When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1)
Page 7
Marion slanted her gaze toward the bridge on the other side of the bailey. Her father had left Angus tied to the pole at the entrance, as she’d told Iain he might. Just as she was about to look away from Angus’s slumped form to answer her father, a large shadow rose up beside Angus. It had to be Iain, she thought, and within seconds, Iain and Angus were gone. Iain may be a strapping Scot, but his size certainly didn’t impede his ability to hide. She should have known he’d be clever. Angus had always said Scots were taught the art of shadow dancing from the day they could toddle on two legs.
Slowly, she faced her father once more. “I already told you the truth. Someone tried to snatch me from the hill in front of the castle. I don’t know who it was! I fell into the water in the struggle, and they fished me out and then rode me all the way to Newcastle. I escaped when they thought I was sleeping, and stole this horse to return directly to you.”
“If you’re lying, Marion—”
“I’m not. I swear it.” That lie would cost her a great number of coins to Father John, but it was worth it. Perhaps all was not lost.
An idea occurred to her then, one that would lead her father and some of his men away from the castle to make things easier for Iain. “I can lead you to where they took me. I know what they look like.”
“Give me their descriptions and the exact position. I’ll ride out with some of my men to find them, and you”—he offered a malicious smile—“will stay here and ready yourself for your wedding. Froste will have to be fetched from Newcastle. He arrived earlier and I told him you drowned, so he went into town to—er—deliberate with his brother.”
Marion knew that was a lie. Froste had gone into town to seek a whore to warm his bed for the night. That’s how distraught he was by Marion’s presumed death. She snorted inwardly as she studied her father from under her lashes. So her father truly meant to defy the king. Or maybe he simply intended to claim she’d been married to Froste before he knew of the king’s new orders. That was very likely. But it would mean her father had every intention of hunting down Iain and killing him and Rory Mac so they could not tell King Edward otherwise.
Marion needed to escape quickly, now that Angus was safe with Iain. But how? Before she could consider it further, her father spoke.
“Sir Thomas will escort you.” Her father nodded to a knight Marion didn’t know.
“There’s no need,” she replied, striving to sound accommodating though she was feeling desperate.
“There is a need, Marion.” Her father’s dark eyes bore into hers. “Someone tried to seize you. I will see you defended at all times.”
It had been years since she’d allowed herself to hope her father might feel any true affection toward her, but that hope had apparently never died as it now flared in her chest. “Father, I’m touched.”
“Don’t be,” he snapped. “I simply can’t have you disappearing again before I marry you to Froste.”
“Of course,” she replied, her face heating with anger at herself. Why had she been so foolish to allow any hope?
She followed the knight across the bailey, over the bridge that covered the second moat, and up the stairs that led to the keep—and her room—while she plotted her escape. She needed to get Sir Thomas away from her door.
She paused as he opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter. “Could you fetch Father John from the chapel for me?” He would normally be there at this time of night, but she prayed he was already with Iain. However, the errand would occupy the guard for a bit. “I have some sins to confess before I marry.”
“Certainly, my lady,” the knight readily agreed.
Well, it was certainly easy enough to send Sir Thomas away, Marion thought as she walked past him and into her bedchamber. The door clicked shut, followed by the distinct snap of the lock setting in place.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, pressing her ear to the closed door, her pulse ticking up several beats.
“Your father ordered you to be locked in, my lady. I’ll return shortly with Father John.”
“Wait!” she shouted, even as she heard his footsteps carrying him away from her. She gripped the door handle and pulled on it for several seconds before she forced herself to let go. Desperation wanted to overcome her, but she refused to succumb.
This was terrible! She’d not foreseen being locked inside her chambers when she’d decided to provide the distraction the stubborn Scot needed so he wouldn’t get caught entering the castle. And though she’d certainly delivered the needed diversion, she now not only had to escape the castle but she had to escape her room.
Thinking quickly, she decided that once she was out of the keep, she’d scale the keep wall, make her way down the backside of the hill, and swim the treacherous, snake-filled waters to escape and meet with Iain. That was assuming no guards stopped her.
She gulped at the daunting task. At least she knew Iain had Angus, and if he didn’t have Father John—she smiled grimly to herself—well, then she would not have to be wedded and joined with him so soon.
She stalked to her bed and ripped off the coverlet, then dragged the heavy blanket—and two others she collected from her trunk—over to the window, which she threw open. Glancing out the window to the ground far below, her stomach knotted. She inhaled deeply, then let it out and muttered to herself as she began to tie the blankets together. Once they were secured, she fastened one end to the iron of the window and dropped the other out of the small space until it dangled toward the ground.
She swung a leg over the window ledge and wiggled out of the cramped space. She gripped the coverlet, sweat dampening her brow with the effort to hold on, and shimmied all the way to the end of her rope. With a hopeful prayer, she glanced below to see if she was close enough to leap. Her heart sank. The ground was still so far away. Climbing back up was not an option. Not only were her hands beginning to cramp but there was no way for her to escape her room with the door locked.
She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and released the material. She dropped with a speed that stole her breath and made her body tighten in expectation of a painful landing. She did hit something hard, but it was warm, too, and the landing, though jarring, wasn’t agonizing. Her eyes flew open and met an angry—or was that astonished?—blue gaze.
“You returned for me,” she said in surprise.
“Aye,” Iain growled, setting her roughly on the ground. “And now I’m questioning why.” He gripped her by the shoulders and fairly dragged her against the castle wall. “Ye would have broken yer neck had I nae caught ye.”
“Nonsense,” she replied, annoyed that instead of one word of praise for her creating the perfect distraction for him, he was angry. “I know what I am doing,” she snapped.
He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “Do ye now?”
His voice was hard, and she vowed he’d made the question sound threatening on purpose. She notched her chin up. “I do.”
His glower became fiercer as he stepped so close to her that his heat overwhelmed her. “Then ye have the priest with ye?”
“Well, no,” she hedged, not willing to admit quite yet that she didn’t have everything in hand. “We will simply have to make haste to the chapel and find him. I thought you would have done that with Angus and been away from the castle by now,” she snapped.
“Ye thought that, did ye?” He pressed closer to her, his hands coming to either side of her shoulders.
She could feel the anger rolling off him in waves of scorching heat that seemed to create steam from his wet body, hair, and clothes. Fear lodged in her throat, but she refused to show it. She squared her shoulders. “I did. I created the perfect opportunity for you to do what you needed. You should have trusted me to escape and find you outside the castle walls.”
“I should have trusted ye?” Incredulity shook every word as his face came very close to hers. “Ye should have trusted me,” he growled. “I am your laird.”
Her heart
He blew out a long, hot, clearly angry breath that fanned her face. “Ye ken ye have nay choice but to marry me.”
Her gut clenched with bitterness at the truth of his words, but she refused to acknowledge out loud that he was right. Instead, she said, “Where is Angus?”
“When we saw yer father’s knight leading ye to the keep, Angus said ye were surely being taken to yer room. We decided that he’d get the priest and I’d come for ye.”
“Because I’m yours?” she asked, feeling slightly bemused by his nearness, his masculine scent, and the power that he projected by his sheer size.
He laughed. “Nay, but ye are mine.” The words held a ring of finality she did not dare argue with.
“Then why did you come for me and not Angus when he knows the castle and you don’t? Oh no!” she cried suddenly and clutched Iain’s arm. “Angus is hurt.”
“Just bruised. He’ll mend, but he’s slower than usual and was uncertain he could properly defend ye if the need arose.”
He took her hand in his big, warm, rough one, and a jolt shot from her fingertips straight to her stomach. “Come. We’re meeting them outside the castle where I presume Rory Mac is still waiting for me as I bid the two of ye to do,” he said pointedly.
’Twas true that it was hard to pull her thoughts away from the tingly sensation Iain’s fingers were causing, but somehow she managed. “Don’t blame Rory Mac. I deceived him.”
“I dunnae doubt it,” he grumbled, “but the man should ken better than to fall prey to a woman’s charms.”
“Well, in his defense, he doesn’t know me.”
Iain made a derisive sound in his throat. “Ye’re nae helping his cause,” he said and then pulled her into the wall of brick that was his chest. She pressed her hands against the sinewy muscle and froze, enraptured by the fast beat of his heart tapping against her fingertips.
“Sassenach,” he said gruffly. “There will be time enough for ye to show me how much ye desire me, but now we need to leave.”
“Are you always so arrogant?” she managed, though her throat felt thick and her thoughts spun a little.
“Aye,” he replied. “Now let’s go meet the others.”
She gasped, suddenly realizing the consequences of sending the guard to fetch the priest. What if the guard had come upon Angus retrieving Father John?
“We may have a slight problem,” she said.
“What?”
Marion bit her lip. “I sent the guard to get the priest in the chapel,” she blurted, thinking telling it quickly may make it less terrible. It didn’t.
“Why’d ye do that if ye intended to escape?” he demanded.
“I didn’t know that Father’s knight was going to lock me in my room,” she grumbled. “I thought I’d escape while he was fetching Father John.”
“And that’s what ye call knowing what ye’re doing?” he growled.
“Oh, do be quiet,” she snapped. “I’ve put up with my father being cruel to me for twenty years, I’ll not put up with twenty more years of it from you. I’d rather chance a future with the MacDonalds.”
His hands came to her shoulders and gripped them. “I highly doubt ye have any chances with the MacDonalds at present, Marion. Yer uncle Gowan surely kens about our marriage. David likely told him because of his position. And I ken yer uncle. He would have agreed to bind me to him through marriage to ye himself. So even if ye went to him begging nae to wed me, I’d nae trust his help. I’m yer only hope, whether it pleases ye to accept the truth or nae.”
Iain cursed himself as tears filled Marion’s eyes. She blinked rapidly and glanced away, and when she turned her face to him again, no tears trailed down her fine-boned cheeks, but the unmistakable glistening of unshed tears did shine in her lovely eyes. Presently, the only person Marion needed defending from was him. He released his hold on her shoulders and gently cupped her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, uncertain what else to say. It had been a very long time since he’d held a woman so familiarly, and Marion’s silken skin under his rough fingertips filled him with a need he’d forgotten.
“Don’t worry yourself,” she whispered. “I’m aware no one really wants me.” She blinked up at him. She was trying so valiantly to be brave, but her lower lip trembled, and all he could think about was that he’d caused her pain. He wanted to take it away. With no other intention but that one, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, hoping to soothe her.
She quivered beneath his fingers, and his chest tightened. He had desired Catriona, to be sure, but it was a cautious need because she had always been sick and frail. But life and strength simmered from Marion, and he realized with a relieved start that he’d not have to be cautious with her. Guilt assaulted him, as if his relief was a betrayal of his love for Catriona.
He took a deep breath, glad that they needed to go and he could store this away to consider later. “We better make our way to the chapel to see if Angus needs help.”
Marion nodded, an eager look on her face. “We can go to the side of the keep and scale the wall, but then we’ll have to carefully descend the hill, swim the ditch waters, and cross the bailey to get back to the chapel.”
Iain studied her. “The water is filled with snakes.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “I know. It will be dangerous.”
“Aye. So will crossing the bailey in the dark. Yer father’s men may shoot arrows at ye, never kenning they are assaulting ye.” Iain’s blood rushed through his veins as he stared at Marion. He had to protect her. He could not fail to protect a woman that was his again. He grasped her chin gently. “If ye dunnae listen to everything I say, I’m going to flay yer bottom when we’re away, ken?”
“I ken,” she replied, surprising him by mimicking him.
He chuckled at her cheekiness. “Stay by my side. Dunnae speak. No matter what.”
“But you may need my help if we encounter one of my father’s knights. I may need to influence them to—”
He shook his head. “I doubt ye’d be able to influence them to do anything now, and I will nae need help defending myself against a weak Englishman.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Pride is one of the seven deadly sins.”
“I’ll keep my pride and chance that it will nae be the thing to kill me,” he replied and started them on the journey.
“I see living in England all these years has nae lessened the craftiness of a MacLeod,” Iain said, surveying the blazing buildings from his crouch near the wooden wall Iain and Marion had just scaled.
“If it is indeed Angus,” Marion murmured as she twisted the dripping skirts of her gown.
Even soaking, the woman was so beautiful his body hummed. With her wet hair slicked away from her face, her perfect bone structure was even more striking, but what he truly found enticing was the bravery she continued to display. She’d not batted an eyelash when they’d slid down the steep hill and then swam the freezing waters, only to have to climb the wall.
“I dunnae think any man here would set fire to yer father’s home besides Angus, do ye?”
She shook her head, her teeth chattering. “No, I don’t. Do you think that means—”
“I think it means Angus needed to redirect the knights’ attention to get to the priest in the chapel. What I don’t ken is whether he has him or if they are still in there.”
“So how will we find out?” she asked as she vigorously rubbed her arms.
The desire to wrap her in his embrace and give her the heat from his body swept over him, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. They could both pay for the folly with death. “We’ll have to get to the chapel, but in this frenzy”—people filled the bailey, helping to smother the kitchen fire—“we should be able to get there unseen.”
“And then if Angus and the priest are not there, or if they are and we need to help Angus, we will triumph, and then we will all simply go back over the wall and swim the moat to freedom.” Her voice trembled slightly, showing the tiniest hint of concern at what they were facing.
Iain took her hand for one brief moment and squeezed. “Dunnae worry,” he soothed. “Are ye ready?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “But let us go anyway.”
“Follow me,” he said, staying near the wall to keep to the shadows. They came to the chapel quickly, but battle-ready knights flanked the door. Iain was certain Angus had to be in there. He needed to draw their attention away, so he could cast aside one knight and then the other. He looked at Marion and knew he had to forget his pride and ask for the help he’d boasted he’d not need.
When he leaned close to her and slipped his hand around her neck to pull her near for a whisper, she started but did not make a sound. From inside the chapel came a roar, followed by a bellow.
“Angus,” Marion breathed, turning her head toward Iain’s so that her lips accidentally brushed across his. Her eyes flew open wide, and a strangled sound escaped her. The burning desire to claim her mouth swept through Iain and almost took his senses, but he fought the primal craving and instead leaned toward her ear.
“I need yer help,” he whispered.
“You need my help, you say?” she whispered back, suppressed laughter in her hushed tone.
“Aye, I am resigned. Now, will ye help me or nae? If ye dunnae, I’m going to have to kill more knights to get to Angus and the priest.”
“You leave me no option,” she grumbled.
“Aye,” he agreed with a grin. “I’m a Scot, Sassenach. There’s nae need to give ye an option because I ken what’s best, but I do speak the truth. Either ye can draw away the knights or I’ll have to charge through them with my sword.”
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