A Highlander's Gifted Love (Blood 0f Duncliffe Series Book 9)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “We were stupid, too,” he sighed. “Right mess we’ve made, for the country.”

  It was something he would never voice with anyone, not even with Bethann, who would have loudly denied it.

  “Not stupid,” she said. This time, she laid a hand on his arm. He felt the touch like a brand. His whole body ignited under those slim fingers, clasped on his wrist. He could smell the scent of her hair, wild and damp.

  “Yes, stupid, milady,” he whispered.

  “It’s never stupid to fight for something you believe in.”

  He sighed. “I wish I could believe that.”

  “I do.”

  Their eyes held and, in that moment, he knew he had lost his heart. He would never be able to leave here without being haunted by those green eyes.

  He felt himself lean forward to kiss her, but even as he did so, he felt her tense, as if afraid.

  He sighed and let his hand fall to his side.

  “I suppose we should get back, milady,” he said, with a little chuckle.

  “Yes.”

  Neither of them moved.

  “They’ll be wondering where we are,” he added after a long moment.

  “Yes.”

  Together they turned back to the horse and readied themselves to go back to the house.

  A WARNING AND A CHOICE TO MAKE

  Chlodie tensed as Domnall held the horse still for her. She looked down at him, her gaze holding his.

  “You will need to get back to the house too,” she said. Her heart thudded, looking up at the saddle. On the one hand, she hated the very thought of riding a horse ever again, but on the other hand she knew it would be foolish not to – she had fallen off before, and knew the faster you remounted, the more likely you were to forget your bad experience.

  “I know,” he said softly.

  She nodded. “You’ll manage the way back?”

  It wasn’t just her fear of riding again which stayed her hand – she wanted to be in the forest, alone, with him.

  You’re simply foolish, Chlodie.

  “I know it,” he said. His voice sounded strained, as if he was in pain.

  She frowned.

  “You’re unhurt, yes?” she asked. “Your wounding…”

  “Is fine, milady,” he said quickly. “I’m unhurt. I’ll be fine for the trip back.”

  She looked down into his brown eyes as she swung up into the saddle. She wanted to think of something to say that would make the moment last for longer.

  “You know the road?”

  “I know it, milady. Or, if I don’t, I’m going to have to find out pretty soon.” He chuckled. His smile was swift, and did not reach his eyes.

  He looks sad, too.

  She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to think about that. It would be bad enough if she would miss him. If he cared for her…

  Nonsense, Chlodie. You’re a mad, plain lass. Who would care for you?

  That was what her father had told her, anyway. She was mad. Not in so many words, but his attitude to the Sight over the years had convinced her he believed all was not well with her.

  “Fine,” she said quickly. “Well, then. I’ll ride back to the manor, and I’ll doubtless see you later, at dinner? Unless you’d prefer to dine in your quarters alone tonight?”

  “I’ll be at dinner,” he said quickly. He looked earnest. She wondered, again, if he wanted to see her as badly as she longed to see him.

  Unlikely. He’s probably got a wife somewhere. Bairns. You never even asked him. He looks older than you, and you’re old to be unwed, Chlodie Invermore.

  “Well, then,” she said lightly. “Until dinner, then.”

  “See you soon, milady.”

  Biting her lip, making herself stay upright and not show any sign of nerves, Chlodie set off down the path.

  Mistfell walked slowly, seeming as exhausted as she was. She could feel his weariness in every step. She patted his neck, tentatively. She reckoned they would both be glad to reach the manor.

  “And when I get there? I’ll go straight up to Father and explain what happened.”

  She was surprised by the depth of nervousness she felt – more so than her own injury, the thought of incurring his displeasure by being late had scared her.

  Mistfell snorted and Chlodie smiled sorrowfully.

  “Yes. You’re not so fond of him either, are you, Mistfell?”

  Her horse huffed an out-breath that could have been agreement. Mistfell was by rights her father’s horse, but his wildness made him an unsuitable mount. Her father disparaged the “flightiness” in the horse the same way he dismissed her Sight.

  “Well, I’d like to see him say rude things about you when you’re rearing fit to break a person’s back,” Chlodie giggled to the horse. It would be hard, she thought sadly, to dismiss something with quite that much power.

  “I wish I could do something like that.”

  Her horse snorted again and they headed on, slowly, through the woods.

  It was late afternoon by the time they reached Invermore House, though the ride out had seemed so fast. Chlodie felt tired – the fear had drained her, and the tension of that strange encounter.

  As she slipped wearily from the saddle outside the stable yard, she looked up at the house. She guessed it to be around four of the clock – the sun was just starting to set, painting the sky a vivid shade of abundant orange behind the trees.

  “He’s not going to be back for an hour yet,” she judged.

  “Milady?” Mr. Gleeson, the head groundsman, came up to take the reins. She passed them to him gratefully.

  “See that Mistfell is rubbed down and given warm bran,” she said wearily. “He’s had a long run today.”

  “Milady?” he sounded concerned. “You look pale. Is aught amiss? You’re hurt..?”

  “I’m fine, Gleeson,” she said, trying not to snap at him. She walked slowly, concealing the limp where her knee had been twisted by the impact. “I’m just weary.”

  “Your father has Dr. Barnes here…he’s still upstairs,” the man called helpfully.

  “I’m fine, Gleeson,” she whispered. Then she turned away.

  Inside, the hall was silent. She leaned back against the door, eyes closed, giving herself a moment’s welcome pause.

  “Hello?” she called. She pulled her boot off and put it near the door, hung up her cloak. Busied herself with the other boot. The house was unnaturally silent. It bothered her.

  “Hello?”

  Still nothing. Leaning back against the door, exhausted, she tried to gather her thoughts.

  Doctor Barnes was upstairs with Father. That explained where they both were. Mattie was like as not in the kitchens, making soup for the day laborers as they finished work on the back wall. Mrs. McCleary was taking stock, probably.

  “Mr. McNeil?” she called. The old retainer ought to be here somewhere. Where was he?

  “McNeil?”

  Chlodie looked round, afraid.

  Suddenly, somebody gripped her arm. She cried out, whirling round in fright.

  Mattie let go of her wrist, eyes round and horrified.

  “Sorry, milady!” Mattie said quickly. “I did not mean to scare you. Are ye well?”

  “You went about not scaring me in an odd way, Mattie,” Chlodie said, reproachfully. She rubbed her sore wrist. Already strained from the ride, it now showed a red mark where Mattie had grabbed it.

  “Sorry, milady,” Mattie said quickly. “But I was so glad you’re here! You have to tell him.”

  “Tell whom, Mattie?” Chlodie asked, mind whirling. “Tell who, what?”

  “Mr. Dunning, milady! The army feller. You have to tell him they’re following him!” She jerked her head to the side door, eyes huge with fear.

  “Who, Mattie?” Chlodie asked desperately. She felt as if she was going to faint. “Who was here? What did they want with Lord Domnall?”

  “Begging yer pardon, milady. They said they was here in search of two traitors. One w
as wounded, they said. Tracked them as far as the fork in the road.”

  “What?” Chlodie breathed. She felt her heart miss a beat. Traitors. That meant the worst had happened. The Hanoverians were here, seeking reprisals. They needed an example. Someone to punish. They had recognized Domnall as he fled the battlefield.

  “No,” she whispered. “We have to find him.”

  “I thought he was with you, milady,” Mattie said softly.

  “With me?” Chlodie narrowed her eyes, her cheeks reddening. How transparent had she been? Did the entire household know of the feelings she had for Domnall already, even though she’d thought them so well-hidden in her heart?

  “Thought you’d gone riding and he’d accompanied you, milady,” she demurred, seeing Chlodie’s anger.

  Chlodie sighed. “Well, he hadn’t Mattie. Mayhap it would have been better if he had,” she added, thinking that then, at least, they would both have been here now.

  And like as not he would have been here when the Hanoverians came, and they would by now have taken him away.

  No, she thought, it was lucky that she had ridden out alone. Lucky Mistfell spooked, as well.

  “He’s on his way,” Chlodie said. “He’s still out walking.”

  A terrible thought occurred to her. He was out in the forest now, walking. Alone. If they had simply followed the leftwards road away from Invermore, they’d like as not have found him by now.

  “What, milady?” Mattie asked, seeing her distress.

  “Which way did they go?” she asked, heart thudding as she looked about the darkening hallway. “Where are they?” Her mind filled with a tumble of images – soldiers in the red uniform of the Hanoverians, swarming through the woods. Falling on Domnall, taking him prisoner. She felt her heart stop.

  “They went to Estford, milady,” Mattie said quickly. “I said they ought to check the town there – hungry men’d head there to the inn, to find food.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Chlodie took her hands, her heart full of gratitude. Mattie blushed.

  “It was nothing, milady.”

  “He’s in the woods – probably not too far from the left fork in the road. The crossroads. I should go back…”

  “No, milady! Send someone. You look as pale as linen.”

  “I am tired,” Chlodie admitted, realizing again just how weary she actually was. She could barely walk a step unassisted, never mind ride anywhere else.

  “Did they leave empty handed?” she asked, quickly remembering that Domnall had someone with him when he arrived. Brogan or…

  “Bethann’s here, milady,” her maid said quickly. “In the kitchens. Arrived about an hour ago. Said he was hungry and that his superior was still out there.”

  “Oh!” Chlodie’s spirits soared. “Then Bethann can find him! And also bring him back. Does he know the news?”

  “He’s laying low, yes.”

  “Oh.” Chlodie’s brow twisted in consternation. She didn’t want to put Bethann in danger. “In that case…”

  “Best if you send Mr. Gleeson,” Mattie said quickly. “He’s no friend of the Hanoverian either. And we can trust him not to betray us to the soldiers.”

  “Oh, Mattie. Thank you!” Chlodie embraced her this time, warmly. “We are indebted to your kindness.”

  “Now, milady,” Mattie sniffed, her whole face flushing scarlet. “Let’s keep tae the facts. I’ve done nothing more than any would…and you saved me cousin, all those years ago with what you did see…”

  “Mayhap, yes,” Chlodie interrupted, feeling embarrassed, as she always did whenever the Sight was discussed. “Now. I’ll find Mr. Gleeson.”

  She headed swiftly past Mattie and out of the side door to the darkening garden.

  Outside, the wind caught the trees, high and keening. It was still mild enough to be warm with just a cloak, but she knew the winter was not too far away. She headed swiftly to the stable, heart beating.

  “Mr. Gleeson?”

  She looked down the long line of stalls. The horses were silent, looming out palely from the dark. She called again.

  “Gleeson?”

  The silence deafened her. Mistfell huffed softly. She shivered again.

  Something bad was afoot here – she could feel it. She felt tense and her whole body was stiff, as if before a storm. She headed swiftly out again into the night.

  That was when she heard the footsteps.

  “No,” she whispered.

  From the direction of the hedge, she heard footsteps. Someone was walking there, moving through the piles of leaves, their feet crunching in the thick drifts of them below the spreading boughs of the oak.

  She stood still. The steps faltered and stopped. Whoever it was, they had spotted her and were waiting for her to make another move.

  Run, Chlodie. You’re fast. Your only hope is to outrace them.

  Running, she headed up the path to the house.

  She heard the person burst through the bushes. She didn’t turn around. Her breath tight in her throat, hissing in her lungs, her heart thudding with absolute terror, she ran towards the door.

  “Wait.”

  “No!” Chlodie screamed. A hand covered her mouth. Twisting round, she drew her arm back, trying to break the grip.

  “Chlodie,” a familiar voice whispered. Brown eyes stared into hers.

  “You!”

  Her legs went weak with relief. She would have fallen, besides that he held her wrist. She collapsed back against the wall – she had managed to reach the side door of the house, just – and looked up at him.

  “Domnall,” she whispered. “You’re here! You’re in danger.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “Bethann found me. Chlodie, I must go.”

  “You must stay,” she countered swiftly. “They’re hunting for you.”

  “I can’t bring danger…”

  “You can’t leave here,” Chlodie snapped. “I won’t permit it.”

  They looked at each other. Domnall stared. Chlodie let her gaze drop, shamed.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “I…”

  “Chlodie…”

  They kissed.

  His lips descended on hers, warm and strangely soft. They pressed at hers, and then, slowly, hesitatingly, his tongue slipped between and, gently, stroked hers. She gasped. Her eyes flew open. She had never felt such a sweet, gentle sensation as this.

  She felt his arms reach for her and she stepped into them, her own arms tightening round his hard, firm body as his lips stroked hers.

  She felt her body press against his and it felt so good, so right. His chest was hard and it pressed onto her breasts, warm and firm and solid. She drew him closer, loving the feeling of her body against his, the way his lips stroked, so tentative, over hers.

  He let his tongue push further in, exploring her. She drew him against her, linking her hands and stroking them down his stiff spine.

  He leaned in, gasping. Then as abruptly, he broke the kiss. His eyes looked into hers.

  “Oh, Chlodie.” His voice was gravelly. “Och, lass.”

  “Shh,” she said softly. She reached up and stroked his red hair. “Hush, now. It will all be well.”

  “Oh, Chlodie,” he sighed again. He drew her to him and this time his lips were hard on hers, hungry and insistent. She felt her mouth part under his seeking tongue and felt her body melt against his, as if all her bones were fluid, transformed by the sweet feeling that was searing through her veins.

  She pressed herself to him, longingly, and then leaned back as his lips moved reluctantly from hers.

  “Oh, lass,” he whispered. “I’ve done wrong.”

  “Why, no,” she said, reaching up to touch that soft, curling hair again. “Why no, you haven’t.”

  “Lass,” he whispered. “It’s wrong of me to…”

  “And I don’t regret it,” she said, finishing his sentence. “So, there is nothing to regret. Now. Go inside. We need to discuss.”

  Domnall looked at her, and
his eyes glimmered with humor.

  “Aye, lass. I can refuse you nothing.”

  Chlodie made a face at him.

  He laughed.

  Together, they headed up into the hallway.

  Once inside, the sense of urgency descended again. The hallways were so quiet! It seemed as if all the servants had been subdued utterly by the visit. Chlodie shivered, wondering what any collaborators had been threatened with.

  “The Hanoverian soldiers were here, looking for you,” Chlodie said quickly.

  “I know, lass,” Domnall said quickly. “Bethann said. I was on my way to the stables when I saw you. And I knew I…I had to say goodbye.”

  “You were going to leave? Steal my horse?” she chuckled, though she was close to tears, too. Was it so recently, that she’d met him? And now, would he leave so soon?

  “No, lass.” He shook his head, grinning. “I was just going to fetch my cloak. Mrs. Brune hid it in the shed. For protection.”

  “Mrs. Brune?” She looked at him in amazement. Were all the staff Jacobite supporters? Strange, she thought, that she only knew that now. She shook her head, one more odd fact just another in a remarkable night.

  “Aye,” he nodded. “She said I should bed down there till morning, then run north.”

  “It would be sensible,” Chlodie agreed. She felt like crying, though she bit her lip, forcing herself to hold in tears.

  “I know,” he said. “Bethann’s already packed. We should go now.”

  “On foot?” she asked.

  He nodded. “It was easier that way, like,” he said. “The soldiers won’t be expecting us to go northwards, and besides, they’ll not recognize me without the brown cloak of Dunning.”

  She frowned. “Where is it?”

  “In the fire in the kitchen,” he said. “I burned it.”

  Chlodie stared at him. The cloak was the mark of his household, something he’d probably been given by his parents with much pride. She felt a fresh stab of urgency, hearing that he’d made such a drastic gesture. This really was a dangerous situation.

  “Well, then,” she said softly. “If you’re ever in the region…”

  “I’ll visit,” he said softly. “Of course, I shall. Sweet Chlodie…” his hand stroked her hair. She tensed.