by Ruth Langan
That thought pleased him. He wanted everyone to know that he loved Meredith MacAlpin. He wanted his friends to rejoice with him. And as soon as the work on the great hall was completed, they would join him in a feast to celebrate his marriage to the beautiful Meredith.
He was also pleased by the news Alston had brought this day. If Gareth MacKenzie believed that Meredith was dead, she would be safe from any further attempts on her life. At least, he reasoned, until such time as she proved to the Lowlanders that she was indeed alive. It would take time for Gareth to travel to Holyroodhouse and seek an audience with the queen. By that time Brice and Meredith would be wed. Together they would lead his men to the Lowlands to secure Meredith’s birthright. By the sheer numbers of MacAlpin and Campbell soldiers, they would thwart any further attempt by Gareth MacKenzie to take by force what was not his.
Peace. Love. Brice had never dared hope that either would be experienced in his lifetime. And now both were within his grasp.
He gave Mistress Snow his request for a very special meal, then made his way to his chambers. Tonight, if the time proved right, he would reveal his plans to her. And he would ask her hand in marriage.
Meredith looked up from the wardrobe. On her cheeks were two bright spots of color. When she saw him she gave a little cry and ran to his arms.
The kiss she gave him sent his pulse rate soaring.
“Firebrand,” he murmured against her lips. “Have you missed me so much?”
“Aye.”
He marveled at the way she clung to him, as if they had been apart for days instead of mere hours.
Leading him to a long covered bench pulled up in front of the fire, she curled up beside him, still clinging to him as if to a lifeline.
“Do you know how much I love you?”
“Not nearly as much as I love you, my lady. I would die for you,” he murmured against her temple.
Instantly she touched a finger to his lips to silence him. “Never say that again. I do not wish you dead, my lord. Not even for me.”
“But what good would it do to live if you were not here to live with me?”
“You are important to your people,” she said, pulling away slightly. “So many people depend upon you. You have a duty to be here for them.”
“And so I shall, little firebrand.” He pulled her into his arms and rained kisses across her forehead. “We shall both be here for them.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And we will spend our days having wee bairns and taking them for picnics in the forest.” He pressed a kiss to her lips.
His words tormented her. She allowed herself to savor the kiss for long moments before whispering, “Such a lovely dream, my lord.”
“It is no dream. We shall live it. We shall have it all.”
“Oh, Brice. If only it could be.” With tears burning her eyes she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him, burying her face against his throat.
“Trust me,” he murmured against her temple. “There is so much I want to tell you. So much I want to share with you.”
“Hush, my lord.” She blinked away the tears and drew his face down for her kiss. “Not now. I cannot bear to hear mere words. Show me.”
With a tenderness he had never known before, he lifted her in his arms and set her on the fur throw spread before the fire.
As he reached for the buttons of her gown, she caught his hand and stared up into his eyes.
“I want you to know this,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “No matter what happens, I love you, Brice Campbell. For all time. And wherever I am, you are there with me.”
He was moved, as much by the intensity of her words as the words themselves. Though this serious little woman often made him laugh, there was now no hint of laughter in his words.
“And I love you, little one. I will love you for a lifetime and beyond.”
Bathed in the glow of the fire, they lost themselves in the wonder of their love. Brice marveled at the depth of her passion. Never before had she shown her love so intensely. Never had their love burned brighter, or ignited such fire between them.
Meredith looked down at the sleeping form of her love. It took all her willpower to keep from crying. She must not weep. She must be strong, not only for Brice, but for her sisters who needed her.
“Please understand,” she whispered as she scrawled a message on a parchment scroll and set it on a table near the bed.
From his wardrobe she withdrew the things she had prepared earlier. Shedding her delicately embroidered night shift, she pulled on a pair of Brice’s breeches, tucking them into tall boots. Over the saffron shirt, a symbol of the Highlander, and dark tunic, she secured a heavy cape. At her waist dangled a sword. Tucked into her waistband was a small, sharp dirk. She tucked her hair beneath a plumed hat and draped a fur throw over her arm. In a small pouch she had stuffed the remains of their supper.
She paused beside Brice’s bed and cast a last loving glance at him as he slept. He had whispered love words to her all the while they had savored Mistress Snow’s wonderful meal. And while they had sipped wine, he had smiled and hinted that he had important plans to share with her. Plans that would change both their lives.
How she loved him. How she would miss him in the days and weeks to come.
But her home beckoned her. Her clan needed her. She had no choice.
In the doorway to the sitting chamber she paused and peered through the dim light. No one stirred. Satisfied, she closed the door and strode quickly down the stairs.
She avoided the courtyard, choosing instead to leave by a rear door in the scullery. Crossing around to the stables, she chose a great black stallion. Ignoring the sidesaddles, she tossed a man’s saddle over the animal’s back and rolled and tied the fur behind it.
Because she knew Brice’s men patrolled the paths leading to the castle, she led the horse through brambles and dense undergrowth. When she was certain she was far enough away to ride undetected, she pulled herself into the saddle and spurred her mount on. By the time Brice awoke and alerted his men to what she had done, she promised herself, she would be miles away.
Brice drifted on a misty cloud, half awake, half asleep.
What a beautiful night he and Meredith had shared. What a wonderful surprise she was. That fiery, innocent lass he had brought to Kinloch House was a constant delight. Each time he peeled away a layer he discovered an even more exciting creature beneath.
The child in her brought out all his fierce protective instincts. The imp in her made him laugh. The woman in her made him ache.
He rolled to his side and reached for her. He had been too distracted last night by her beauty, by her almost desperate lovemaking, to share his plans with her. Today he would officially ask for her hand in marriage. And then, when she accepted, he would tell her of his plans for their future.
The rest of the bed was empty.
From beneath half-closed lids he noted that the sun was already streaming through the windows. Why did she have to be up and about when he was feeling lazy, and more than a little eager to hold her, to love her as he had last night?
With a sigh he moved to her side of the bed and breathed in her fragrance. Within minutes she would return, mayhaps with a tray laden with Mistress Snow’s warm biscuits. They would have a lazy morning of lovemaking, and then he would take her into his confidence.
The bed was cold where she had lain.
Suddenly alarmed, Brice sat up and looked around. The fire had long ago burned to ashes. No one had tended it. Few remains of their supper lay on a tray near the fireplace.
Meredith’s night shift lay on the floor. In the open wardrobe her gowns could be seen, hanging neatly on pegs beside his tunics. None of the gowns appeared to be missing.
Crossing the room Brice lifted her night shift. It was unlike Meredith to leave it there. Draping it over his arm he turned and spotted the scroll. In quick strides he walked to the small table and read the message.
Dearest Brice, I go to
my sisters who need me. You must not follow. Gareth thinks you dead. Your secret is safe with me. Know always that I love you. M.
A cry of anguish was torn from Brice’s lips. Slumping on the edge of the bed he buried his face in Meredith’s night shift. It still bore her scent. Inhaling deeply he sat there for long minutes filling himself with her.
Then he stood and tossed the garment aside. There was no time to waste. She was somewhere deep in the Highland forests. There were many dangers out there. Not all of them wild animals.
He must find her before the wrong people did. Or she would be lost to him forever.
Chapter Sixteen
It had been raining steadily for hours. The raindrops filtered through the leaves of the trees, drenching horse and rider as they plodded through the forest.
Across a ridge of the mountain a mist rose up, eerie, ghostlike. Almost hidden below the mist Meredith recognized a lake they had crossed on her journey to Brice’s fortress. At least she was heading in the right direction, she consoled herself. But if the weather continued to work against her, the journey would take twice as long as she had anticipated.
On a high rocky crag she brought her mount to a halt and turned to study the trail she had just taken. There was no sign that anyone was following her. Still, she felt a tingling sensation at the back of her neck, as though someone was watching. Brice? Though the day was shrouded in darkness, she guessed that Brice would have awakened less than an hour ago. It would be impossible for him to have come this far in so short a time. Also, she had implored him in her note to stay where he was safe. She prayed that he would listen to the voice of reason and remain in the safety of his Highland home.
If Brice was watching, he would show himself. She felt a tremor of fear and looked over her shoulder. If she was truly being watched, it was not Brice, but a stranger. The thought brought a quick, jolting rush of fear in the pit of her stomach.
She drew the hood of the cloak over her head and tried to shake off the feeling of gloom. She was merely lonely, she consoled herself. She had never dreamed she would feel so lonely. All her life, growing up with loving parents, she and her sisters had known only love and security. And hard work. Growing up in a clan of warriors along the Border, she had been groomed in the art of battle. She knew what it was to take up a sword at a moment’s notice when the English soldiers attacked.
Her gentle mother had encouraged all her daughters in the art of nurturing their people. And when they engaged in battle, the entire MacAlpin clan was taken into the manor house for safekeeping until the battle was over. The families, along with their animals, stayed within the compound until it was safe to return to their outlying homes. Always they had stood together, a proud, strong family.
Now, with her parents gone and her sisters’ lives in grave peril, the burden of responsibility lay with her alone. Though she felt equal to the task, she sorely missed her parents’ quiet strength.
“If only Brice could share this burden with me.” To stave off loneliness she talked to her horse.
Why was she torturing herself with such thoughts? Venting her frustration, she nudged her mount with more energy than necessary, sensing its reluctance to plod onward through the mist. But her mind would not give her any rest.
“How did it come to pass that one Highland warrior could mean so much to me? When did I stop thinking only of myself and begin thinking of the two of us as one? When did I begin to put his well-being ahead of my own?”
The horse whinnied in response. Despite her discomfort she smiled.
“It had happened long before we came together in love,” she whispered.
During her earliest days of captivity she had discovered that the man who held her hostage was not the man she had thought him to be. The cruel barbarian was a myth, created by legend and the acts of those who would besmirch his good name.
Rain pelted her face and ran in little rivers from her eyelashes to her cheeks. She blinked as she thought of her own father, known throughout Scotland as a fair and honorable man. That thought brought a sense of pride to her. What if someone had blamed him for the acts of another, sullying his good name? Her hand tightened on the cold leather reins. She would search to the ends of the earth for those responsible, and she would give her life if necessary to clear her father’s name.
Though she detested war, she realized that Brice had that same right. Gareth MacKenzie must be made to recant his lies and restore Brice’s good name to him. Even if it took a war to force his hand. The thought caused her to tremble.
As horse and rider plunged deeper into the forest the tingling began anew. Someone—or something—was watching her. Although the trail was treacherous she dug in her heels and urged her horse into a trot. As the rain-shrouded branches closed in around her she pushed away all thoughts of fear. She was being foolish. How could anyone find her in this dense forest?
Like any true warrior, Brice often had to face down his fears. He had always known that he had as much chance to survive as his opponent.
This time it was different. It was not his life hanging in the balance, but Meredith’s. The thought left him terrified.
His first moments of panic had been replaced with rage. Wild, seething rage. He tore through the castle shouting orders at Angus and the others, sending all the inhabitants of Kinloch House and the surrounding forest into a frenzy of activity.
Within an hour the men had prepared their battle gear and were saddling their horses in the courtyard. Mistress Snow and the servants had prepared enough food to allow them to ride without stopping for several days. After that the men should be safely back in the Highlands. If not, they would be forced to hunt for their food.
“What is our plan?” Angus worked feverishly beside Brice, saddling his mount.
“I have none.”
“No plan?” Angus turned to study his friend. Always Brice Campbell had been the cool warrior, prepared for any event during battle. But this was a new Brice, a Brice Campbell paralyzed by love.
Brice’s first wild, frenzied feelings were now carefully banked. But beneath the icy calm Angus sensed a slow, simmering rage. A rage that still clouded his thinking. The man was spoiling for a fight. Woe to any enemy who crossed his path this day.
“We ride until we find Meredith.” Brice pulled himself into the saddle and glanced around at the dozen or so men who followed suit. They were skilled warriors who had ridden at his side in countless battles. He could count on them to come through for him. And this time, more than ever, he would depend on them. “We will ride on to the Borders and rescue Meredith MacAlpin’s sisters from MacKenzie’s clutches. And we will bring them all back to the Highlands, where they will remain safe.”
“That sounds simple enough,” Alston shouted, fighting to subdue a headstrong mount.
“Aye.”
As Brice led the way into the forest, his mind was awhirl. So simple that it must be flawed. But at the moment he could think of nothing except Meredith. Sweet, beautiful Meredith. Would that God keep his woman safe until she was back in his arms.
Hunched inside the warm woolen cloak, Meredith searched for a familiar landmark. Though she possessed a keen sense of direction, she had ridden this trail only once. And then much of it had been traversed in the dark.
For hours the feeling persisted that she was being followed. But though Meredith stopped often and scanned the surrounding woods, she saw no trace of another human. Had not her mother often accused her of having a vivid imagination? Though at the time it had seemed a blessing, she now realized it was a curse. She was conjuring up dangers where there were none.
From a nearby wood a bird called, its shrill tone piercing the silence. Her hand flew to the dirk at her waist and she peered about, prepared to do battle. When the bird lifted off from the tree and soared heavenward, Meredith wiped her damp hands on her breeches and felt a wild rush of relief.
Moments later she heard the rustle of leaves as a deer, frightened by her appearance, darted b
ehind a boulder. For long minutes her heart pounded in her chest. She swallowed and, calling herself a timid fool, turned her mount toward a ridge of rock to the east.
The rain had finally stopped, although the ground remained moist and spongy. Meredith allowed her mount to pick its path along the trail, trusting the animal’s instincts more than her own. Several times the horse stumbled, but each time managed to regain its footing within seconds.
At last they reached the top of the ridge. Stiff from her long hours in the saddle, Meredith slid to the ground. Grasping the animal’s reins she led the stallion to the edge of the ravine and peered below. At the sight, she caught her breath.
The spires of trees gently lifted their limbs to the heavens as if in prayer. But hidden beneath their soft thick canopy, she knew, the mountainous trail below her was a maze of winding rivers and steep mountain crags.
There would be no rest if she were to reach flat land by nightfall. The trail below her was every bit as treacherous as the one she had already traveled.
For a moment she pressed her hands to her back to ease her cramped muscles. Then, tossing the reins over the horse’s head, she wearily prepared to pull herself back into the saddle.
A strong, muscled arm closed around her throat, pulling her off balance. As she was about to scream a hand closed over her mouth, cutting off her words.
A voice she recognized sent a ripple of terror through her veins. The voice, unmistakably Holden Mackay’s, trembled with the excitement of the hunt.
“So, my lady. How convenient of you to leave the safety of the Campbell’s bed and come to me. It seems we will have time after all to finish what we started at Kinloch House.”
How could she have forgotten this most mortal of all enemies? She cursed herself for her carelessness. The concern for her sisters had erased all reasonable thought.
She pried at his offending hands but could not budge them. With a laugh he tightened his grip on her throat until dark spots danced before her eyes.