by Nora Roberts
“Lachlan.” She was as breathless as though she’d been running across a Highland meadow into the arms of her lover. “You know what this will lead to.”
“Aye.” He gave her a heart-stopping grin. “I’m counting on it.”
He drew her down and kissed her again. And then, as they rolled over and over in the cool grass, they showed each other, in the only way they could, all the things that were locked in their hearts.
Arianna watched as Lachlan stepped out of the loch and picked up the length of plaid from the low-hanging branches. She’d never known a man’s body could be so beautiful. Broad of shoulder and narrow of waist. Tall and slender, with muscles that rippled at every movement. He tossed back his dark hair, like a great shaggy hound, sending a spray of water dancing around him. Then he wound the plaid around his waist and threw it over one shoulder before securing his boots.
He picked up his sword, crossed to her, and caught her hands. “Can I not change your mind?”
“Nay.” She forced a smile to her lips. “We must not return to camp together. It’s better this way. I’ll bathe and dress, and return shortly.” She lifted herself on tiptoe to brush her lips over his. “Now go, love.”
He was so staggered by her kiss he wondered if his legs would carry him. He turned away, then returned to gather her roughly against him and kiss her with such fervor that both their hearts were hammering. “Know always that I love you, Arianna.”
“And I love you, Lachlan.” She bit down hard to keep her lips from quivering as he strode away.
This time he refused to turn back, knowing if he did, he would never be able to leave her.
By the time he returned to camp, his arms were laden with logs he’d collected in the forest. He deposited them on the hot coals, wiping his hands on his plaid. Then he moved around the fire, waking his men.
They were breaking their fast when Arianna stepped into the clearing, head high, features composed. She was wearing her best gown, of emerald velvet, with a softly rounded neckline and a long skirt that brushed the tops of her kid boots. The sleeves were tapered and dusted with little points of lace that fell over the backs of her hands.
As she made her way to the wagon, she could feel Lachlan watching. She kept her gaze averted and prayed there would be no betraying blush on her cheeks.
“Ah, child.” Nola paused in the act of folding the furs that had cushioned her through the night and gave a nod of approval. “I see ye took my advice and dressed for the laird.”
“Aye, Nola.”
The woman tossed the fur into the back of the wagon. “I’ll fetch ye some food.”
“Nay.” Arianna touched a hand to her stomach, to still the flutter of nerves. “I’ve no appetite this morrow, Nola.”
“I understand.” Her nursemaid glanced around at the sudden flurry of activity, as the fire was banked and the warriors began pulling themselves into the saddle.
She caught the young woman’s hand. Squeezed. “It’s glad I am that ye had yer night of solitude, child. Ye seem calmer this morrow. And more ready to face yer future.”
“Aye, Nola.” Arianna gave a deep sigh and turned as Pembroke approached with her horse.
Across the clearing she caught sight of Lachlan as he shouted orders to his men. For a moment her smile slipped, and she wondered if she had the strength to see this thing through. Then she was being helped into the saddle, and as their company moved out under the canopy of forest, she emptied her mind of all thoughts save one. This day, the man she loved would deliver her into the hands of his uncle, Duncan MacLean, the laird of lairds. Before this day was over, she would be wed. And her heart, so filled with love for the one, would be pledged for all time to the other.
By midday they could make out the turreted fortress in the distance.
As they drew near, Arianna’s throat was so constricted she could barely swallow. Fear and dread lay heavy on her heart.
On a far meadow she could just make out snug cottages and huts, and hillsides dotted with sheep. The pretty picture was in sharp contrast to what she’d been expecting. After all, these Highlanders were a warlike people. She had expected that their lives would be as harsh and unforgiving as this primitive countryside they called home.
Their party entered a paved courtyard, the horses and wagon clattering across the stones before coming to a halt. Almost at once a door was thrown open, and a servant came rushing toward Lachlan as he slid from the saddle.
“Oh, praise heaven you’ve returned.”
While the others watched, he caught the woman’s hands. “What is it, Brinna?”
“We were invaded. Our laird called up what men were left in the village, and managed to rout the barbarians, but he was…” Her composure slipped, and she began weeping softly. “He was gravely wounded in the battle.”
Lachlan was already striding across the courtyard and through the open doorway. Over his shoulder he commanded, “See to the laird’s guests, Brinna. I must go to my uncle.”
While their company disbanded, each warrior leaving for his own home to be reunited with family, Arianna and her nursemaid were led through the keep to a suite of rooms on an upper floor.
Everywhere she looked, Arianna was surprised by the luxury of the place. Tapestries lined the walls, telling of the history of the MacLean clan and their many glorious deeds on the field of battle. Chandeliers blazed with hundreds of candles, and fires roared on every hearth to chase the chill from the rooms.
Their own suite consisted of a large sitting chamber, with sleeping chambers on either side of it. Chaises were pulled near the fire, and fur throws covered the wooden floor and softened the walls.
In the sitting room a serving wench bowed before offering them goblets of wine and cold meat and cheese, as well as a plate of biscuits and jam.
“Thank you.” Arianna sipped the wine and settled herself before the fire. “How fares the laird?”
The girl was too timid to look up. Keeping her gaze averted, she said hesitantly, “We fear the worst. He can no longer be roused.”
When the serving girl was gone, Arianna pretended to inspect her sleeping chamber, while Nola unpacked their trunks. She needed some time alone, to sort through her thoughts. Though it seemed wrong to take comfort from another’s sorrow, she couldn’t help but be buoyed by the realization that she had somehow earned a reprieve. With the laird gravely ill, there would be no thought of a wedding.
Just as daylight began to fade, word spread throughout the fortress that the laird had given up his battle with death. From belowstairs a great cry went up that could be heard throughout all the rooms. A low keening, that grew louder as each new voice joined in, until it seemed that all of Scotland must surely be mourning the death of the laird of the MacLeans.
Nola found Arianna standing on a balcony, watching a parade of torches that seemed to stretch for miles, all of them moving like a sea of lights toward the fortress.
“You heard, child?”
Arianna turned. “Aye. The laird is dead.” She paused a moment, gathering her courage, before adding, “I hope you won’t think me evil, Nola, but I can’t help but rejoice that I am now free.”
“Free? What are you saying, child?”
“With the laird dead, I’m no longer bound by my father’s promise. I can return now to my home.”
“Come here, child. Sit and listen to me.” The old woman took her hand and led her inside to a chaise by the fire.
At the gravity of her demeanor, Arianna felt a chill of unease.
When she was seated Nola stood for a moment staring into the flames. Then she turned. “The laird’s death makes no difference.”
“I don’t under—”
Nola lifted a hand. “Ye were promised, not to Laird Duncan MacLean but to the laird of the MacLeans.”
“But the laird is dead.”
“Aye. And the people cannot be without a leader. That is why the men of the village make their way here even now. Ye saw their torches. By the
time the old laird is in the ground, a new one will have been chosen to take his place.”
“But I…”
“Ye will be bound by yer father’s promise, just as the new laird will be bound by the promise made by Duncan MacLean to continue to protect yer family and yer people.”
“Is there no way out of this, Nola?”
“There is. If the new laird should already have a wife, ye will be returned safely to yer father’s keep, and a new bargain will be struck.”
“And if he is old, and his wife dead and buried?”
The woman said nothing. But her silence spoke more than words.
Arianna got to her feet and stepped out onto the balcony, to gaze down at the flickering torches undulating in the darkness. These men would unknowingly seal her fate.
Throughout the evening she and Nola kept to their chambers, catching bits and pieces of information from the serving wenches who brought their supper. The MacLean was being mourned and honored with many tankards of ale, while his clansmen debated his successor. The two names most often considered were Winfield MacLean and Powell MacLean.
“Are these men wed?” Arianna paused with the goblet of wine halfway to her lips.
“Nay, my lady. Winfield’s wife, my mother’s cousin, gave him thirty years of faithful service and seven sons, before going to her grave. Powell was wed briefly to a lass who ran off rather than endure his bad temper.” At once the girl looked embarrassed by her slip of the tongue. “Forgive me, my lady. I must see to my duties.” She hurried from the room.
An hour later a great cheer could be heard coming from below.
Nola stuck her head out the door and stopped a servant. “What was that?”
He paused, his arms laden with wood for the many fires that must be stoked. “It can only mean that a new laird has been chosen.”
“Do ye know the laird’s name?”
He shook his head. “Nay. I’ve not heard. But by morning, word will go out to all the villages, and we will bury the old laird and pay homage to the new.”
Arianna hurried to her sleeping chamber in a panic. A short while later Nola entered and found her pacing.
“Come, child. No need for that now. The worst is behind ye. There’s naught to do but sleep. On the morrow, ye’ll learn yer fate.”
Dazed, Arianna allowed herself to be helped into her nightdress. While Nola held the blanket, she slipped into bed and watched her nurse snuff out the candle.
In the darkness she listened to Nola’s footsteps as she crossed the room and let herself out.
Silence settled over the fortress, and Arianna lay still as death, willing sleep to take her. But she could only hear Nola’s words over and over. How could she lie here and calmly await her fate?
Suddenly she sprang up and began to prowl the room, pressing her fingertips to her temples. She could stay here no longer.
She knew it was the coward’s way, but she had to flee this place. The thought of being wed to an old man—or worse, a cruel one—was more than she could bear.
Moving carefully in the dark, she located her gown and slipped into her kid boots. Rather than risk waking the servants, she began fashioning a rope of bed linens. When it was long enough to reach nearly to the ground below, she tied one end to the rail of the balcony and tossed the other end over the side. With her heart pounding, she pulled herself over the balcony and began the long slide to the ground.
In the courtyard she found several horses. Catching up the reins of a black mare, she led her out into the darkness, then pulled herself into the saddle.
She hadn’t given a thought to where she would go. Her only intention was to be free. But with the fortress at her back she turned the mare in the direction they had come that day, watching for familiar landmarks in the darkness.
She had found peace and contentment in Lachlan’s arms on the banks of the enchanted loch. Perhaps, if her luck held, or if the loch truly was enchanted, she could find her freedom there as well.
7
THE DARKNESS WAS both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it hid the horse and rider as they made their way through rough terrain and headed deep into the forest. A curse because it hid branches that slapped without warning at Arianna’s face and tugged at her hair.
She was without her traveling cloak, since she would have risked waking old Nola if she had tried to retrieve it. The only gown available had been the heavy emerald velvet, now snagged and torn. She’d been forced to hike it up between her legs in order to sit a man’s saddle.
When the trail took a dangerous dip, she slid from the saddle and began leading her mount. The velvet flapped at her ankles, slowing her movements, and the sharp edges of rocks bit through the kid boots until she found herself limping beside her horse.
She could hear in the distance the roar of falling water, and it gave her hope that she would soon reach the enchanted loch.
At the top of the high cliff the mare tossed her head wildly, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.
“Here now. Hush. Don’t be afraid.” Pushing aside her own fears, Arianna paused to soothe and coax the animal, finally persuading her to start down the steep trail that led to the loch.
The rush of water was so loud here that it drowned out every other sound as Arianna picked her way carefully over rocks and through thick foliage until at last she and the horse reached the banks of the loch.
Instead of heading to the water to drink, the mare suddenly reared up, pulling the reins out of Arianna’s hands. Before she could retrieve them, the horse ran off into the forest.
Dazed, Arianna turned, intent on giving chase.
She stopped in mid-stride when she found herself facing a line of strangers. All of them holding swords and knives.
Too late, she understood the mare’s skittishness.
“Well, well. What have we here?” One of the men, barefoot, wearing little more than a strip of fur to cover his nakedness, stepped closer. He held a knife in one hand. “A female? Traveling alone, are you?”
The others laughed.
The sound of their high-pitched laughter scraped Arianna’s nerves. She knew, from the manner of speech and dress, that these were the barbarians. Routed from the Highlands, they’d taken refuge at the loch. And she had foolishly walked right into their camp.
She took several steps backward, until she felt the splash of water over her ankles.
“Come to amuse us, have you, woman?”
Again the laughter as the others began to circle her, sniffing like dogs with the scent of prey in their nostrils.
Without a weapon she had only her wits to save her. With false bravado she lifted her head and faced the leader. “My warriors will be here soon. If you value your lives, you’ll leave now, before they come upon you.”
Her regal manner and tone of voice caused the men to step back from the water’s edge and look around in alarm.
“Warriors?” The leader threw back his head and cackled. “What kind of warriors would send one puny female ahead to scout for them?”
At that the others relaxed and joined in the laughter.
“I am betrothed to the laird of lairds. My life is precious to him. Do you think he would allow me a midnight ride without his warriors following to protect me?”
“I think—” The leader’s smile vanished, and he grabbed her wrist. “—you’re nothing more than a tasty morsel among starving men.” He looked around. “What say you, men?”
“I’ll have my fill of her,” one shouted.
“I’d even settle for what’s left over,” called another with a chilling laugh.
The leader dragged her close. She gagged with the stench of him. But it was the look in his eyes that made Arianna’s blood turn to ice. He shot his men a look of supreme confidence. “I’ll take her first. Then you can all have what’s left of her.”
She surprised him by pulling free and turning to dash into the loch. With each step she was nearly dragged to her knees, and she cursed the heavy velv
et gown. If it made walking through water difficult, it would make swimming impossible. Still, she would rather drown than face being brutalized by these barbarians.
“Little fool. Do you think you can outrun us?” The leader reached out, catching a handful of her hair.
With a cry she fell backward, choking and sputtering as she sank beneath the surface.
He dragged her up and pinned her in his arms. His eyes were hot, fierce with a mixture of fury and lust. Holding her a little away from him, he swung his big hand in an arc and slapped her with such force that her head snapped to one side. She blinked furiously, trying to see through the shower of stars that danced before her eyes.
“Now you will pay, woman.” His hand clamped around her upper arm, and he started back toward shore, dragging her along beside him.
Arianna dug in her heels, determined to fight him every step of the way.
“You dare to defy me again?” He closed his hand into a fist and Arianna steeled herself for the blow to come.
Suddenly a great wind came up, churning the water around them until the waves rose higher than the trees that ringed the shore. Arianna found herself thrown free of the barbarian’s grasp. And though the water around her smoothed and settled, it whirled even faster around him, tumbling him about like a leaf in a storm.
A shimmering dark cloud rose up from the foam. As the wind disbursed the cloud, a Highland warrior could be seen in the darkness.
He clamped an arm around the barbarian’s throat.
With a gasp, his victim clutched at the arm, desperate to dislodge it. But his strength was useless against the superhuman power of the Highlander. Within minutes the barbarian slipped into the water, his lifeless body carried away on the waves.
The moon, which had been covered by a bank of dark clouds, suddenly broke free, illuminating the figure in the loch.
Arianna gave a gasp of recognition. “Lachlan. Oh, my beloved! It’s you!” She started toward him, arms outstretched.
He spoke not a word as he lifted a hand, indicating that she should stay where she was. Then he turned and unsheathed his sword. The jeweled hilt winked in the starlight as he strode to the shore to face the rest of the bloodthirsty band.