Gavin led her to a lounger. Andie had begun trembling violently. He gave her some water but she didn’t understand what to do. He brought it up to her lips and made her drink. The tears ran down her face freely now. He felt guilty. God, he hated feeling like this. He hated feeling anything at all.
“I’m sorry,” he offered, feeling awkward when his voice said those words. “Andie? It’s alright. Ye’er nay with Alistair, ye’er here with me.”
Her breathing grew calmer and she blinked, turning to look up at him. Her eyes were almost yellow from the shedding of her tears. He saw green flecks in them.
“Ye’er alright, Andie.”
Though her trembling had subsided considerably, her face did him in. She looked scared and vulnerable. He brought her within the circle of his arms. She rested her head against his massive, strong chest.
How long had it been since he had comforted a woman? He barely remembered how.
“Two years,” Althor said, coming into the room. He handed Gavin a goblet with liquid in it. “Make her drink this.”
Gavin gave a derisive snort, but helped Andie drink the solution.
“She has a pure heart, Laird. Doona doubt her any longer.”
Andie snapped out of her shock and found herself in Gavin’s arms. “What happened? Why do ye have yer arms around me? Let me go. I need to get Bryce and leave.”
“Nay Andie, I apologize. I doubted ye unnecessarily. Please stay,” he said, slowly and awkwardly.
She studied him closely, looking for any reason to doubt his sincerity. After seeing none, she nodded her head. Suddenly, she looked to her right and saw Althor.
“I’m Andie-”
“Laird McBride, yes I know. I am Althor,” he said.
Andie thought he was wearing very loud colors, which looked odd in such a grey, dingy place such at this castle.
“Aye, I agree. This castle is dingy and does need color,” he said, laughing.
Her eyes grew wide and Gavin sighed heavily.
“He’s the clan’s seer, or so he claims,” Gavin said wryly.
Andie quickly rose and rushed to him. “Can ye see my clan, Althor? How are they faring?” she asked, anxiously.
Althor shook his head, sadness in his eyes. “Nay, Laird McBride, they doona fare well. Many have been murdered. Yer father’s body-”
“What? What about his body?”
“Althor!” Gavin warned in a menacing growl.
“She needs to hear the truth, Laird.” Althor cleared his throat and said, “They have his head on a stake and are burning his body.”
“Is that how he treats the dead?” Gavin asked, outraged.
Bryce came forward then. “Aye. And treats the living worse.”
She let out a strangled sound, running out of the castle.
“Andie!” Bryce yelled after her.
“Leave her be,” Althor said to him. “She needs her time. Alone.”
Andie ran to the stables. She quickly mounted a horse that had been munching on his food and stormed out, not noticing the dark sky that threatened to release its rain.
Back at the castle, Bryce hurried forward to go after her despite Althor’s advice, but Gavin stopped him. “I’ll go.” He turned to Althor. “Did ye have to tell her all that?”
“I see the truth and I tell it,” Althor said. Gavin gave him a harsh glare, snorted, and sprinted to the stables. Bryce didn’t object, although he wondered why the laird was going after Andie.
“Because, though he only feels intrigue for her, intrigue is enough to sustain him for now.”
“What?” Bryce asked, his eyebrows shot up in question.
Althor laughed. He did get a kick out of reading other’s thoughts.
Gavin mounted his warhorse and set a neck-breaking pace. He rode out but saw no sign of her. Where was she? She couldn’t have gotten far.
The rain began pelting down. “Damn it,” he swore. She really needed a stable head; she was too emotional now. He had a feeling she always had knee-jerk reactions.
Gavin turned towards her clan’s direction. The rain was unusually cold and coming down hard. He couldn’t see if there were any tracks left behind, and so he made his horse run faster.
“Andie!” he yelled out, his voice deep. He kept going forward.
“Andie!” he yelled again, looking around. His hair was soaked and hanging long.
Why was he looking for her? Why didn’t he just let Bryce do this? He was never one to coddle women when they threw their tantrums.
He saw the horse tied to a trunk. Andie was sitting in front of the loch, still on his land, soaked. Her knees were brought up against her chest and she rested her chin on them. Rain kept its assault on them but she was oblivious to it. She stared at the loch unresponsively- as if it were an ordinary bright sunny day.
He approached her slowly. She was trembling violently again. Her clothes were tightly sticking to her body.
“Andie?” he asked, slowly.
“Leave me,” she whispered.
He sat next to her, undaunted. “Nay, I willna. Ye’ve come to me for help, and ‘tis what I’ll give. Yer father was an ally, and he would have never left any of mine in need.”
“Nay, my father wouldna have,” she said solemnly.
He stared out at the loch, too. The rain slowly simmered into a light drizzle. The fat pelts of droplets were now a fine mist.
“‘Tis too cold here for ye,” he said. Looking sideways at her, he wasn’t sure whether the droplets on her face were because of the rain or her tears.
“I wasna crying.”
He looked at her just like he did when Althor ‘read his mind.’
“Are ye a seer like Althor proclaims to be?” he said in a humorless laugh.
“Nay,” she said simply.
“We should travel back towards my castle now,” he said, and something tugged at him. His instincts prickled him. He immediately got up and swung around, sword unsheathed and in his hand. It was all done in one graceful movement. She inhaled sharply, taken aback at his power and speed.
“What is it?”
He gave her a look that told her to be quiet. His pale eyes were even paler now. She saw the lethal power within their depths. His muscles rippled under his bronzed skin. His stance was solid, legs braced apart. She was certain that his body increased its bulk. His shoulders were wide. His chest was expansive. His face had a murderous calm about it, waiting for the enemy to come to him rather than he go to the enemy. Aye, this was the legendary Dark Wolf.
Andie shuddered. He was a very formidable opponent, one she was glad to call an ally.
Leaves rustled, but the noise came from behind him.
Andie had her sword unsheathed and was approaching him. He tensed, thinking it was a trap.
From her.
His eyes grew doubtful and deadly.
“Maitland, ye really need to learn how to trust more,” she said, exasperated. She walked to his side and waited.
A tall red haired man appeared. Gavin kept his strong stance, while Andie sheathed her sword and walked to the stranger. Gavin grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“Where are ye going?” he asked, not knowing whether Andie was friend or foe. Was she ensnaring him in a trap?
“This is Charlie, Gavin. Charlie, this is-”
“The Dark Wolf,” Charlie finished, nodding towards Gavin.
“What are ye doing here?” Andie asked, looking at him fretfully. She moved away from Gavin. “I thought ye were going to stay until I gathered more aid from the allies.”
“Our ranks have weakened, Andie,” Charlie said, still eyeing Gavin.
“How many remain,” she asked, anxiously.
“Just who ye see here, Andie,” he said pointing behind him.
It took her no longer than a few seconds to do a quick estimate.
“Fifty men remaining? No, Charlie, that’s impossible! We had over two hundred men! What happened?” Andie said, her voice fraught.
&nbs
p; “We’re forty strong, now, Andie,” Charlie corrected.
Gavin still stood with his legs braced apart staring at Charlie, but sheathed his massive sword.
“How many soldiers did Alistair have when he began the rebellion?” Gavin asked.
“About fifty,” Andie said, unconcernedly, staring at Charlie.
Gavin thought about that for a minute. Only fifty men were able to overpower two hundred McBrides?
“Charlie, we’ve lost all those men? What about the women?”
Charlie looked away a second and turned his green eyes back to her.
“Some have been killed, Andie. His men violated some of them, beat others.”
“No! Charlie, no!” she said breathless, her hand covering her mouth. He had killed women! Rape was certain where her cousin was concerned, but murder?
“How did ye know to find her here?” Gavin asked, his eyes studying Charlie.
“I didna. I first thought ye dead,” Charlie said, looking at her, and continued saying, “but then I heard Alistair rambling about ye and knew ye had escaped. I saw Bryce before he left to find ye, and was relieved he was alive. He told me that ye were going to the McKendricks. I went there and the McKendrick told me he hadna seen ye.”
“He didna tell ye about Bryce being there before?” Andie asked.
Charlie shook his head no, his green eyes looking down for a moment, and then he looked back up at Andie. “Nay, he didna. But were I him, I wouldna have either.”
“Why do ye say that?”
“He knew ye were McBride’s daughter. He may have been suspicious having so many ask about ye. He knew Bryce but I’m nay sure we’d ever met. After seeing him, I went back to see how the men fared. I gathered them, and here I am now.”
Andie shivered, still drenched. She was thinking about everything, sadness in her eyes.
“Andie, we need to get back,” Gavin said, moving towards the horses. He untied Andie’s horse and did the same to his warhorse. He mounted his steed in one fluid motion and waited for Andie to do the same. It was a little difficult for her because she was soaked from the rain. Once Andie was mounted on her horse, she looked at Charlie curiously.
“Why did ye nay get horses, Charlie?”
Another in the crowd of men replied. “‘Twas a bloodbath, Andie. We needed to leave there while we still had this many men in our ranks.”
Andie nodded, sadly. “Thank ye, Peter.”
Gavin looked at the man closely, then he looked to all of them, and lastly to Charlie. He would have to make accommodations for them, for the time being.
“Let’s go,” Gavin said, moving ahead and all followed.
As Gavin rode, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on than what was at the surface. Andie would probably criticize him for being untrusting. He had trusted the wrong person before and that mistake had nearly cost him everything- his son.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Excerpt of Forget Me Not, My Scottish Love, Abby and Cameron's story
Prologue
English/Scottish Border, 1217
It was a bad night.
But not for ambushing.
The rain was cold and relentless. The only illumination was that coming from the beautiful threads of lightning in the velvet sky. The trees came alive with the flashes, making their leaves and branches look more threatening in the shadows. Rain pelted the ground in fury. Puddles formed where the imprint of feet remained. The only sounds that reverberated in the darkness were from the falling rain, clapping thunder, and metal grating against metal.
And the girl.
Her screams echoed in the night as she witnessed in horror the fight before her. Movement caught her eye and she quickly hid behind a bush, quieting. As she kneeled, she thought back to the events that had led her here.
How had this happened on her wedding day?
“I do not want to marry him, Father! He’s over three times my age!” Abigail’s expressive arms folded across her chest.
Baron John Haynsworth looked at her from across his ornate desk, his blue eyes narrowing. His graying brown hair was resolutely in place. None of his children, or no one for that matter, had ever defied him, except for his difficult child- Abigail. Even his own wife deferred to his judgment.
He slapped his hand down on the table in aggravation and pointed a finger at her.
“You are fifteen years old and under my rule. Charles is only forty-seven years old and able enough to give you children. He has settled for the dowry and has agreed to accept your unruly self in marriage. You will marry Lord Elliot and I’ll not hear another word on the matter!”
She turned frantically to her silent mother with tears streaming down her face. Her mother, as was usual when she fought with her father, which was an all too-often occurrence, was silent and withdrawn. She stared through the window. Her golden blond hair was arranged atop her head, and her green gaze was centered somewhere outside.
“Mama, you’re going to let Papa marry me off to a man that is older than Papa himself?” Abby whispered painfully.
Her mother was unresponsive. Abby watched her silently as her mother wrapped her arms around her torso and continued to stare outside.
Abby returned her attention to her father. Her green eyes were blazing with fire and her long blond hair swayed as she pivoted.
“I will run away! I will not marry him!”
“The guards are under strict orders not to allow you outside of their line of vision, Abigail. Do not challenge me on this front. The negotiations have been made.”
Abby sucked in her breath.
“The guards are keeping me prisoner? You negotiated? For me? What did you negotiate for, Father? What is it that you wanted, that you have not already gained when you married Elizabeth and Matilda off?”
Baron Haynsworth’s nostrils flared.
“I will not stand for this questioning impudence! Do you think yourself such a great prize that any man would want an insolent and disobedient young woman such as yourself as wife? Consider yourself fortunate that I have been able to convince Lord Elliot to take your obstinate hand in marriage.”
“He must have had high debts to have agreed to marry me, considering his tastes run more towards the likes of men than for women!”
His gaze was murderous. He looked over to Diane, who still remained intently focused on the outside. He turned back to his daughter.
“That is not true, Abigail, and well you know it. Those are nothing more than long tails from fast tongues because he rules with an iron fist! And ‘tis best you learn that now, Abigail. Your behavior would cause a backhand from him, as I am tempted to give you now.”
“Mama?” she whispered again.
Finally her mother looked over to her. Her face was a mask of detachment.
“Abigail, do as your father says. It is what is best.” Her voice was flat as she stared blankly at Abby.
Abby felt as if her life was fragmenting. There was no stopping this marriage. Not even her mother would help, not that she ever did because her mother was afraid of her father. Abby noted dejectedly that her mother had addressed her as Abigail. On these occasions, there was no hope for her.
“When is this marriage to take place?” she whispered hurtfully, with a sidelong glance at her father.
“The day after next.” He paused a moment, and pursed his lips unpleasantly. His nostrils flared. “Abigail, a warning- your temperament is very unfavorable. Lord Elliot will dislike it and it will cease to exist, either by his initiative or by yours.” His long strides took him to the door. She stared at his departing form, speechless. She felt her mother’s hand on her hair.
“My baby, Abby. Your father can be difficult but he has been strong for the family. I know it seems undesirable to be married to Lord Elliot, but given time, you’ll adjust,” Diane said softly.
“Mama, he’s older than Father. How can I marry that man? He’s vile and evil. He’s done heinous things to
others. I’ve also heard that he prefers men, Mama. I know it!” She began crying. “Why then, does he want to marry me?”
“Oh, sweet girl,” Diane choked, and hugged her youngest.
“I’m scared, Mama. I’m so scared!”
She was married to Lord Elliot two days later. It was a small gathering because the wedding transpired on such short notice. Rumors began circulating that Abby was with child. Then some jested that perhaps the rumor about Lord Elliot’s taste in men was false.
Diane cried as her daughter was swept away just barely an hour after the ceremony. She waved good-bye to her baby and turned back to her dreary and bleak home. It was the very symbol of her life, with the exclusion of her children. They used to be the sun in her sky. Her children were all gone, however, with the exception of Harold, her oldest son. Her heart broke as she entered her prison. She wondered if she would ever see her baby again.
“Are you nay going to say something, wife?” Lord Elliot sneered.
She watched as her mother walked back into the only home she’d ever known.
“What would you like for me to say, husband?” she responded sharply.
He laughed smugly. “Anything, right Jerold?” Lord Elliot looked over to his close friend.
It was difficult for her to hold her tongue. Jerold Percy was his friend all right.
“So what did you give my father in return for marrying me and receiving my dowry?” Her eyes pierced him in the dimming light of day. They were slow trotting on horseback.
He laughed.
“You’re forthright, aren’t you? I’ll mend that annoyance quickly.”
“You will not be mending what does not need mending.” Her words were clipped as they were uttered through clenched teeth.
Lord Elliot forced his horse closer to hers and responded with a slap to her face. She nearly fell off her horse. Her bottom lip cracked and she tasted blood. So this was how he would tame her?
The Highlander Who Loved Me (Heart of a Highlander Collection Book 4) Page 28