Numb, she stood frozen in place as her friend paced.
“My brother is willing to sacrifice all for love.”
“I can’t let him do it, Elaine.”
“Would that I had such courage.” Elaine stopped on her frenetic path to face her. “He will take you home. The two of you will live with your people.” Elaine took her hands briefly, seeming to look right through her.
“I won’t let him throw his future away, Elaine. We cannot return to my home. It isn’t possible.”
“You must ken by now the answer I sent to Dylan’s proposal to elope.” Elaine paced again, wringing her hands. “I’ll never love another. I…I have made a grave mistake.” Her eyes stark, she sank down to sit on her bed. “Nothing is more important than love. Not land, or titles—not my father’s approval or his permission. And now, Dylan is gone from my life forever.” She put her face in her hands, a sob breaking free. “My brother has it aright, True. Malcolm will no’ forsake you as I have forsaken Dylan. I did no’ deserve him, and now he is lost to me.”
“Oh, Elaine.” She had no words to offer. Her own world was crumbling beneath her feet. This was not her time or her place. Her coming had been both a blessing and a curse. And tonight—she’d been proven right. No matter how things turned out, hearts were breaking—her own for certain.
A knock sounded behind her. Malcolm entered. Nodding briefly at his sister, he turned to her. “Come, mo céile. I find I am in need of your company.”
She gave Elaine a hug and whispered in her ear, “Don’t give up. You deserve happiness.”
Malcolm took her arm and urged her out the door. “Come, lass. We must talk.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“This has been a most trying evening. I knew you would seek my sister’s company. She is your friend.”
“Do you want to walk to the lake?” she asked.
“Nay, too many people celebrate my father’s return this eve, and the ale and wine are flowing too freely. We’ll go to our chamber.”
Once inside the privacy of their room, Malcolm removed his weapons and began to disrobe.
“You said you wanted to talk, Malcolm.”
“I do. Later. Right now I want you in my arms.” He started undoing the laces of her gown. “I need to feel your skin next to mine.”
She didn’t want to talk either—or to think. Alethia stepped out of her clothing and into Malcolm’s arms. He had the right idea after all. Lost in his kiss and moved by his touch, she could forget the decisions facing her.
Enveloped in Malcolm’s heat, she reveled in the sensation. She ran her hands over his muscled body, memorizing each dip, each and every contour. His masculine scent, tinged with the outdoors and peat smoke, surrounded her. She took it deep into her lungs to savor. “Malcolm, did you resolve things with your father?”
“You’ve naught to worry about.”
Shivers danced over her skin as he kissed his way down the center of her torso. His hands ran over her rib cage to cradle her hips. “Yes, but did you resolve your differences?” She held her breath. Would he tell her of his decision to give up his birthright?
“Alethia.” He raised his head look at her. “I’ve no wish to speak of my father at present.” He placed several kisses where their babe grew inside her. “Can you no’ see I’m busy?”
As dire as things were, she couldn’t help but smile. She tangled her fingers in his hair. “I can see that you are,” she whispered, and let the magic of his touch take her far from the problems facing her.
Later, she lay snuggled next to his side with her hand over his heart to feel its steady beat. What were her choices? If she stayed and became his mistress, his wife would surely hate her and see her as a threat. Their daughter would be illegitimate. Not a good thing in the fifteenth century—she’d have no future to speak of. And if something happened to Malcolm, what would become of them? It was all moot anyway. She could not bear his being married to someone else.
“Alethia, in a fortnight the priest will arrive. Our marriage will be blessed, and immediately after we shall make preparations to travel to the land of your people.”
“For a visit, you mean?” She raised herself up to look at him, holding her breath. Would he tell her about his argument with his father?
“Mayhap we’ll stay for a time. That would please you, aye?”
She nodded. She couldn’t allow him to throw his future or his birthright away. It was not a choice. “I love you, Malcolm. Never forget that I love you.”
He rolled her over, pinning her beneath him. Nudging her thighs apart with his knees, he entered her again. His forehead came to rest on hers, and his breathing fanned her face with warmth. Love and loss welled up inside her, and she closed her eyes against the threat of tears.
“And I love you, mo anam. Never doubt it.”
Again he brought her to the pinnacle of pleasure, only this time it was bittersweet. This time was the last time she would ever hold him in her arms. And once he fell asleep beside her, she let the tears come. She had to leave, and the sooner the better. Malcolm would be all right. Hearts healed. He would go on, marry, and fulfill his destiny without her.
But what about Hunter? Should she take him with her? For that matter, she wasn’t certain Giselle would or could send her back to her own time. She hadn’t come for her after the battle at Castle Rait as she’d expected. She only knew she must confront the old witch. And if she took Hunter with her, perhaps something could be done about his hearing. He was young enough to adapt, and so bright. She had no doubt he’d thrive in the twenty-first century.
Didn’t Giselle’s presence in Inverness mean the time had come for her to go home? Surely Giselle knew she’d completed the task she’d been given. She’d saved Malcolm’s life more than once, and Mairen’s. Her hidden talent, the visions, had all come at precisely the right time, and she hadn’t had a single one since. Wasn’t that proof?
Covering her womb with her hands, a fierce love for her child filled her. She could not allow her to suffer the stigma of being a bastard. Their daughter deserved more, and she would see that she got it. This baby girl would be all she had of Malcolm once she returned to the twenty-first century. She was certain her uncles and aunties, her cousins and Gran would welcome her child with open arms.
Unable to sleep, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window. Lifting the latch to the hinged pane of glass, she swung it open to breathe the cool night air. Her eyes turned toward the sky. She’d never seen stars like she saw them here in Scotland—like diamonds against black velvet. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could find the answers she sought somewhere in that blueprint to the universe.
She was responsible for the rift between Malcolm and his father. She’d been dropped into a place and time not her own and had no right to stay. She prayed her leaving would restore things to the way they were meant to be—except her heart. That would never be the same. She would leave tomorrow, and take Hunter with her.
“Where are we going?” Hunter asked from the back of his sturdy little pony.
Alethia had fastened her duffel bag to the back of his saddle, and her violin she tied to the back of her own. “We are going to Inverness.”
“Without Da?”
“Yes, without him.” The words made her heart ache.
“I don’t think we should.” Hunter stopped his pony on the back side of the first hill. His face wore the expression of a child whose hand is caught in a cookie jar.
“I must. There is someone there I have to talk to.”
“Ask Da. He’ll come with us.”
“Hunter, if you do not want to come with me, turn back. I won’t force you.”
He regarded her for several moments, shook his head, and reached around for the quiver holding his bow and arrows. He strung the bow and draped it over his shoulder. Straightening in the saddle, he firmed his little chin. “I will ride with you. But this is foolish.”
As heartbroken as she wa
s, she couldn’t help smiling. Her little man saw himself as her protector. Her own bow hung down her back, and her dirk was within easy reach strapped to her calf. She wore her plain brown gown and no jewelry. It was unlikely they would encounter any travelers until they were closer to Inverness.
They’d only ridden a short while, and already she had a raging headache. Hunter had kept up a constant stream of admonitions—turn back, this is not a good idea, Da wouldn’t like it. Maybe bringing him had been a mistake. She stopped Ikwe on the trail and rubbed her temples. They had come to the same forest that held the sacred spring. The road narrowed to a darkened path cutting through it. A new feeling took hold. Unease.
She urged her mare forward and scanned the shadows near the trail. Something about this stretch of road sent prickles of anxiety down her spine. There were too many places to hide—the path too narrow, and escape routes too few. Even her mare tossed her head and sidestepped.
“Please, let’s turn back. I don’t like it here.” Hunter’s eyes had grown large with fear. Whatever lurked ahead, he felt it too.
Hunter’s constant harangue had eroded her certainty, replacing it with doubt and fear. What had seemed like the right thing to do now felt foolish and dangerous. Defeat weighed heavy on her shoulders. She would have to regroup. They would return to Moigh Hall. Maybe she could bribe a few MacKintosh warriors to go with her the next time. “All right. We’ll turn back.”
Just as they turned their horses around, two figures on horseback emerged from the forest to block their way. Tension squeezed the breath from her lungs, and her mouth dried to dust. She turned her horse’s head around to run in the opposite direction. Two more men emerged to cut off their escape, one of them all too familiar.
Her heart lodged in her throat—Black Hugh faced her from his horse, evil intent pulsing from him in waves that made her ill.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hugh dismounted and moved toward her. “When first I cast my net this day, I did not think to catch so fine a fish.” He sneered. “And we were going to abandon our plan if another day passed without sight of our quarry. ’Tis fortuitous indeed you happened by.”
The malice radiating from him raised goose bumps all over. She reached down to get the dirk strapped to her calf. Hugh gripped her wrist and a handful of her hair and dragged her from her horse. She struggled to break his hold. He wrenched her arm painfully up behind her. Her eyes stinging with tears, she stopped struggling and instead fought to maintain her wits.
Hunter’s terror was clear as he surveyed the men surrounding them. She willed him to look her way. Forcing everything else out of her mind, she sent her energy to him. Thank God, he felt it and turned to look at her. She sent him images of Moigh Hall, and images of her signing to him. “Go. Get help. Go back the way we came. Hurry.”
Hunter gave her a slight nod, and the fear left his face to be replaced with determination. He kicked the sides of his pony, heading into the cover of the forest before the men could stop him.
“Damnation. Go after him, Fergus,” Hugh snapped at one of the men. “I dinna care what becomes of the lad, but there may be valuables in the pack.”
The man set out after Hunter, and a wave of dread and grief swamped her. Had she sent Hunter to his death? Hugh had a tight hold on her hair, almost ripping it from her scalp. He released her arm to reach down to yank her dirk from its sheath and used it to cut the quiver from her back.
“Tie her hands behind her, Rupert,” Hugh ordered another of his men.
Her arms were pulled roughly behind her and tied so tightly the pain brought tears to her eyes.
“Ye will share this delectable morsel, Hugh. Equal portions, that’s what ye said.”
“Of course. After I am through with her, you and the others are welcome to my leavings.” Hugh laughed again.
“Do you remember what Malcolm told you?” Alethia hissed. “He said if you touch me, it will be the last thing you do. You are on MacKintosh land. Malcolm is my husband, and he is only a short distance behind me on the road.”
“Let us hope so,” Hugh smirked.
The sound of a horse screaming with pain pierced the air, and Hugh looked uncertain for a second. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and prayed Hunter was OK. Hugh growled, tossed her mare’s reins to his man, and dragged her into the woods.
“To camp,” he ordered.
As they made their way along a narrow trail, Hugh shook her. “If what you say is true, he’d no’ let you out of his sight. You are the perfect bait for my little trap.”
She swallowed hard. After all that had happened, she could very well be the cause of Malcolm’s death. She could not bear such a thing.
It wasn’t long before they reached a clearing where a rough camp had been set up. Hugh shoved her hard. Without the use of her hands to break her fall, she landed on her side and slid across the ground. Her face scraped over protruding roots and stones embedded in the dirt. It stung, and her hip ached where she’d landed on it.
The men laughed. Hugh took great pleasure in looming over his unexpected prize where she lay sprawled on the ground. Mayhap things had taken a turn in his favor at last. He’d hoped to catch Malcolm out for a ride and unguarded. Catching Malcolm’s woman was even better.
“I owe Malcolm for his many insults against me.” He nudged her with his boot. “’Tis the reason I have camped so near Loch Moigh for the past fortnight. Though I had hoped to catch him, you will suffer my vengeance in his stead.” He leered at her. “’Twill be a far sweeter endeavor, I think. And when he comes, he’ll see what has befallen you at my hands before I plunge a sword through his heart.”
Just then the fourth man broke through the brush, breathing hard as if he’d been running. “The little rotter put an arrow in me horse and got away. Give me your horse, Hugh, and I’ll go after ’im.”
“Nay,” Hugh said. “Our plans have changed. Let him lead Malcolm to us. The lad saw only the four of us, and Malcolm is arrogant. He’ll bring only a few men, certain he can take us. Hie yourself to the others and bring them back here. Set up a guard, and let me know the moment you see Malcolm and his men approach.” Hugh dragged his catch to a tree and tied her to it. “In the meantime, I will no’ be disturbed.” He glared at the men. “No’ even by you.”
He grabbed his crotch and eyed the little bitch from the top of her head to her feet. He watched the repulsion rise in her eyes, but not fear. It angered him. He reached to grope her breasts, giving them a vicious squeeze, and waited for the fear. He grew hard waiting for it. He needed it, and stepped closer in anticipation.
She spit in his eye. “Bitch!” He swiped at his eyes, and her knee came up hard against his groin. His first blow caught her left eye. She turned her head to lessen the impact, and rage washed through him. His second blow caught the bottom of her chin, sending her head back with a loud, satisfying crack against the tree.
She slumped against the trunk, unconscious.
“Damnation.” Hugh bent over in pain.
“Can we have a go at her, Hugh?”
“Nay, Rupert,” he growled. “I want the bitch wide awake when I take her, and I will have her first.” He straightened and turned to face his men. “Did you no’ understand my orders? I want two men here with me, the rest hiding in the forest. Be off.”
Malcolm returned to the keep from the lists plagued by unease. Hunter had not appeared to train, and the great hall felt bloody empty as he strode through it to take the stairs two at a time. He rapped his knuckles against the door of his mother’s solar and entered. The room stood empty. He made straight for his chamber, cursing under his breath. Throwing the door wide, he scanned the room. Alethia’s gowns hung from their pegs as they always did. He let out the breath he’d been holding.
Then he noticed the quiver holding her bow and arrows missing from their customary place. A closer look sent a chill down his spine. Where was her violin? Striding over to her trunk, he flipped it open and found it empty.
> She’d left. Bloody hell. He should have anticipated this. He knew how his wife’s mind worked. She couldn’t have gotten too far. The hour was still early, and she’d still been abed when he’d risen.
He ran for the ferry landing, the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach increasing the closer he got. The ferry approached, and Malcolm could see Hunter aboard—without True. The lad looked agitated, and he could not stand still. Malcolm’s prickle of alarm grew to an all-consuming dread.
As soon as Hunter saw him, the lad began to sign wildly. Malcolm couldn’t make any sense of his gestures. Hunter strained forward, as if he could make the ferry move faster by doing so. Once the ferry was within range, he backed up, took a running start and leaped the distance to shore.
Malcolm rushed forward, his heart in his throat. Catching Hunter in mid-leap, he swung him up to the shore and knelt in front of him. “What has happened, lad?”
Hunter’s face screwed up, and tears filled his eyes. His gestures were frantic. “Bad men have Mother. I told her to turn back. I told her, Da!”
“Who? What bad men have her?”
Hunter breathed hard as he tried to think. “The man.” His eyes seemed to beg Malcolm to understand. “The one who used to live here. Mother broke his nose.” Hunter looked desperate—his eyes pleaded with him to make it all better.
Malcolm’s blood turned to ice. Black Hugh had his wife. Rising from his crouch, he shouted at the top of his lungs, a call to arms. The war cry reverberated throughout the island. Warriors came, rushing from all directions, their weapons to hand. Malcolm sought those he trusted, Galen, Gareth, Robley and Liam.
“What is it?” Robley reached his side first.
“Hugh has Alethia.” Cries of outrage sounded all around him as his attention went once again to Hunter. “Do you ken which way they went? Can you lead us to her?”
Hunter nodded. “To Inverness.”
“How many men?”
Hunter held up four fingers. Turning to the men around him, Malcolm gave orders. “There is no time to waste. We ride now. Robley, Galen, Gareth, come with me. The rest of you, set up a guard in the hills. Liam, inform my father what has occurred, and tell him we are on the road toward Inverness.”
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 28