by Quinn, Paula
Now was the time to still his tongue, but he couldn’t. He understood her father hated him. But to wed her to Hugh Tanner to keep them apart? ’Twas cruel to her and he wanted her father to know. “He is belittlin’ and arrogant toward yer daughter, usin’ her love, respect, fear, or whatever she feels toward ye to threaten her,” he said. “I didna pummel his face beneath the heel of my boot last eve because I came here fer peace. Ye made a terrible mistake, Commander. Her husband will own her, not love her. That is what ye sentenced her to.”
He turned without waiting for a response and left the hall.
Elysande left the fortress and drew her fur-lined cloak closer around her neck. A thin layer of frost covered the hundreds of acres of wilderness and hills where the MacPhersons’ cattle and sheep grazed. The air was brisk and turned her breath white.
She didn’t care how cold it was. She had to get away from her father, her uncle, and Raphael. They all thought to think for her! She didn’t want to believe her uncle was innocent because then she would have to admit that she blurted out that Raphael liked it there enough to wed her, no doubt! Oh, she thought she could hear her bones rattling with mortification. She had to get away.
And her father! Her tears whipped off her cheeks on a bracing gust of wind. How could he announce her betrothal to Hugh when he hadn’t even told her? Had he planned it or was his action a result of trying to keep her from Raphael? She let out a short scream that was carried away on the wind.
This was what she needed. To scream a little without being heard by a fortress full of people. She kept going, walking farther away, trying to think clearly about what to do. Would she have to marry Hugh? She changed her mind. She didn’t want to marry him anymore! Mayhap if she just told her father how she felt…no. He wouldn’t listen. His caution toward his enemies was too strong.
The wind was growing stronger, snapping her cloak and skirts around her ankles. Puffs of white swirled around her feet as the howling wind swept up the frost. She looked up toward the hills and tried to see if any of the shepherds had come out and tended to their sheep and cattle. But she couldn’t see that far. In fact, the drifting, swirling snow had grown stronger, pulling at her hood, burning her face with the icy cold. She should have known better than to venture so far with the unpredictable weather of the Highlands.
She turned around, cursing at the weather for not letting her go off by herself. She had to get back inside. Frustrated, she shouted as loud as she could just one more time before she realized she couldn’t see the stronghold.
Dear God, help, she thought as panic settled over her. She just had to keep walking straight. She couldn’t open her eyes. They stung and watered. Even if she could open them, all she would see was white.
White. Everywhere.
Chapter Five
Raphael left the hall and, in his search for Elysande, was informed by a man carrying a shepherd’s crook that he had seen her outside.
Collecting his cloak, Raphael left and ran into the bracing cold, toward the stable. None of the stalls were empty. She was on foot. She wouldn’t have gone far. The wind was increasing steadily and filled with icy mist. Another five breaths and more snow began to fall.
“Elysande!” he shouted. Where would she have gone? The howling wind answered him. She wouldn’t be able to hear him. What should he do? Go back for his horse? Run back to the hall and get her father?
He ran while he could still see the structure and burst into the great hall. He didn’t look at anyone in particular. He had to hurry. He had to get out there and find her.
“Elysande!” he shouted. Every eye turned to him. “She is outside! There is a storm—I must find her!”
People were moving, running, but he was already gone.
He rushed outside and was able to see the heavy gates moving back and forth in the wind, unbolted, unguarded. The shepherd he saw inside had just gone beyond the wall, hadn’t he? Did he leave the gates open?
An instant later and the gates disappeared–along with everything else as snow filled the air and blinded the eyes.
Raphael ran toward the sound of the gates creaking open and closed. He rushed past them and out into the wilderness.
“Elysande!” he shouted as loud as he could. He was sure his heart had almost left his body through his mouth. He knew she wouldn’t hear him. Which way would she go? Toward the forest to be alone? Or toward the hills? To a shepherd’s home, mayhap? He tried to look around. Which way were the trees, the hills? He remembered where they were yesterday when he and his father had arrived, so he turned the opposite way now and ran left, toward the forest.
After what her father had done, she would want to be alone, not knocking on doors. She might have tried to turn toward the hills, but she hadn’t had time for a detour.
“Elysande!” he shouted, despite the wind.
He tripped and fell over something soft. A body! Elysande!
With his heart racing like the wind, he sat up and gathered her in his arms. She did not respond. With tears stinging his eyes, he pressed his ear to her chest and listened for a heartbeat.
He heard one! Oh, he gave thanks. She was alive! He had to keep her that way until he got her back to the hall or to a shelter.
He cradled her in his arms and stood up with her. How was he going to do this, he thought while he tied his cloak around them with the fingers of one hand?
Holding her close, he tried to let his body’s heat fill her. He breathed on her neck, her cheek. He tucked her hands close and shivered from her cold.
“Come with me,” he heard a male voice say in front of him.
Raphael had no other option. He put Elysande over his shoulder so that his hands were free, and placed one of them on the man’s shoulder, letting him lead.
They walked through the curtain on a path that was seemingly easy for this man to follow thanks to a barking dog leading him. A short while later, they came to a cottage with candlelit windows and warmth inside.
Warmth.
Raphael set Elysande on the bed of Adam of Aberdeen, one of seven shepherds for the MacPhersons. After much thanks, he added more wood to the fire and sat on the edge of the bed while Adam saw to her.
“All will be well, but ye must undress her. Just to her chemise,” the shepherd told him when Raphael began to refuse. “Her clothes are wet and freezin’. Ye must also remove yer shirt and get into bed with her. Give her yer heat. I myself would do it, but I know her father and I want to keep my head.”
Raphael stared at him for a moment and wondered if the shepherd was jesting. He decided he wasn’t and cast Elysande a worried look. He couldn’t let her die.
He undressed her with shaking fingers, not because of fear of her father, but because he didn’t want her to awaken and think he was trying to have his way with her in her sickly condition. And because he wished he were undressing her with her consenting, eager eyes on him. He peeled off her clothes and when he saw that her chemise was sheer, he pulled the bed covers over her to keep her feminine shape away from the shepherd’s—and his own—eyes.
He pulled off his cloak and his plaid, doublet and shirt. Everything fell to the floor until his upper body was bare. He pulled away the covering and climbed into bed beside her. He closed his eyes. Her father would kill him. How close was the commander to them? He asked the shepherd, but the shepherd didn’t know.
With nothing more to do for now, Raphael held her, covering her entire body as the shepherd directed. Her body was warming up and he did all he could not to become too aware of her soft curves and firm peaks against him.
“We should notify her father,” he told Adam the shepherd to help keep his mind off things.
“D’ye want to go oot there?” the shepherd asked. “I dinna. ’Twill have to wait until the storm passes.”
Raphael didn’t want to go out. He certainly didn’t want to leave the bed, but her kin would be sick with worry. No, he wanted to hold her and make certain she was well. He wanted to breathe the
faint scent of mountain laurel in her hair, left there by the drooping wreath stuck in her veil.
He pulled it free with gentle, slightly less trembling fingers. He removed her veil and stared at her face like one caught in the beauty of a summer sunrise after a long, dark winter.
“I’ll make some tea,” said the shepherd and left the small room.
Raphael took in the slight slope of her nose, the delectable bow shape of her mouth, the alluring curves of her cheek and jaw. He wanted to kiss her. He ran his palms down her back and then closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to stay strong. She needed his heat. He could hold her without losing his mind…or his heart.
“Elysande, please awaken, lass. I need to find yer father.”
She opened her eyes with a flutter of dark, lush lashes. For one blissful moment, she smiled into his eyes. He knew in that moment that he wanted to wake up next to her every morning for the rest of his life. Then her smile faded.
“Why d’ye need to find him? What…?” She suddenly realized where she was. In his arms, against his bare chest. “What are ye doin’?” She tried to wiggle away from him. He released her, but she fell back when she tried to rise up from the bed.
“Elysande,” he said in a soft voice, “ye were almost dead in the snow, barely breathin’, lass. There is a storm—” He reached for her when she made her second attempt to leave the bed.
“Raphael.” She leaned back in the bed, too weary to get up. “Go find my father. Dinna stay here another instant.” She spoke the words and yet she suddenly clutched at him as if she didn’t want him to go.
“If he finds ye here alone and undressed with me, he will kill ye.”
Raphael nodded. “I am goin’. But I hate to leave ye.”
Her smile softened on him, making his heart palpitate. “How did ye find me, Raphael?”
“I fell over ye.” He laughed at himself, knowing it was the least heroic thing he could say.
She lifted her pale, delicate hand to her mouth and laughed with him. Raphael understood in that moment why her father was so protective of her. Losing her, seeing her hurt in this violent world would drive Raphael mad. He understood.
He wanted to return to her and wrap her in his arms again. He wanted to feel her heartbeat as close as his own. But he had to find her father and let him know that his daughter was alive.
He left her and went to the next room to look for the shepherd who hadn’t returned with the tea. He found Adam in the kitchen still preparing it.
When he heard what Raphael meant to do, Adam gave him more clothes to wear and two extra cloaks beneath his fur one.
Raphael thanked him and returned to bid Elysande farewell. He didn’t want to leave her. He didn’t know if he’d ever see her again. Her father was out there, ready, Raphael was sure, to die finding her. Would things be better for him and Elysande if her father was dead? He could stay here with her and let Cain MacPherson possibly die in the storm.
No. Whatever the outcome, Raphael would find him and give him back his daughter.
He went to her and knelt beside the bed, taking her hand in his. “I want ye to know, Elysande MacPherson, that I love ye. I dinna care if I just met ye, lass. Ye have taken hold of my heart, making it ready to risk everythin’, even my own life fer ye. I love ye. Whatever happens, I want ye to know that.”
He gently swiped a tear from her eye and then held his finger to her mouth. He didn’t want to know her reply. If he died, he wanted to believe she loved him. If she didn’t, he didn’t want to know. He stood up and quietly left the cottage.
And stepped into the howling, white wind.
Chapter Six
Cain pulled his fur-lined cloak closer around his face, leaving only a narrow slit between his cloak and his hood. He could barely see two feet in front of him. But he knew his way. Even if he didn’t, he would travel the pathway to Hades to find her. His and Aleysia’s only daughter. Their treasure, cherished beyond measure. If anything terrible were to befall her…he couldn’t finish the thought.
He was freezing. Even wrapped in wool and fox, the wind found a way to get through to his bones. But the colder he became the more his determination to find her grew. He prayed that she’d found shelter, or her way back to the fortress. He prayed because if she was out here lost, she was already dead. Tears stung his eyes.
Please God, no. Please send help on this Christmas night.
This was all his fault. If he hadn’t announced her betrothal to Hugh Tanner, she never would have run away. Was Raphael Cameron correct about Hugh? Was he using her love, respect, fear, or whatever she felt toward him to threaten her? He’d tried to find out by pulling Tanner aside and questioning him. Tanner profusely denied the charges.
Either way, if Cain had her back, he would listen to her. If she didn’t want to marry Hugh Tanner, then she wouldn’t marry him. But what if she wanted to marry—
He hit into something soft, yet inflexible.
“Who is there?”
Cain scowled hearing Robbie Cameron’s voice. What the hell was he doing out here. Cain asked him.
“My son apparently followed yer reckless daughter into the storm in an attempt to save her. Now, he may be dead because of her.”
Cain didn’t know how to answer that accusation. Young Cameron went out into the freezing, blinding storm after her. Hugh Tanner did not, nor did he even show concern over her when Cain was questioning him. “I will find them,” Cain muttered and pushed past him. He hated that he’d just promised to save Cameron’s son, but it was the man’s—even if it was his enemy—bairn.
“I’m comin’ with ye,” Cameron said, placing his hand on Cain’s shoulder.
“No.”
“MacPherson,” Cameron shouted over the wind, “d’ye want to fight aboot it here and now while our bairns could be fightin’ fer their lives?”
Cain huffed and then moved onward with his enemy Robbie Cameron holding on.
They pushed their way through the wind and snow and then Cameron stopped and grabbed hold of Cain’s arm. “I heard somethin’!” He spun around, ignoring Cain hitting his hand away.
“Dinna twist me around, Cameron! If I lose my sense of…” he let his words trail off. Which way was he facing? How many times did Cameron pull him around? His stomach sank. He felt like killing his unwanted companion. He listened for any sounds and when he heard nothing, he swore an oath and punched at the air, hoping to hit Cameron, whom he could no longer see at all.
“I dinna know which way to go now, ye fool!”
“But I thought I heard somethin’,” Robbie defended.
“Ye heard the wind!” Cain shouted at him. “And now we will most likely die here.” He moved away from Cameron and turned to the left. The path toward the shepherds’ homes was this way he believed. But who knew for certain?
“I think we turned right,” said Cameron, passing him. “Whichever way ye were headin’ should be—”
“Cameron?” Cain called out after a few moments passed without another word from him. “Cameron, what the hell—!”
“MacPherson, dinna take another step!” Cameron screamed out from below him. “’Tis a cliff! I fell. I…I am holdin’ on to somethin’…a branch. One foot is on a perch, the other is hangin’ down. I dinna know how far. I need yer help.”
Now Cain knew where they were. He remained still. It was more of a drop-off than a cliff, but it was high enough above the river Garry to die from the fall.
Here it was. A way to get rid of his enemy once and for all. Every summer, who was it that tried to steal his cattle? The Camerons. Who laid traps for his kin when they were on the road so that they could do nothing but watch while their horses and any goods they had were taken from them? The Camerons. Who killed his good friend and second in command, Amish? Robbie Cameron.
But it was Christmas. And Cameron was his guest, thanks to his idiot brother.
He grumbled under his breath and knelt down on all fours.
“MacPherson.”
His voice rose to Cain’s ears. “I wanted ye to know this, but I was too much of a coward to tell ye to yer face, but in all our raids and skirmishes, I never meant to kill Amish. I respected him as a warrior too much to kill him. We were fightin’ and I swung left thinkin’ that was the way he was goin’, but he turned at the last moment to take a swipe at me and my blade fell on him and caused his death. I was sorry fer it. I still am.”
Cain looked down, letting his vision settle on the dark mass below.
“Will ye aid me, MacPherson?”
“Aye,” Cain grumbled louder, wondering how he would. There was no rope around and no vines to help. His cloaks and wrappings would have to do. He quickly tore them off then began tying them together to form a rope.
“It willna hold!” Cameron called up when Cain told him what he was doing.
“’Twill hold,” Cain called back confidently. “Ye dinna know the sewin’ skills of Berengaria and Margaret.” He smiled into the white, thinking of Nicky’s mother and dearest friend.
“Tie it around yer waist or wrap it many times around yer wrist. Call to me when ye are ready to come up.”
He prayed it would work while he dug in his heels and braced his weight in the snow. No one in the stronghold would believe he didn’t kill his enemy when he had the chance.
“Ready!” Cameron called.
“God, help us.” Cain tested the weight for a moment and wrapped both his wrists in the fabric and began to pull. He was about twenty breaths in when his muscles began to stiffen and cramp. Still he pulled, grinding his teeth, praying for more time. Just a little more time.
“I think a knot just came undone!” Cameron shouted. He was closer.
No! Do not let him fall this close to safety!
Suddenly, the weight was lifted and the makeshift rope went slack. Cain’s belly sank. Even though Cameron’s apology was given in order to save his life, Cain believed it and thought it was good to hear.
