I Left My Heart in Scotland

by Samantha Holt

  "Ach, I told ye—”

  "Yer going after her then." She bit her lip.

  "Aye."

  "Be careful, Morgann. I dinnae trust her."

  "Nor do I. Which is why I've got to make sure she's caught."

  "I fear for ye."

  Heart warmed by her concern, Morgann closed the gap between them and rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms. "There's no need for ye to worry, lass. She's no match for me. I'll be back in yer bed before long."

  "Ye promise?"

  "Aye, I promise. And soon enough I'll have ye for my wife too."

  Her beautiful eyes lit with delight. "In truth?"

  "Aye, of course. Ye didnae think I'd be letting ye escape me this time, did ye?"

  She came up onto her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his lip. "Just be sure to come back to me, Morgann."

  "I will. I swear it. I'll no' be parted from ye again."

  Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her passionately, sending wave of longing through him again. Would he ever get enough of her? As he pulled away and observed the glazed look of lust in her eyes he decided he probably wouldn't. He released her, ran both hands through his hair and slid his sword through his belt.

  "Stay here until I come for ye. No getting into trouble, ye hear?"

  Alana nodded as she wrapped her arms around her waist. So vulnerable, so beautiful. He could hardly wait to be back and holding her in his arms once more.

  "I love ye," she murmured.

  "I love ye too."

  He strode outside and mounted his steed, the thrill of the hunt beginning to course through him. With one last nod to Alana, he set his gaze on the horizon and dug his heels into the mount’s side. He grinned. Today was proving to be a fine day indeed.

  ***

  Alana pressed a finger to her lips and released a small smile. A faint niggle of concern played at the back of her mind but the gentle ache of her body quickly dampened it. She gave a giggle and strolled back into the chamber, dropped the sheets and studied the marks Morgann had left on her.

  Marking her as his.

  Ach, what a lovesick fool she was. But she couldn’t regret a thing. She just had to persuade her father to say ‘aye’ to their marriage. He wouldn’t deny her surely? For allhis faults, he still loved her and always wanted the best for her. And he wasn’t that angry, power hungry man anymore. He’d just be happy for her to be looked after.

  She hoped.

  She slipped into her chemise and tied the ribbon at the neck while remembering how Morgann had pushed it off her. The scent of him still lingered on her skin. She should wash but she liked the thought of smelling of him.

  As she picked up her comb, a knock sounded. Lip tucked between her teeth, she placed the comb down. Should she answer it? What if it was something to do with Margot? A warning perhaps. Unease twisted her stomach. If trouble was brewing then she’d have to go after Morgann and warn him.

  Snatching her plaid, she threw it over her shoulders and stalked to the door. As she inched it open, something pushed it swiftly back, the heavy wood knocking her to the floor. Dazed, Alana tried to push herself up but a small, leather shoe pressed onto her chest.

  “Oh dear,” a familiar voice said as Alana followed the leg up.

  Light streamed in around the intruder blocking out her features but she knew who it was. She felt the blood leave her face, palms growing sticky. Before she could put up a fight, something swung down at her. Alana raised an arm but was too late. Pain registered, sharp and agonising. She sank gratefully into the darkness crowding her mind.

  ***

  She woke still on the floor, prickly rushes digging into her cheek, her tongue dry and head pounding. Ach, she'd be lucky to have any sense left the amount of times she'd hit her head recently. Except she hadn't hit her head.Margot had. Alana threw a look around the hall and spied her in one corner, brushing the rushes into a pile by the door. Alana frowned and winced as she fought to move. Her hands were bound behind her back, ropes chafing her skin, her feet tied together. She pushed out the fabric tied tightly around her mouth with her tongue, finally loosening it enough so that it slipped down her chin.

  Margot lifted her head at the sound of rustling and stepped over, tilting her head to study Alana. "Yer awake then." She grinned. "Honestly, I cannae believe Morgann fell for that. I thought him a smart man, but obviously not."

  "What do ye want, Margot?" Alana swallowed, tried to erase the dryness in her throat.

  "Well, is that no’ obvious? I want ye dead. Ye and Morgann."

  The delight in the woman's voice, the look in her cold grey eyes made Alana shudder. This was what Morgann had always seen and what Alana always sensed. To see the evil in Margot so close to the surface was truly terrifying.

  Alana twisted her wrists in the hopes of loosening the knots. "Why? Why are ye doing this? Just let me go and we'll forget this happened. I'll persuade Morgann to forgive ye."

  Margot crouched, letting loose a light laugh. "Morgann will never forgive me. He knows I tried to poison ye. He's always known about me. How ye survived, I dinnae know, but I dinnae intend to let it happen again."

  Licking her lips, Alana wriggled again, mind racing. She couldn’t be sure why she was still alive but the malicious glint in Margot’s eyes told her enough. She had to get free. Had to find Morgann and warn him.

  She stiffened as Margot trailed a fingernail over her cheek, a twisted smile on her lips. “I still cannae figure out why he fell for ye and not me. Yer pretty enough but… well, Morgann’s the first man I’ve no’ been able to seduce. Even yer father was easy. But ‘tis no matter. Morgann will regret not falling into bed with me soon enough.”

  Teeth gritted, Alana sucked in air through her nostrils. “He’ll regret naught, only that he didnae catch ye sooner. Ye’ll not harm Morgann.”

  Margot’s smile expanded. “We’ll see.”

  The promise behind the words made sent an icy chill through Alana’s veins. Whatever Margot had planned, she suspected she’d be used as some kind of trap. It was the only reason for her to be still alive. Mayhap Margot noted the ashen colour of her skin as the woman's smile took on a malicious hint. "Poor Alana. None of this is yer fault, angel. Ye just happened to get caught up in a fight for power and I cannae have ye in the way. I've devoted too much time to this, waited too long."

  Margot pushed to standing and lifted a pot from the table. She carried it over to the pile of rushes and poured the contents over them. Alana sniffed. Oil. Bile scorched her throat. Margot planned to burn the keep. With her in it probably. She fought to sit up, her arms aching as she forced herself upright.

  "Pray, Margot, dinnae do this." Alana tried to keep her voice strong, only the faintest hint of her fear invading it.

  "I do, Alana. Morgann and ye are the only ones standing between me and everything I've ever wanted. Once I marry yer father, I'll bring my land to the marriage contract and the rest of the MacRaes will have to bow to our power."

  "My da will never marry ye after this!"

  "Aye, he will. Just as we planned. Yer death will be some tragic accident." Margot released a dramatic sigh. "And Morgann's father will never recover from his son's death. I fear the heartbreak will mean the end for him."

  "Ye'll not succeed." Alana strained against her bonds. She couldn't let Morgann walk into this, she just couldn't. "Morgann will defeat ye easily. Yer greed as got the better of ye. Just leave while ye can."

  Pray, pray leave. The thought of burning to death was bad enough but knowing Morgann was going to walk into a trap near killed her. Her heart hurt. But Morgann was strong and clever. She just prayed Margot would not succeed with whatever she had planned for him.

  "Ye dinnae understand, do ye? 'Tis well enough for ye, the pampered daughter of a laird. Ye've got everything. Power, family, love. I have naught."

  "Ye have family. The MacRaes took ye in. Ye have love!"

  "Ach, from an aged man who loves me for naught more than my body and lo
oks."

  "My father willnae love ye. He would never love another after my mother."

  Margot sniffed as she stepped closer, the oil carrier swinging from one hand. "I care not now." She stopped in front of Alana and tilted the pot. Alana squealed and scrabbled away as sticky oil trickled over her chemise. Margot laughed. "Funny, Morgann wanted to burn me as a witch but now I'll be burning the both of ye. Fitting, dinnae ye think? My mother was accused of being a witch ye know? Forced out of society. We lived on naught. My mother died a lonely, horrible death. So ye see, Alana, ye'll never understand."

  With a gulp, Alana studied the woman as wild delight grew visible in her eyes. "I-I am sorry for what happened to ye," she whispered. "But none of this will bring back yer mother."

  Margot laughed. "Nay, nay it won't. But I'll still enjoy it nonetheless."

  The woman's excitement sent a rush of anger through her. She'd already tried to kill her once and now she wanted to kill Morgann too. She wouldn't let herself be used to trap him. Jaw set, Alana shook her head. "Yer a coward, Margot.Poison, fires. Ye cannae even bring yerself to kill me." Eyes narrow, Margot backhanded her, hitting her to the floor. Her cheek burned but Alana couldn't prevent the smug smile that crept across her face. "Coward," she repeated quietly.

  Spinning, Margot snatched an eating knife from the table and held it out. The tip wavered as it danced in front of Alana. Unable to keep her gaze from the blade, Alana gulped. Mayhap that wasn't such a good idea.

  Chapter Ten

  That familiar chill raced up Morgann's spine as something clenched at his heart. That sensation that seemed to link him to Alana. The one that told him she was in trouble. He squeezed the reins. He saw the abandoned cottage ahead, the roof now a skeleton of wooden beams, its walls crumbling. Sat in the middle of the valley on the crest of a hill, it was exposed to the elements. The tugging on his heart grew urgent, almost painful, making his stomach churn. Should he continue on or turn back?

  He couldn't see how Alana would be in trouble unless she'd done something foolish again. Mayhap she had made another rash attempt at an escape. He shook his head. Nay, a more content lass he'd never seen. There was no way she'd leave him now. Not after she'd declared her love for him.

  The warm sensation as he recalled her sweet words failed to remove the unease from his body and he urged Caraid on. He just had to check the cottage. Just had to be sure Margot wasn't hiding there. It was said the hut once belonged to a witch. He snorted. What could be more fitting? Anyway, how much trouble could Alana really get into in the Old Castle?

  Morgann pulled the horse to a stop and leaped from the saddle. The wooden door of the cottage still stood and he shoved it open, leaving it swinging awkwardly on one hinge.

  Damnation. Empty.

  Either Margot had already left or he'd been sent on a fool’s errand.

  "Hell's teeth!"

  Racing back to his mare, he mounted and forced her into a gallop. Idiot. Ye've been bloody tricked. The leather reins grew slick in his hands as he pushed Caraid faster. He'd left Alana alone and ignored his gut. Could there be any greater fool? He only prayed he reached her in time. He'd bet all his land Margot was with her. Hopefully Alana would put up a fight. Hopefully she wasn't dead already.

  His heart felt like it had shrivelled at the thought. Instead of succumbing to despair, he allowed the boiling heat of anger to consume him. If she'd harmed her, by God...

  Besides he was sure he'd know if Alana was dead. That strange connection they had would have told him, just like when the poison claimed her life.

  The Old Castle came into view, the morning sun glinting over the top and forcing him to squint. Instead of seeming like a haven, the dark stone sent a dart of dread skittering through him. He studied the landscape but saw no sign of a horse. The muscles in his arms bunched. That didn't mean anything. Margot hadn't taken any mounts from Glencolum so she was likely on foot. He dismounted outside the crumbled walls and hooked Caraid’s reins over a jutting piece of stone. He crouched low, easing his way around the walls until he came to the steps. Stealing another glance around, he crept up the steps and sucked in a breath as he drew his sword. A silent entry was impossible with the ancient oak door so he shoved it open quickly, blade out in front. His knees almost buckled as he spied Alana. Prone on the floor, hands and feet secured with rope, she released a muffled squeal through the material tied across her mouth as she spotted him. One cheek was red, her chemise filthy and tears filled her eyes.

  Morgann barely noticed when Margot sprung from the shadows, a dagger held in one hand and a flaming torch in the other. He sniffed, the smell of oil strong in the air. A deep, agonising sickness pervaded through him as Margot grinned, torch held aloft.

  "At last," she said. "We've been waiting quite some time, haven't we, Alana? I thought mayhap ye'd abandoned the woman ye love. A change of heart perhaps.But obviously not. Now if ye just lay down yer sword, we can get this over and done with."

  He flexed his hand on the hilt. "Aye, ye come over here and I'll make it quick," he snarled.

  "I wouldnae or she," she tilted her head toward Alana, "will go up in flames." She waved the torch around and Morgann's heart skipped as fire dripped and fizzled out on the wooden floor, too close to Alana's skirt for his liking.

  "Nay!" He breathed deeply through his nostrils and eased the sword to the ground.

  Alana released a muffled sound of protest but he ignored her, keeping his wary gaze on Margot.

  "I thank ye, Morgann," she purred as she edged around him. "Now step over there." She motioned to the other side of the room with the dagger.

  Morganncircled round, gaze darting between Alana and the flame. The heavy thump of his heart smacked against his ribs as the space between him and Alana increased. He longed to run to her, to drag her away from his vile stepmother but the fire dancing dangerously near to her thin shift prevented him. If he wasn’t mistaken, oil stained the linen.

  By God, Margot was out of her wits. Even though he’d known for a long time just how black her heart was, he could barely comprehend her wanting to burn Alana. The woman had always kept her distance from her misdeeds but it seemed she was ready to end it all by her own hand.

  He swallowed heavily as his back bumped into the wall. This time she held the lass he loved hostage. A bitter tang filled his mouth. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Alana was to die in his arms of old age, preferably together.

  Margot pressed the dagger onto the table and reached for Alana, keeping a close eye on him and Morgann tensed his body, ready to snatch Alana from her at any moment.

  “I thank ye, Morgann, for making this so easy on me. A few sweet words whispered in an ear and ‘twas simple to find out where ye were. And then ye even abandoned poor Alana here to fend for herself.”

  Hauling Alana to her feet, Margot kept the torch dangerously close, the threat of the flame remaining as she crept toward the door. With her feet bound, Alana had to shuffle to stay upright while keeping herself from falling into the burning torch.

  Alana’s eyes were wide, fearful, and they clutched at his heart as he tried to communicate a secret promise to her. One that said he’d never let her come to harm, that he’d always protect her, that he’d die before letting her get hurt. He only hoped she understood how vital it was to him that she lived. For the first time in a long time, nothing else mattered. His lands, his family, his father… they were all inconsequential as long as Alana survived.

  “Dinnae move,” Margot warned as his feet twitched with the desire to lunge for his stepmother and wring her neck. “I’ll put a torch to her, just ye see.”

  Margot inched open the door with her foot and pressed through the gap. Before her head disappeared behind the oak, she shoved Alana forward and flung the torch onto the rushes piled in front of the entrance. The door slammed shut as Alana sprawled to the floor and a blaze raced across the straw. Morgann jumped into action, snatching Alana away from the increasing flames and dragging her to her fe
et.

  Assured she wouldn’t fall over, he stomped on the growing blaze but they already consumed the oil soaked floorboards in a crackling, spitting mass of orange. He threw a desperate glance at Alana as the fire crawled up the door and blocked their exit.

  The room filled with smoke. If the fire ate through the floor before they choked to death, they’d fall through to the basement and probably be buried alive. He snatched the abandoned knife and pushed Alana further back from the inferno. Her gaze remained on him, fearful, tear-laden as he sliced through her bonds, before kneeling and cutting through the ones around her legs. When he came to standing, he carefully untied the rag in her mouth. She remained quiet as the wooden floor popped and hissed. Each noise made her jump.

  The agony tearing at his chest made his hands shake as he threw aside the gag and rubbed at the red marks it had left. Grease covered her shift and a bruise bloomed on one cheek. Her hair was mussed and dark circles rimmed her eyes.He swiped his thumb under her chin and gave her a half-smile. Morgann had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “Ye shouldnae have come,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him.

  Closing his arms about her, he tucked Alana against him. He found himself surprisingly calm. He just needed to find a way for Alana to get out and all would be well. Everything moved slowly as the smoke swirled around them. The blaze completely covered the front door now and worked its way around the hall. The table would catch alight at any moment so he shifted Alana, arms still tightly around her, to the back chamber. There were no rear doors, no ramparts to escape to. This was a building intended as a home, not a fortress but the windows… He studied one. Aye, that could work.

  “I wouldnae leave ye, mo chridhe, but ye have to leave me.”

  Her brow creased. “What is yer meaning?”

  “The window.” He nodded toward it. “‘Tis wide enough for ye. I’ll drop ye down and ye shouldnae hurt yerself. We’re not that far up.”