Forever Her Champion

by Suzan Tisdale

  The more he spoke, the more she knitted her brow, the more frightened she appeared. ’Twas too late now to retreat.

  “That was only the beginnin’, ye see.” His voice was growing harsher, his words thick with self-loathing. “They trained me, ye ken, to kill. To be an assassin. To steal into a man’s home and kill him whilst he slept. Or kill him while he was lookin’ at me. They taught many of us in this way. Used us to do their dirty work, to take the lives of men we’d ne’er met, whose crimes we did nae ken, but kill them I did. Too many to count, Rianna. Husbands, fathers, grandfathers. All because they had beat every last bit of Aiden Macgullane from me. They gave me a new name, a new identity. They destroyed every bit of that wee lad ye were so fond of.”

  Angrily, he pulled his tunic over his head and turned to give her his back, the back he refused to allow her to touch last night. Long, deep scars criss-crossed one another. They began at his neck and disappeared under his trews. Appalled, not at him but for him, Rianna wanting nothing more than to reach out and soothe his heart as well as his body, but she was frozen in place.

  “That, Rianna, is my past,” he ground out. Pulling his tunic back on, he turned to face her. “That is what I did nae want to share with ye. That is what I was protecting ye from.”

  “Protectin’ me?” she whispered. If anyone needed protecting ’twas Aiden. Her heart ached for this man and she could not hate him or despise him for things that were beyond his control. The hell he’d endured was beyond her comprehension. “I don’t understand, Aiden. What are ye protectin’ me from?”

  Thrusting a hand through his hair, he began to pace in the small confines of the hut. “I am protectin’ ye from them.”

  “Them? Them who?” she asked, growing more confused and sorrowful as the moments passed.

  He stopped in his tracks and looked at her, aghast. “Are ye daft? Did ye nae hear a word I said?”

  “Aye, I did. But who are ye protectin’ me from? The men who bought you? The men who enslaved ye and treated ye … ” There was no word, no way to describe what they had done to this poor soul.

  “Aye, them. The Turks. My masters. They sent me on a mission two years ago, a mission I did nae complete. A mission I ran from the first chance I had. They could be huntin’ me now, either to kill me or to take me back. I will die at my own hand before I go back, Rianna. I swear I will.”

  “Then let me help ye,” she said as she went to him, placing her hand on his cheek. “Mayhap my father will grant us sanctuary—”

  He stopped her with a shake of his head. “Do ye nae see? If they do come for me, I could not bear to have ye harmed. I could nae live with myself if ye were hurt, or worse yet, taken by them and forced to live as I did. I love ye too much, Rianna. I cannae do it.”

  He loved her.

  He loved her.

  The words were both heaven and hell at once. He would desert her because he loved her. He knew no other way to protect her.

  They argued back and forth for nearly half an hour before she finally gave up. Resignation set into her drooping shoulders. No amount of begging or pleading or even sound reasoning could get him to change his mind.

  She was left feeling empty and cold inside. Dejected. Rejected.

  Silently, she wiped the tears from her face, grabbed the bundle that contained all her worldly possessions and headed out the door. Pausing on the threshold, she turned to face him one last time. “I ken ye believe ye love me, but a person who loves another does nae hurt them this way. I will go to my father’s.” Her voice caught on painful tears. “I wish ye nothin’ but a good life, Aiden Macgullane. I hope that someday ye will win the battle o’er yer demons. Mayhap someday, a woman better and stronger than I will win yer heart.”

  She turned then, leaving him alone to ponder what she had said.

  7

  They had been closer to her father’s keep than she realized. She was able to see the road to Allistair castle within moments of leaving the hunter’s croft. Through teary eyes, she made her way up the long winding road, paying no attention to her surroundings. She had left her heart barely beating on the floor of the tiny hut where she’d given it to Aiden. No amount of time would ever ease the ache or the emptiness left behind.

  Her emotions ran amok, wavering between anger and despair and back again. Could she truly fault him for wanting to keep her safe? Aye, she could and did. Every fiber of her being screamed that she was safer with him than without. She loved him without question or restraint. Yet he had spoiled every bit of hope, no matter how dim or unrealistic, of ever having anything to resemble a ‘normal’ life. She would never marry, no matter how poor or desperate she might become. She would never give her body or her heart to another man.

  After a time, when she chanced a glance at the road ahead, she began to make out a castle in the distance. From her vantage point, it looked to be made of dark stone, with at least two tall towers.

  As she drew nearer, her heart felt heavier. Her thoughts turned away from Aiden and toward her father. What lay ahead for her? Would she be met with open arms or disdain? It mattered not, for either way, she would remain an empty shell, existing only because she was too level-headed to take her own life. Aiden Macgullane wasn’t worth it.

  Soon, the keep came into clearer view. Dark stone with not two but four towers. MacAllistair banners fluttered in the gentle breeze. If she had not been so broken-hearted, she might have stood in awe and wonder.

  With legs that felt as though they were filled with lead, she made her way up the road. One step at a time, she told herself repeatedly. Yer father lies ahead. Yer father and yer future. He will want ye. The doll, the ring: they are proof of that.

  A quarter of an hour later, she was standing at the gates of Allistair keep. A formidable fortress that might or might not contain everything her heart had ever desired.

  “Who goes there?” a guard called from the upper wall.

  Drawing on every bit of willpower she owned, she took a deep breath and looked up to answer him. “I am here to see my father, Lachlan MacAllistair.”

  Aiden had followed her, unseen and unnoticed, from a safe distance. Knowing well how poor her sense of direction was and after the events of the night before with the thieves, he could not allow her to wander off alone. Or at least that was what he tried telling himself. In truth, he was burning every last image of her he could into his mind and heart.

  When she was near the gates of the MacAllistair keep, he pulled his horse to a stop and simply watched. No matter how badly he wanted to chase after her, scoop her into his arms and steal her away, he knew he could not. Her future lay within the walls of the MacAllistair keep, not with him.

  With a crestfallen sigh, he turned his horse away, unable to watch as the woman he loved stepped through those large wooden gates. She would be safe now. Safer without him than with.

  In the hours before she had awakened, he had made the single most difficult decision of his life. As he rode away, he prayed to any god that would listen to give him some sign he had made the right decision. If he hadn’t, then he prayed he would not live long enough for regret.

  It seemed to Rianna that an eternity had passed before the gate swung open. Her stomach was knotted with unease as her mind battled once again with all the possible things that could happen once the gate opened.

  Lachlan MacAllistair was not what she had expected. For years, she had envisioned him as a tall man who exuded strength and power. Though he looked eerily familiar, he was nothing at all like she had imagined. Mayhap he was not Lachlan, but a relative or guard came to take her to him.

  His dark hair was grayed at the temples, his nose and lips thin, and a pointed beard sprinkled with silver adorned his lower chin. He was much smaller than she thought her father to be. And his eyes … they were dark brown and quite menacing. Nay, there was no comfort to be found in this man. Therefore, she reasoned, he could not be her father.

  “Who are ye?” he asked in a tone sharp enough to m
ake her knees knock.

  Pulling herself together, she drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “I be Rianna Coultier, daughter of Lachlan MacAllistair.”

  With suspicious eyes, he looked her up and down once. “Ye be nae my daughter,” he said gruffly.

  If she hadn’t left her heart back at the hunter’s croft with Aiden, it very well may have fallen to her stomach.

  This be the man my mother declared she loved above all others? “Ye are Lachlan MacAllistair?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Aye, and again I tell ye I have no daughter.”

  Stunned, she fought to find an intelligent thought. Had her mother lied once again? On her deathbed? “Ronna Coutlier was my mother. She said she loved ye once—”

  He did not allow her to finish. “Ronna Coultier?” he scoffed. “Aye, I knew her once. Ye look like her. Ne’er a bigger whore to walk God’s earth. But I ne’er bedded her and I certainly ne’er fathered a child with her.”

  Rianna stood in a state of dumfounded silence. On her deathbed, she still lied to me. Crushed and disillusioned, she stood for a long moment, unable to find her voice.

  “If ye’re here to beg for a home, ye’ve come to the wrong keep. We do nae want yer kind here. Now be gone with ye,” he said as he took a step back.

  “But I have nowhere else to go,” she murmured to herself. What is to become of me now?

  Obviously disgusted with her presence, he dug into a pouch on his belt. Removing a few coins, he tossed them at her. They hit her stomach and chest before falling to the ground. “If ye be anything like yer mother, I am certain ye’re used to earning your keep by lying on yer back. We have enough whores here and need no more. No be gone with ye. And do nae e’er let me see ye near this keep again, for I’ll nae be so polite next time.”

  And with that, he turned away, stepping back into the yard.

  Rianna looked at the coins that lay on the earth, heard him call for the gates to be closed. This cannae be, she told herself. From within, she heard him bark out, “If she comes back, throw her in the dungeon.”

  8

  Everything was gone. Her hopes, her dreams, all of it shattered into inestimable pieces, ground into the dirt under the few pieces of silver Lachlan had tossed at her. She left the coins on the hard, unwelcoming earth, turned and walked away.

  A stark, bleak emptiness seeped into her stomach, her bones, and every part of her.

  She had allowed herself to believe in a dream, a fairy tale. One in which her father would welcome her with open arms, bring her into the comforting folds of his home, and make her a part of his life, his family.

  None of it made any sense. If it had not been her father who had given her the doll and the ring, then who? It certainly hadn’t been her mother. Ronna had never given her a thing, not even a mother’s warm regard.

  Now she was left with nothing.

  No mother, no father, no family.

  Was she cursed to spend the rest of her life wandering aimlessly about God’s earth alone?

  No one wanted her. Not even the man she knew without question she loved with her whole heart and soul. That was yet another failed dream. Never would she have a home and hearth to tend. Never would she lay her head down at night, next to a man she loved beyond measure. There would be no bairns to chase about, no gardens to tend, no meals to prepare. Her future grew more and more bleak with each step she took. Not only was she walking away from the future life she had dreamed of, she was also walking away from her past.

  Slowly, without a thought to where she would go now, she walked away from the keep and into the bright afternoon. Birds twittered happily overhead. The earlier breeze grew stronger; the tall grass alongside the road swayed as if bending to its will. But Rianna saw none of it, heard none of it.

  The doll. Her thoughts kept going back to the doll and ring.

  What were they a symbol of? Where had they come from? Certainly they had not appeared out of nowhere. Someone had to have given them to her.

  What of that faded, distorted memory? Had she ever known her father? Had she somehow jumbled everything together, or was that night when she’d been sent away just a dream?

  Nay, it could not have been. The doll, the crimson ring were proof that something had happened.

  With resignation, she decided it no longer mattered.

  Fishing through her pack, she pulled out the worn, tattered doll. It stared up at her mockingly, with threadbare eyes. No longer did it hold the key to anything. She let if fall from her fingertips onto the road and walked away from it.

  She was tempted for a moment to leave the ring behind as well. If Aiden had been right, ’twas worth a small fortune. That she would keep to sell as soon as she reached Inverness. She would go back there, sell the ring, and use it to start her life anew.

  He was a fool.

  He knew it.

  A bloody, ignorant fool.

  Behind him was the one person who loved him regardless of his past. When he had given her the tale of his whole sordid life, did she look at him with the contempt or disgust he had feared? Nay, she had not. There was nothing to be found in those vibrant green eyes but love and a genuine concern for him.

  No hatred. No scorn or loathing or abhorrence. Nothing but love and kindness.

  With his horse at a full run, he knew he would never be able to run from her memory. Everything his eyes gazed upon was a reminder of Rianna. The tall lush grass was the color of her eyes. The sun overhead as bright as her smile. The pink flowers that dotted the small glen, the same shade as her lips. And the breeze that billowed up? Not only did it remind him of her breath upon his skin, but he could have sworn it carried the scent of marigolds.

  Rianna.

  A friend since childhood who later turned into his strongest ally and the woman he would go to his grave loving like no other.

  He began to worry about her safety. What if Ronna had lied to her again about the true identity of her father? Were they kind people within the walls of MacAllistair Castle who would take her in and give her the family she always needed? What if they didn’t? What if they turned her away and she was now alone, lost and bereft? She hadn’t two pieces of copper to count as her own. She had nothing and no one. And he had turned his back on her, left her alone at the gates of the keep, to face God only knew what kind of greeting. The very least he could have done was stay to see if she’d be let in or turned away.

  Bloody hell.

  They came out of nowhere. A group of some ten or more men on horseback — men she did not know — and they were closing in on her. Instinct propelled her to run as fast as she could as the claws of terror traced up and down her spine. Into the woods, panic-stricken, she ran through bushes, around felled trees and through the bracken.

  Trepidation caused her to drop her pack, which held her sgian dubh. She was without weapons or defense as the men continued to chase her. There was no time to wonder who they were or if they were friend or foe. They had approached her unaware, with swords drawn and at the ready. Fierce and angry looking, they spoke not a word as they kicked their mounts forward in pursuit. Their purpose was not important. Evading them was.

  They shouted at one another and she could barely hear them over the pounding of her heart as dread and fear coursed through her veins. Her lungs felt as though they’d burst at any moment; her side ached with running. Like macabre claws reaching out to thwart her progress and aid the men, low hanging branches and thorny bushes tore at her skin, her hair and clothing. Sweat trickled down her forehead, her back, seeping into the fresh wounds, stinging and burning her torn flesh.

  “There she is!” someone called out from nearby. “Go around, go around!”

  Not knowing who was coming from which direction, she darted left around a large boulder, heading into another dense thicket. If the thicket slowed her momentum, it stood to reason it would also slow down her pursuers. She dared not look back to see how close they were. All she could think was to keep moving, mayhap back to
ward the keep. But ’twas too dark inside the woods to know with any certainty just which direction she was heading.

  She tumbled out of the woods and into a small clearing and was forced to come to an abrupt halt. There before her was Lachlan MacAllistair, sitting arrogantly atop a black steed. On either side of her were two sinister looking men.

  “Take her,” Lachlan ordered.

  She spun around, only to see two more men were blocking her escape back into the woods.

  There was nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide.

  Aiden had seen the riders before Rianna knew they were upon her. He watched in utter terror when she took one look at them before bolting into the woods. Twice in less than a full day’s time, he faced unparalleled fear. Not for his own neck, but for Rianna’s.

  Tearing off at a full run, he chased after the riders. Were they friends, they would not have had swords drawn, nor would they be dressed for battle in chainmail and helms. They would have called out to her their true mission. Nay, these were nae her friends, but men set upon bringing her harm.

  Into the woods he went, drawing his sword, coming up behind one rider at the rear of the pack. He sliced through the back of the man’s neck, sending him to the ground with a thud. He’d felled two more riders before anyone realized he was behind them.

  The fourth man proved more difficult. Spinning his horse around, he sliced through Aiden’s tunic, leaving a deep gash in his left arm. Aiden blocked out the pain. Were the circumstances different, he might have toyed and played with his opponent before killing the fool. But Rianna was out there somewhere, running for her life. As soon as he saw his opening, he plunged his sword deep into the man’s belly, withdrew it just as quickly and set off to find the others.