by Adele Clee
Curiosity flared. “Do you know what they were looking for?”
“Douglas said he remembered the scholar carrying an old leather book. He mentioned that his ancestors were from these parts. Apparently, the proof lay in a carved symbol.” She rubbed her hip as she spoke. “They took samples from the well near the cairn and a selection of rocks from the mine.”
Lachlan struggled to understand how all the events were connected. “If Nikolai came back to gain access to the mine, that still does not explain why he married you. Or why he left here less than a week later.”
Isla shook her head. “All I know is I felt an overwhelming desire to protect the mine. I would often venture out in the dead of night to check that nothing had been disturbed. Then one night, two years ago, my mind became free of the burden. Suddenly it became unimportant, and I’ve not thought about it since.”
“Perhaps we should go down into the mine and see if we can discover what was so appealing.” Lachlan knew if he could understand Nikolai’s motives then it would help him to make more sense of it all. “I think we should visit the cairn too.”
Isla took a step closer. She put a trembling hand to his cheek. “Why? It will not change anything. No matter what we find, I will still be the wife of another man. I will still be the woman who made false promises.”
Lachlan closed his eyes, relishing her touch. Her comments were insightful, as though she had the power to slip into his mind and access his innermost thoughts. “We could have been happy together.” He had spoken before he opened his eyes. “I don’t believe he loved you and the thought makes the fiery flames of anger burn brightly in my chest.”
“Let go of the past, Lachlan.” Her hand slipped from his cheek with a soft caress. She stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against the place still warm from the imprint of her fingers, lingered there for far too long just to torture him. “Let us try and salvage something of our friendship.”
Lust, pure and hot, raced through his veins. He wanted her, and he didn’t know how to suppress it. Edinburgh was not far away enough for him to forget about her this time. His mind was torn between taking her in his arms to plunder her sweet mouth, and jumping on his horse and galloping away as fast as the stallion’s legs could manage.
“I don’t know if that is possible,” he said honestly as he took a few steps back. He was as physically strong as three men. His mental agility and skill for strategy were renowned. Yet this woman, this beguiling enchantress, made him feel weak, dare he say, vulnerable. “I don’t know if I can remain in your company, pass pleasantries, drink wine, knowing what we could have been to each other.”
She blinked, batted her long lashes. “I understand.”
He wanted her to shout at him — to berate him for falling short of her expectations, too. He wanted her to drop to her knees, clasp his hands and beg him to reconsider, to tell him he was mistaken and that their friendship could be rich and beautiful, equally as fulfilling.
Hell and damnation. He didn’t know what he wanted.
A tense silence enveloped them, a shroud of doubt and uncertainty. She opened her mouth but snapped it shut. He cleared his throat but said nothing.
“I don’t blame you for feeling that way,” she eventually said. But he became aware of the restless movements in the field to his left: tails swishing, a couple of animals jumping to their feet.
“Shush.” He pointed to the meadow and then put his finger to his lips as the agitated snorts filled the air. “Something has scared the cattle.”
He saw a black figure creep out of the forest on the far left of the meadow. Walking on two legs, it was clearly a man not an animal or beast. Intent on mischief, the blackguard stopped and scanned his surroundings.
Isla shuffled towards Lachlan, their arms almost touching as she followed his narrowed gaze. Her eyes grew large and round and she sucked in a breath. “I doubt he’s come reiving. Do you think he intends to slaughter a cow?”
“We must assume so. Shall we go and find out?”
He turned to her and offered his hand. She stared at it before sliding her dainty hand into his. He gripped it tight as the warmth radiating from her palm spread through his body. The intimate gesture served purely as a means of keeping her safely by his side, he told himself. It was wrong to treat another man’s wife so affectionately. But touching Isla Maclean brought an element of calm to his chaotic thoughts. Touching Isla Maclean always soothed his soul.
Chapter 5
Isla’s heart pounded in her chest, the sound so loud it echoed in her ears. She clung to Lachlan’s hand as they pushed through bracken, the fern fronds brushing against her cape as they skirted stealthily around the perimeter of the field.
She gripped his hand tighter. Fear for the cattle and her safety had no bearing on the need to remain connected to him. In her mind, she imagined they were running away, far away from anything or anyone that would seek to keep them apart. There would be a small cabin, a cosy, isolated place where they could hide from the world, where no one would ever find them. Each night she would lie enveloped in his arms, relish the thought of his large body covering her, keeping her safe, keeping her warm.
But it was a foolish dream.
Sunrise would bring the realisation that she was no longer human. Any hope of spending her life with Lachlan had vanished the moment she had tasted Nikolai’s infected blood. A sob caught in her throat. Gulping down breaths was the only way to keep calm and quiet.
“We’re nearly there. I expect once he has carried out his evil deed, he will reenter the forest the same way he came.” Lachlan glanced down at her, his brows drawn together. “If you’re struggling to keep up I can carry you.”
“No.” Her heart fluttered at the prospect. Once, he had chased her along the banks of the burn, scooped her up into his muscular arms and twirled round and round until they were both dizzy. She had squealed and laughed until her sides ached. It was the day she lost her heart and soul to him. “No. It’s just difficult to keep up with your long strides.”
“Will it be easier if I let go of your hand?”
“No.” She wanted to hold on to him for a little while longer. The opportunity would never present itself again. Soon, he would leave for Edinburgh. She suspected he would leave for good. “Your firm grip is the only thing preventing me from tripping.”
He nodded, unaware of how she longed to rest her head against his bare chest, oblivious to the way her body cried out to be near him.
Lachlan stopped and bent his head. “We must be quiet now.” His gaze travelled over her face. “I want you to remain here. Should anything untoward happen, I want you to run home and alert Douglas.”
Panic flared.
He was strong, robust, a perfect specimen of a masculine warrior. What on earth could go wrong? “Do not do anything foolish, something you might later live to regret.”
He used the tips of his fingers to trace a line along her jaw. “I am already guilty of being foolish. I have committed one cowardly act that saw me lose the only thing dear to me. And so regret is something I have learnt to live with.”
He did not wait for her to pass comment and without another word turned and marched towards the clearing. Hunching his back to stoop forward, he crept out into the open air. Isla clung to a tree trunk as she watched his measured movements. The hair at her nape prickled to attention; the muscles in her stomach grew hard as she waited for him to confront the scoundrel.
In the dark, it was difficult to distinguish one black shadow from another. Lachlan had blown out the candle in her lamp and so there had been no point carrying it. All she could do was attempt to use the predatory skills that were a consequence of her blood affliction. Could she pick up traces of the villain’s thoughts in order to establish motive and minimise the risk? Could she convey those messages to Lachlan?
In refusing to accept the nature of her affliction, she had avoided listening to other people’s thoughts. Consequently, she lacked the skill ne
eded to focus fully on the task. When it came to thinking about the man she should have married, her wild imagination often concocted wonderful scenarios that served to stifle her concentration.
Staring out across the meadow as Lachlan drew nearer to his prey, she watched as the figure suddenly shot around. She witnessed their quarry’s animated gestures, saw a glint of metal, a brief flash of light swiping the air. The frightened cattle darted in between the two men, desperate to be clear of the threat.
Nikolai’s ominous whispers rushed through her mind.
You could be sliced with a sword or shot with a pistol, and still you will not die.
Was there any truth to his words?
Without another thought, she picked up her skirt and ran out from her woodland shelter. It did not occur to her that her untimely presence would distract Lachlan from his task. Indeed, as he turned to urge her to return to the sanctuary of her hiding place, their prey took the opportunity to flee into the forest.
Torn between waiting for her to reach him and chasing after the scoundrel, Lachlan’s head shot frantically back and forth.
“Hurry,” he yelled as the cattle darted to a safer part of the meadow. She sprinted the last few steps. He grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction of their quarry. “You should have stayed in the forest.”
“He has a blade.” She panted the words as she tried to keep up with his fast pace. “Did you see his face? Do you know who it is?”
“No. It’s too dark. He’s wearing a woman’s cape, has covered the lower part of his face with fabric or material of some sort.”
“But you’re certain it’s a man?”
“Without a doubt. His shoulders are too broad. His stance lacks the necessary elegance or refinement. And I’ve never seen a woman wield a weapon in such a way.”
Isla shivered. What would he say if he saw her pointed fangs hanging over her bottom lip, or if he heard the devilish hiss that resonated from the back of her throat? In that instance, she wielded a weapon far more lethal than a blade. When in monstrous form she lacked feminine grace and resembled a wild animal with no compassion for her victim.
They entered the forest through a narrow gap in the trees, managed to duck beneath the low branches to follow the overgrown path. The terrain proved uneven. Unstable. She tripped over a protruding root, and he grasped her elbow to help her back to her feet. The shafts of moonlight streaking through the trees did little to illuminate their way. Random gruff curses, mingled with the crunching noise underfoot, assisted them in tracking the blackguard’s movements.
“He’s heading for the village.” Lachlan’s tone conveyed confidence in his assessment. “We’ll struggle to find him once he leaves the forest.”
“I’m slowing you down. Go on ahead.”
Lachlan gripped her hand. “I’ll not leave you.”
As soon as they left the forest to follow the path that bordered Samuel Ramsey’s field they realised their assailant had vanished. Like a ghostly apparition, he had simply disappeared into the night. Isla noticed a sudden flurry of activity to her right. Numerous lights sparked in the blackness, the glowing amber lanterns swinging back and forth like the fiery eyes of a pack of wild dogs searching for their prey.
She heard shouts and loud jeers. “There she is. She’d see us all starve.”
“Bloody hell.” Lachlan stiffened at her side, the curse bursting from his lips in a breath of white mist against the cold night air. “We need to leave. We need to leave now. There’ll be no talking sense to them tonight.” With a firm grip of her hand, they backed away slowly. “As soon as we reach the forest we need to run.”
“Can we not try and talk to them?” Her heart thumped erratically in her chest. She did not have the strength to run anymore. “Surely they know I have nothing to do with the death of their livestock.”
“They will not listen, not when they think they have caught you in the act. I suspect the only thing preventing them from notifying the authorities is their respect for your father.” He grasped the edge of her cape and pulled it across her body for the temperature had plummeted. “I cannot protect you, not like this.”
They managed to shuffle back to the trees before the group of men in the field had time to react. As soon as they entered the forest, Lachlan put his firm hands around her waist and hauled her up over his shoulder.
She clung on to him, was forced to suppress a shriek.
“You’re too tired to run, but I can still move quickly with you like this.”
Despite the odd groan of discomfort, Isla did not protest. Lachlan held her tight against his body as he made the choice to leave the path and navigate through the trees. His quick, agile movements did not reflect the extra weight he carried. She tried to lift her head, but the speed in which he raced through the bracken made the task more difficult.
He kept the steady pace for more than a few minutes. “I can see the road up ahead,” he panted. “I’m going to set you down.”
As he eased her off his shoulder, she tried to ignore the feel of his hands on her body. He held her close until her feet were firmly on the ground, gripped her arms as she swayed. She imagined that the tiny lights darting before her eyes were a consequence of her dizziness. But she soon realised the men were still trailing behind them.
“Quick, Lachlan,” she shook her head to focus, “we must keep going.”
He took her hand once more. She should be used to the sensation by now: the faint flickers of desire that started in her palm, only to build in intensity as they rippled through her body. Even with her mind in such a frantic state, she could not help but feel overwhelmed by the power of attraction.
“We will soon be home.” His reassuring tone was all she needed to hear, and they continued on their way. “As soon as we leave the forest we will be but a few minutes from the castle.”
She glanced up at him, at his defiant gaze, his commanding jaw. His strength radiated from him like a brilliant light, dazzling her, drawing her closer. She had missed him terribly these last few years. Indeed, the feeling of hopelessness she had attributed to living with the horrifying affliction, she now knew to be a consequence of a broken heart.
Once on the road, she breathed a sigh of relief. The castle loomed large in the distance. The hulking grey shadow had ceased being a home. Now it felt more like a prison. Laughter rarely rang through the corridors as it had once done. Her harp sat alone and abandoned in a dusty corner, the heavenly strings never to be plucked again.
They were forced to stop at the iron gate leading to the bridge. Lachlan let go of her hand, his urgent fingers fumbling with the latch in a bid to gain entrance. The group of men followed closely behind, yelling for her to stay away from their homes, from their wives and children. Their words were like barbed arrows piercing her sensitive soul. Tears welled in her eyes, burning hot, stinging her skin as they trickled down her cold cheeks. She had never felt so alone, so utterly despised.
Nikolai was to blame.
She had lost everything — Lachlan’s love, her father, her humanity, everyone’s respect. Heart-wrenching pain turned to anger. She had the power and strength to stop them all dead in their tracks. If they wanted someone to fear, she had the ability to become their worst nightmare. She could bare her fangs, drain their blood.
As they hurried across the bridge, she contemplated stopping, marching towards them to hear their pathetic accusations. However, as she turned to look back over her shoulder, she saw them stop at the gate and wave their fists before striding away. Even so, she did not stop running until she entered the castle.
Slamming the large oak door shut, they pressed their backs against it and gulped numerous times to catch their breath.
“Now do you see … do you see how irrational they are?” Panic infused her tone. “If they continue to believe these lies I shall be forced to leave my home.”
“No.” Lachlan’s thunderous reply echoed through the hall. “Come the morning I will hunt every one of them
down. Before the day is out, I will make sure they never speak ill of you again.”
Chapter 6
The ominous shadow of a castle drifted into view, the medieval fortification built at a time when the feudal system dictated society’s laws and customs.
Leo yanked down the carriage window and peered outside. “I hope this is the place we’re looking for. Another hour spent cramped in here, and I’ll struggle to walk for a week.”
Ivana smiled. “Well, you will insist on manoeuvring your body into awkward positions.” She had enjoyed the long and arduous journey immensely. Spending time alone with Leo without any distractions proved to be a rather fulfilling experience, in more ways than one.
He glanced back over his shoulder; the sinful smile playing on his lips caused her stomach to lurch. “It’s incredible how agile one can be in such a confined space.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the memory of their last passionate exchange. “When you say it like that you make me wish we still had a hundred miles to travel.”
“I’m afraid the muscles in my thighs would not stand the strain.” Leo winked. “Unless you have something else in mind.”
Ivana shook her head. “I’m sure you could tempt the Lord to sin, but we have other matters that require our attention.” Desperate to distract her wayward thoughts, she picked up the leather-bound book at her side and tugged on the piece of red ribbon she had used to mark the page. “Talliano wrote that Castle Craig lies on the banks of the River Earn. The locals said it is the only castle to be found on this road.”
“Then I shall tell Sylvester we intend to stop.” Leo hollered up to the coachman before closing the window and dropping back into the seat opposite. “Have you considered the possibility you might be mistaken? What if we’ve had a wasted journey?”