The Highlander’s Destiny

by Wine, Mary

  What was wrong with her?

  She forced herself to look at Rolfe Munro. There was nothing so horrible about the man. He wasn’t twice her age or swimming in the fat of excess. More than one bride would be content to discover him waiting for her when she completed the journey from her father’s home.

  Not her, though.

  And to be fair, there was only a mild expression of interest on Rolfe’s face. He was performing according to the same guidelines she was. Minding his manners. Thinking of the way his actions would be picked apart by both their kin. He didn’t find her any more interesting than she did him, and he was lecturing himself as to just why she wasn’t at all a poor choice for a bride.

  Rolfe Munro didn’t want her, but he’d settle for her. Odds were, Cormac hadn’t contacted her because he felt the same way she did about their impending union.

  Oh…so ye want to be craved?…

  Was that at the core of her restlessness? A desire to fall in love? If so, she was setting her feet on a perilous path, for love was so very often not returned.

  No, that wasn’t it. Rolfe’s lack of passion wasn’t needling her. She’d been discontent before leaving the Mackenzie stronghold.

  Later, as she should have been sleeping, Cora gazed up at the ceiling. The walls around her were thick and sturdy. She should have taken solace in them. Instead, she was eager for sunrise and the opportunity to depart. There was something pounding through her that demanded she climb back in the saddle.

  Dissatisfied when she realized she had no reason to feel as though life had left her wanting, for she had much more than many, she went back to sleep with frustration gnawing at her. Shame was there as well, for she was no longer a child who might convince themselves that they were justified in their battle against what simply was.

  Perhaps it was time to meet Cormac Grant. See how the man affected her. Give the union her father had arranged a chance. After all, the man hadn’t arrived the moment she turned eighteen and demanded she be given to him. More than one man would have, for the sake of the alliance between their clans.

  Cormac was as stuck as she was.

  Perhaps he had someone he cared for. Was that the reason he’d not even sent one letter of introduction? Was he dreading the moment when her brother reminded him of his duty to honor the arrangements their fathers had made?

  Cora rolled over and screamed into the pillow.

  *

  Her horse was skittish.

  The animal fought against the bridle as Cora pulled him to a stop. “Easy now,” she cooed to him as she rubbed his thick neck. The animal’s ears were far from relaxed. They moved as though searching for confirmation of a threat.

  Cora contemplated the sky.

  The Highlands were always a place of changing weather. A wise person kept one eye on the horizon when they were out of the safety of the stronghold. Munro land was more than half a day’s ride behind them now.

  “Mistress?” Rory inquired behind her.

  The Mackenzie Retainer was hardened by life, his shirt collar weathered by the elements. His doublet was open a few buttons at the neck because the chill in the air was nothing compared to the bite of winter.

  The wind gusted. Like the snap of a whip, it blew through the stillness of the day. Rory looked up, his expression serious.

  “Best we hurry,” Rory informed her. “I’ve a feeling the weather will nae hold.”

  Cora patted her horse one final time before she used her heels against its sides to urge it forward. The animal started with a jump. Cora tightened her thighs and maintained her seat as they continued on. Their pace was brisk, the horses all seeming eager to make it home.

  But Fate wasn’t planning to be so kind.

  The storm blew in from the north with all the viciousness of a winter gale. It was an angry one as well. Like it had been held at bay by summer and was finally free to rage. The wind ripped at the trees, tearing the leaves from the branches and leaving them bare.

  But that wasn’t enough.

  Thick, black clouds flooded the sky, colliding with one another and producing huge booms of thunder. The sound echoed up and down the rocky Highlands, while Cora and the other Mackenzies struggled to maintain their grip on their bridles. It was a fight for survival now. The horses would run into the open, possibly over a cliff in panic, if they got free. Cora struggled to find the strength to grip the reins. Rain began to whip them. To say it was falling would be incorrect. The water was riding on the vicious wind, hitting them from the side like hard pellets. The onslaught was brutal, and it left her chilled to the bone.

  But the only option was to press onward.

  The storm wasn’t willing to let them succeed. It unleashed a crackle of lightning that split the sky open in brilliant white bolts of fire. The thunder boomed again, and suddenly, the very ground beneath them gave way.

  The long summer months had seen the land drying up. But now, water was coming down too fast for the earth to absorb. The excess ran off in tiny rivers, which joined others and grew and grew until there was a torrent of water. Cora looked around in horror to see they were near the low point in the land. She squeezed her thighs tight around the saddle and tried to guide the horse toward the high ground.

  But the horses began to panic. The neat column of Mackenzie riders fought for control, but they were no match for the horses. The animals turned and reared, seeking escape in all directions. Cora maintained her seat as her mount came crashing back down to earth. She felt the powerful animal leaping forward. She leaned down, hugging his neck. It jumped and bolted into the swirling storm, its only thought to escape the madness by outrunning it.

  Cora sucked in a breath. She strove to maintain her composure, fighting back the urge to join the horse in mindless panic. At any moment, the land might give way to a cliff or another river, and she had to gain control of the horse before they both ended up dead.

  “Easy…” She tried to settle the animal.

  She pulled back on the bridle, not too hard, just enough to get the horse’s attention. She felt him hesitate, dropping into a canter.

  “That’s the way,” she encouraged. “Let’s look for some shelter.”

  Her eyes couldn’t adjust to the blinding lightning, and the horse refused to be soothed.

  The thunder came again. Cora would have sworn she felt the sound as much as heard it. The next crack of lightning was directly above her head. The horse rose up, pawing at the air in an attempt to slay the storm. Up, up, and up. Too far for the slippery conditions. Cora felt the moment when the animal’s rear legs began to slip. She released the reins but was helpless to do anything else.

  They both crashed to the ground. Cora rolled away, trying to escape the heavy body of the horse. The animal screamed as Cora grunted with the impact of several rocks. But by some miracle, she escaped being crushed. Relief flooded her. She gulped at the air, trying to calm the hard thumping of her heart.

  But she suddenly realized it wasn’t her blood roaring.

  It was a river. Swollen from rain, it was churning and gushing. She was still rolling away from her horse when she realized she was heading into the water. There was no escape. It grabbed her skirts and yanked her into its grip. She was torn off the bank and tossed like a broken branch into the water. It sucked her down, filling her nose and mouth. Her lungs burned as she fought to break the surface.

  A flash of lightning gave her direction. Cora fought hard and broke the surface. She drew in a breath as she was slammed hard against a huge rock. She clawed at it, but the surface was slimy with moss, and the power of the current carried her right around it and beneath the surface once again.

  The fight went on. She felt her muscles burning as she continued her battle. Each breath cost her strength, but every gulp of air also provided her with hope. The need to survive was the only thought in her mind. It was a pulsing demand she made of herself. She fought harder but felt her strength waning. The current forced her head down again, leaving her imme
rsed in a watery world where she couldn’t find any means of deducing which way was up.

  Cora felt the lack of air stealing her consciousness. Wasn’t it especially cruel of Fate to allow her to notice her life slipping away?

  No, it was a beacon of hope! She wanted her life. Every last second of it was worth fighting for.

  She pushed against a rock and shoved off in a direction she hoped was up. A flash of lightning was her reward, and she broke through the surface of the water. She clawed at a rock, finding one that was no bigger than her hand. She grasped it with her fingers, fighting against the chill in her flesh, willing herself to hold on as she kicked and flailed.

  The side of her face landed on the sand. She choked and spat out a mouthful of water but gained a second breath and then a third. The burning in her lungs started to subside, making way for a blistering hot rise of pain from her arms and legs. It was so intense, she felt her breath freeze in her chest.

  No. She would draw breath!

  Cora sucked in air and gritted her teeth against the rise of pain.

  She couldn’t hurt if she wasn’t alive.

  That thought was a victory. She struggled to her feet, her dress heavy with water. Her legs protested standing, but Cora lifted a fist toward the sky.

  “Is that all that ye have?” She demanded of the churning storm above her. Thunder rumbled in response. A long sound like a growl before the lightning crackled across the dark mass of clouds. The flash of light illuminated the place where she stood. Showing her the river roaring by and the sandbar she’d managed to crawl onto.

  And it showed her the form of a man standing four feet away.

  Chapter Two

  Siren.

  A fabled creature of moonlight and the sea… Something feared and yet sought by sailors as they braved the ocean and challenged Fate’s unyielding mercy.

  The storm was vicious.

  Faolan bared his teeth and soaked in the raw violence of the night. Behind him, the two towers of his home held against the onslaught of the fury of the storm. Standing firm against the elements as they had for over a century.

  His own flesh wouldn’t persevere as well.

  Faolan didn’t let the morbid thought disturb him. He was accustomed to being lacking, or at least being told he didn’t measure up to the expectations of the world around him. He enjoyed the struggle life presented. Strength came from refusing to buckle beneath everything Fate threw at him.

  Tonight, Fate tossed a siren onto the rocks at his feet. He was drawn to her just as completely as the sailors of myth and lore. But she surprised him because instead of attempting to tempt him close with lyrical enticements, she bared her teeth and faced the storm.

  “Is that all ye have?” she demanded.

  The sky rumbled with an answer, growling at her like a hungry bear. The lightning flashed, affording him a view of her face. She was smiling with the victory of surviving the river’s rage. He’d grant her that feeling, for the water was tearing at the edges of the bank, ripping rocks and trees away. It seemed winter wasn’t planning to wait until Samhain to rake its claws across the land.

  The siren was due her measure of accomplishment for surviving.

  The lightning gave her a view of him. Her head tilted in his direction as her eyes widened. Darkness wrapped around them both a moment later, stealing any further details of her away from Faolan. The wind was howling around them. He had no idea if sirens were the same as other women when it came to manners they expected men to have, but it mattered very little at that moment because all that was important was survival.

  Another crack of lightning showed him the way her frame shook. Soaked to the skin, the wind was biting into her. The river had failed to kill her quickly with drowning; now the water was going to continue to try and claim her life by freezing her.

  He wouldn’t let it happen.

  Faolan reached out and closed his hand around her wrist. Her flesh was chilled where his fingers touched it. She turned her face toward his, her teeth bared against the onslaught of the storm. Her strength of spirit impressed him, sparking something inside him that was just as determined to keep her out of the jaws of death. He pulled her along, fighting against the wind and the mud to make it back to shelter. She struggled with her skirts. The fabric was waterlogged and plastered to her legs. He could feel her arm trembling. But a glance behind him showed him that her teeth were set, her jaw tight as she forced herself to take the next step. There was no hint of surrender on her face.

  But where her spirit might be willing, her flesh had limits.

  So, he’d force her to keep moving.

  Because he didn’t want to find himself digging her grave when the storm broke.

  *

  Cora gasped.

  The wind stole the sound in a second as though she’d never uttered it.

  The fingers wrapped around her wrist were so warm.

  Hot really.

  The surge of victory she’d used to stand was fading now; her perception of how warm his fingers were drove home just how chilled she was. She felt the cold in her bones, which meant if she wanted to live to see the dawn, she needed to warm herself.

  Whoever he was, he knew it, too. He turned and pulled her along behind him. The rain pelted his wide shoulders, the wet fabric of his clothing sticking to his frame. He kept his pace slow as they traversed a section of bare rock, which was made slick by the heavy amount of water. Once they reached the regular ground, he moved faster. Her skirts were sticking to her legs, too heavy with water. She struggled against them, fighting to lengthen her stride.

  If he noticed, his pace never faltered.

  A crack of lightning brightened the scene, affording her a glimpse at a pair of dark towers. They were built of stone, the surface of them glistening. Whoever he was, he must have called them home, for he moved toward one with steady purpose. When he stopped, he released her wrist so he could use both hands to open the door. The wind fought him. But he persisted until the door was pried open in the face of the wind.

  She was half blown inside. He followed her, allowing the door to shut behind them.

  The air inside was hot on her cheeks. Cora immediately realized how hard she was shaking. She clamped her mouth shut to keep them from shredding her tongue, while she wrapped her arms around her middle in an attempt to gain control over her body.

  But it wasn’t to be. Escaping from the river appeared to have used up her share of luck. It wasn’t that she truly felt as though it was unfair, for surviving the night certainly was a feat. Only now, her knees were buckling, and no amount of protest from her pride was going to stop her collapse onto the floor.

  But her companion kept her from hitting the ground.

  “We must get ye free of yer wet clothing, lass,” he offered before reaching for the tie holding her dress closed. “Ye’ll die from the cold if ye do nae get warm.”

  She knew he was correct.

  “I…can…do it…” She forced her lips to allow her to form the words. Her companion offered her a doubtful look but withdrew his hand.

  Two candles had been left burning in the room. The glow of warm, yellow light drew her attention. Cora looked at the tiny flames, convinced she could feel the heat from them.

  Ye are too cold.

  She realized how dire her circumstances were but still fought to overcome her modesty.

  “I am Faolan McKay,” the man introduced himself. “Ye do nae have the time to tempt Fate by worrying about propriety. If I do nae warm ye quickly, Mistress, ye will no’ see the dawn.”

  He was correct.

  Cora was struggling to keep her eyes from closing. A wave of blackness was rising up, threatening to wash over her and sweep her into a dark void. It was tempting, for there would be no pain there.

  “Do nae sleep.” Faolan reached out and gripped her face.

  Cora gasped.

  “Forgive me. But yer wet clothing must go,” Faolan uttered before he was reaching for her.

>   Whether or not she wanted to protest didn’t matter. Her flesh hurt from how cold it was. She felt brittle, her fingers like icicles that would sooner snap than perform any function.

  “Do nae be frightened of me, woman.”

  Cora raised her head, locking gazes with him. Most men labeled her a lass. “I am not scared.”

  One side of his mouth twitched. It was just a momentary change in the hard expression his face seemed to be permanently set in. He had caramel-colored eyes. They struck her as a hint of softness deep inside him shone, far beneath the hardened exterior he presented.

  “I…am not…frightened.” She repeated. Her teeth still chattered. Cora drew in a breath and turned around. “I would…be grateful…for assistance.”

  Her overdress closed down the front with a lace. The skirt was attached to the bodice, so once the lace was free, it would all drop down her body and leave her in the undergarment.

  She wouldn’t be naked.

  The thought was only small comfort as she felt him pull the knot loose and pull it free.

  Small comfort because her underskirt would have to go as well.

  Keep yer back straight.

  Cora tried to rub her palms together to generate heat. She needed to keep her thoughts on what was important. She was no different beneath her clothing than any other woman. And Faolan didn’t look like a man who hadn’t had a woman.

  A tiny flicker of heat teased her cheeks. Cora felt her eyes widen.

  She did not blush!

  More than one person had lectured her on her lack of feminine responses. Her brother’s Head-of-House had often mumbled about it when Cora proceeded to spend time in the company of her brother’s Retainers without so much as a moment of hesitation over the lack of female companionship.

  Her overdress slumped to the floor.

  “Sit,” Faolan instructed her. “Yer boots are caked with mud. Best to remove them here and no’ track it abovestairs.”