by Diana Cosby
Swinging wildly from the end of his arm, she screamed. “Trálin!”
“Hold on, lass!” He clung tight, the churn of the river raging far below like a mutilated wash of death. He would nae lose her! “Dig your foot in the snow on the side of the cliff and push!”
Through the clearing tumble of snow, dazed eyes stared at him.
Blast it. She was in shock. “Lass,” he yelled, his breaths rolling out in puffs of broken white, “Dig your foot into the bank. When I tell you to, push!”
Catarine blinked. Terror widening her eyes, she dug her boot onto a half-crumbled ledge.
“Now!” He pulled.
Face strained, she shoved. Her upper body slid up.
“Again!” he urged as he tugged.
Her breaths coming fast, she wedged her foot on a higher stone and pushed up.
Wind, bitter and cold, battered his face. He gritted his teeth, and inch by painful inch, he hauled her up.
Her foot digging closer into the top of the bank, Catarine shoved, came over the edge, and collapsed against him.
They tumbled back. Body trembling, he held her tight. He’d almost lost her. “Th-thank God you are safe.”
“I . . . My warriors!” On unsteady limbs, she pushed herself up.
He shoved to his feet.
Through the thick whirl of snow, on the opposite bank, the remnants of the wooden bridge slapped the wind-battered rock in hopeless disarray. Several warriors lay sprawled along the cliff’s edge. Sionn clung to the top of the bank, and Atair clutched a half-broken post, his feet hanging off the cliff. Atair caught Drax’s offered hand. The warrior pulled him to his feet, then both scrambled away from the ledge.
Trálin did a quick count as on the opposite bank, snow blustering past. “Miraculously, they are all alive.”
Her body trembling, Catarine cupped her hands over her mouth. “Is anyone injured?” she yelled.
One by one the warriors shook their heads.
“Thank God,” she whispered.
The image of her hanging over the ledge left Trálin shaking. “How fare thee?”
Her breaths coming fast, she nodded. “Fine.”
Worry dredging his face, her senior warrior looked across the gorge. “Any injuries?” he yelled.
She shook her head. “Nay.”
A blast of snow-laden wind battered her senior fey warrior’s face as he took in the broken bridge twisting in the wind. Then he scanned the sheer sides of the gorge before looking back. “Where can we cross?”
“You and the others will have to backtrack,” Trálin yelled back. “Once you are at the bottom of the ben, make your way around the base and come up from the south.”
A strong gust thick with snow howled past, temporarily blinding his visibility across the gorge.
When the sweep of snow cleared, Atair held his hand up to his ear. “What?”
Blast it. ’Twas difficult to talk, much less hear. Trálin gestured toward the valley from where they’d traveled, made a big half-circle with his hand. “Backtrack!”
Atair grimaced. “What about Stirling Castle?”
At the lull of the wind, Trálin cupped his hands to his mouth. “You will arrive at the base of the cliffs below Stirling Castle. Meet us there at the copse of trees.”
Atair glanced toward Catarine. “Take care!”
“I will be fine,” she called.
Atair hesitated, then gave a curt nod toward Trálin. “Keep her safe!”
Lord Grey nodded. ’Twas nae as much the fey warrior’s worry over her safety as much as her being alone with him that bothered the man. As if their separation was by choice?
With a wave, Atair turned and motioned for the fey warriors to follow. Wind swirled around them as they trudged down the icy incline toward the protection of the forest.
When the last warrior had disappeared into the thick firs, Trálin faced Catarine. “You hit the cliff hard. Are you sure you have no injuries?”
She gave him a flicker of a smile. “I am a bit shaken, but fine.”
Fine? Had he nae held her as she’d slammed against the cliff? Odds were she was injured. “Would you tell me if you were hurt?”
Blond hair torn from her braid extended against the sharp breeze in wild disarray as Catarine watched him. And remained silent.
“Blast it, being stubborn will do naught in the end but endanger your life. Lass, if you are hurt, tell me.”
“My injury is nothing so dramatic.”
As if he bloody cared about drama. “Where is it?”
She pointed to her upper right thigh. “When I slammed against the ledge, I hit a rock. I believe ’tis naught but a bruise. Had it been any more, I couldna stand.”
Stubborn to the last. “Walk with me a few steps. Tell me if you feel any sharp pains.”
Turquoise eyes narrowed. “I know how to check for injuries.”
“Do it.”
With a scowl, she took several careful steps, then shook her head. “Naught but deep soreness.”
Neither had he caught her wincing with any seriousness, exposing the sign of extreme pain. “As we travel, let me know if your injury feels worse.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you always give such dictates, Lord Grey?”
At the irritation in her voice, he shoved away a smile. “Only to those I care about.”
Frustration shadowed her eyes. “I thought we clarified that ’tis a poor decision to care about the other.”
Trálin arched a brow. “Did we agree on that?”
“We must.” Regret weighed in her voice.
“’Twould be wise.” But he found thoughts of nae thinking about her, caring, far from a choice. Nor would he reveal as much. Both had their own lives, destinies made, hers nae in this world.
With a hard swallow, she tugged her cape tighter against the slash of wind. “How long will it take my warriors to reach Stirling Castle?”
He rubbed his fingers through his beard. “Given the conditions, if they make good time, two days.”
Her face paled. “If your king does nae heed his captor’s wishes, by then he could be long dead.”
As if he bloody wasn’t aware of the fact. “Aye.”
“Do you think King Alexander will cede to his abductor?”
“Nay,” Trálin replied. “King Alexander is a proud man. He would die first.”
“Which is what is going to happen if we do nae reach him.” Catarine scraped her teeth over her lower lip. “What are we going to do?”
“I refuse to believe we will nae arrive in time,” he said. “Come, we have little time to waste. If your leg begins to hurt, tell me.”
Her mouth tightened. “There is no time for delay. If I canna keep up, leave me behind.”
He rounded on her. “We will discuss that if it becomes an issue.”
An issue? Her life against his king’s? Nay, the decision ’twas simple. Regardless of Trálin’s wishes, if she became a detriment to their reaching his sovereign in time, he would go on alone. Nae that she would tell him that now. He would waste precious time and argue.
Lord Grey started forward.
With a shaky exhale, Catarine followed as he climbed over the large banks of snow. She’d come so close to dying. When the wooden bridge had collapsed, she thought she’d fall to her death.
But he’d saved her life.
Humbled by his selfless action, she kept pace, ignoring her leg that throbbed as if beaten. ’Twas lucky an injured leg was all she suffered.
A strong gust pummeled them.
Trálin glanced up, frowned. “I had hoped to make it to shelter before the storm hit,” he shouted, his voice broken by the rush of wind.
She squinted as she searched the blur of white. “I see naught to take cover in.”
“I know of a place nearby.”
Nearby? Again she studied the battered terrain, saw naught to offer shelter. And what of those who had abducted the king and queen? Had they reached their destination? She prayed they
were slowed by the storm as well.
Step by step, she forged against the howl of wind. Dark, angry clouds thickened overhead, and the light darkened to a murky gloom.
A distance down the trail, Trálin veered away and started to climb.
“Where are you going?”
“’Tis hard to see,” he called back, “but up a ways lies a cave where we can rest.”
A distance up the incline, against the blur of tossed snow, she caught the slight outline of an opening. Exhausted, Catarine followed, stepping where his boots had broken the snow.
After climbing over several large rocks, Trálin turned, extended his hand, and shot her a frown. “I know your leg is bothering you; do nae refuse my help.”
“Why would you think I would?”
He arched a brow. “Because you are stubborn, proven overmuch this day.”
She tried nae to be charmed by his concern, failed. “So I am.” She laid her hand in his.
Trálin helped her up. “Duck,” he cautioned as he led her below a large rock overhang.
They stepped inside. Blocked by the timeworn rock, the blast of wind ceased. Thankful, she took in the surroundings. At the entry of the cave, snow tumbled past, but deeper inside, a layer of dirt covered the floor, the cave large enough to fit her warriors if they had made it across. Where were they now? Had they made it to the base of the mountain? Wherever they were, she hoped they, too, had found a place to keep out of the weather to rest this night.
“Sit and rest, lass.”
With slow, aching steps, she walked toward the back of the shelter.
Trálin hurried to her side. “Let me help you.”
“Thank you.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the back.
A soft groan fell from her lips as she settled on the flat rock. Body throbbing, her mind weary with exhaustion, she closed her eyes.
Pebbles and dirt shifted, and she felt the solid warmth of his body, alerting her that he’d settled next to her. “How bad does your leg hurt?”
“A good bit. After a night’s rest, I am confident I will be able to continue.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “We will see how your leg feels in the morning. At best, ’twill be sore and stiff.”
And if she was nae fit to travel, she would remain behind.
Eyes dark with concern, Trálin watched her. “You have had a rough day of it.”
She’d fortified herself to maintain her composure, to try and keep the mayhem of this day from her thoughts, but the exhaustion and the soft concern in his voice unleashed the terror churning in her mind.
Tears burned her eyes, and her entire body trembled. “I almost d-died.”
Firm hands drew her against his chest. Tender fingers stroked her hair. “But you didna. And miraculously, no one was hurt.”
Images of the splintering bridge, the hurl of snow as the river churned far below, ravaged her mind as if a curse. A shudder tore through her. “Had we been a moment slower in crossing, had my men been closer to us—”
“But we were nae and everyone is safe.” Outside, the rush of wind roared as if a battle fought. “You are cold.” He released her and stood. After he’d removed his cloak, he tucked it around her, then sat beside her and drew the remainder around him.
“M-my thanks,” she said as she snuggled closer. “The warmth is welcome.”
“Aye.”
“As is the company.”
Desire flickered in his eyes, and her body stirred with need. With their awareness of each other, she must choose her words with care. Now was nae the time to think of him, or of their kiss. She was promised to Prince Zacheus. A fact which, when around Trálin, seemed to fade.
Shaken by the depth Lord Grey made her feel, she shifted back to the safer, however unnerving, topic. “I still canna believe the bridge collapsed.”
“The falling trees must have weakened it,” he replied, his voice grim. “Against the weight of the avalanche, the aged bridge had nay chance.”
And she had almost died. She shivered. After such a terrifying event, how could she nae relive the near fatal moment? She would have nightmares, of that she had no doubt.
A blast of snow swept past the entry, erasing the forest or any other discernible feature. The howl of wind quieted, and the forest below came into view.
“Trálin?”
“Aye, lass?”
She replied, trying to keep her focus off their being alone, or how she wanted him with each breath. After saving her life this day, however much they’d tried to fight it, they’d formed a bond, which served to further complicate everything.
“You said there is a secret tunnel through which we can gain entry and reach the king?”
“Aye, once inside Stirling Castle, normally ’twould be easy to find where the king and queen are held,” he replied. “But as the king’s personal guard, if anyone is about there is the risk that I will be recognized.”
“How can we disguise you?”
He gave her a dry smile. “We?”
Realization hit her of his intent “You will nae leave me outside while you risk your life.”
“Catarine,” he said, his voice soft, “’tis too dangerous for you to come along. There is a place inside the tunnel where you will stay until my return.”
She crossed her arms. “We made a deal.”
“One that still stands.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You think I would expect you to assist me in finding the English knights if I do nae help you?”
“Aye. You need me to see if I can find any tracks.”
She shot him a withering look. “Like it or nae, I am going inside with you.”
Anger sparked in his eyes hot and quick. “You will remain hidden near the entry. ’Tis too dangerous, and I will nae risk your being hurt or worse.”
“And your life means naught?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “’Tis my king.”
“And my oath I have given you, one I canna break.” She unfolded her arms. “With my father a king, do you nae think I know the dangers, the risks involved?”
“Nay,” she said when he made to speak. “I am a warrior, trained to fight.”
“Bedamned, in Scotland women are nae warriors.”
“Exactly,” she replied, “so we have the advantage. The men who abducted your king will expect me to be little threat.”
“I—”
“What?” she demanded.
He arched a weary brow. “I do nae like it.”
A smile touched her lips. “Nor, as a stubborn Scot, would I expect you to.”
He grunted. “I may be stubborn, but I scrape the surface when compared to you.”
“You agree I will go inside with you then?”
After a long moment, he nodded.
Satisfied on this point she’d won, Catarine leaned back. “I assure you, you will nae regre—”
“As my wife.”
She stilled, the thoughts ignited by his words dangerous. Forbidden. “What?”
Laughter twinkled in his eyes. “Nae as my real wife, only a claim for the sake of cover.”
Unease flickered inside. “I do nae like it.”
He frowned. “Why?”
Did he nae understand? “While we are inside Stirling Castle, I can never agree that I am your wife. If so, we would be handfasted. The consequences of such to the peace in my realm would be devastating.”
Trálin stroked his beard. “You are a fairy, and nae bound by Scottish law.”
“But I am,” she replied. “Handfasting originated in the fairy world.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “You jest?”
Wind howled, and an errant burst of snow whirled inside as she stared at him. How she wished she did. “Nay, ’tis the truth.”
His smile fled. “How can that be? Handfasting has been a law of the Celts since before annals recorded the event.”
“Aye. ’Twas during the time when laws were passed
by word of mouth that a fairy placed the notion in the mind of a sleeping laird.”
Trálin raised a doubtful brow.
“’Tis true. Though,” she said, recalling the tale told around a fire late in the night, “I would nae have wanted to be the culprit once the queen found out of their deed.”
“Why?”
“The law is sacred,” she explained. “One reserved for the fey. ’Twas never supposed to be shared with humans.”
He again drew his fingers through his beard. “Did they ever find who told of the tradition?”
A shiver swept through her. “Aye. He was banished from the Otherworld to Scotland,” she explained, her voice grave. “Never again did he see his family, those he loved.”
“He was banished to outside the Otherworld?”
The surprise in his voice was overshadowed by hope. Hope she didna wish to hear, or cling to. She nodded.
“Would a life in Scotland be so horrible?”
Nay, with you ’twould be a gift. Words she could never say. “’Tis a different life.”
“Mayhap.” He lifted her hand in his, pressed a soft kiss upon her hand. “If you were nae promised to another, and I asked you to remain with me in Scotland, would you?”
Chapter Six
If you were nae promised to another, and I asked you to remain with me in Scotland, would you? At Trálin’s question, Catarine stilled, shaken by the pang of longing that filled her.
“But I am promised.” Nerves rattled her voice. As if she could remain unmoved at such a question? From the first they’d made a connection, one that with each day together grew stronger.
Their kiss held but temptations of what might be, and a hint of the possibilities. Possibilities, aye, and so much more she ached to know.
His gaze holding hers, he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss upon her knuckles. “Why are you avoiding answering my question?”
Shaken by what he made her feel, she withdrew her hand. “’Tis unfair to ask me.” More so with them alone inside this cavern as the snowstorm raged outside and trapped her with him to face the dangerous truth.
Silence stretched between them, broken by the howl of wind and rattle of distant branches. “Because you are betrothed to Prince Zacheus?”
“Aye, but more, because ’tis forbidden for one of the fey to be with a human, or help them.”