded.
Elora took a deep breath. “I’m not going to scold ye. On the contrary, I was going to tell ye that ye were brilliant.”
Temperance’s blue eyes flashed wide, and then they flooded with tears. “Truly? I...I cannot remember the last time ye gave me any praise.”
Elora pressed her lips together against the rush of emotion that surged up her throat. “Neither can I,” she admitted. Then she climbed under the covers and held her sister close. “I am so very sorry.” Wet tears coursed down her cheeks. “I’ve been so blind. Ye were right when ye said I was becoming like da.”
Temperance pulled away and looked at her with pleading eyes. “Nay, Elora! I never should have said that. I’ve been selfish, thinking only of myself while ye carry the weight of our entire clan on yer shoulders.”
Taking a deep breath, Elora swiped at her eyes. “A weight I need not carry alone. Clan Brodie has two ladies.”
Her sister’s eyes brightened. “What are ye saying?”
Elora smiled. “When ye’re feeling better, we’ll discuss yer new duties.”
Temperance clasped her hands together. “Like what?”
“Like helping Agnes with the menu.” Elora chuckled. “I imagine stewed apples will be a common occurrence.”
Temperance wrapped her arms around Elora’s neck. “Thank ye!”
Elora savored the moment of closeness. Then she drew away and cupped her sister’s cheek. “Keep riding if it brings ye joy.”
“Truly? I may ride Storm again?”
“Of course, ye can. She’s yers.”
“Ye’re giving her to me?”
Elora nodded. Then she took a deep breath and looked her sister hard in the eye. “I have underestimated ye. I’ll never do it again.”
A fresh rush of tears filled Temperance’s eyes. “I love ye, Elora.”
She pulled her sister close, once more. “And I love ye...Tempest.”
The sister’s talked quietly for a while longer as Tempest peppered Elora with questions about her new duties. But after a while, Tempest’s eyes began to droop.
Elora pressed a kiss to her brow. “Ye rest now, sweetling. Ye’ll need yer strength to complete the lists I’m going to give ye.”
A sleepy smile curved Tempest’s lip. “My own list,” she said dreamily. Then her eyes closed.
Elora crossed the room and lifted the handle on her sister’s door when suddenly Tempest said, “My joy is riding. What’s yers?”
Elora’s smile faltered. “I...I do not ken.” She forced her smile to return. “Mayhap ye will help me find mine.”
Tempest nodded and closed her eyes again. “Make that the first item on my list.”
Elora stepped out into the hallway and shut the door. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.
“How is she?”
She opened her eyes and turned, meeting Caleb’s worried gaze. “She is well, tired, but well. She is resting now, but later on if ye wish to visit her, ye—”
“Nay,” he said quickly. “I just wanted to know that she was all right.” He dipped his head. “I will take my leave.” Then he turned on his heel and marched down the hall.
Nathan came forward then. “I’m certain Tempest is not the only one in need of rest.”
She nodded. “How did ye know?”
He smiled gently. “Ye started out this day on yer hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. By now, I can only imagine how tired ye must be.” He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Come, I will walk ye to yer chamber.”
When they reached her door, he opened it, then stepped back. “There was something I promised ye earlier.” A slight smile curved one side of his mouth. “’Tis waiting for ye.” He took her hand and turned it over and pressed his firm, sensual mouth to her palm. Then he straightened, and his silver eyes locked with hers as he backed away.
She watched his retreat, her stomach fluttering and her heart racing. Finally, she forced herself to enter her room. Straightaway, her gaze fell on the tub near the hearth. Coils of steam rose from the surface of the water. When she saw his thoughtfulness, her chest tightened. She stood frozen as gratitude and affection made her heart swell. Her breath caught. She threw open her door.
“Nathan!” she shouted after him.
He stopped and turned around.
Hitching up her tunic, she raced down the hallway and threw herself into his arms. He lifted her feet off the ground. His mouth covered hers. Hungrily, he coaxed her lips open with his tongue. She trembled with passion. Like a savage dance, their tongues intertwined, delving, stroking, sending shockwaves of ecstasy to her very core which burned with a need that ached soul-deep. She clung to him, wishing they could be closer still. The pain, sweet and agonizing, grew, taking her higher and higher until she feared she would either be saved or she would erupt into flames and lose herself forever.
“Nay,” she cried, thrusting him away.
He stumbled back, his chest heaving.
“Go!” she bade him.
Shaking his head, he closed the distance between them and reached for her, but she shook her head, retreating out of reach. “I can take no more,” she cried.
He raked his hand through his hair. “Elora!”
“Please, Nathan. I am begging ye. Just go!”
His nostrils flared. His silver eyes burned with passion. But he blew out a long stream of air and backed away. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away from her. She raced back to her room and crumpled to the floor, burying her face in her knees.
“What have I done?” she sobbed. For she knew her soul had found its match, but love was for anyone else, not her. Her fate had been decided on the very day she first drew breath. She was Lady Elora Brodie, and her heart belonged to her clan.
Chapter Sixteen
Nathan sat at the high table with Caleb on one side, but the chair to his left sat empty. Elora had yet to come down for supper. He closed his eyes and for a moment he was back in the hallway, his heart pounding as she raced toward him. Crushing her to him, he had claimed her lips in an explosive kiss that even in remembrance made his pulse race. She had clung to him, her mouth devouring, meeting the demand of his lips with a hunger all her own. She had given herself fully to the passion he had always known burned deep beneath her stony façade; that is, until she had pushed him away.
Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention back to the present. Caleb was gesturing to one of the serving lasses who was holding a flagon of wine. She nodded when she noticed Caleb motioning to her and hastened up the steps to the high dais to fill his cup.
Nathan leaned close. “Is that yer third tankard?”
Caleb raised a brow at him and leaned back in his chair. “Are ye going to chide me about my cups?”
Nathan shifted in his seat and looked at his friend straight on. “How is it that ye’re drinking, and I’m not?”
“Because like ye, I have a woman on my mind, but unlike ye, I want to forget mine.”
Nathan raised his brows, then called out to the serving lass on her way back down the stairs to the main floor. “Don’t go far. He’ll need another.”
She tossed her unbound flaxen hair off her shoulder and flashed Caleb a suggestive smile. “I’ll stay close, very close.”
Caleb grunted into his cup. “Just what I need, another woman.” Then he turned to Nathan. “Remind me again what exactly we’re doing here?”
“Funny ye should ask that,” Nathan said thoughtfully. “If ye recall, I came here to be laird. Now...” He shook his head. “Now, there’s only one thing I want.”
Caleb took a sip, the
n raised a brow at him. “Ye’ve lost yer heart, haven’t ye?” he said knowingly.
Nathan shook his head. “Nay, my friend, I’ve found it. For the first time in years, I feel it pounding in my chest,” he said, emphasizing each word with a strike of his fist to his chest. “What’s more, I’ve found the woman I want to give my heart to.”
A lazy sideways smile shaped Caleb’s mouth as he sat back in his chair. “Do ye mean the uptight noblewoman ye’ve saddled yerself with?”
Nathan raised a brow at his friend. “Are ye throwing my words back at me?”
“I’m just reminding ye that I was opposed to this mission from the start and for good reason. Look at us. Ye’re mooning like a lovesick lass, and I’m about to call that lassie with the wine back over so that she can fill my cup for the fourth time.”
“Mayhap, ye shouldn’t drown yer heart in wine,” Nathan offered. “Why do ye not just tell Tempest how ye feel?”
Caleb frowned. “What makes ye think I’ve got that wee lassie on my mind?”
“I have eyes, don’t I?” Nathan shot back. “Oh, and by the by, she isn’t such a wee lassie.”
Caleb stood, shaking his head. “Do ye ken what I think, Nathan?” he drawled. “I think I liked ye better when ye were broken and cynical.”
Nathan chuckled. “Where are ye going, ye drunken sod?”
“To the stables where I don’t have to listen to the musings of a man in love.”
Nathan watched his friend slowly make his way across the great hall.
Declan, who had been conversing with Murray, shifted in his seat and called across the empty seats, “Already Caleb has had his share of other people’s company, I see.”
Nathan nodded, then turned and watched his friend step out into the courtyard. “Poor sod,” he muttered, for he knew Caleb was about to learn that his problem couldn’t be resolved by a flagon of wine and a hard sleep. Turning back to face Clan Brodie’s captain, he asked, “Do ye think Lady Elora will grace us with her presence?”
“I have no memory of her missing the evening meal, not since she was a child anyway. But today has been particularly trying.” Declan lifted his shoulders. “We will have to wait and see.”
The Renegade (Rebel Hearts, #1) Page 11