by Terry Spear
She shrieked as the bandit grabbed her arm, hauled her from her saddle onto his lap and held her there. Her horse fought the reins she clutched as she reached for its mane, struggling to pull herself out of his grasp. Though they’d slowed, they were still moving fast enough a fall could kill her. The bandit ripped the reins out of her hands and tossed them aside. Her horse veered away, out of her reach. Defeated, she clenched her jaw, her breath whistling through her teeth.
“Steady, pretty lass.” His hot breath seared her neck, the stink of his sweat sharp in her nose.
“Let me go!”
“I dinna think so.”
She realized he was circling back to where his companion had fallen. The man lay tumbled on the ground like a doll missing its stuffing. As they halted next to him, she cringed. His neck bent at an unnatural angle. Marsali stiffened, then jerked against the arm pinning her to her captor’s chest, fighting to get free, but his grip only tightened. He must be furious. With his companion dead, what would he do? She had to get away!
“Put me down!”
Corrie was nowhere to be seen, but the dead bandit’s horse stood on the next rise, calmly cropping grass alongside hers. Corrie had only made it stumble and throw its rider. So where had her hound gone? Was she over the next rise, injured, unable to get back? The thought brought frantic tears to Marsali’s eyes as she struggled.
“Aye, I will, but only to get what’s in Jack’s bags. There’s more for me, now he’s dead. And there’s ye, of course. But if yer hound shows up, I’ll kill it for what it did.”
“Ye willna! Nay!”
“And how do ye plan to stop me?” He released her suddenly.
She fell to the ground, then forced herself up onto shaking legs as he dismounted. She didn't want him to see her lying there. He might decide to deal with her first. After all, his companion’s belongings would wait.
But on her feet, she might stand a chance. Especially if Corrie came back.
“Dinna think to run,” he told her with a grin. “I never miss with a throwing blade, and that would ruin my plans for ye.”
Marsali felt herself go pale. She’d been thinking of doing just that, as soon as she caught her breath. The trees might spoil his aim, but they were too far for her to reach in time. She kept backing toward the trees anyway, hoping her captor would not notice as he finished retrieving his companion’s belongings and stowing them in his pack.
Then he turned to her. “Ye’ve had yer fun. Now I’m going to have mine.”
Marsali finally screamed. She could not let this happen! But he pushed her, stumbling, the rest of the way to the edge of the woods, then shoved her against a tree and pulled up a handful of her skirt. She kept screaming as she fought him, scratching and gouging where she could, forcing him to struggle to restrain her, interrupting his fumbling at his own clothing and hers.
Suddenly, the man dropped to his knees with a gasp and reached behind him, pawing at his back. The light left his eyes as he collapsed to the side and sprawled in a puddle of his own blood. Marsali staggered back, wiping at tears, and tore her gaze from her dead attacker to find her rescuer.
“Gavan!” Shock and relief held her in place, one hand on the rough bark of the tree beside her. With her other hand, she reached for him.
Gavan straightened from wiping his blade on the bandit’s clothing, then took her in his arms and pulled her away from the body at their feet. “Are ye well, lass? Did he hurt ye?”
“Nay, nay. He didna have the chance.” She took a deep breath of Gavan’s scent. Not the bandit’s. Gavan’s.
The sensation of his body hard against hers nearly drove her to her knees, but his arms held her, strong and steady. “Where did ye come from? I didna hear ye.”
“Ye were a bit distracted,” he told her, smoothing her hair away from her face. “And so was he. I heard Corrie barking, then I heard ye scream. I kenned ye were in trouble. Corrie showed up, running all out, as I rode this way.”
She finally became aware of Corrie nosing at her skirt. She pulled herself from the comfort of Gavan’s embrace and crouched to hug her hound, fiercely. “Thank God ye were nearby,” she said, lifting her gaze to Gavan.
“Aye, with a limping horse slowing me, else I would be long gone from here. As it is, I may have ruined that mount in the race to find ye.”
“I’m sorry.” Her apology came out more strident than she’d intended as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet, but the shock of what had nearly happened to her, to Corrie…what had she done?
Gavan led her uphill to her horse, far from both bandits’ bodies. As they climbed, his expression hardened. “What do ye think ye’re doing this far from home?” His growl made his displeasure abundantly clear.
Marsali stiffened and stepped away from him, wrapping her arms around herself to stop the shivering reaction to what she’d just survived. “I couldna keep Corrie from following ye, so I had to come, too.”
He ran a hand through his hair, then regarded the hound. “I’ll tie a rope around her neck so ye can lead her back to yer keep.”
“The minute I untie her, she’ll be after ye again.” Marsali lifted her chin, glancing skyward. “Besides, ’twill be dark in a few hours. ’Twillna be safe to return.”
Gavan frowned at the bodies on the ground below them, his disgust mirrored in the bunched muscles of his jaw. “That’s clear.” He turned back to her. “I canna believe Corrie nearly led ye to me.”
Pride warmed the cold pit at her center, easing her shivers. “She’s quite canny. More than most people.”
“We’re no’ far from MacNabb, but I should turn around and take ye home,” he grumbled.
Marsali’s breath froze in her throat.
“But my mount wouldna make it there.” He frowned even more fiercely, as if sorting through choices he did not like. “Perhaps yer father would believe ye were unharmed and allow me to leave again.”
Marsali’s heart dropped into her belly, second thoughts finally crowding her mind as he debated what to do. She never intended to trap Gavan against his will, nor to allow her father to do so.
“We’ve come so far. Surely, there’s no harm in bringing me to yer clan.” She hoped he’d nod, but he only rolled his eyes, then softened his expression, his gaze locked on hers, which made her heart leap. He was going to agree!
“Ye are determined.” His strong hands stroked her shoulders, then he grasped them and gave her a little shake. “But ye are also the laird’s daughter. We must get ye back.”
Marsali argued the one thing she hoped would sway him. “But yer horse…” If he cared for the animal, he’d want to see it tended soon, and his home was closer.
“I’ll leave my mount to make its way home and take the bandit’s.”
Desperation drove her to plead. “Please, I only wish to see some of the world before Da marries me off…to a Campbell.” Against her will, her eyes burned, and tears finally spilled from their corners.
“Are ye already betrothed? To a Campbell, for God’s sake?”
She could see that worried him. “Nay.” Marsali sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “No one wants me. No’ even ye.” She let more tears fall.
Gavan’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Ach, very well. We’ll go on to MacNabb if only so that I can see my family one last time before yer father kills me. Then, I’ll escort ye home again.”
He left her wiping her eyes and went back down the hill. Once he checked the bandits’ bodies and confirmed their deaths, he rounded up the the horses. The care he showed his as he walked his mount around the hilltop, encouraging it now and again with soft words, warmed her heart. But when he stopped to run his big, strong hands down its injured leg, warmth of a very different kind filled Marsali. Would he ever caress her with the same gentle care?
“’Tis no’ as bad as I feared,” he told her as he secured his mount with a long lead to a bandit’s horse. “Mine may slow us a bit, but we’ll get to MacNabb before dark.”
<
br /> He helped her onto her horse and for another moment, Marsali was able to savor the feel of his strong arms around her, his big hands steadying her. Every touch made her want another, and another. But his silence told her she could not count on that. After a long time and with a lot of distance behind them, she finally worked up the nerve to ask, “Why are ye so set against helping me? Being with me?”
Gavan took at least as long to answer her. “A lass waits for me at MacNabb.” At Marsali’s gasp, he pressed his lips together, then continued. “So yer spell canna be real. And yer hound is wrong to trust me.”
“A lass has waited for ye these last two years?” A pit opened up in Marsali’s middle. Cold and dark and empty. She clenched a fist at her belly and fought not to bend double over it. She could not show Gavan how much that news hurt. She’d risked so much to follow him. She should have asked. He should have told her. He’d been so kind to her, honorable, she never thought…a thousand regrets filled her mind, but first among them was the certainty that if the lass still waited for him, if he was still promised to another, it would prove her spell had failed, and Gavan would never be hers.
He kept his gaze on the trail ahead of them. “She promised she would. I’ll find out when we get there.”
Chapter 3
Late in the day, as the MacNabb keep came into view, a bittersweet melancholy settled over Gavan, weighing him down. It should feel good to be home, but he shuddered to think what his father and his oldest brother, Keenan, would have to say about him arriving with Marsali, her hound, and two bandits’ horses. Not that he’d had any choice.
And then there was Fenella. He’d told Marsali a lass waited for him—and perhaps she did, but he’d realized while away, he’d changed too much to want Fenella as his wife. He’d tell her, first thing, he could not marry her…if she’d waited.
Perhaps she’d given up on him and found someone else to marry.
His thoughts kept him occupied as they rode past the waving sentries at the gates and inside the walls. Marsali remained silent, probably absorbed in looking at everything and everyone. Then, as the word of his return spread, he found himself smiling, clasping hands, and returning greetings. But he searched for only two people, his father and his oldest brother. He didn’t see them, but he spotted Fenella, crossing the bailey with a bundle in her arms, unaware as yet of his presence.
“Fenella,” he called out. When she turned at the sound of her name, his heart plummeted. The bundle in her arms was a bairn. So she hadn’t waited. Despite his resolve to break things off with her, the sight of her with another man’s child made him clench his teeth. She’d been promised to him, damn it! Forgetting his companion, he dismounted and strode to her.
She stood, impassive, watching his approach.
“I’ve been gone two years. Have ye nary a greeting for me? Ah, then,” he said, glancing at the bairn, “I suppose not. Ye’ve been busy in my absence. I thought ye promised to wait.” Her silent study of him set his teeth on edge.
“I did wait,” she finally said, her tone flat and frosty. “This is yer niece, Keenan’s daughter.”
Embarrassed heat suffused his face. He’d let his male pride override his common sense. He’d accused her unfairly. Not the best beginning, after so long apart. The fact that he no longer wished to marry her didn’t matter. She did not deserve to be greeted with accusations. But why would she be caring for his brother’s bairn?
Fenella sent a pointed look over his shoulder. “But I see I needn’t have bothered. Ye rail at me, yet ye arrive after two years with a lass at yer side? I guess that explains why ye have been gone so long.”
His embarrassment quickly changed back to anger. “It explains nothing, Fenella. And ’tis too long a tale to tell while standing in the bailey. Where is my brother, and why do ye have his daughter in yer arms?”
“He’s with the laird.” She shifted the now-squirming bairn to her shoulder. “I’m taking this lass to the wet nurse.”
He was well aware she’d failed to react to his implication about her relationship with his oldest brother. He decided to let that omission go for now. As he’d said, it would probably take too long to explain while standing in the bailey. He was done with her, in any case, except to tell her so. His mount nickered, reminding him Marsali waited. “Dinna let me delay ye, then. We’ll speak later.”
With another cutting glance at Marsali, she said, “I suppose we will.”
Suddenly heavy-hearted, Gavan turned away. Fenella and he had greeted each other with anger and jealousy. He couldn’t help the way arriving with Marsali looked, but he wondered if, even after Fenella heard him out, she would feel any differently. Or if it mattered. He’d been gone a long time. And she had made herself useful to Keenan. How useful?
“I’m sorry,” Gavan told Marsali. “I didna mean for that to happen.” The woeful look on her face nearly broke his heart. She’d heard every word. But he’d experienced too much emotional turmoil to deal with whatever she was feeling at the moment.
“She’s yer lass?”
“Aye. At least she used to be.” Would this encounter make Marsali understand her adventure might not go the way she’d anticipated? And might have consequences? He couldn’t help but see the similarity between her thirst for adventure and his own. And the problems they were causing for other people—her father and Fenella might be just the first. He shook his head. The answers would have to wait. “Let’s get ye settled. I need to tend to our mounts, then I must find my laird.”
As she dismounted, he took the reins, and led the horses to the stable. Marsali and Corrie followed, both uncharacteristically subdued—or exhausted. After the day’s events, Marsali had every reason to be weary. A night’s sleep would see them all in a better mood. He gave the horses over to the care of the stable lads, with extra instructions for his injured mount.
Once he escorted Marsali into the keep, Gavan asked the steward to see to her comfort. “I’ll see ye in the morning. For now, settle in and rest.”
“Aye, of course. Thank ye.”
Gavan didn’t trust her sudden meekness, but he let it go. His family needed to know he’d returned.
***
The greeting he got from his father and Keenan was everything Fenella’s greeting was not. They were happy he’d finally returned.
“Ye lads get reacquainted,” their father told them after pounding his back and squeezing him breathless in a bear hug. “I’ve business with the blacksmith to attend to. Gavan, see to yer mother before ye go to bed.”
Gavan nodded. The news of his unexpected guest would wait. They stood as he left the solar, then resettled themselves. Gavan studied his brother. Keenan looked tired, but not as bad as he’d feared. “I grieve with ye, brother. I came as soon as the news reached me.”
Keenan nodded his thanks. “It happens every day, but somehow, ye never expect it to happen to ye, to yer wife. She’s been gone eight months, and I still canna believe it. I expect to see her around every corner. When I enter our chambers, I can still see her there, sewing clothes for our coming bairn. Some she didna get the chance to finish.” His voice cracked, but he cleared his throat and continued. “Wait ’til ye see my daughter. She’s a fine lass.”
“I have seen her. She and Fenella greeted me when I arrived.”
If Gavan didn’t know him so well, he might have missed Keenan’s slight flinch. But their reunion was too recent and his brother’s state of mind too unknown for him to probe.
No doubt, with his wife’s death, Keenan needed someone to care for his daughter. And to give him sons for heirs. Did Fenella think to seduce him into making her the future lady of the clan? Gavan never suspected she harbored such ambitions, but Keenan’s romance with his wife had started years before their marriage, so perhaps, until now, she’d never had the chance to act on them.
“Father seemed well,” he said, instead.
“Aye, he and Mother are both well. Gregor is away, dealing with a problem at one of the cro
fts for Da. But there is happy news. ’Tis good ye arrived when ye did or ye might have missed Groa. Our little sister leaves for Lathan in a few days to marry Rory Lathan, a lad she met in Edinburgh.”
“Lathan? I dinna ken that name.”
“They hail from farther north, into the mountains. Groa is eager to go. Her betrothed arrived a day ago. They’ll handfast here. Our new priest is late arriving, so the kirking will be done at Lathan.”
“Are any MacNabbs going with her?”
“Aye. Father is sending Donal, though he’s only recently returned from being fostered out. The Lathan took a liking to him when he came to negotiate the marriage. For a lad his age, Donal is handy with a sword. He’ll get more training there, and he’ll be able to report back if Groa isna well-treated in her new home. Now ye are back, Da may want to send ye along, too.”
“I’ll go, of course, if that’s what he wants, but I hoped to spend some time at home.”
“Then ye must tell him if he brings it up.”
Their sister’s laughter echoing in the hallway outside the solar warned Gavan they were about to be interrupted. She and their two youngest brothers burst into the chamber. He stood as they surrounded him, all hugging and questioning him at once.
“Gavan! Ye’re home!”
“Where have ye been?”
“Who’s the lass the steward said ye brought?”
That last question caused Keenan to raise an eyebrow.
Gavan shrugged them off him and shook his head. “One at a time. Groa, I hear ye’re leaving us. Who is this lad stealing ye away?”
For a moment, she tried to look dignified, then broke into a big grin. “He’s my one true love. I canna wait for ye to meet him. Did Keenan tell ye about him? And that Donal is going with us? ’Twill be a grand adventure!”
Her words caused a twinge in his chest. Marsali also wanted adventure. Would she and his sister get what they hoped for?
He decided to tackle the most difficult question first. “The lass is Marsali Murray. I met her recently in a village where I stopped for the night. Her deerhound kept following me, far enough she was attacked by bandits. I’d slowed to rest my mount and heard her scream.”