“Where are they?”
“Help me up and we’ll find them. Together, Deirdre.”
She stared at him for a moment before she kissed him. “Aye.”
* * *
Gavin breathed deeply and tried to calm his pounding heart as he stood up—with Deirdre’s help. The blackness closed in on him, but he kept it at bay by sheer force of will. The nausea too. He pointed to the wall that faced the castle. If his brothers and Gregor were coming, he wanted them to see Deirdre on the roof and know something was wrong.
He leaned heavily on his wife, practically useless, and when they reached the wall, he ran his fingers over the rocks, trying to feel the change. “Here,” he said.
She waited until he was leaning against the stone and then raced for a chair that was tucked under the table and brought it back for him to rest on.
“You’re right!” she said excitedly as she wiggled a rock. “It is loose.”
She’d pulled about half of the stones out of the window when the bar on the outside of the door slid open. Gasping, she turned to face the intruder. Gavin cradled his broken arm with his good hand. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.
O’Rourke saw them and drew his sword. “You’re dead, MacKinnon.”
“Nay!” Deirdre cried as the spy marched toward them. She darted between him and Gavin, but the man shoved her out of the way.
’Twas all the distraction Gavin needed. He lunged forward into the master builder and shoved his dagger deep—a killing blow.
They fell to the floor. Gavin stayed on top of him as the man gasped for breath—and died a much quicker death than he deserved.
“Gavin!” Deirdre kneeled beside him.
He rolled toward her. “I’m alright. See if the bar can slide across on the inside.”
She ran to the door. “It does!”
He heard her struggle with the heavy piece of wood, and when she cried out triumphantly, he smiled.
“’Tis not as strong as the castle doors, but it will give us more time. Can you move?” she asked as she returned to his side. She did not look at O’Rourke.
Gavin wanted to stay where he was, despite the body bleeding out beside him, but if anyone broke in and he was still on the floor, he’d be worse than useless. He nodded and she helped him back to the chair.
He closed his eyes again and leaned against her as she pulled the rest of the rocks out of the window. He knew he wouldn’t see her again after this, and he breathed as much of her scent into his body as he could.
She would survive and raise their children—aye, he believed they’d already made another bairn—and eventually stop grieving him.
He kissed her waist and she held him close. “I love you, Gavin. You and Ewan are everything to me. We’re going to survive this.”
“I love you too, Deirdre. So much.”
He rested back against the wall as she leaned out. “How much farther to the top?” he asked.
“I need to be higher. Another foot maybe.”
“We’ll use the chair back as a ladder. Help me up.”
She brought him to his feet and then picked up the chair and fed it through the opening. The leg braces rested on the windowsill and gave it extra height.
“Tie your skirt between your legs. That’s what Maggie does before one of her adventures. Then climb up on the sill using the back of the chair for balance. When you feel steady, use the rungs on the back as a ladder. I’ll hold the chair in place. I willna fail you.”
She nodded and then wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll be back before you know it. The falling rocks will injure most of our enemy, and the others will be too afraid to stay. The crashing noise will surely bring your brothers and Gregor back to investigate.”
His throat was too tight to reply. He kissed her head and nudged her to get going. When she tied up her skirts, he moved into position and she climbed up on the sill, as quick as a wee mouse. “Are you there yet?” he asked as she scaled the wall.
“Almost!”
“I’m going to lift the chair, Deirdre. Hold tight and climb over as soon as you’re able.”
“Nay, Gavin! I doona want you hurt.”
“Climb, Deirdre!” He braced himself and used one arm to lift the chair. His pulse pounded in his temples as his muscles strained. “Go!” he grunted. Black began to encircle his vision. The weight lightened suddenly as Deirdre scrambled up, and Gavin crashed to the floor next to the dead man. The chair fell beside him. His last thought before darkness engulfed him was that he hoped he hadn’t killed his wife.
* * *
Deirdre moved as quickly as she could toward the soaring arched roof. In her mind, she pictured the cracks she’d seen from both inside and outside the cathedral, and she knew exactly where to go. When she started to climb the dome, she slowed, carefully moving higher.
She let out a happy squeak when she spotted the crack, exactly where she thought it should be. Following the seam upward, she was careful not to step directly on it—not yet, anyway. At the pinnacle of the arch, she pulled out one of Gavin’s daggers and began working down the cracks to loosen the mortar even more. Once at the bottom of the first crack, she moved to the second, then the third and fourth.
She was exhausted by the time she’d done them all, and it had taken much longer than she’d hoped. She moved back up to the very center, to the capstone. Her heart pounding and mouth dry, she began to loosen the key on which the arch was built.
It shifted!
She scrambled back toward the edge and waited…but nothing happened. She returned, digging out more of the mortar around the capstone. It shifted again, but this time she stayed where she was, fighting her urge to retreat to safety.
When it didn’t shift far enough, she stabbed the knife into the crack, frustrated, angry, and afraid. Chunks flew out as she tried to dig deeper and harder, and she was sure the stone would fall through, but it didn’t. Crawling right on top of it, she crouched low, her hands holding on.
She jumped on it.
The only warning was a soft, cracking noise. The capstone fell out, plummeting to the cathedral floor a hundred feet below, and the rest of the roof crumbled after it. Deirdre jumped back, trying to get to safety, and she tripped, tumbling down the side of the dome.
She would either go over the edge of the cathedral or fall through the widening hole in the center.
She no longer knew what was up, what was down, or where the edge was—suddenly she was falling through empty air, despair engulfing her.
This is it. My life is over. I love you, Ewan. I love you, Gavin.
She closed her eyes and was jerked out of the air, dragged against a big, hard body. Gavin fell to his knees, squeezing her tight, but he managed to keep them both on the outer ledge as the roof fell through to the floor before.
The crash was deafening. Surely the sound would travel for miles. The other lairds would hear it. She had won.
“We need to get down,” Gavin said. “I canna balance for much longer.”
She stood up carefully and then helped him up. God help them if, after everything they’d gone through, he fell at the last minute.
They skimmed the edge of the gaping hole cautiously, the stone beneath their feet no wider than the span of Gavin’s hand, the rocks loose in places and uneven. She kept her eyes glued to her feet so she wouldn’t miss a step—or see the piles of fallen rocks on the cathedral floor, knowing crushed bodies lay beneath.
Behind her, she squeezed Gavin’s hand, hoping that would somehow keep him upright.
When they finally made it to safety, they collapsed on the section of the roof that hadn’t fallen, arms wrapped around each other and trembling. Emotional tears mixed with the blood that covered Gavin.
“What happened?” she asked. “You’re even bloodier than before.”
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“I doona know exactly. I think I blacked out after lifting you and fell into O’Rourke’s blood that had pooled on the stones. When I awoke, both of us had been tossed outside a door onto the roof over there.” He pointed toward a flat area. “The blackhearts must have broken into the room and assumed I was dead as well and disposed of me alongside him.”
Deirdre snorted and then began to laugh and couldn’t stop. Gavin laughed with her. It was either that or cry. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but it felt safe up here in the moment. And surely reinforcements would come soon.
When the laughter finally faded, a heaviness settled in her heart. “Did you see if it worked? Were the…enemies still in the cathedral when the roof fell?” Her voice broke at the end.
How many people did I just kill?
He embraced her gently. “A good number of them were still inside, I think. I didn’t see them leave. I canna imagine the remaining men will stay. You saved us, Deirdre. You saved Ewan and the rest of our family. You saved the MacKinnons.”
She nodded, unable to speak. Finally, she released a big sigh and said, “Is it over, then?”
“Nay, I don’t think so, but we canna do much until my brothers and Gregor arrive. O’Rourke was signaling from the turret toward the forest, not the cathedral. There may be more warriors waiting at the quarry. Once they’re vanquished, we’ll go to war with the MacIntyres and MacColls.”
“He told me another wave of men was coming.”
Gavin shuddered and pulled her close again. “I canna believe the danger you were in.”
“And I canna believe how close I came to losing you and Ewan.”
A horse whinnied down below, and a man appeared, riding at full speed toward the forest. His black hair streamed out behind him. Gavin rose to his feet and peered at him until he was indistinguishable. “That’s the head of the snake,” he said. “The man behind all of this—and the attacks against my brothers.” He swayed on his feet and she helped him down. “Did you see his face?” he asked.
“Nay. They blindfolded me. I’m surprised more people aren’t escaping with him.”
Gavin sighed. “He’s attacked us before. And when the attack fails, he always kills any witnesses, even if they’re his own men. I suspect he’s done the same here so no one can identify him or speak of his future plans.”
They fell quiet, just holding each other, amazed to be alive, stealing a moment of joy and contentment.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked.
“I am, but I’ll leave the fighting up to my brothers and Gregor for the next week. I’ve seen how deadly head wounds can be.”
“We can lie in bed and recuperate together.”
He pushed back her hair and kissed the side of her neck. She could feel his smile against her skin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
A low, distant rumbling slowly increased in intensity until she felt it shaking through her bones and muscles. They looked over to see a group of riders racing toward them from the direction of the castle.
She tensed, and Gavin rubbed his cheek on the top of her head. “Doona worry, love. ’Tis Gregor and the lads. Shall I tell them to go home? I doona need their help, because you’ve already saved me—saved all of us.”
“How could I not? You were all worth saving. Besides, ’tis what a lion does.”
“You know what else a lion does?” He pulled her closer and began nibbling on her ear.
She shivered. “Lays about in the sun all day?”
“Aye, that too. Preferably without any fur on.”
Deirdre laughed and then sighed. “Chases off all the other lion lasses?”
“There are no other lion lasses to chase off. Ever.”
“What does she do with her time, then?”
“She kisses her mate.”
Now it was her turn to smile against his skin. “Aye, love. I can do that.”
Epilogue
Two months later…
Laird Boyd MacColl’s lifeless body hanged from a rope looped around his neck in the middle of his bailey at Castle MacColl. Gavin estimated he had been there for two days at least, and the crows and rats had begun to feast on his dead flesh.
It was a fitting end for a deviant who’d preyed on young girls.
By all accounts, he’d been imprisoned and then executed by his eldest sister’s husband when Boyd had come crawling home weeks ago.
Alone.
Somehow, he’d managed to escape murder at the hands of the master conspirator and scurry away from the battle in the quarry.
Or so Gavin’s foster brothers and father had told him.
Gavin had been relegated to his sickbed for weeks after he’d been injured at the cathedral, and he’d missed the battle that had really been more of a rout. His men and allies had descended upon the quarry in force, and they’d all but obliterated several hundred MacIntyre warriors hidden there. They’d tried to take Laird MacIntyre alive, but he’d already been killed by a dagger in the back.
As soon as he’d been well enough to fight, Gavin and the other lairds had marched on Clan MacIntyre. Even without their laird, the warriors had fought well, sealing up the castle.
Gavin and his allies had endeavored to defeat them with as little carnage as possible—and they’d succeeded.
A gust of wind swung Boyd’s body, dislodging the crows, and Gavin clenched his jaw as a another burst of rage hit him. He wanted to kill the man all over again for the things he’d said and done to Deirdre when she was a child. And he wouldn’t have hanged him. Nay, Gavin would have dispensed justice by taking Boyd’s head—after every person in his clan had had the chance to bear witness, if they wanted, to his crimes.
A woman approached him, and he knew who it was immediately, but he couldn’t dredge up a smile—not after the way Deirdre’s family had treated her and the damage they’d done.
“Laird MacKinnon, dear brother,” she said. “I’m Muireall, Deirdre’s eldest sister. ’Tis good to finally meet you.”
She bowed her blond head and curtseyed perfectly, which soured his stomach further. He wouldn’t take her head for the cruelties she’d imposed upon his wife, but he wished his sister, Isobel, were here to teach the viper a lesson.
When she raised her eyes, he could see her resemblance to Deirdre, despite her being so slender and fair. It made him miss his wife all the more. He’d been away from her for over five weeks now, and her absence was a constant pain in his body. Aye, part of his heart had been left behind at Clan MacKinnon with Deirdre and Ewan.
He looked back at Boyd. “Did you wait to hang him until you knew we were approaching?”
Muireall hesitated, then simply said, “Aye. He’s my mother’s son.”
Gavin returned his gaze to her and saw her lips tremble before she tightened them. She either grieved her brother or was frightened that Gavin would proceed to hang her. Or both.
“We willna harm anyone who wasn’t a part of Boyd’s plans or enabled him in his deviant desires. I understand you doona live here any longer?” he asked.
“Nay, I came back for my father’s passing. My other siblings and my mother left when we heard of Boyd’s treachery. I am the eldest, and if the clan will have him, and you, of course, my husband will be laird. He’s a good man. Much better than my father. Or Boyd.”
Gavin nodded. He suspected that was true from the reports he’d received.
He looked back at Boyd, his anger rising again. He wanted to tear down the body and drag it through the forest behind Thor. “Did you know your brother was an abuser of children?”
“Nay,” she whispered. “At least, I was never confronted by it. I think a part of me knew, but I left a year or so after Boyd returned from being fostered. I didn’t see my family for years.”
“Neither did Deirdre. No one seemed to care.”
Mu
ireall sighed. “My mother was a cold woman. She still is. And my father was mostly absent. I didn’t understand that love could be freely given until I married my husband.”
Gavin raised his brow. “Deirdre understood that.”
“Aye, she was softer than the rest of us. I’m sorry for any harm I caused her. If I were to see her again, I would tell her.”
He grunted and then whistled for Thor to be brought over. “I’ll mention your sentiment to my wife. She has a kind, forgiving nature. I couldnae be more grateful to be her husband.”
Muireall’s eyes lit up. “Oh! You love her. How wonderful!”
Gavin mounted Thor and looked down at her. “She and Ewan hold my heart. I would return today if I could convince my brothers and foster father to leave.”
“I’m all for that,” Kerr said, riding up behind him. “But we need a few more days here at least.”
Gavin nodded and looked at Boyd once more. “Take down the body and burn it. He willna have a proper burial.”
Muireall bobbed a curtsey again—not so perfect this time. “Aye, laird. I will tell my husband immediately.” She looked up at him and smiled a little shyly this time, warmth exuding from her eyes, rather than obsequiousness. “I am glad my sister found you.”
“She didn’t find me,” Gavin said. “She saved me.”
She nodded and then hurried toward the keep.
Kerr urged his horse forward, his eyes glinting devilishly. “Maybe I could get the lads to leave in only one day. I wouldnae want your heart to wither and die while it’s in my cousin’s hands.”
Gavin considered clobbering him, but if Kerr could get the lairds to leave tomorrow he would kiss him instead. “Fall will be upon us sooner than you think, Brother, and then we’ll all be back at our separate clans as winters rails against us. Let’s hurry back—to my wife and my sister. You have a lot of work to do if you doona want to be inside your stone walls alone this year.”
Highland Captive Page 34