Highland Promise

by Alyson McLayne

  “I wish,” Darach growled.

  Lachlan laughed. “Full-cocked then, day and night.” He settled on the rock beside Darach, jostling him. “Handfast her and plant your seed, for Christ’s sake. Then put her to the back of your mind. ’Tis the smartest thing to do.”

  Darach sighed and looked at his foster brother. “What if this…feeling…ne’er goes away? What if it keeps growing and…and…”

  “Makes you happy? She’s a fine lass to love, Darach. You should be thankful.”

  He stared unseeing into the forest, trying not to picture the life that his brother’s words had conjured. A life with Caitlin, their children, laughing together, growing old together. It unsettled him. It was the life he thought he’d once have with Moire. But that was a life based on treachery and deceit.

  “I have to do what’s best for my clan,” he said, almost desperately.

  “Then marry her. They doona want to lose her, either.”

  Darach pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. It was true. The clan had taken to Caitlin like a bear to honey. They wouldn’t begrudge him marrying her, having bairns. Well, maybe some of the besotted young men, but they’d get over it. And the women seemed to want his happiness, as Caitlin did. What had she said? She never wanted him to be alone or unhappy.

  She’d been holding him tight when she’d said it, smelling sweet, like honeysuckle.

  The desire surged again and he shuddered. His eyes popped open to focus fiercely on anything but the images in his head. He saw a torn leaf beside a snapped twig. Two paces farther on, a rock was scuffed.

  It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at. He stiffened, instantly on alert. Lachlan followed his gaze.

  “One of yours?” he asked, as Darach crouched beside the trampled foliage.

  “Not bloody likely. Call Oslow. The tracks are only a few hours old. We might be able to catch whoever made them.”

  “And then?”

  Darach’s heart stilled. It felt like the threads of his life had just tightened into place. “I’ll go back and marry Caitlin.”

  * * *

  They’d been riding hard the last three hours to beat the approaching storm. Twilight was darkened by heavy, thick clouds, while an angry wind tore at the men’s plaids and twisted their hair into knots.

  Relief poured through Darach when the castle came into view. After five days of being away from Caitlin, his emotions were as turbulent as the coming storm, leaving him battered both inside and out. He wanted to marry her, bind her to him, wanted to give her a home and family, so she didn’t feel the need to find her mother’s family, yet at the same time, he was furious with himself for needing to do so. As much as he wanted her safe in his keep, in his bed, he also wanted to rage at her for driving him crazy, for making him weak. He was laird; he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable.

  He urged Loki faster. He would marry her and bed her tonight. He needed to be sharp to defeat Fraser, not muddled by worry and desire. She would be his for the taking, wherever and whenever he wanted, till he could bloody well think again.

  But he realized it wasn’t just sexual need that crippled him. He also needed to know she was happy, that she willingly gave him not only her body, but also her loyalty and love.

  Even though it shocked him to realize how much he wanted that, he could see it made sense. It was right for a wife to love her husband and look to him to satisfy her needs. Emotionally as well as physically.

  Women were sensitive creatures. They needed to love someone, and Darach was determined Caitlin would love him—for no other reason than it would make for a stronger marriage, which would make for a stronger clan. An undefeated clan.

  As he raced up the hill toward the castle, he couldn’t help but think of all the things he was going to do to her. How he would touch her and kiss her. Enter her body gently, so as not to cause her pain when he breached her maidenhead. Bring her to the brink of climax repeatedly before tipping her over the edge.

  He had never bedded a virgin before. The idea of it hardened him beneath his plaid at the same time it churned his gut with worry. What if he lost control and pushed too hard? Hurt her despite his good intentions?

  She was such a wee thing.

  He tried to banish his thoughts as he led the riders under the portcullis. The first few drops of rain had started to fall, and he was almost at the keep when something caught his attention. In the fading light he saw a hole in the ground between the keep and the barracks. Several holes. Dirt was piled up beside them, and with this rain, it would make a terrible mess of his yard. Who the hell would do such a thing? And why?

  Lachlan pulled up beside him. “I doona think you’ll want to wait that long to marry her.”

  Darach couldn’t wrench his gaze from the scarred earth. “What do you mean?”

  “’Tis a foundation, is it not? For a chapel?”

  All the anger, frustration, and uncertainty he’d felt since meeting Caitlin finally exploded.

  “Bloody hell. Caitlin!”

  The increasing wind and rain swallowed his bellow, but Darach knew where she was, and this time he would make her understand he was not to be trifled with. He swung off Loki and marched toward the keep, leaving his mount for one of the men to stable. His feet pounded up the stairs and he pushed open the heavy door with a bang. Lachlan and Oslow followed behind.

  The dogs ran toward him, barking ferociously at first, then jumping for joy upon seeing their master. Darach ignored them and headed for the tables that were grouped intimately for the evening meal. Ten of his warriors supped there, as well as Edina, Fergus, two serving girls, Father Lundie, and Caitlin.

  His angry glare found her immediately. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, then grew worried.

  “Darach, you’re back. It gladdens my heart to—”

  “There are holes in my bailey.” His voice crackled with barely repressed fury.

  Silence reigned, then the sound of benches pushing back and people scrambling out of the way echoed through the hall. Soon, only Caitlin, Darach, and a few others remained. Fergus clung to Caitlin’s skirts.

  “Hold off,” Lachlan said softly. “You’re scaring the lad.”

  Darach forced a stiff smile onto his face and crouched down to Fergus’s level. His voice trembled with the effort to keep it light. “Doona worry, lad. I’m just going to talk to Caitlin for a moment. She will tell me why she has torn up my bailey without my permission, and I will tell her why she’s ne’er to do it again. Same as I did with you last week when you knocked the stool into the fire.”

  “But, Darach, this wasn’t an accident. ’Twas to be…”

  He seared Caitlin with a glance and she stopped talking, eyes round in her pale face. He could see the pulse beating frantically in her throat. Good, he wanted her scared, to know she could not run roughshod over his wishes, no matter what she desired. He’d put up with it for too long.

  “Oslow, take Edina and Fergus to see the kittens.”

  “But—” Edina said, as Oslow hustled her and Fergus toward the stairs. She glanced back at Caitlin worriedly. Fergus gave her a commiserating look.

  Father Lundie, white-haired and stooped, came forward. “Now, Laird, the lass was only trying to help. ’Twas my fault. Me old bones are tired, and I was pleased at the idea of residing permanently with the MacKenzies. I’m afraid I encouraged her in her plans to build you a chapel.”

  “I’m verra familiar with Caitlin’s kind of helping, Father, and believe me, she didn’t need any encouragement. Allow Lachlan to find you a place to sleep in the barracks, please.” His words were clipped, his tone heavy.

  Lachlan put his hand on the priest’s arm, but the man pulled free and moved toward Darach. “She’s such a kind lass. Truly, she meant no harm. Your lady was only thinking of you.”

  “My lady?” Darach glanced at the priest
, then back to Caitlin. Her pale cheeks flushed a bright pink. It made her look even lovelier. His anger surged for noticing such a thing, and his brows pulled together. “I didn’t know we were betrothed.”

  He was vaguely aware of Lachlan harrumphing in the background, but he ignored him. It mattered not that he intended to marry the lass; Caitlin didn’t know that.

  “Please, Laird. I beseech you, doona hurt her.”

  The priest’s notion that he would abuse the lass added insult to injury, and he turned on Father Lundie, who looked ready to go down on his knees and beg. “I am not in the habit of harming women, Father. Lachlan will see you out!”

  Lachlan took a firm grip on the priest and dragged him toward the door. “Doona worry, Father. Darach would ne’er harm her. Come tomorrow this will all be set right.”

  They exited and Darach slowly turned back to Caitlin. She looked like a young doe caught in a snare. So vulnerable and lovely it made his heart ache. He hardened the traitorous organ and glowered at her.

  She edged toward the end of the table. He moved with her on the opposite side. About halfway, she appeared to realize she was trapped and stopped.

  He could see her mind working, trying to come up with an excuse. Finally, she pointed a finger at him. “You left without saying goodbye.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “That’s why you dug up my bailey?”

  “Nay…but you should have said goodbye. Maybe if you had, you would have told me not to do so.”

  “Why on earth would I tell you such a thing when no sane person would e’er consider doing it?”

  “Lots of people would consider it. Your clan wants a chapel, Darach, and a priest here permanently to see to their needs. You have been derelict in your duty.”

  His anger boiled hotter. “Doona speak to me of duty. I know my duty. And who are these people that think such things? The same ones who believe we are to marry?”

  She flushed again, this time looking guilty. “I ne’er told anyone we were betrothed. Maybe someone saw you kissing me and assumed you’d ne’er do such a thing without marriage in mind. Do you kiss all the women you doona intend to marry?”

  “Some of them, aye, and much more. Except they aren’t aggravating, troublemaking lasses who take it upon themselves to ruin my bailey!”

  Caitlin’s chin wobbled, and she tightened her lips. “I did it for you. I thought you would be pleased to have one less thing to worry about.”

  “I wasn’t worrying about it. But now, ’tis all I’ll be able to think about when the mud streaks o’er the grass and the holes fill with water.” He slammed his palm onto the table between them and she jumped. “I didn’t build a chapel because I didn’t want one. I doona want the priest here, sticking his nose in clan business. ’Twas preferable the way it was.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Nay, you didn’t. You ne’er think, Caitlin. That’s the problem. You just do whate’er you like with nary a thought to the consequences! What I doona understand is how you got the others to go along with it.”

  Caitlin twisted her hands in her arisaid. “Edina thought ’twas a good idea, and the other wives agreed. And Father Lundie said he would be grateful to stay.” She hiccupped and tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. ’Twas supposed to be a happy surprise for you.”

  He could see she meant it. Some of his anger eased, replaced by resignation. In all likelihood, she would create trouble like this their entire lives. He’d have to watch her like a hawk. Their children too, if they took after her. Did he really want to saddle himself with a lifetime of surprises?

  Aye. But tomorrow would be soon enough. He’d let her dwell on her folly tonight.

  “Well, I certainly was surprised.” He stepped back, still on the brink. “Go to bed, Caitlin. We’ll fix it tomorrow.”

  She hovered in front of him like she wanted to say something. Her hand lifted, her wet lips trembled. Lust rose sharply at the sight, and he turned away. She cried out; then he heard her run from the hall and up the stairs.

  Sighing in frustration, he stalked toward the small hearth at the other end of the hall. Caitlin’s image danced sinuously in the flames, fanning his desire, and he considered calling her and the priest back to get the wedding over with.

  No. He’d lasted this long. He could survive one more night.

  Eleven

  Caitlin fell onto the bed, her body racked by sobs. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest and her stomach twisted into knots. She’d caused so much turmoil—again—that Darach had turned away from her, couldn’t even look at her. She’d thought he would be pleased by her efforts, but she’d only made him despise her.

  A troublemaking lass. That’s what he’d called her—yelled it at her. Any hopes of being his wife, of having a proper home and family here, had withered under his fury.

  A fresh wave of agony washed over her, and she curled into a ball, her breath rasping in and out of her lungs. Turning her head into the pillow, she wept for everything she’d lost—a home, a clan, a family.

  Darach.

  Finally, she fell asleep. When she woke, her room was dark and cold, the shutters shaking in the storm. How long had it been? An hour? Two? She had no way of knowing and didn’t care. All she knew was she had to leave. Now. Never again would she look into Darach’s eyes and see his disdain for her. Or worse, his indifference.

  She had a plan; she could resurrect it—travel to Inverness and then cross the sea to France. She had the means to get there and she had a map. Staying longer only put the MacKenzies and herself in more danger from her uncle and Fraser. She’d never be out of harm’s way as long as they could still reach her.

  She would take Cloud and ride as far as possible tonight. Darach had made her a promise to keep her safe and he would only try to stop her if he knew. But in truth, it would be a relief for him—she caused trouble where’er she went.

  Her pack laid under the window, ready to go, as if deep down she’d always known it would be impossible to stay. She dressed warmly, a strange roaring in her ears.

  Opening her chamber door, she almost tripped over Fergus, who slept on the floor. He lay shivering, tucked up on his side. Caitlin crouched beside him and rubbed his hair. She would miss more than just Darach.

  After lifting the lad and lying him on the bed, she covered him with quilts. He would be well loved when she was gone and quickly forget he’d ever known her—as would everyone else, including Darach. Soon she would be naught but a fuzzy memory.

  Before she broke down again, she ran from the room and down the stairs. The hall was empty as she hurried toward the door. When she unbarred it, the wind pushed it open with a bang.

  Despite the rain, she raced into the night, barely able to see through the downpour. The storm tore at her clothes and tried to push her back.

  She could never go back.

  The dogs brushed past her, making her jump. “Hati, Skoll, go home.” She pointed toward the keep, but they dashed ahead, disappearing into the darkness.

  The stable doors loomed, and she heaved them open. Inside, the horses whickered nervously. She moved blindly toward Cloud’s stall and collapsed against his neck. He snuffled her cheek as if to tell her to pull herself together, she could make it on her own without Darach.

  After attaching the bridle and securing the pack across his back, she led the stallion into the storm. He protested at first, but it was as if he sensed her desperation, and he settled down, ears pressed flat against his head in the driving rain. She used a rail around the corral to help her onto his back and then urged him toward the portcullis, where a flickering torch burned.

  The gate was down.

  Her jaw sagged. Why was it closed? It had never been closed before. She had gone in and out of the castle on a daily basis and it had always been open. Of course, she’d never tried to leave in the middle of the night befo
re.

  “Milady?”

  She jumped. Some of the clan had started calling her by that title. Darach’s lady. She’d protested at first, but inside she’d been thrilled. Now she was being punished for her conceit. She couldn’t be a lady without a laird.

  “Why is the gate closed?” she asked, barely able to push the words past her aching throat.

  The lad gaped at her. He was around Gare’s age and easily flustered.

  “’Tis late. Someone could sneak in.”

  “Well, I need to leave. Now.”

  “But the storm—”

  “’Tis an emergency. Open it!” Her voice broke on the last words and the lad looked at her with dismay.

  “Is there trouble in the village? Does the laird know?”

  “He said I can leave. You must let me out. Please.”

  It was her desperate plea that did it. The young guard hurried to a pulley and slowly raised the portcullis. He looked back at the keep. “If you wait one moment, I’ll find someone to escort you to the village. ’Tis too dangerous for you on your own.”

  But Caitlin urged Cloud forward as soon as the gate was high enough. She raced from the castle, wind whipping her hair and clothes, rain pounding her body. It was both a punishment and a blessing. She welcomed it. It stopped her from thinking, stopped her from feeling the pain that crushed her heart.

  Clutching the reins, she leaned forward and grasped Cloud’s neck, letting him take the lead. He found the familiar path they’d taken to the water every day and followed the trail as it wound alongside the loch and into the forest. The loch turned into a river, and it raged beside them, hidden by the dark and the trees.

  In the distance, she heard a dog bark, but she was too numb from cold and grief to do anything but pray Hati and Skoll were safe.

  Thunder rumbled overhead, and Cloud flinched, almost dislodging her. She sat up and tried to soothe him, for the first time comprehending the precariousness of her situation. She looked over her shoulder, wondering if she should return and take shelter in the village. Surely it wasn’t too far away—she could just follow the trail back.