Still - why did admitting as much wrench something like betrayal in her gut?
“Leave with me.” Thomas reached out for her. His hand was dainty compared to Aidan's, his fingers too slender and long for the smallness of his palm.
She stared down at her calloused hand in his. This was her opportunity. To leave Forth Manor and return home to Castle Quelling.
Home.
With her parents and her brothers.
It had only been a month since she’d seen them, but the stretch of time had seemed to last a lifetime.
She could leave.
Thomas got on his knees in front of her. “I still want to marry you, Bridget.”
Her heart knocked against her ribs. “I already have a husband.” Aidan flashed in her mind; handsome, strong, and kind with his powerful body and gentle touch.
“Your marriage would be easily annulled,” Thomas said.
Bridget pulled her hand from his grasp. “It's been consummated.” Heat flared in her cheeks.
Thomas' face darkened and he leapt to his feet. “He forced you?”
Bridget lifted her chin. “He did not.”
Thomas sucked in a breath and looked away, obviously displeased with what she’d confessed. Finally, he regarded her once more, his face hard with sincerity. “I will still marry you. And if you have one of his bastards in your belly, I'll take the child as mine.”
Bridget’s world went red. How dare he speak to her as if she were a burdened woman with sin he must heft on his shoulders? How dare he assume she would marry him? The force of her rage flashed through her, white-hot and mindless. Her hand swung out of its own accord and struck him across the face.
Thomas rubbed his reddening cheek and wriggled his jaw. “You always did have a hard hit.”
“And you've always had an arrogant tongue.” She drew in a deep breath to calm herself. “You assume I do not want to stay with my husband. You assume this is not my home and you assume I want to marry you.”
He stared at her in open shock. “You want to stay?” His voice pitched with incredulity. “With him?”
“I—” The words she meant to say caught in her heart and clogged the back of her throat.
Be true to yourself always.
“I love him, Thomas.” Even as the words fled her lips, their liberation eased the burden from her chest. “And I love his family.”
“And what of your family?” he demanded. His cheeks were bright splotches of red against his fair skin.
Tears did come to her eyes now. The thought of her mother and her brothers and her father. Even Aunt Aubrey and the determined glint in her aged gaze.
“I'll always miss them,” she said. “But they knew I'd call Forth Manor home when my father arranged the marriage, and they know I will always come to visit.”
He looked at the rose in her hand. “I love you.”
“And I love Aidan MacAlister, my husband.”
Thomas smirked and gave a slow nod. “There it is then.”
He turned from her and strode away, his usually brisk gait slowed by the burden of her reply. When he was out of sight, she dropped the rose to the ground and went into the chamber once more.
Three sets of wide stares settled on her. Elsbeth scrunched her face and mouthed, “We could hear you.”
A flicker of self-consciousness settled in Bridget's chest. Had she said anything the children should not have heard? Had she—
Rabbie popped out of Cailean's lap and threw himself at her legs. “We love ye too, Bridget. Thank ye for no' leaving us.”
Bridget got to her knees and hugged the small boy to her. He smelled like little boy sweat and something sweet and sticky, and it made her heart ache with love for him. “I could never leave all of you. I'll always be here.”
Cailean's eyes shone with her wide smile. “Aidan loves ye too,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Oh?” Elsbeth said. But it was Bridget she looked at, a twinkle showing in her eyes.
Cailean nodded. “Aye, when ye hated him before, he asked me how to speak to ye and what to say. Apparently it dinna go well and ye tried to kill him?”
Bridget laughed at the memory of throwing the ewer at Aidan's head and then darting for the knife. “I didn't mean to actually kill him.”
“It looks like he finally learned to talk to ye.” A quiet pride lit Cailean's face.
Bridget ruffled Rabbie's silky red curls. “Yes, it does appear he did.” She couldn't stop her gaze from drifting toward the open window, where two clusters of opposing soldiers could be seen in the distance.
She wanted her husband home so she could tell him herself how much he meant to her.
#
“I see a lot of English to kill.”
Aidan gave his uncle a hard look. “We're not going to be killing them. I'm trying to end this with peace.”
Donald grunted. “There are more of us than them. We can slaughter them all and be home before the sun sets.”
An English lad darted toward them, the brilliant gold lion on his tunic puckered and pulled taut against his slender body as he ran. He looked behind them toward Forth Manor and spoke in a breathless gasp. “My lord asks for a moment. We're waiting on someone.” A bead of sweat trickled from his brow. He dashed it away with a swipe of his fist.
Donald laughed. “Ach, aye, we'll just sit back and wait.” He folded his arms and loomed over the boy with a menacing grimace to his face.
The lad shrank back.
Aidan turned in his saddle to follow the boy's gaze. A single man on a horse rode from the manor at a quick pace. “Who is he?”
The boy frowned. “Sir Thomas de Lacy. And he is alone.”
“Should he no' be alone?” Aidan asked.
A glare scowled over the lad's freckled face. “No, he should have your wife. You cur.” He spit and darted back toward his lord.
Donald's horse lurched forward to give chase, but Aidan headed him off and shook his head. “I dinna want war at my home. Ye know how it is. One battle leads to many.”
“Ye canna mean to let them live. What of yer wife?”
Aidan looked back at the manor and the lone rider approaching them. “If Bridget wanted to go, she would have left.” He hoped in his heart his claim was correct.
The man on horseback passed them and met Aidan's eye. The man was handsome in the way the English found appealing - he was more beautiful than handsome. This was the man they sent to take Aidan’s wife?
The very idea sank deep into his heart like a blade.
Was that knight the kind of man Aidan's wife wanted?
Jealousy sliced through him and slanted his world into something ugly and raw.
Movement showed across the field. Only this time it was not the lad who delivered messages, but a man clad in full plate armor. The Earl of Northumbria himself - Bridget's father.
His horse stopped before the line of Aidan's men and he removed his helmet. Gray showed at his temples and dotted his trimmed beard, but otherwise his shoulder-length hair was the same deep black as hers. “It would appear my daughter wishes to stay with you.” His voice was deep and austere.
The pressure around Aidan's chest eased. She had been given the choice to go, and yet she'd stayed.
Aidan let his horse edge toward that of the other man. “I dinna want to fight ye, and I wouldna keep yer daughter against her will.”
The earl chuckled. “Aye, I know. Nothing could keep my daughter from doing what she wanted. Perhaps I ought to apologize to you for that.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled in a way Bridget's never did. Perhaps she got the wideness of her blue eyes from her mother.
Northumbria sighed. “I don't care to fight you either. In fact, I'd like to see my daughter.”
Hoof beats sounded behind Aidan. A quick glance confirmed his uncle had turned his horse and galloped back toward the manor. It would be best to let the Donald calm his temper.
“Ye're welcome in our home, of course. I know Bridget would be most ha
ppy to see ye once more.” Aidan smiled to himself. She would be beside herself with joy to see her family.
“Did the English break the treaty?” Aidan asked.
The older man shook his head dejectedly. “We'd heard it was Scotland. We ourselves suffered an attack. It's why we came. This damned treaty is a fickle thing. I'd truly hoped it would cease the fighting.”
Aidan nodded. “As did I. I dinna want to fight anymore.”
“Then let it start with us,” the earl said. “The treaty will be binding and we will be family through my daughter.” He held out his arm in invitation.
“Let it be.” Aidan leaned forward to grab the older man's arm and, together, they embraced like war brethren. “Let us have peace.”
He straightened on his horse and looked toward Forth Manor, where his uncle's horse had disappeared through the gates. Donald would not be happy about the peace agreement. Aidan only hoped he would not do anything to destroy what had been worked so hard to secure. For Bridget's sake and those of his people.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Someone's here.” Cailean turned from her watchful place at the window. “Bridget, someone's arrived.”
Bridget rushed to the window. True to what Cailean said, a lone horse stood in the courtyard, riderless.
Did that mean it was safe for them to leave? Or had someone arrived to give them a warning to flee while there was still time?
Bridget's body tensed with the expectation of a fight. She would not leave Aidan.
Another knock sounded at the door. “My lady, please.” The voice was not one she recognized. “Donald is below. He says something's happened to yer husband.”
She raced to the door and swung it open to find the man with his fist elevated in preparation to knock once more.
“Where's Aidan?” she snapped.
The man shook his head and gave a helpless shrug. “I was told to fetch ye, my lady.”
Bridget let the door slam behind her. She raced down the hall, her heart thudding wildly.
He couldn’t be injured. Could he?
Images sped through her mind of Aidan laid out on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, his body a mutilation of hacks and slashes. Her throat clenched.
No.
She quickened her pace. The truth would not be as bad as her imagination. It couldn't be.
She wanted to feel the warmth of his arms around her and explore the passion they'd but sampled. She wanted his kindness and his love.
She wanted him.
And now he might be lost to her.
Tears blurred her vision. She shoved through the doors of the keep and was near blinded by the brilliant wash of sunlight.
She blinked against the light, and something hard slammed into her from the left. The world spun around her and she didn't realize she was flying sideways until the ground slammed her to a graceless stop. Her shoulder exploded in pain and left stars of white dancing in her vision.
She groaned and tried to pull herself upright.
A shadow stood over her and blotted out the light of the sun. “Ye English bitch, I'll see ye dead before I see those whoresons dine at our table.”
Donald.
His leg drew back, and she flexed her muscles for the impact. His foot connected with her stomach and knocked the wind from her despite her being prepared for the hit. He tugged something from his belt.
The battle axe.
“You'd kill me on the ground and without a weapon?” she snarled. “That's not very honorable.”
“Why no’? It's how I killed yer brother.”
Her head snapped up.
He laughed, a deep and cruelly bitter sound. “Ye dinna know that. Ye thought it was Aidan - the lad is good with getting the king's favor, but he's weak.”
The axe lifted high over his head and came abruptly down with such haste, Bridget barely had time to roll from its path. Her shoulder screamed in agony, but she clamped her teeth against the pain and searched desperately for a weapon of some kind.
There was nothing.
No dulled practice weapons left out, not targes. Even the dagger sheath in her boot stood empty where she'd left it upstairs in her haste to see to Aidan.
She cursed her oversight now.
The axe lifted again and dropped. Bridget rolled to the left, onto her good side. She pushed up into a standing position. While she may not have a weapon, at least she would not die on her back.
A small rock lay nesteled in a corner of the manor's stonework within arm's reach. When the axe swung at her a third time, she ducked and snatched the rock.
She pulled upright and loosed the stone with all the might she possessed. It connected directly between his eyes and sent him staggering backward. The distraction was slight, but it was all she had.
She darted toward the open keep doors, toward safety.
A grip tightened around her foot.
She screamed and kicked her feet wildly at her assailant, to no avail. The grip remained fast around her foot and a solid yank sent her flying backward.
Donald stood over her and brought his foot down hard on her chest. Pain sucked deep into her heart where the hit had been centered. The agony of it choked from her raw throat and momentarily stunned her mind.
“Ye're going to die.” Donald's voice loomed over her like a night terror. “Ye're going to die the same as yer pathetic brother.”
Bridget gripped the pointed toe of his leather shoe and shoved with everything she had. Her world singed hot with the pain spiraling from her shoulder, but she did not stop pushing.
She did not stop fighting to live.
#
Aidan strained his vision to better discern the distant men barely visible in the courtyard. They appeared to be fighting.
Northumbria must have noticed them as well, for his eyes narrowed. Urgency flavored the air with a metallic taste and both men pushed their horses into a gallop. They drew nearer and the figures came into a clearer view - one clearly the aggressor and one the hapless victim.
The figure on the ground leapt to their feet, and that's when Aidan saw it - the lavender-colored kirtle flaring behind her.
Bridget.
Aidan's heart lodged in his throat.
No.
Not Bridget.
The man advancing on her held a battle axe locked between his fists. A man Aidan knew all too well. His own uncle, Donald.
Fear spiked through him. He snapped his reins and urged his horse to ride as hard as it was able. The steed lurched forward and, together, they raced across a stretch of land that would determine whether Bridget lived or died.
Her hands came up and she staggered backward against the angle of two walls. She was cornered. Her hand came up, her fingers spread wide in an attempt to make him stop.
“Bridget.” The earl’s voice came in a strangled cry beside him.
Aidan pushed his horse as fast as it would go, no longer aware of the earl, no longer aware of anyone or anything but Bridget. Even with the gallant speed of his horse, Aidan's gut told him he would not make it in time. Not to save his wife.
Donald raised the axe and all time stood still.
The wind catching Aidan’s hair went stiff, the thundering of the horses’ hooves became as distant as an unwanted memory, and the blade hung mid-strike for the pain of an eternity.
His uncle staggered back and blood poured from a wound at his neck.
Not just any wound. An arrow. It thrust from his neck in a macabre display of justice.
Aidan's horse's hooves clattered across the cobblestones. He did not even wait for the beast to stop before he leapt from the saddle and ran to his wife.
Bridget was plastered against the wall, her eyes wide and her face pale.
“Bridget?” He grasped her face in his hands. “Bridget, my love. Are ye all right?”
She blinked several times before meeting his gaze. “He killed Richard.” Tears flowed down her cheeks, not for herself, he realized, but for her brother l
ong dead. “He killed Richard.” She fell into his arms and he clasped her in his embrace.
She looked up at him, her gaze desperate in their search for him. “Donald called me down here for you. I thought…” She shook her head. “I thought you were dead. But you weren't there and he attacked me. I had no weapons and my shoulder.” She gave an aggravated growl. “My damned shoulder. I couldn't—”
“What would your mother say to hear you speak so?” The Earl of Northumbria's voice interrupted the two.
Bridget lifted her head. “Father?” She jerked in the direction of the voice and ran toward the older man. “Father!”
The earl caught his daughter in his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
A shape appeared in the keep entry and slowly materialized into Cailean's slender figure. The bow was held limp in her hands and her face was cream white beneath the smattering of freckles. Her almond-shaped eyes were wide and fixed on Donald's unmoving body.
“Is he…” She bit her lip.
Aidan went to his sister's side.
“He was going to kill Bridget. I had to.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “When ye take a life, it will be gone forever.” She whispered the words more to herself than to him.
And though he knew Cailean had saved Bridget's life, so too did he know there was an element to her innocence forever lost that day.
“She loves us.” Cailean looked pointedly at him. “I heard her say it when she didn't go with that man. She loves all of us.”
“Ye did the right thing,” he said softly.
“Cailean, you saved my life.” Bridget caught the girl in a hug and held her there. “I know what this cost you and I'm so, so sorry.”
Cailean pushed away her tears with the heels of her palms. “He attacked ye. I saw it all from the window. It was Rabbie's idea to save ye, but I dinna know…that is, I worried I'd hit ye instead of him.” A sob choked from her throat. “We love ye, Bridget.”
“And I love you.” She cradled the girl in her arms and looked at Aidan. “I love all of you.”
Aidan couldn't stay away from his wife any longer. He caught her in his arms, and Cailean wriggled free with a sad grin on her face.
She staggered to the body of her uncle, and the earl followed her. He set an arm on her small shoulders and spoke to her in low, soothing tones.
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