Connie C. Scharon - Highland Legends 02

by Phantom Bride

  ***

  Devon eased from the bed, careful not to wake her sleeping husband. She was glad he had put off his trip for one more night. What a night it had been. Her days with Frazer hadn't prepared her for the joy of intimacy in a normal relationship, but Liam had showed her what life should be. She checked to make sure she had closed the bed curtain tightly.

  Drawing a deep breath, she lit a single candle from the dying embers and moved over to the looking glass. Slowly she raised her eyes, praying the terrible guilt wouldn't strip away her happiness.

  Her reflection glimmered back at her. For the first time in a year, she didn't find herself repugnant. Her nakedness still wore the glow of Liam's enamored touch, ripe breasts, hips fit for childbearing. Her hand dropped to her stomach. Would she be able to give him the child he wanted? Memories of another baby tortured her with cruel clarity.

  Her gaze rose again to her face, the straight nose, the full lips, red from her lover's passion, the large, amber-brown eyes. Her hand moved over her face, exploring the soft skin she had avoided so long. Maybe Frazer hadn't ruined her. She would pray on it. More than anything, she wanted to give her husband a child.

  "Devon," Liam's voice called to her from the bed.

  "I'm here," she whispered.

  Liam peered through the opening in the curtain. "I love you," he murmured. "Come back to bed."

  She gave him a warm smile. "I'm coming," she assured him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Looking back on her sleeping form, Liam leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. He still marveled at the beauty that was his, more determined than ever to heal all her wounds with his love. Devon's eyelids fluttered open.

  "Do you have to go? Send Garyth to capture Bryce and stay here with me."

  "We've been over this already, Devon. I am laird, and it's my responsibility to deal with Bryce. I leave you in good hands. Your father and Lord Wycliff will watch over you." He grinned at her frowning face.

  "My displeasure amuses you?" she asked, arching her delicate brow and wrinkling up her nose.

  Liam traced his finger over her perfect features. "I delight in your every expression now I can see all of your loveliness. I'm going to burn every veil in your closet."

  Devon laughed. "There is no need, Milord. I'll never hide from you again." She paused and stretched, well aware of the temptation she presented when she allowed the covers to slip and reveal her nakedness. "Do you have to leave today?" She gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence, her hand toying with his shirt.

  Taking her hand, he kissed each finger, and then placed her arm back under the covers. "Vixen," he murmured. "I promise you, we'll have the rest of our lives together. Now I'm going to check on preparations for the trip. If you want to be up to say good-bye, I suggest you get moving."

  Devon sighed. "Send Moira up to help me, and don't dare leave until I see you off."

  Liam kissed her forehead and rose from the side of the bed. "It'll be at least another hour before we depart."

  "I'll meet you downstairs."

  He smiled and left the room.

  The hallway was quiet when he made his way through the belly of the castle. The early morning light punctuated the corridor at intervals illuminating the floor by the narrow windows, and then fading into darkness. Liam paused to look out and check the weather. There was a winter gray to the entire landscape, and leaden clouds blocked out the sunlight. By the time he reached Glenfinnan, it would be snowing.

  He glanced back toward the master's chamber and shook his head regretfully. He had to go. It was his responsibility. Torn between his duty and his desire to stay at her side, Liam vacillated. Devon was healing well from her long ordeal at the hands of the Forbes brothers, but she needed gentle tending to be whole again. He had to go and pray Malcolm would keep her safe until he returned.

  Continuing downstairs, Liam noticed a flickering light coming from beneath the door to Claire's room. He paused in momentary indecision, then walked back and rapped lightly.

  When Claire opened the door, she looked startled. "I need a word with you," Liam said.

  Claire pulled her wrapper tighter around her and ushered him into her chamber. "This is a surprise. I thought you'd be happy to never see my face again."

  Liam glanced around the room. "Why on earth are you up so early?" he asked, well aware it was a deviation from her usual sleep habits.

  "As a guest in your home, is it necessary for me to get your permission to rise early?"

  Liam's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, Claire?"

  She turned her back to him. "I was thinking of leaving. It's obvious I'm no longer welcome here."

  "You knew you weren't welcome when you came, but that didn't stop you."

  She faced him with a petulant twitch of her lips. "Perhaps I've finally gotten the message! You hate me. There is no reason to stay."

  "I think it's a good idea for you to leave. I don't feel comfortable having you and Devon here together in my absence."

  "Are you afraid I'll find a way to destroy her? You misjudge me. I came to find out why you married her. Now I know. She's intriguing—the dark mystery, the damsel in distress, and she drew you to her like a moth to a flame." Tears coursed down Claire's face and she bit her quivering lip. "I love you, but she has captured your heart." Claire mopped her face with a handkerchief and blew her nose. "Rest easy, I'll pack my things and get out as soon as possible."

  Liam let his breath out in a long sigh. "Claire… I'm sorry if I hurt you. I was so busy wallowing in my own self-pity I was careless with your feelings. The irony is, had I not met and married Devon, I might have never realized you do have feelings under that hard exterior."

  "Oh please! You aren't the only man I hold dear, you just could have been…."

  Liam's features hardened when Claire regained her haughtiness. "You're leaving today then?"

  "If that is your wish," she responded.

  Even after she had behaved so badly, he felt guilty about kicking her out, but he wanted her gone before the snow broke and gave her an excuse to linger. Claire Hartgrove was not to be trusted, no matter how many tears she shed.

  "I'll tell the servants to begin preparations for your departure," Liam told her.

  "You're not wasting any time."

  He turned and left the room, leaving the duchess to stare after him with her face contorted in rage.

  ***

  The surrounding entourage sat with amused patience while the new Laird of Dunsmore Heath gave his wife a passionate kiss good-bye. Devon managed to give Liam a smile when he lowered her safely back to the ground.

  Liam looked at Malcolm and Lord Wycliff. "I count on the two of you to see Devon is safe while I'm away."

  Malcolm grinned. "I'll let no harm come to her. You just catch that bastard Bryce and put an end to this once and for all."

  "I will," Liam said. "I expect we'll see snow by tomorrow. Try to get the duchess on her way today. I do not relish her being snowed in and extending her stay."

  Lord Wycliff laughed. "I'll hurry her along Liam. The woman gives me indigestion."

  Liam turned to the group of clansmen. "We ride!" Wheeling his horse, he waved to Devon and led them out of the castle gates.

  Devon stood watching until they disappeared from view, then turned, and went back into the manse. She missed him already. Wistfully she glanced out the upper window, hungry for one last glimpse of him. Suddenly her face lit. Of course! If she rode out across the flats, she might be able to watch as the column made its way up the road to Glenfinnan.

  Hurrying to her room, Devon donned her riding habit and pulled a swath of plaid tight around her. She made her way downstairs, careful to avoid the servants. Her father and Lord Wycliff sat by the fire in the great hall when she tried to tiptoe past the doorway.

  "Devon, come in here," her father called.

  She cursed her luck. Her father's eagle eye never missed a thing. Reluctantly she stood in the doorway, s
till hoping to override his objections. "I'm just going out for a brief ride father," she explained, hastily backing toward the entry hall.

  "Hoping to watch Liam depart?"

  "Aye."

  "Out of the question," Malcolm said. "You cannot go alone."

  "I'll accompany her," Lord Wycliff offered. "If Liam is right, we may be house bound by tomorrow. A ride might be invigorating."

  "Oh thank you," Devon gushed. "Please hurry or we'll miss the chance to see them."

  Wycliff laughed. "Oh to be young again," he said merrily. Standing, he walked to her side. "I have only to get my plaid."

  ***

  The horses thundered across the moors at a break-neck pace as Devon sought to get to a good vantage point. She rode up the hillside and pulled her horse up when she reached the flat shelf that looked out over the road below. There they were. A feeling of warm satisfaction washed over her. Liam was leading his men toward Glenfinnan.

  Lord Wycliff finally caught up with her and started to scold her for getting so far ahead, but stopped short when he followed her gaze across the valley. He smiled and relaxed back in his saddle.

  "I guess our mission is accomplished."

  "Yes," Devon responded, straining to see Liam until he disappeared from view.

  "I'd prefer a slower pace on the way back," Lord Wycliff said. Devon grinned and turned her horse.

  "We'll see," she teased, kneeing her mount for a fast descent from the ridge. Wycliff fought to keep.

  "I'm an old man, Devon," he called to her as she brought the horse to a gallop.

  Devon enjoyed the freshness of the air against her skin—the wind rushing through her hair. Liam had given her this, setting her free from the misery surrounding her.

  The horse plunged across the stream with a splash of frigid water and began trotting along the stream bed. Devon smiled to herself, turning to check on Lord Wycliff. She'd lost him and there'd be hell to pay from her father if she arrived home before her escort. Slowing, she brought her horse to a walk, impatiently looking over her shoulder every few minutes for Wycliff.

  What had become of him? Stopping, she switched direction and rode back in search of him. Backtracking along the stream, she saw two horsemen in a thicket at the edge of hill. She started toward them, trying to make out who was with Lord Wycliff. The man's back was towards her.

  Wycliff saw her coming and cried out a warning, a look of sheer terror on his face. The figure beside him drew a sword and ran him through. She saw Lord Wycliff crumple, clutching his chest with both hands as his attacker jerked the skewer out. Wycliff tumbled to the ground. Devon's heart was in her throat when Bryce Forbes turned his horse to face her.

  "You're mine now!" he cried.

  "Never!" Devon shrieked. She kneed her horse to a dead run across the rolling terrain. Bryce was in hot pursuit, but she knew the lay of the land. She rode into a wooded area near the stream.

  Away from his direct line of sight, Devon dismounted and gave her horse a stinging slap to hasten him on his way. Shivering, she pushed her way into a dense thicket. Thorns and branches tore at her clothing as she struggled to find a secure hiding place. She prayed her memory hadn't failed her. Was this was the section she was seeking?

  Devon could hear Bryce approaching, cursing her when he got near her position. Just then, the thicket gave way to the small secluded clearing she remembered. Gratefully she ducked down and watched him ride past her.

  A little further down the trail he pulled up. Her heart froze, but a noise from ahead caught his attention and he took off after her horse. Her ploy had worked.

  Devon listened until she couldn't hear him anymore. She was still several miles from Dunsmore Heath and for all she knew, Lord Wycliff lay dying a half mile further out. Should she go and check on Wycliff, or head towards the castle? There was little choice. Her horse had run towards home, if she went that way, she risked meeting Bryce face to face. No, it was safer to go for Lord Wycliff and maybe use his horse to get both of them back safely.

  Going back to the far end of the clearing, Devon found an opening in the underbrush and headed toward the river. A gust of wind hit her when she got into the open, sending her plaid billowing out straight. She captured the errant wrap and tied it securely around her, effectively shutting out much of the chill. Keeping an eye peeled for Bryce, she ran toward the area where she'd seen the confrontation.

  Breathless, she halted when she caught sight of Lord Wycliff's horse standing over his motionless form. Her laces constricted her movement, but she couldn't let Bryce defeat her. Fighting to catch her breath, she tried to prepare for the worst.

  Tears traced silent tracks down her pale cheeks as she made her way toward the body. Lord Wycliff lay sprawled on the ground motionless. Forcing one foot after the other, she approached amidst visions of another motionless form, one that swooped down on her in her dreams and sold her soul to the devil. Wycliff moved, breaking her trance and sending her rushing to his side.

  There was blood everywhere—like the night the intruder stabbed Liam. Devon fell to the ground at Lord Wycliff's side cradling his head in her lap. He opened his eyes and winced in pain.

  "I'm done, child," came his hoarse whisper. "Take the horse, go now. Hurry."

  "I can't leave you here to die."

  "No one can save me."

  "I left Frazer to die," she choked. "My soul cannot take the guilt of another mistake."

  He tried to stay her hand when she opened his cloak to check the damage. Devon fought back an overwhelming urge to wretch when she saw the man's innards spilling forth from his abdomen. The sword had laid him open like a butchered pig.

  "It’s bad, isn't it?" he whispered.

  "No," she lied. "You'll be good as new in no time."

  Wycliff tried to push back the cloth and see for himself, but she wouldn't allow it. "Devon, listen. He's coming back."

  Lord Wycliff was right. She looked up to see Bryce coming across the ridge with her horse in tow. "Run!" Wycliff ordered. "Save yourself, I'm dead already!"

  Wycliff's body jerked convulsively, and then was still, his lifeless eyes gazing up at her.

  Bryce dismounted and ran toward her. "Bastard!" she shrieked. He grabbed her wrist, but she grasped a handful of dirt and threw it in his eyes, then kicked him in the shin when he jerked her to her feet. Temporarily blinded, his grip slipped and she pulled away, running for the horse.

  Bryce was on her in two short strides, throwing her roughly to the ground in a hard tackle. She felt like every bone in her body was broken. His weight pinned her to the hard, cold earth.

  "Bitch! You'll pay for what you did." His face was an inch from hers as he delivered his threat. She could feel his hot breath on her cheeks. The gleaming madness in his eyes sent ice water flying through her veins. Devon began to struggle beneath him. "Be still or I'll lift your skirts and take you here and now!" he warned.

  "I hate you!" Devon screamed, clawing at his face in desperation.

  Bryce delivered a stinging slap to her jaw. She rolled on her side sobbing. He lifted his weight off her and kicked her in the ribs. "Is this how he made you lose the baby?" he screamed. Devon rolled in a ball crying hysterically. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet.

  "You're coming with me, and when I'm done with you, you'll pay for killing my brother."

  Her jaw throbbed, and her hair felt as if it ripped from her head. Her tears dried on her cheeks, a feeling of numbness wiping her pain away. All the fight went out of Devon as nightmarish memories ravaged her consciousness. She was far away, trapped in another act of violence.

  Bryce gave her a shove and she dropped to the earth limp. Cursing, he lifted her onto her horse and tied her hands in front of her. He handed her the reins, but they fell from her grasp. She stared off into the horizon. Mounting his own horse, he led her out of the valley, taking her north towards the Gailbraith holdings.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Liam, Garyth, and a band of te
n men arrived in Glenfinnan in record time. Liam pushed his men to get there before the snow that threatened to slow their progress. There were two inns in the village. He pulled up in front of the first establishment and dismounted. A heavy wooden sign with a headless woman painted on it blew in the wind rushing through the narrow street. Liam smiled when he read the name, The Quiet Woman.

  "Take some men and go around back. If he's here, I don't want him to escape."

  Garyth nodded. As Liam walked into the spacious tavern room on the ground floor, he scanned the people crowded at the tables in search of his quarry. Satisfied Bryce wasn't in the room, he strode up to the bar.

  "Where's the innkeeper?" he asked.

  A lanky, middle-aged man came from the open door of the back room.

  "Charles Finley, sir. This is my inn. How may I be of service?"

  "I'm looking for Bryce Forbes. Do you know him?"

  "Aye Milord, he stays here often."

  "I need to speak with him. Is he here now?"

  The man shifted uncomfortably. "Whom shall I say is askin'?"

  Liam's eyes narrowed. "I am Laird Liam MacLean of Dunsmore Heath. Mister Forbes is an escaped prisoner, so I suggest if you know where he is, you tell me now."

  "Up the stairs, third door on the right, but I don't know if he's in."

  "Do you have a spare key?"

  "Aye, but…."

  "Would you prefer to have the door broken down?" The man pulled a key ring out of his pocket and handed it to Liam, indicating the proper key. "Wise choice." The innkeeper frowned.

  "Laird, what is Mister Forbes wanted for?"

  "He needs to clear himself of a murder charge, but I'm afraid his flight makes it more likely he is the culprit."

  "That old woman, Fenella?"

  "Yes."

  "But Laird, he was with us all night that night. Lord Wycliff asked us about it."

  "What time did he arrive?"

  "It was late afternoon. He came and took a room, then he 'ad supper. Afterwards he got to drinkin' with Laird McLeod and some of 'is clansmen right over there at that table." The innkeeper pointed at a table in the corner. "They sat there near all night."