by Lois Greiman
Blackheart chuckled. The sound was eerie in the darkness as he rose slowly to his feet. “So you too are bewitched, Rom. And for no purpose, for she does not care for you. ‘Tis why you betrayed her at the start. ‘Tis why you brought the pretty boy into the woods alone, away from his bear and the old woman with the spooky eyes. ‘Twas because she turned you aside. You mean nothing to her. Remember?”
” ‘Tis not true!” Rory said and Blackheart laughed. ” ‘Tis not true!” Rory snarled and lunged, but in that second a guard struck him from behind.
Rory crumpled to the ground. Blackheart lunged in. His knife rose and fell, and in that instant Catriona’s fingers curled around a fallen branch. She raised it without thought, lurched to her feet, and swung.
Bramble stumbled under the blow, and Lachlan burst free. They were running in an instant.
She heard Bramble rise with a curse. Footsteps thundered after them, and fingers snared her hair. As she was yanked to a halt, a roar issued from the woods and a gray horse lunged out of the darkness. A sword flashed. The guard fell with a gasp and a gurgle. But there were more of them, swarming at her from all directions.
The rider’s sword flashed again. Another guard fell, cleaving her a path. Lachlan lunged into the opening.
“Run, lass! Run!”
“Hawk!” Even in the hellish chaos, she knew it was he. She screamed his name even as he hissed in pain. His steed lunged sideways. Haydan teetered and slipped from the saddle.
Catriona leapt toward him and stumbled over a body. Her fingers brushed against a sword, and it came away in her hands.
A brigand sprang toward Haydan, but Cat was already swinging. As the sword sliced across his back, he fell screaming.
Haydan staggered to his feet just as another hurtled toward him. Steel met steel in an arc of shooting sparks.
Haydan stumbled beneath the onslaught. The villain lunged in, but in that instant, Haydan sliced up from beneath. There was a gurgled croak of agony as the other man fell.
Too late, Cat saw the man behind Hawk. She tried to scream, but already he was raising his sword. A horse charged from the darkness. Its shoulder struck the brigand, knocking him forward. Haydan swung and the night went quiet.
The sword fell from Catriona’s numb fingers.
“Haydan,” she whimpered and stumbled forward, but suddenly she was yanked back.
“Haydan,” a voice purred against her ear. “How good of you to come.”
“Douglas.” Haydan straightened. The blood-darkened end of his sword drooped toward the earth. “Let her go.”
“Why? So you can kill us?” Blackheart laughed, the sound maniacal in the darkness. “We think not.”
“Let her go,” Haydan repeated. “There is naught you can do. You have planned treason against the crown. Once that is known, there will be no place for you to hide.”
“On the contrary. Our place will be with her.” He pulled Cat closer still. “She is not our…” He breathed in deep as if inhaling her essence. “Not our usual fare. But she is bewitching, is she not? And so long as we have her, you will tell no one of our intent, will you?”
There was no sound but the low groan of a dying man.
Blackheart laughed. The noise shivered down her neck. “Nay, you will not tell,” he said. “For you too are bewitched. She is an amazing wench, is she not? I think that for her, even the great Hawk might deliver his beloved king.”
“You are wrong.”
“Others have underestimated us. We would not advise it,” Blackheart said and pressed the tip of his dirk against her breast.
“What do you want of me?” Haydan rasped.
Blackheart chuckled. “First we would like you to put down your sword. Carefully.”
Haydan bent cautiously forward. His sword fell from his fingers.
But suddenly Haydan’s death flashed through Catriona’s mind. “Nay!” she screamed and twisting sideways, she slammed her elbow into Blackheart’s face, and spun away. He grabbed her back, but in that instant Haydan yanked his dirk from his boot. It spun end over end, hissing past Cat’s face.
Blackheart spasmed against her. She twisted toward him, but he was already staggering backward, his hands grappling with the blade in his throat as he gurgled for breath. Gone was the insane light in his eyes, replaced by a childish terror.
“Help me,” he rasped, and then his legs crumpled, spilling him face forward onto the earth.
Silence echoed around them.
“Lass.” Haydan’s voice was just a whisper in the darkness as he drew her to him. “Are you well?”
She wrenched her gaze from Blackheart, her hands shaking, her stomach heaving.
A groan issued through the darkness. Among the fallen bodies, a man struggled to sit up. Catriona grasped Haydan’s sleeve. He pulled her behind him with a snarl, but no one rose to threaten her. Instead, a tortured whisper shivered through the night.
“For you, Cat.”
Catriona’s knees buckled, but Haydan held her up. “Rory?” she breathed.
“I did it for you.”
She took a trembling step forward, but Haydan held her back, keeping her behind him until he had retrieved his sword. Then they moved in tandem toward the fallen Rom.
“I would have returned him to you,” he whispered when she was close.
“What?” She knelt slowly jerkily.
“Lachlan.” His voice was no more than a raspy breath in the darkness. “Always I planned to return him to you.”
” ‘Twas you who betrayed us.” Lachlan spoke from the back of a nearby steed.
“Nay.” Rory caught Catriona’s sleeve in a clawing grasp. “No betrayal, Cat. ‘Twas my love for you that made me do it.” He paused, gasping for breath and tightening his hold for a moment. “You are meant to be mine. But you had forgotten your true feelings for me. Still, I knew… I knew you would realize the truth when you lost one of your own. And when it was me who saved him, then you would love me again.”
The night was quiet but for his rasping breath.
” ‘Twas all going as planned… until him.” Another tortured breath as he shifted his gaze to Haydan. “You should not have gone to him, Cat. I could not bear the thought.” His lip curled in contempt. His grip tightened. “But I forgive you. I forgive if you will come back… to me.”
“Rory…” Her throat was tight with horror. “How could you—”
“Out of love.” His body spasmed. “He does not cherish you as I do. No one ever shall.” Rasping breath. “You believe me, don’t you?”
She struggled for words.
“You think I lie.” Rory’s voice was low, barely audible in the depths of the night. “Because of him, you think I lie.”
“Nay, Rory, ‘tis my own—” she began, but in that second he jerked up and struck.
She screamed as the knife slashed past her.
Haydan grunted and staggered back. Rory snarled something, then, listing drunkenly sideways, he fell to the earth.
“Haydan!” Catriona stumbled toward him. “Haydan, are you—” But even in the darkness she could see the dark blood pumping from his side. “Dear God!” Bile rose in her throat. She fell to her knees. “Nay, dear God, please!”
“Catriona.” Haydan’s voice was low. “Get up.” He reached for her then steadied himself for a moment on her shoulder.
“Haydan.”
“Nay.” He wobbled against her. “Do not speak. Just fetch the horses.”
The return to Blackburn was hell. Catriona wanted to stop, to pull Haydan into her arms, to nurse him, but he pressed on, riding hard, his face pale in the darkness as he slumped over the pommel of his saddle. More than once he teetered to the side. She reached for him, but he pulled himself up and forced them on.
Tears burned her eyes when she saw the lights of the castle. The drawbridge echoed beneath their horses’ hooves.
“Open up.” Haydan’s voice was no more than a growl.
A guard squinted through the port
cullis at them. “Who goes there?”
“Open up,” Haydan repeated.
There was a muffled gasp of surprise. “Sir Hawk?”
“Damn it, Andrew—” he snarled, but in that moment he swayed. His hands dropped from the reins, and then he slumped onto his mount’s crest and toppled to the bridge.
“Nay!” Catriona was beside him in an instant. “Nay, Haydan! Haydan!” she cried, leaning over him. He didn’t stir.
The portcullis creaked open.
“Sir Hawk!” the guard gasped.
Cat turned to him with a jerk. “Fetch a healer!”
“Wake Physic!” Andrew yelled.
“Not Physic.” Haydan’s voice was a low moan.
“Haydan.” Cat breathed his name. Her fingers trembled against his cheek. “I am sorry.”
His gaze caught hers, but his eyes were only half open, his breathing shallow.
“You were supposed to take the medallion to Glasgow,” she whispered, the words painful in her throat.
“Is that why you lay with me?” His tone was raspy, labored. “To keep me occupied? To keep me distracted?”
Her throat burned. “He is my brother.’ “
“And what am I, Catriona?” He hissed in pain for a moment. “Just another fool?”
“Nay.” He was everything.
“Another fool to bend to your will?”
“Haydan—”
“Your brother is safe now,” he said, his lips pale as the dawn. “My vow is complete.”
“Don’t die!” Her fingers shook against his bloody tunic. “Don’t die, Haydan. Please.”
He raised a hand. It nearly touched her cheek, but then it slipped away. “Sorry,” he rasped, and his eyes fell closed.
Chapter 31
“Hawk ” The voice was soft, calling him from the darkness. “Hawk. Awake.”
The images of Haydan’s scattered dreams shifted as if blown aside by a strong wind, but the folds of oblivion were deep and comfortable, calling him back.
“Sleep if you must, then. But know this. While you sleep, she suffers.”
He awoke suddenly, his eyes wide open in a sunlit room that smelled of thyme and heather.
“Rachel,” he rasped. “Where is she?”
“Who?” His dark-haired niece drew back as though confused.
Pain speared him from all sides. “Catriona.”
Rachel scowled. “Mother was right: You are far too conscientious for your own well-being.”
“Where is she?”
“Here.” Catriona stepped forward.
She was alive. She was well. Relief swamped him, only to be washed away by a tide of worry. For her movements were stiff, her eyes red.
“What is amiss?” he asked and tried to sit up, but Rachel pressed him back down.
“If you tear out your stitches, I’ll turn you over to Physic. I swear it.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked again, unable to move his gaze from Cat’s haunted eyes.
Rachel leaned closer to tuck the blankets beneath him. “You are not the only one who can care. ‘Twould be wise for you to remember that,” she murmured.
“What?” He flashed his attention to Rachel, but she was already drawing back.
“Be patient with him. He is not usually so daft,” she said, and turning away, left the room.
Haydan shifted his gaze to Catriona. All was quiet.
“So…” Her voice quavered. “You will recover?”
“Aye.” But the sight of her made it difficult to breathe. For a while she had been his, for she had needed him, needed his strength, his prowess. And that made every aching scar worth the having. But how would he live without her? “Aye. I will recover.”
“Rachel said you would. But I thought…” Her voice broke. Haydan clenched the blankets in fretful hands.
“Tell me what is wrong. Is it Lachlan?”
“Lachlan? Nay. He is well.”
“Marta is not—”
“Do you truly not understand?” Her back was stiff now, her brow furrowed. “Do you think me so terrible?”
“Terrible? Nay.” In fact, he ached for her, to hold her once again. But ‘twas not to be. Long years ago, he had learned to let go.
“Well, you are wrong.” She whispered the words. “I am terrible.”
He shook his head, but she continued. “For ‘twas not enough to know that you will heal. ‘Twas not nearly enough.” She took an uncertain step toward him. “I know I lied to you. I know I am naught but a wandering Rom. But—”
A single tear slipped down her cheek. She had reached his bed and crumpled the blankets in her fingers beside his.
“Catriona.” He kept his tone carefully level. “Young James is safe. All is well. I will tell no one of the part you were to play in Blackheart’s evil plan. You need not worry on-—”
“Damn you!” she swore. “Will you make me beg?”
“Beg?” He wanted to touch her, to feel her against him, to press his hand against her flesh and know that she was his, but he did not dare.
“Very well.” She drew herself up. “I want you, Sir Hawk. I know I do not deserve you. But I want you nevertheless, like I have never wanted before.”
His heart did an odd twist in his chest. But he forced himself to remain lucid, to think. “Catriona,” he said. ” ‘Tis my duty to protect. You owe me nothing.”
But her hands had left the blankets and twisted in his tunic.
“I want you, damnit! Not because I owe you my life and my brother’s life and my very own soul. I want you. Surely you would not be so cruel as to turn me away.”
“I cannot—” he began, but she interrupted him.
“Perhaps there was a time when I was prideful. But I have little pride left, and so I tell you this. If you do not marry me, I will tell your family that I carry your child, and that you turned me out.”
The air left his lungs in an odd mix of relief and pain. “You would not.”
“I swear I would.”
He tried to think of a way to dissuade her, for a reason to dissuade her. There were hundreds of them, he was certain of it. But just now he couldn’t think of a single one, and Lady Fiona would never forgive him if he turned away the mother of his unborn child.
“You leave me little choice,” he said, feeling foolish and giddy and strangely numb all at once. “I suppose I will have to marry you.”
He watched her eyes widen and then her lips met his in a clash of warmth. He slipped trembling fingers beneath her hair, pulling her closer.
“Are you trying to kill him?” asked a calm voice from the doorway.
Catriona drew slowly away and turned. “Liam,” she whispered. “He agreed to marry me.”
“Of course he agreed to marry you. He is a martyr, not a fool. But you’d best cease kissing him. He already fainted once and if me wife finds you she will—”
“I did not faint,” Haydan rumbled.
“He fainted again?” Rachel was through the door in a moment, her eyes intense as she scanned the room. “You didn’t kiss him, did you, Catriona?”
“He said he would marry me,” Cat breathed.
“There’ll be no more of that,” Rachel insisted. “Not until he is completely healed. He’s not as strong as he looks, you know.”
“He isn’t?”
“How are you faring, old bird?” Roderic asked as he crossed the room.
“She was kissing him,” Rachel chided.
“Quite well then,” Roderic deduced and grinned.
“I told you so you would discourage him, Uncle,” Rachel said. “Not so you would pat his back.”
“I suppose this means you will not be performing this night?”
Haydan turned his gaze to the doorway, where James stood with Lachlan and another troublesome lad who looked to be his twin. “My apologies, Your Majesty. Mayhap Catriona will perform the trick with her brother.”
“I think mayhap you got yourself wounded just so you would not have to perform,”
Shona said, stepping into the room.
“I think he did it for pity,” Liam said, then shrugged at their quizzical expressions. “She was kissing him.”
“Truly?” James asked, his eyes round.
“Well, ‘tis about damn time,” said Marta, tottering into the room. “The lass is beyond two decades of life, and not a lover to be had. Not until this one here.”
All eyes turned to Haydan, and then everyone began talking at once as more family squeezed through the door until Rachel finally called for everyone to leave.
Haydan laid in the silent darkness, waiting until it finally came—the slight rustle of noise at his window.
It took only a moment until a shadow darkened his window, a little longer until it stood beside his bed.
“I am no martyr,” he said quietly.
He felt the shadow start.
“What?” Catriona breathed.
“Liam said I was a martyr. He is wrong.”
“Oh?”
She stepped into his line of vision and he turned slightly to see her better. “I will not let you change your mind, no matter what excuses you may have thought up.”
She settled onto the edge of his mattress as softly as a sparrow. “About what?”
“Marrying me.”
“You think that is why I came? To tell you I have changed my mind?”
“That and the fact that you seem to be unable to remain in your own chambers for the entire night, yes. But…” He drew a deep breath. He could not live without her. That much he knew. “I have given the situation a good deal of thought. There is little else I can do as I lie here, and I have decided that this is the best thing for you.”
“Marriage?”
He nodded. “I know that I am neither wealthy or charming, or particularly bonny to look upon; and… well, you have met my family, such as it is.” He sighed. They could at least have given her some time before they converged on her like a bad-tempered flood. “Neither am I a young man, and you are…” Her almond eyes gleamed at him in the darkness. “You are the Lady Cat.” He tried to keep the reverence from his voice, but she was so near. He could imagine her skin, warm as sunlight, beneath his hand. “But I will offer what I can.”