by Jayne Castel
Leanna didn’t answer. She lacked the breath to do so. She was gasping now, exhaustion making her feel sick.
After a while, the shadows lengthened and the light started to fade. However, Leanna and Ross didn’t halt.
Not speaking, the pair of them edged south, often slipping and stumbling on the shale, which moved like quicksand underfoot. This high up, the air had a bite to it, despite that spring was now fully upon the isle.
Leanna was grateful for the nippy breeze that feathered across her heated cheeks. The heavy fabric of her habit, underskirts, and léine caught at her legs as she scrambled after Ross, hampering her movement. He’d let go of her hand a long while back, once they were clear of the outlaw village.
It was silent up here, and no sounds of the fighting they’d left behind echoed up from the valley far below. It was an ominous quiet, and Leanna wondered what it meant.
As she traveled, Leanna’s thoughts often returned to the people they’d left behind. Craeg had made a mistake in giving them shelter. His offer had been well-meant, but he hadn’t thought how some members of his band might react to having her and Ross among them.
His friend’s rash and foolish act had cost them all dearly.
The image of Craeg continuing to fight, even with an arrow sticking out of his side, made a cold knot form in Leanna’s belly. The man was brave, but would it be enough? Would MacKinnon slaughter them all?
Leanna shoved the thought aside, her heart pumping now.
We’re not safe yet, either, Leanna reminded herself as she wiped sweat from her eyes.
She knew she wouldn’t be until she was far from the Isle of Skye. While she remained here, she’d always have the threat of MacKinnon hanging over her like a great shadow, dimming any happiness.
Ross was supposed to bring her home to Duncaith, and they were certainly heading in the right direction to do so. However, she knew she couldn’t do that to her kin.
With MacKinnon hot on the trail, and incensed now, Leanna realized that she and Ross would need to change their plan. Her uncle would be forced to protect her—and doing so would launch the MacDonalds of Sleat into a full-scale feud with MacKinnon.
I can’t do that to them.
Leanna swallowed as the thought of never seeing her mother and sisters again thickened her throat. Of course, as a nun at Kilbride she’d already struggled with that realization. But once she’d decided she wouldn’t return to the abbey, a kernel of hope had taken seed in her breast—the hope that she’d be able to live at Duncaith amongst those who loved her.
But MacKinnon’s reach was long. She wouldn’t be safe from him, even there.
Where would I go instead?
Leanna’s feet slid out from under her then, and she pitched forward onto the steep slope.
Muttering a curse under her breath, she pushed the question aside. Now wasn’t the time to start planning the future. She was getting ahead of herself.
Now was all about survival.
She and Ross had to somehow get across these mountains and into MacDonald land. They had to lose themselves in the wilderness. Once they were far enough away from MacKinnon, she could start focusing on what lay ahead.
But, for the moment, she had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
27
Till the Last Breath
ROSS KNELT AT the edge of the stream and splashed ice-cold water over his heated face. It was so chill that it took his breath away—yet it was just what he needed. The cold cut through the fog of exhaustion that dragged at his limbs.
They’d now traversed the mountains. The rest of the journey would, hopefully, be easier.
Sitting back upon his haunches, Ross glanced over his shoulder at where a small figure lay upon her back, spread-eagled upon the mossy bank. Leanna’s face was flushed, and her breast heaved. Her pale hair spread out in a cloud around her.
Night had long fallen, although a full moon cast its friendly light over the world, illuminating Leanna’s exhausted features.
“Are ye well?” he croaked. It was a foolish question really, for she’d just thrown up from exhaustion, but he wanted to make sure that it was only tiredness that ailed her and nothing else.
“I’ll live,” she rasped back. “I think.” With a groan, Leanna rolled onto her side, her gaze fusing with his. “Do ye think we’ve outrun them?”
“For the moment.”
Ross had turned back to the stream and was splashing more water on his face. Gasping, he shook his head and felt a little more of the fatigue slough away. He needed to keep a clear head; he needed to think.
“We’re in MacDonald lands now, Leanna,” he said after a pause, glancing her way once more. “We need to decide which way to go.”
A pause followed these words, and he saw a shadow move across her hazel eyes. He realized then that the gravity of their situation had finally settled upon her. She knew there was no going back to Duncaith.
He’d feared he’d have to explain that to her, but he saw he had no need to.
Leanna understood.
“He’ll never stop hunting me,” she whispered. Her eyes gleamed as tears rose. “If I go home, it’ll only bring his wrath down upon my uncle … and I won’t do that to them.” She paused then, a groove forming between her eyes. “I know war is a way of life for this isle, but I’ll not be the cause of another blood feud. I need to leave Skye.”
Ross’s mouth quirked. “Aye … we both do.”
She watched him, her expression turning pensive. “Will ye help me, Ross?”
He turned from the stream and shifted over to Leanna’s side. She rose up onto her knees to meet him. He placed his hands upon her shoulders, seizing her gaze with his. Then he leaned forward.
They were so close, their breaths mingled.
Ross was surprised to discover that his heart was racing. “I will remain by yer side till the last breath leaves me,” he murmured, his voice husky now. “We shall find a boat that will take us away from here, and search for a quiet corner of Scotland where we can make a life together.”
Leanna’s eyes grew wide at these words, but Ross rushed on. He had to keep speaking, before his courage failed him. He’d never felt like this before: an overwhelming, chest-crushing need to protect this woman, to remain at her side.
“I love ye, Lady Leanna MacDonald of Sleat,” he continued. “And if ye will do me the honor of becoming my wife, we shall be wed as soon as we reach safety.”
Leanna stared at him, her rosebud lips parting at the shock of his admission.
Ross didn’t blame her; frankly, he couldn’t believe what he’d just said. It hadn’t been rehearsed. He’d simply acted on instinct, and without realizing it, he’d just revealed what lay in his heart.
And now that the words were out there, he felt strangely unburdened.
They’d been growing in him for a while now, he realized—since long before he made the decision to help Leanna escape Dunan.
But he’d understand if she spurned him. Circumstances had thrown them together, and she’d given herself willingly to him. That didn’t mean, however, that she wanted to become his wife.
Long moments passed, and then a soft smile curved Leanna’s lips. “It would be my honor,” she whispered.
Surprise and then joy flowered within Ross, a fierce warmth that exploded under his breastbone and spread up to his throat and down to his belly. Wordlessly, he drew her to him, his mouth slanting hungrily over hers. Leanna responded eagerly, her arms linking around his neck as she drew him against her. She kissed him back, her lips parting and her tongue sliding against his.
A low groan escaped Ross, and it was with great effort that he eventually broke the kiss and shifted back from her. “I could easily lose myself in ye,” he told her, watching as Leanna’s eyes darkened with desire, “but we’re not out of danger yet.”
She nodded, although the limpid look in her eyes still tempted him. She had no idea how much he wanted her; it took every ounce
of his willpower not to throw her back onto that mossy bank, spread those creamy thighs, and sink deep into her velvet heat.
Ross’s groin started to ache at the thought.
Mercifully, Leanna moved away from him then, severing eye contact. He watched her rise to her feet and brush off her skirts. When she spoke, her voice held a husky edge that made Ross’s breathing catch. “So, we need to head to the coast … and find ourselves a boat.”
“And we will,” Ross replied, not moving, “but we need to catch our breaths a while longer … or neither of us will make it there. Rest while ye can, my love.”
Leanna nodded, before sinking back down onto the mossy ground with a soft sigh of relief.
“Kyleakin would be the best choice of port,” Ross murmured. His gaze shifted back toward the way they’d come. Although he couldn’t see in the darkness, he knew that the wall of rugged mountains they’d passed through thrust up from the valley floor. “But I’d rather not travel back onto MacKinnon lands … or retrace our steps.”
Leanna shuddered. “Me neither.” She met his eye then. “There’s a village on the south coast called ‘Knock’. I visited it once with Da … merchants often bring their boats ashore there, with supplies from the mainland. We could find passage at the port.”
Ross nodded, the tension within him loosening slightly at this news. The truth was that, not being a native of Skye, he didn’t know this side of the isle well at all. He was glad that Leanna did.
“How far is it from here?” he asked.
Leanna glanced around, her face screwing up as she tried to get her bearings. “My father used to go stag hunting in the mountains we just crossed,” she murmured finally. “They’re around half a day’s ride from Duncaith … which means we are nearly a day’s journey on foot to Knock.”
“Right then.” Ross lay back on the bank, his gaze taking in the wide swathe of starry sky above. “We’ll rest a little longer and then head for the coast.” Fatigue lay upon him in a heavy blanket, and his leg muscles ached. His body cried out for sleep, yet it wouldn’t be getting any—not yet. They had to keep moving. Even at Knock they wouldn’t be safe.
MacKinnon would be stalking them, and many of his men would be on horseback. Night provided some protection from their hunters. But, as soon as dawn broke, he and Leanna would have to watch their backs.
He turned his head, his attention settling once more upon his companion, and saw that she was watching him, her gaze resolute. Yet a gentle smile lay upon her lips. Warmth filtered through Ross once more. Despite everything, the lass could actually smile. He adored her resilience; it was something he’d noted from the first day of their acquaintance.
Lady Leanna was a survivor.
Duncan MacKinnon drew his courser to a halt, his gaze sweeping right and left. They’d rejoined the rutted highway that led into MacDonald lands, and had now reached a crossroads.
A weather-beaten gibbet marked the intersection of three roads. A gruesome spectacle hung from the noose—the rotting corpse of what had once been a man.
Duncan’s attention rested upon the body for a few moments, before his mouth thinned. An outlaw, most likely. In other circumstances, it would have pleased him to see that the MacDonalds were taking the lawlessness upon this isle as seriously as he was.
However, this morning, there was only one thing he cared about—one thing that consumed his thoughts.
Behind him, the sun rose over the edge of the mountains into the eastern sky, burning away the morning mist. MacKinnon felt sunlight warm his back as he twisted in the saddle and fixed Carr Broderick with a gimlet stare.
The warrior stared back at him, unflinching. Broderick’s face, however, was strained with fatigue and blood-splattered. They’d overtaken the village eventually, but MacKinnon’s bastard brother had somehow disappeared.
Duncan had searched the dead, but Craeg hadn’t been among them.
Worse still, Leanna and Campbell had also escaped.
“We need to widen our search,” Duncan informed his right-hand. “Ye take a group south and patrol the coast … while I go to Duncaith.”
Broderick frowned. “Do ye really think she’d go home?”
“Aye,” Duncan growled. “She’ll think the walls of Duncaith will shield her from me … but they won’t. Nothing will.”
“And if she’s not there?”
“Then I’ll ride to Kilbride.”
Broderick took this news in, before nodding. “And yer brother?”
Duncan’s face screwed up at the mention of the outlaw leader. He then leaned forward and spat upon the road. Craeg had been a fool to try and blackmail him. Did he really think Duncan was ever going to negotiate? Brochan had lasted the night. The outlaw’s arrogance had endured for a while, and Duncan had feared the man would hold his tongue—but before he’d died, he’d gasped the name of the valley where the outlaw camp lay.
“I heard Craeg took an arrow,” Duncan said after a pause. “He won’t last long.”
Broderick didn’t reply to that. They both knew injuring Craeg wasn’t enough. The bastard had survived terrible injuries once—he was capable of doing so again.
MacKinnon wouldn’t rest until he saw his half-brother dead.
His gaze returned to the decaying corpse hanging from the gibbet. Crows had picked out its eyes, and the mouth gaped horrifyingly.
I swear that will be Craeg’s fate, Duncan promised himself. One day that bastard will swing.
28
Temptress
THEY REACHED THE village of Knock late in the day. The shadows had grown long, and a warm breeze blew in from the south, ruffling the water, as Leanna and Ross crested the last hill.
Halting upon the brow, Leanna held up her hand, to shield her eyes from the low sun, and took in the settlement below.
Knock was larger than she remembered—a sprawl of stacked-stone cottages with sod roofs that hugged the edge of a wide sound. A row of boats bobbed against a wooden pier. Squinting, Leanna could make out a promontory on the southern edge of the village, where the ruins of an old Pictish round-tower stood.
Arable fields spread up the hillside behind Knock. Folk worked tirelessly there with hoes and spades.
“At last.” The words gusted out of Leanna, and with them she felt the day’s exhaustion hit her with its full force. Her legs wobbled under her, her whole body ached, and her head spun from hunger. She glanced then at Ross, and saw her own tiredness and strain reflected in his face.
Despite his exhaustion though, he was smiling.
“What now?” Leanna asked. She was so tired she could barely think. Even though only around two furlongs lay between them and their destination now, it felt like a huge distance. She'd truly reached the limits of her endurance.
“First we find a merchant who’ll be happy to take us with him at dawn,” Ross replied, “and then we find lodgings for the night.”
Leanna nodded. Her heart sank at the thought of scouring the village for someone who’d help them before she’d had the chance to fill her belly. However, she knew he was right. That had to be their priority.
Slowly, they made their way down the hill between the fields of produce and into the village.
On the waterfront, they found a tavern. A white-washed building, The Drover’s Inn was filled with local farmers, fishermen, and a couple of merchants. One of them was north-bound and had no space upon his vessel anyway, while the other was from Barra, a small isle to the south-west of Skye. Once every few months, he brought wool to trade from his island.
“I’m heading back tomorrow, at dawn,” the man told them as they sat near the hearth with him, cradling tankards of ale in their hands. “Is that soon enough for ye?”
Leanna suppressed a grin of excitement. Barra was a goodly distance by boat from Skye. She’d heard it was a windswept isle of sandy beaches, moor-covered hills, and ancient standing stones. It was as good a place as any to start afresh.
“That will suit us well,” Ross replie
d with a smile. He then dug into his vest and produced two silver pennies. “For yer trouble.”
The merchant offered him a toothless grin in reply, before he took the coins. “No trouble at all. Meet me at the docks just before sun up … I like to make an early start.”
“As do we,” Ross assured him.
The Drover’s Inn rented out rooms to travelers, but Ross and Leanna didn’t lodge there. Ross pointed out that the inn would be the first place MacKinnon would look if he arrived at the port—they needed to find somewhere more discreet.
A few questions with locals sent them to the home of an elderly couple who were happy to let travelers stay in the tiny annex behind their cottage. Located upon the south-western fringe of the village, the cottage sat amongst a sprawling garden.
Their hosts were welcoming, inviting Ross and Leanna to share a supper at their table.
Despite that she was now weak with hunger, the invitation made Leanna nervous. She didn’t want to answer any awkward questions about her identity. Tonight, they posed as a wedded couple traveling by the names Fergus and Greer, Fortunately, as it turned out, their hosts weren’t of a nosey disposition. Luckily too, without her veil and wimple, and crucifix hanging from her belt, Leanna no longer appeared a nun. Instead, it looked as if she wore an unflattering dark-colored, ankle-length tunic.
Their hosts served up a delicious mutton stew that had been simmering over the stove all day, accompanied by fluffy oaten dumplings.
Leanna stifled a groan as she took her first mouthful. She didn’t know whether it was just her hunger—but stew and dumplings had never tasted so good.
After supper, the old woman, Inghean, wrapped them up some bread and cheese for the following day. Ross had informed her that they would be leaving before dawn, and she didn’t want them to travel with empty bellies.
“Ned will bring ye hot water to bathe with,” Inghean said when they eventually rose from the table. The warmth of the nearby hearth was making it difficult for Leanna to keep her eyes open. She hadn’t slept the night before, and fatigue had now well and truly caught up with her. “I’ve left some drying cloths and soap for ye, as well,” the old woman added.
