Brenda Joyce, Terri Brisbin, Michelle Willingham
Page 20
The brief flicker in his attention was all it took for one of the men to strike, and Dougal’s jaw snapped backward at the force of the punch. Rage coursed through him, and he unleashed his fury, glorying in the madness of battle rage. His dirks sliced through the air, seeking enemy flesh. He no longer thought about his actions, but let himself fall into the familiar blur of fighting.
There was no MacKinloch better with a dirk than he. It was an extension of his hand, a lethal slash that allowed no man to threaten him. Not even this one.
For a moment, the outlaw stood motionless, his body in shock as a thin line of blood appeared across his throat. He stumbled forward before collapsing to his knees.
The other hesitated, and Dougal flipped the dirk in his palm, catching it again. “Are you wanting to join your friends in death?”
It was enough. The man backed away, mounting one of the horses, before he took off in terror. Dougal didn’t bother following him. The MacPherson Clan could easily find the outlaw within a day or two, if he alerted them.
He turned his attention back to the woman, cleaning his blades before sheathing them. She was holding her veil across her face, as if trying to hide from him.
Dougal seized the reins of her horse and demanded, “Why in the name of God didn’t you run?”
* * *
BECAUSE YOU WERE the one I wanted to find.
Celeste wanted to bury her face in the veil, anything to keep Dougal from seeing her. Not like this. As soon as he recognized her, he would turn away. She needed more time.
Her heart was thundering in her chest, for she’d never expected to find him so quickly. Of all the men who could have rescued her, why did it have to be him? It was both a blessing and a curse.
The two years had changed him, and he was even more handsome than she remembered. Dark haired with brown eyes, he was a ruthless fighter, lean and powerful. His strong jaw held a hint of stubbornness, and his mouth was tight with anger. But he would be even more angry when he learned that it was her.
His arms were crossed as he regarded her, his brown eyes glaring. “Well?”
She kept her head down, still concealing her face. “I didn’t know where to go,” she admitted. “I—I was hoping to find the MacKinlochs. When I saw you, I thought you could escort me to your clan, since my men . . .”
Her words trailed off because she didn’t know what to do about the escorts who had died trying to protect her. Inside, she was numb, for none of this had gone the way she’d intended. She’d journeyed northwest with her two guards, believing she could visit the MacKinloch Clan and ask for help.
“Should we bury them?” she asked, glancing behind with her face still veiled.
“The ground is too rocky,” he said. “We’ll burn the bodies, and I’ll take you back home.” He didn’t even glance at her when he began walking up the hillside. Within moments, he returned with a gray mare, the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen.
He’d always been good with animals. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear they understood him. The urge to touch the mare was irresistible, and Celeste dismounted to move in closer.
“Show me your face,” he commanded.
Though she didn’t want to, there was no choice. He would learn the truth soon enough. Celeste allowed the veil to fall away, afraid of what he would say. Dougal stared at her as if she weren’t there. As if he were dreaming at the sight of her.
To distract herself, she ran her hand over the mare’s head. “She’s lovely.” She caressed the horse’s skin, smiling when the mare nudged her cheek.
“Aye, she is lovely.” Dougal held on to the mare’s reins, running his hand over her creamy mane. Celeste found her attention drawn to those hands, and a sudden ripple of uncertainty slid over her. Those hands had touched her, years ago. A bleakness centered in her heart, reawakening the wounds she’d thought had healed.
“Why did you leave Eiloch?” His voice had turned to ice, in silent rebuke.
“My husband is dead.” She took a step backward, faltering as she considered what she must do. “It’s not safe for Melisandre and me to stay there.” At least, not unless she were pregnant with an heir.
Risking a glance at Dougal, she saw that he’d completely shielded any expression. There was no emotion there, no hint of what he was thinking. Did he despise her so much, even after all this time?
“I need help for both of us,” she admitted. “And...it seems I need an escort, now that my men are dead. I could pay you—” The moment she spoke the words, she realized her mistake.
“I want nothing from you, Celeste. Except, perhaps, to watch you ride away.”
“I can’t return to Eiloch. Not yet,” she argued. Not until she had a means of protecting her sister.
“Then why should I help you?” After you betrayed me, he didn’t say. But she sensed the accusation, nonetheless.
“We were friends, once.” She mounted her horse again, hoping he would accompany her. Instead, he held his ground, watching.
“Were we?” He took the mare and led her up the hillside. Celeste didn’t know if he was guiding her or walking away. She nudged her horse forward, following him.
Dougal said nothing, nor did he turn to acknowledge her. There was a faint path etched in the grass that led through the woods. Sunlight slipped through the edges of the leaves, casting shadows over him as he walked.
She didn’t know whether he was deliberately taking her into the woods to remind her of the place where they used to meet...or whether it was safer. Celeste gripped the reins hard, trying to blot out the visions of the past. She wouldn’t let herself think of it.
When they reached a small clearing, he finally spoke. “I’ll take you to my brother’s fortress.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, dismounting from her horse. Though she had never been to Glen Arrin, she’d heard stories of how Alex MacKinloch had rebuilt it into a castle. “Do you live there now?”
“I returned, after you left.”
Words sprang to her lips, apologies for the choices she’d made. But then, she wasn’t sorry about her marriage. Edmon had been a good man, one who had given her the sanctuary she’d craved. Even if she hadn’t loved him, he’d made her feel safe.
“Did you ever marry?” The question blurted out before she could stop it. As soon as she spoke, she wished she hadn’t asked. Upon Dougal’s face, she saw the flare of resentment, and it only heightened her guilt.
“No.” The words were clipped. “Take the mare for a drink of water while I tend to the bodies.”
Celeste took the reins from him and guided both the mare and her own horse toward a small pool of water. She was grateful for the task, because it gave her a reason not to speak. But the longer the silence stretched, the more she realized that Dougal would never be the man to give her a child. Not after everything that had happened between them.
“Let me reward you for your help,” she repeated. “I have silver, or possibly—”
“You could not afford my price,” he retorted. “I’ll bring you home with me, and my brother Alex can decide what’s to be done with you.”
She was left standing there as he returned to the bodies of the men. What did he mean, ‘What’s to be done with you’? Was she naught but a sack of grain to be delivered?
There was no trace of the friendship that had once been, nor the man who had made her smile. Though she knew she deserved his anger, she wished there was a way to put it behind them. To begin again and forget past hurts.
The mist surrounded her, and Celeste took a moment to calm her beating heart. For these next few days, she could pretend that there was no fighting over her husband’s lands, that her sister would be safe from harm. And perhaps, she could conceive a child that would save them all.
The idea made her want to weep, for it seemed so impossible. If there was any other way, she had to find it. Somehow.
In the distance, she scented smoke from Dougal’s fire. It occurred to her that they coul
d not stay here long. The smoke would only draw attention to their location. When he returned to her side, she told him so.
“It won’t matter, once we’re at Glen Arrin,” he said. “If there are men following you, they won’t intrude on my brother’s lands.”
“I don’t want to bring fighting to your family.” She lifted her gaze to his, taking a deep breath. “If you will keep Lord Eiloch away from me, I will stay only a few days. No longer.”
“And then what?” His knuckles grazed the mare’s face, rubbing her gently with affection.
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something. My sister needs me.” She couldn’t face that unknown future yet; not when she might lose everything.
Dougal’s expression said he didn’t believe her at all. “Running away won’t solve your problems. It will only draw your enemies to you.” His hands stilled upon the horse. “And this isn’t our fight, Lady Eiloch.”
Her mood saddened at his use of her title. “You called me Celeste, once.”
There was the faintest flash in his eyes, so fast she barely saw it. But it was a hint of interest, one that gave her hope.
“That was before you became someone else.”
Celeste studied his dark brown eyes for a long moment, wondering if there was any friendship left between them. It didn’t seem he would forgive her for the choices she’d made.
At last she turned back to the stream, cupping her hands for a drink. The summer air was warm, and some of the water spilled from her lips, down her throat. His gaze followed the water droplets, though he spoke not a word.
Abruptly, he turned and mounted the mare. There was no saddle, but he guided the animal back toward the east. “Come with me, then. If that’s what you’re wanting.”
CHAPTER TWO
THROUGHOUT THE JOURNEY back to Glen Arrin, Dougal questioned what he was doing. He should take Celeste back to Eiloch where she belonged—not to his family. God help him, he’d never thought to see her again.
She was still the most exquisite woman he’d ever known. Her hair was an unusual color, a blend of fair strands and brown, almost as if polished wood were touched with gold. It was coiled into braids, pinned up on her head, and she’d discarded her veil somewhere. She wore no jewels, but her gown was made of finely woven wool, dark green like the leaves of the forest. Tall and slender, she carried herself like the noblewoman she’d become. In her blue eyes, he saw the way she was fighting back her fears.
He didn’t know what had happened with her husband, but the bitterness of jealousy had not left him. She’d grown more beautiful over these past two years, her slender body transformed into a mature woman’s. But she’d given herself to Edmon de Laurent. She’d made her choice, and it wasn’t him.
Honor prevented him from riding away. But as soon as he brought her to Glen Arrin, he intended to leave her with his brothers’ wives. Let them decide what to do with her, for he wanted no part of this woman.
She still affected him strongly, even now. It had grown worse when he’d watched her drink from the pool. One of the water droplets had slid over her pale skin, beneath her gown. The wool clung to generous breasts, and he had to shut off his imagination to keep the unbidden desire under control.
Why in the name of God had she traveled here? He didn’t doubt that there was unrest after the death of her husband, but didn’t she realize how dangerous it was? Although he and his brothers had kept the English at bay for many years, there were always raids from neighboring clans or English soldiers who entertained themselves by attacking their fortress.
A beautiful woman with only two escorts was open prey. She wouldn’t last an hour out here alone. He led her through the valley, noting the determination on her face.
But even more disconcerting was the way she kept glancing over at him. Almost as if she was trying to discern how to heal the broken years between them.
He didn’t trust her at all. There were secrets beneath that treacherous face, and she wanted something—wanted it badly enough to run away from home. And it wasn’t merely an escort.
They rode for hours without speaking as they drew closer to Glen Arrin. The castle wasn’t large, but it was enough for clan gatherings. Although Alex had offered him a chamber of his own within the main dwelling, Dougal preferred the house he’d built on the outskirts.
Celeste slowed the pace of her horse as they approached, her eyes widening at the sight of Glen Arrin. When they rode through the gates, the castle towered high above the stone walls, an imposing structure that would defend them from all enemies.
“It’s much larger than I thought it would be.” She took in the sight of the structure, adding, “I heard that it burned down years ago.”
He nodded. “We tried to keep to ourselves after we defeated the English. Our peace was hard won.”
Although they’d paid the price in blood, he didn’t believe for a moment that the truce would last. King Edward would rise up against the Scots, and Dougal and his brothers had no choice but to be ready.
His brothers had gained control of this region, and the MacKinloch Clan held great power. Still, they never ceased the endless training, the preparation for a battle that could be brought to their gates. Allies were necessary to their survival, and he suspected that his brother would want to learn more about the upheaval at Eiloch.
For a widow, Celeste did not appear grief-stricken over the death of her husband. Instead, she seemed far more disturbed by the prospect of harm coming to her sister. Dougal tucked that thought away as he led her inside.
He didn’t miss the startled looks on the faces of his kinsmen. A few sent him sly smiles, as if he’d plucked the woman from the ground like a delicate flower. They didn’t know anything about her, or the years he’d courted Celeste at Locharr, where they’d met. To them, she was a stranger, and he was grateful for that.
He led her through the inner bailey, directly toward the castle. Nairna, Bram’s wife, caught sight of him, while she held the hand of her young niece. In her other hand was a comb, and the girl sent her aunt an indignant look.
“Have you brought a visitor with you, Dougal?” Nairna asked. She smiled warmly at the pair of them, but he didn’t miss the gleam in her eyes. She had been trying to find a wife for him over the past year. He’d ignored her efforts, avoiding the women as best he could. Yet, he knew exactly what Nairna was thinking.
And he had no intention of letting her draw false conclusions. “Lady Eiloch has asked for our protection over the next few days. She can tell you more about what’s happened.” He reached up to help Celeste dismount, but the woman was staring at him, her mouth set in a frown. “I’ll be with the horses.”
He didn’t give either of them a chance to argue, but seized his escape. With the reins in both hands, he retreated to the stables. Better to leave Celeste with Nairna and the other women, where he wouldn’t have to look upon her face or question what she truly wanted from him.
* * *
IT WAS AS if he’d been so eager to get rid of her, he couldn’t leave fast enough. Celeste wasn’t surprised by Dougal’s retreat, but it left her feeling uneasy.
“Don’t be worrying yourself about Dougal,” the young woman said. “I think you made him nervous. I am Nairna, wife of Bram MacKinloch. And this is my niece Ailsa, who has not yet learned to comb her hair, it seems.” She held up the comb, and the brown-haired girl eyed it as if it were a weapon.
“Aunt Nairna, please,” the girl moaned.
“Either do it properly, or you’ll bring shame upon your parents.” She handed the comb over to the girl, gently guiding Celeste to follow her. “We are fostering her while Callum has my boys. Callum is Dougal’s older brother.” All the while she guided her inside the castle, Nairna kept talking, her bright voice filling up the awkward space.
But when they entered the Hall, Celeste was caught spellbound, her feet no longer able to walk another step. Above them was a round window made of colored glass. It was a depiction of the Madonna hold
ing an infant child, the bold colors of sapphire and emerald shining through like jewels. It took her breath away. She’d only seen one window like it, in a cathedral when she’d journeyed south to Edinburgh with her husband.
“Our chief’s wife, Laren, made that,” Nairna said. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Celeste nodded. But the image of the Holy Mother cradling a child struck her hard. Would she be holding an infant of her own by next spring? Or would she and her sister have to fight Rowena for her share of the land?
She knew the simplest solution was to conceive a child, but every part of her conscience railed at the idea. If there was any other way, she would have to find it quickly.
Nairna led her up a winding stone staircase that led into a small solar. There, Celeste found a red-haired woman sitting beside the window, dipping her quill into ink as she drew shapes. An older girl sat beside her, the young face intent upon the drawings.
“Are you teaching her your secrets?” Nairna said in a teasing voice. Nodding toward the woman, she said, “This is Laren, who made the glass you admired. And her eldest daughter Mairin.” Turning back to Celeste, she added, “This is Celeste de Laurent, the Lady of Eiloch.”
Laren glanced up, and a slight frown marred her lips as if she’d recognized the name. Swiftly, she recovered and asked, “Are there other visitors with you, Lady Eiloch?”
Celeste shook her head. “My men were attacked and killed on the journey here. Dougal saved my life, and I owe him my thanks.” She studied Laren for a moment, wondering if the chief’s wife knew of her. But if she did, the woman said nothing at all. Celeste didn’t know whether to be glad of it or dismayed that Dougal had never spoken of her to his family.
“I am in need of help,” Celeste continued. “Not only for me, but also for my younger sister.” Her gaze centered on the older girl, whom she guessed to be slightly younger than Melisandre. She explained to the women about Rowena’s intent to force them out. “I can’t let that happen,” she finished.
“Then why did you leave her behind?” Nairna asked.