“Nay,” Bowen said, shaking his head. “But Simon said he heard her crying late inte the night.”
Malcolm nodded, but could not ease the sense of dread that had begun the moment she had closed the door on them the night before and had been increasing ever since. He knocked on the door. “Aislinn.” He hesitated, awaiting a response and receiving none. “Aislinn, dearling, I have brought ye something te break yer fast.”
Silence.
“Come now, Aislinn. Conall, Bowen and I must be gettin’ back and we wish te keep our promise te ye.”
Several of the others joined him in the hallway, looking every bit as concerned as he felt. Without further preamble, Malcolm reached down and grasped the latch with a final warning, ready to break the door down if necessary. There was no need. It opened easily with the slightest pressure.
The bed was made, even neater than it had been on their initial arrival. The fire had been snuffed, the blackened embers cold to the touch. On the bed was the gown Aislinn had been wearing, along with the several they had purchased for her the day before. On the scarred table was the small purse of coins they had given her, as well as a note, hand-scratched with a charred piece of wood from the hearth.
“Thanks, but no thanks. Best wishes to the laird and his betrothed. –A.”
* * *
Among other things, Aislinn had been blessed with an excellent sense of direction. It was a skill perhaps not among the most coveted, but for a woman who found herself in unfamiliar lands more often than not, it was greatly appreciated.
After much thought, Aislinn decided the best place to end her dream was where it had all begun. Travelling on foot and only by the light of the moon made her progress slow, but that was alright. It wasn’t really like she had anywhere else to be.
It had been child’s play for a woman with her training to scale the outside walls of the tavern silently and without being seen; even more so to steal clothes that would disguise her appearance. Aislinn could be a ghost when she wanted to. Keeping to the shadows, wishing she’d had the foresight to bring her pack with her yesterday, Aislinn slipped out of the village, and away from the well-meaning but misguided Brodies, unnoticed.
For a brief amount of time, Aislinn considered remaining in her dream state, just changing the scenery a little. She had nothing to go back to, really. Not that she had anything here, either, but it almost seemed as if it would be easier to carve out a life for herself here than back in her own reality. There were plenty of places a well-seasoned veteran like her could all but disappear. She’d be a burden to no one, answer to no one. Of course, she’d be alone, too, but she was used to that.
As desirable as that seemed, Aislinn knew in her heart she couldn’t stay. No matter how far she travelled, she would always have to fight the urge to return to Dubhain. To see Lachlan, if only from afar.
Except it wouldn’t be just Lachlan that she saw. She would see his wife and his children, too.
And that, she knew, would kill her.
It took three nights, but she finally arrived back at the clearing where she had first awoken in her dream. It would end here, just as it had begun.
She thought back to when she had seen Lachlan for the first time. How beautiful and fierce he had been as he fought off six men at once. If she was truly honest with herself, she’d have to admit she’d probably fallen in love with him right then and there. So proud and handsome...
She walked around, filling herself with the sights and scents and feel of this surreal place before dropping down beneath the same tree where she’d awoken. It had been a little more than a week ago that she had opened her eyes in this wondrous land, but it felt more like a lifetime. Wishing she had her Jack instead – she and Jack were always tight when things went south - Aislinn pulled out the bottle of whiskey she’d managed to slip away with. Funny; she hadn’t had the desire for a drink since she got here, but then, she’d had plenty of other things on her mind, hadn’t she?
The first swallow went down a little harder than she was used to, but it was a welcome and familiar-enough burn that she relished all the way down her throat, heat blossoming in her empty stomach as it landed there. She had not bothered to eat on her final journey. It was a dream, after all, and given the way she felt when she’d first arrived, the less she had on her stomach when she re-awoke back at home, the better.
The same logic did not apply to alcohol, however. She took another drink, and another, until there was no more. It was not nearly enough.
Aislinn lay there for a long time, the feel of the fallowed grass strangely comforting beneath her. Despite her exhaustion and the numbing effects of the potent spirits, sleep remained elusive. She replayed scenes from the last week over and over in her mind. She would keep the happy memories. Even with everything that happened, Dubhain and the Brodies had given her more good memories than the rest of her life combined. And how pathetic was that?
She saw the motion in the periphery of her vision, the slight swish of the grass the only sound. She watched with mild interest as the snake neared.
It was ironic in a cruel and poetic way. This clearing had been her Eden of sorts. It was only fitting that her time here end with the appearance of a serpent. It was classic Old Testament, and Aislinn had always been more comfortable with the whole “eye for an eye” thing than the “turn the other cheek” concept – at least, one was clearly more prevalent in her life than the other.
She sent up a prayer of both thanks and apology; the thanks for the answered prayer she’d uttered at midnight Mass, the apology for her hubris in asking in the first place.
“Well, come on then,” she prodded, only mildly slurring the words. “Take me home.” Wherever that might be.
Aislinn extended her arm. The adder wasted no time in striking, not once, but three times. The bites were beyond painful, but Aislinn refused to make a sound. She’d known worse pain, and physical pain was nothing when your heart had been shattered.
It didn’t take long for the venom to make itself known. The adder’s strikes had been sure and true. Excruciating pain at each bite site became a caustic burning in her veins. She could feel the poison making its way through her body. And with each beat of her heart, it hurt a little less, until she felt practically nothing at all. Minutes later, she thought she might have felt the first rays of the dawn on her face even as Lachlan’s voice calling her name echoed in her brain, a bittersweet goodbye.
Lachlan Brodie roared out to the heavens as he galloped back toward his keep at breakneck speed, the tiny limp figure in his arms. Thank God he had posted watchers all around the clearing. Thank God that after three days of fruitless searching, Conall had reasoned that she might return to where it had all begun.
Long before he reached the gates a crowd had rushed out to meet him.
“Jesu!” Malcolm cursed as he saw the woman in Lachlan’s arms. Her face was deathly white, streaked with the dark blue and purple lines of her poisoned veins below the surface. Her limbs hung limply, one arm covered in blood, swollen beyond recognition from the multiple piercings of deadly fangs.
Chapter 12
“I found her near the clearing,” Lachlan said quietly, brushing the hair back from her face with trembling fingers. “’Twas an adder that bit her. I saw it. Even as I dropped to my knees beside her, it reared up in the grass and looked at me afore slithering away.”
It was the first time he had spoken in days. Since he’d found her and brought her back to the keep, Lachlan had not left her side, speaking only to Aislinn as she remained beyond their reach. Malcolm was not about to stop him now.
“It nearly killed me te cut her,” Lachlan said, his eyes growing dark as he remembered crying out as the blade sliced her skin so he could draw out the poison.
“Ye saved her life.”
No, thought Lachlan, he had failed miserably at protecting the one thing that meant more to him than anything else in the world. According to the physician, it had been the copious amounts of
alcohol that had kept her alive long enough for Lachlan to find her. Her system had been so retarded by it the poison hadn’t had a chance to take full effect.
Though she had yet to open her eyes, her heart was beating, albeit weakly and erratically. Her breaths were shallow and filled with an ominous rattle that he refused to acknowledge. Her skin had been so hot to the touch that Lachlan had taken it upon himself to bathe her with cool water frequently; then she would shake uncontrollably and he would wrap her in the softest, warmest blankets he could find and crawl into bed with her in the hopes that the heat from his body would soak into her. He would patiently wet her lips and squeeze droplets of water into her mouth, experiencing a small victory each time she swallowed reflexively.
It was heartbreaking. Despite all of their efforts, every few hours she would gasp and seize, and it took him and several of his brothers to hold her in place so she would not further injure herself.
She had been still for the last several hours, her body serene.
Before leaving, the healer had told them this night Aislinn would decide whether to stay or go.
It would cost Dubhain dearly to nullify the marriage contract that had been drawn between the clans, but he had the full and unwavering support of his brothers. Sir William, Elyse’s father, was understandably upset, but perhaps not as much as he might have been. Lachlan knew he had made the right decision when Elyse simply bowed her head and accepted the change in plans with grace and decorum.
Aislinn would have pitched a bloody fit, and that’s what Lachlan wanted: a woman who loved him enough to fight for him.
Just as he would fight for her.
Lachlan took Aislinn’s tiny hands in his and kneeled beside the bed. Then he bowed his head and began to pray with all of his heart.
* * *
Aislinn awoke slowly, cocooned in the most wonderful warmth. Feeling stiff, as if she’d lain in the same position for too long, she attempted to turn. Strong male arms tightened around her. She forced her eyes open and found her face snuggled into a familiar neck. She inhaled deeply, drawing Lachlan’s scent into her as if starved for it.
Unable to think of anything else, she focused all of her attention on the wonderful feel of his naked body flush against hers, the searing heat from his skin as it soaked into hers. At the strong, steady beat of his heart against her belly. She nuzzled him, her tongue peeking out for just a slight taste.
Lachlan stiffened. “Aislinn?” He pulled back enough to look into her face, his eyes wild with hope. “Aislinn? Ah, thank God, ye came back te me, lass.” His lips were hard yet oddly tender against hers when she felt the first hot tears on her cheek. Lachlan was crying?
That quickly, the images started coming back to her. Blowing Lachlan a kiss as she waved goodbye. Malcolm and the others explaining how she had to leave because Lachlan was to wed another. How she had made her way back to the clearing, wanting to go home.
But she wasn’t home.
“Lachlan.” Her throat protested as she forced the name out, little more than a hoarse bark.
“Shhhh, doona try te talk yet, loving.” Suddenly there was a cup at her lips and he was urging her to drink. Desperate with thirst, she wrapped both of her hands around his and pulled the cup toward her. “Easy, loving, easy,” he crooned in her ear as he controlled the cup, only letting a few drops in at a time.
“More,” she rasped when the cup was empty.
“In a wee bit. Yer belly has been empty far too long.”
Moments later she was glad he had kept her from guzzling the whole thing as her stomach cramped uncomfortably.
“Why am I here?” she asked, a brief look around telling her she was in Lachlan’s private chamber.
“Ye have been ill,” he said, his face turning somber. “Verra ill. I have been caring for ye.”
“Doesn’t your wife mind?”
The look of pain Lachlan gave her was like a full-bodied tackle to her already-tortured soul. Feeling even more sick to her stomach, Aislinn pushed at his chest, only to discover she was a weak as a newborn kitten. Lachlan easily took both of her hands in his much larger one and leaned down to place gentle kisses along her jaw. “Easy, loving. I have ye. Everything is going te be all right.”
Aislinn didn’t think twice. Summoning every bit of the meager strength she had, she used it for the sudden lift of her knee and the satisfying connection with a certain part of his anatomy.
“Och! What did ye do that for?” he wheezed, turning his hips to prevent her from taking another shot at his manly parts.
Anger, it seemed, went a long way in fueling enough energy for a proper response.
“For being engaged to someone else while you were fucking me for fun. For not telling me yourself. For having your brothers tell me as they were carting me off to some funny farm. For making me fall in love with you, you stupid bastard.”
Instead of being angry, he grinned, pinning her arms and legs to keep her from doing further damage as he rose above her. “Ye love me?”
A growl of frustration rumbled up through her chest. Of course that would be the only thing that managed to penetrate that thick, Celtic man-skull of his.
“No,” she hissed. “I give my body to every man a day or so after I meet him.”
His smile was gone instantly, replaced by a look of fierce possession. “Ye are mine,” he growled. “No other mon will ken the pleasure of yer flesh. Ever.”
Fire raged in her hazel eyes; if looks could kill, he would have been reduced to fine ash. “You gave up the right to make that decision when you sent me away.”
“I did no’ send ye away. I thought they were taking ye inte town for the day.”
Aislinn snorted. “Yeah, right.”
His face hardened, and his voice grew softer, as it always did when he meant business. “Are ye calling me a liar, Aislinn McKenna?”
“Yeah, well if the big, fat shoe fits, you can shove it right up your arrogant, man-whoring arse.”
His cock grew hard and long against her hip. No one lit a fire inside of him like this woman – this impossible, passionate, beautiful woman. She would always demand his complete and utter devotion, and would never allow him to falter, never accept anything less.
“I never lied te ye, Aislinn. I swear te ye I did no’ ken what they had planned.”
“But you knew you were getting married, didn’t you? Maybe you never came right out and said you were available, but I kind of assumed that, given that you had me in your bed every night. That’s called a sin of omission, buddy, and it’s every bit as bad as lying.”
“I... forgot.” It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears.
“You forgot?!? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Ye make me crazy, lass,” he exploded, his voice rising right along with his heart rate, the pounding in his ears, and the blood pulsing painfully in his swollen cock. “Ye came inte my life and aye, I simply forgot everything else. Because nothing else mattered anymore besides ye.”
That gave her a moment’s pause, but she was too far gone in her womanly indignation to stop now. “Yeah? And what of your wife? How does she feel about that, Laird Brodie?” She spat the title and name as if it was a vile curse.
A heavy sigh. “Ye are the only woman who will be my wife, Aislinn.”
That shut her up. For all of about three seconds. “What about Elyse?”
“On her way back to her family’s lands.”
“You’re not getting married?”
He leaned down and nipped her bottom lip with his teeth in scolding. It should not have turned her on as much as it did; she was mad at him, goddammit.
“Are ye not listening, lass? O’ course I am getting married. But only te ye.”
Her mind screamed “arrogant bastard” while her heart simply melted into a puddle deep in her chest. She sniffed and lifted her chin defiantly. “Maybe I don’t want to marry you.”
“O’ course ye do. Ye love me.” Lachlan grinned like a fool as he leaned
down and captured her mouth in a womb-clenching kiss.
* * *
Aislinn didn’t make it easy for him. His brothers found great glee in watching the laird of Dubhain grovel and woo his bride. They were quite free with their suggestions on how to further his torment, many of which Aislinn took to heart.
They were not completely off the hook, either. She still resented the fact that they had conspired behind Lachlan’s back to ship her off. She was, they discovered soon enough, every bit as sneaky and cunning as any of them.
After nearly a month of waking up feeling like she had the flu, however, Aislinn decided that she had punished Lachlan enough.
It was as she lay next to him in bed, feeling boneless and sated from their particularly vigorous bout of make-up sex – the first she had allowed him to share her bed since awakening two months earlier - that she first broached the subject.
“Why did you agree to marry Elyse if you didn’t love her?”
* * *
Lachlan tensed beneath her petting hand. Aislinn had just come back into his bed. He had no wish to say or do anything that might change that, so he pretended to be asleep.
His clever sprite wasn’t fooled for a minute. She took several of his chest hairs between her thumb and forefinger and tugged, freeing them from his skin. “Malcolm said it was because you needed to breed some heirs,” she prodded.
Clearly he was going to have to work harder at wearing her out if she had the energy to do that, he decided.
“Malcolm does no’ ken when te keep his big mouth shut,” he grumbled without opening his eyes. His big hand closed over hers in case she planned to pluck a few more hairs from his chest.
Aislinn climbed up on top of him, folding her hands beneath her chin and looking into his eyes. “Is it true?”
She was not going to let this go, he realized. She would not allow him to glide easily along. His woman would always be there, holding him accountable for his actions. He had been a good laird before, but she was making him a fine man. And he loved her for it.
Raising Hell in the Highlands: A Time Travel Romance (A Timeless Love Book 2) Page 10