His throat felt tight and he didn’t know if the moisture in his eyes was from the smoke or the thought of not holding her again. But he made the promise anyway. He would lie again and again if it meant she'd be safe. "I promise."
The prickling heat ate its way through the keep, the glow increasing as it consumed every fragment of wood in the building. By his reckoning, the floors would go first, then the wooden rafters holding up the roof. The castle didn't have long.
Cupping Alana's chin, he claimed a quick but powerful kiss from her. She trembled but Morgann knew she was holding back her fear, brave lass that she was. Ach, if he could only spend a little more time kissing her. But time he did not have.
He set her away decisively, deliberately schooling his expression. He refused to let her see how much the thought of leaving her was killing him. Each thud of his heart seemed to pound in protest. "Climb onto the windowsill and swing yer legs out. I'll lower ye down."
She didn't respond but did as he said, much to his relief. It was tight but she just managed to squeeze through at an angle and sit on the ledge. He grabbed her hands, pressed a kiss to each one. "I love ye," he murmured. "Now shuffle forward." Wriggling, she moved until perched right on the edge. He bunched his muscles. "Bend yer knees when ye land and ye'll be fine."
"I dinnae... Morgann, I—"
Before she could argue, he lowered her as far as possible. His shoulders wouldn't fit through the gap so he couldn't even see her as he did. She squealed and gripped him tight. With a sharp inhale, he released her. Her grip on him didn't last and he felt her go, listened for the thud as she landed but the sound of the raging fire meant he heard nothing. He only hoped she hadn't hurt herself.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he turned from the window and stared at the door to the chambers. Flames licked at it. Aye, not much time at all. He studied the room, wracking his mind. He didn't want to leave her. He desperately wanted to keep his promise but it was hopeless.
He grinned as he slumped to the floor. At least Alana was safe.
***
Dirt bit into her hands as she landed and her feet stung with the impact but Alana was surprised she hadn't hurt anything else. She remained crumpled for a moment, her cheek pressed into the ground as the nausea in her stomach sapped her strength. She raised her gaze to the Old Castle. Smoke poured from the front windows and the main door had almost completely gone. Sitting, she took a steadying breath. Mayhap Morgann could get back through the hall and escape. A crash made her jump to her feet and she stumbled away to get a better view. A hand to her mouth, she gaped as fire danced out the top of the building.
The roof had fallen in.
Tears clouded her vision. Damn the man. He'd known he'd never get out alive. How could he leave her on her own? How could he promise her that all would be well?
A movement caught her eye and she turned toward the loch.
Margot.
Seething rage made her skin hot as saw the woman, a wild smile on her face as she watched the keep crumble. The witch who had taken so much from her was now enjoying the sight of Morgann burning to death. Alana curled her hand into a fist until her nails bit into her palm and a wild cry tore from her as she raced toward her.
Margot only spotted her at the last moment as Alana barrelled into her. The woman screamed and Alana knocked her down and snatched at her hair. She smacked a fist into her cheek as Margot tried to fend her off. She scratched at Alana's face, wriggling and clawing at her as they rolled to the water’s edge.
Somehow Margot scrabbled to her feet and pushed Alana down into the water. She coughed as water seeped up her nose and into her mouth but she forced herself up and turned, kicking out at Margot. Alana gritted her teeth as the woman fell into the loch with a scream and she grabbed her skirts, hauling her close so she could bring a fist down on her again. Blood blossomed from Margot’s nose and oozed down her face.
Dazed, Margot tried to crawl away but Alana kept a determined grip on her clothing, the fabric ripping as Morgann’s stepmother tried to free herself.
“Ye willnae get away,” Alana spat as Margot’s thrashing drenched her in freezing water. “Ye’ve taken everything and I will make ye pay for what ye’ve done, I swear it.”
Her fist throbbed, lungs ached but Morgann’s face swam in front of her, images of their lovemaking plagued her, words of love lingered, and fired her anger as she pinned Margot beneath her, holding back her arms.
The dark-haired woman opened her palms. “Pray cease. Forgive me,” she sobbed. “I’ll no’ fight anymore. Just dinnae hurt me.”
Alana sucked in a long breath and studied the woman as the roar of the fire echoed in her ears. Loosening her hold on her wrists, she eased away. As much as she wanted to tear Margot apart, she couldn’t bring herself to. Nay, the MacRaes could decide her fate.
But then she caught a glint of something in Margot’s expression. A hint of a smile or a spark of triumph. Margot shoved suddenly at Alana but she reacted quickly, smacked her forehead into hers and knocked the woman out cold.
Sinking back into the water, Alana rubbed at her head and grimaced at the tender spot she felt. Margot floated at the water’s edge and, with a sigh, Alana clambered out and dragged her onto the bank.
She lay across the pebbled shoal and finally released the sob that had been building inside her. Tears dripped down her face, mingling with the water from the loch. Behind her, the castle groaned as it surrendered to the flames.
She tried to control her ragged breathing but her chest ached too much. She may have lain there for only moments but time seemed to drift as her world fell from beneath her. She glanced over at the woman who had destroyed it. Somehow she needed to get her to Glencolum. Morgann’s mount still waited for her master, tugging at her reins as if she knew what had happened to him. Alana swallowed the knot of grief trapped in her throat and came to her feet.
Her knees shook as she walked unsteadily to the horse’s side and untethered her. She whinnied as Alana smoothed a palm over her muzzle and urged her over to the water’s edge. Caraid obediently dropped to the ground while Alana dragged Margot over. The slender woman was not particularly heavy but her waterlogged clothes made it hard to lift her over the saddle. Alana took little care in hefting her over, taking bitter enjoyment in carting her around like a sack.
Palms pressed to her eyes, she blotted away fresh tears and inhaled deeply as she dug into Morgann’s leather pouch and pulled some rope from it. She stroked the twine, remembering a time when it had been held in Morgann’s hands, before tying it tightly around Margot’s limp wrists. Hopefully that would hold her until Alana returned to Glencolum and Finn could ensure justice prevailed.
Even though it was painful to look at, she turned to eye the still burning remnants of the castle. Dust and smoke swirled about it, obscuring most of the ugly remains, the jagged beams and crumbling stone. How unfair it was that he’d been taken from her. Especially when she’d only just found him. A steady pain throbbed in her chest and exhaustion threatened to overcome her. Only the determination to see Margot held responsible for all she had done kept her standing.
She paused as she went to turn away and scowled as the smoke seemed to part. Her stomach flipped and she stumbled back a few paces, eyes wide. Nay, it couldn’t be…
“Morgann!”
Alana sprinted toward him as he staggered from the ruins. His plaid was torn and smoke-stained, his face haggard, but he was definitely alive. She slammed into him and flung her arms around his torso as he reeled back under her weight.
“Yer alive!” she exclaimed as she buried her face into his chest. The stench of smoke filled her nostrils but she didn’t care. Her tears seeped through the material as she burrowed her face closer, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart.
Strong arms came about her as he eased her away from the burning wreckage. He kissed the top of her head before pulling her back and resting his forehead against hers. Dirty thumbs rubbed away her tears as he drew i
n long breaths.
“Yer alive,” she repeated quietly, unable to quite believe it. She clung tightly to him, fearful it was all some torturous dream.
“Aye.”
“But how?”
Morgann kept hold of her face, his hands shaky as he recovered his breath. “I dinnae know.” He shrugged and shook his head in disbelief. “I dinnae know.”
They both glanced at the castle ruins. Most of the walls still stood but the insides had almost completely gone, smoke still pouring into the sky. Morgann turned to her and took her mouth in a desperate kiss. He tasted of charred wood and hope and love and she savoured it, knowing she would never let him go again.
A whinny from Caraid drew her attention and she let out a frustrated cry as she spied Margot righting herself in the saddle, hands still tied. She gave them a smug smile as she dug her heels into the horse’s side.
“Margot,” Morgann warned, his voice hoarse, “dinnae do it. Caraid willnae—” He cursed and released Alana as the mare bolted. He gave chase but it was too late. Margot spurred the horse on.
And then the mount veered toward the burning hulk of the castle as if led by an unknown guide. Margot fought to change course but Caraid was determined to take her into the inferno. Morgann stopped and gathered his breath as the mount and his struggling stepmother vanished into the smoke. Alana came up behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist as he chucked one over her shoulders and they waited.
Alana wasn’t surprised when the horse trotted out of the mists riderless and unharmed but she still shook her head. “I dinnae know what we’ve done to deserve it, Morgann, but the spirits are with us.”
Morgann twisted her into his hold as Caraid ambled over and began chewing on some grass as if nothing had happened. “Aye, it seems they are.” He dipped his head and swept his lips over hers.
“I thought ye’d left me,” she murmured against his lips as her heart swelled with relief and happiness. It was truly over and the gorgeous warrior was hers. She brushed her hands over his arms, tracing the indent of his muscles.
She felt him grin against her cheek as he squeezed her. “I told ye I’d not. Yer mine now, mo ghràidh.”
“Morgann MacRae,” she raised her head and grinned back. “I’ve been yers since ye captured me.”
***
Morgann pressed his sweaty palms against his plaid and glanced at Alana who gave him an encouraging smile as she stood next to her father. He noticed her squeeze a placating hand on his shoulder as Dougall flexed his fists.
He inhaled slowly as he moved past the other Campbells, who turned from their meals as he approached the main table. Shoulders straight, he kept his gaze fixed on Dougall even as he heard the faint scrape of knives as hands clenched around them. Ach, but he felt as though he were about to be thrown to the wolves. Still he was determined to do this properly.
Dougall remained sitting and Morgann stopped in front of the table and dipped his head. “My laird.”
“MacRae,” the older man greeted tersely.
“I have come to beg a truce on behalf of my clan.” Morgann found he had to force the words out and resist the urge to snarl. Only Alana’s soothing presence kept him focused on why he was here. Today he would gain Alana’s hand.
“Indeed.”
He gritted his teeth. The old man wasn’t going to make it easy on him. “Now that the woman who instigated the problems between the clans has been killed, there is no reason for us to continue hostilities. It would be beneficial for both sides if we joined forces.” He flicked his gaze to Alana and had to stop himself from grinning. “And I’ll like to join the clans permanently by taking yer daughter in marriage.”
Dougall nodded slowly. “Alana tells me ye saved her from Margot. I’ll always be grateful for that, but ye cannae expect me to give her to the man who kidnapped her surely?”
“I’ve made mistakes, just as ye have, Dougall.”
The old man sighed. “Aye, mistakes were made. Alas, that woman’s plotting got the better of all of us and I’ll no’ forgive myself for that. But my daughter is precious to me. I cannae hand her over to just anyone.”
“Alana is precious to me too, Dougall. I’d die before I let anything happen to her. I swear it. And the MacRaes will forgive any wrongdoing on yer behalf, if ye let us be joined by marriage.”
Dougall rubbed his chin as he studied him. Morgann resisted the desire to glance at Alana. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand. Lord knows the lass was a distraction.
“Da—” Alana prompted.
“Aye, aye,” he said as he waved a hand at her. “I have need of a strong man to take care of Alana and I think it might be ye. I’ve got my reservations about this alliance but it seems… it seems I’m overruled.”
Morgann would have laughed at the thought of such a man being overruled by a mere lass but knew well how persuasive Alana could be. And he didn’t want to risk Dougall changing his mind.
“Then I have yer permission to marry her?”
“Aye, ye can marry my daughter and I’ll negotiate a truce with yer clan. We are but old men and the fighting cannae continue. ‘Tis time to forget the past, I think.”
Grinning, Morgann nodded and allowed his gaze to drift to Alana. “I thank ye, laird. Ye’ll no’ regret it.”
Alana beamed back at him, making his heart flip. “I know,” she mouthed at him.
Dougall held out a palm and Alana slid her hand into his. He passed her hand over to Morgann with a look that told him he’d better look after his daughter. Morgann grasped her fingers, the slim softness of her hand somehow sending a thrill through him.
“There ye go, MacRae, she’s yours. Lord help ye…”
Epilogue
Tèile gripped the edge of the goblet and dunked her head into the wine, taking a long drink. Wiping her face with a hand, she grinned and eyed the couple at the main table as they whispered to one another. Oh aye, they’d been a pain but she couldn’t help but feel a little fond of them.
Mayhap that was the wine talking…
But she was glad she’d aided them. And what a lot of help they’d needed. She was going to have to be very careful with her magic from now on. No doubt the sidhe council would ration it after she’d used some to help Morgann narrowly escape being crushed and to create a path through the fire. Though she’d not needed any magic to finish of that vile Margot. Caraid had been more than happy to help rid the world of that woman.
She fluttered across the hall, enjoying the scent of roasted meats and the sound of drunken laughter. Both clans had gathered for the marriage of Alana and Morgann. Even Morgann’s father had joined in with the festivities. Since the death of his wife, his health appeared much improved. Discovering the true nature of the manipulative woman seemed to have brought both lairds closer.
Tèile paused to scoop up a small handful of custard and licked it from her fingers as she tiptoed across the table in front of the couple. Aye, a job well done in her opinion. Now she could return to the land of the fae and celebrate properly.
The green faery jumped aside as Morgann slammed down his goblet and stood, drawing Alana into his hold. “If ye’ll excuse me, I’ve a wife to see to.”
Alana’s cheeks turned crimson as she tucked her face into his neck and applause and shouts of approval rang out. Morgann swung her into his hold and men slapped him on the back as he carried her through the Great Hall and up the stairs.
Tèile couldn’t resist following them and just having a little peek. In spite of herself, she was going to miss them. Before Morgann had a chance to slam the door shut with his foot, she flew in and settled herself on the windowsill with a sigh.
For all their problems, she thought, chin propped on a hand, humans are very good at love.
Morgann dropped Alana on the bed and she immediately wrapped herself around him, pulling him down for a demanding kiss. Tèile frowned when a tap at her shoulder meant she had to turn away.
“Tèile,” said the faery, her
purple gossamer wings sparkling in the sunset.
She brightened. It was time to go home!
“There is more work to be done here. Ye’ve used too much magic and now ye must put things right.”
Tèile sagged against the stone, stealing one last glance at the couple as they stripped their clothes from one another and embraced.
“‘Tis a love match again,” the faery continued as she led her out of the window. “The man’s name is Finn…”
The End
More titles by Samantha Holt
Borderland Bride (Book 1 of the Borderland Legacy)
Borderland Beauty (Book 2 of the Borderland Legacy)
Find Samantha on Facebook www.facebook.com/romanticfiction
Gaelic Terms
A mheapain – Bastard
Mo chridhe – My heart
M'eudail – My treasure/darling
Mo ghràidh – My love
Medieval Terms
Garderobes – toilets
Solar – large chamber/bedroom
To Steal a Highlander's Heart Page 14