His Lass to Protect (Highland Bodyguards, Book 9)

by Emma Prince

  Bruin tumbled into the snow beside her, still trying to gain purchase on the dagger protruding from his neck. He stared at her with hate-filled eyes and tried to say something, but it only came out as a wet hiss of air.

  She rolled away, groping in the snow for her blade. When her hand closed around the hilt, she faced Bruin once more, but he’d already slumped to his side, his eyes wide and unseeing as blood continued to leak from his neck around the dagger.

  Mairin stood motionless over him, counting the pulses in his temple. They slowed, then a long while later, they stopped. She gave him one last look, forcing herself to gaze into his lifeless eyes. He was dead. He would never hurt her or anyone else again.

  She turned away at last. The darkness was still there, lurking in the corners of her mind, threatening to bring her to her knees with fear. But today she had pushed back against it, forced it to retreat ever so slightly.

  As she trudged through the thick snow in search of Niall, her feet were heavy, but her heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Niall lifted another scoop of snow in his numb hands, tossing it onto the smoldering remains of a roof. The weak flames hissed and steamed in protest, but the snow did its job, snuffing out the last of the fire.

  A cheer went up among the men around him. They thumped each other on the back and wiped sweat from their brows despite the heavy snowfall all around.

  After Mairin had set out after Bruin, Niall had managed to calm some of the chaos from those attempting to flee. Soon other villagers were helping him usher the women, children, and elderly to a safe distance beyond the burning buildings.

  Several able-bodied men had remained with him to fight the fire that consumed several thatch roofs. Blessedly, the skies had opened and unleashed a torrent of thick snow, aiding them in halting the fire’s spread.

  Between a chain of buckets passed from the village well to the blaze and their use of the snow that had begun to gather on the ground, they’d managed to smother the flames and save most of the village’s buildings.

  But now that the fire was out and the villagers were safe, he could not leash his need to ensure Mairin’s safety any longer. He took off as fast as the slippery cobblestones underfoot would allow, heading in the direction she’d gone in search of Bruin.

  Only a few strides in, he rounded a curve in the road and skidded to a halt.

  Mairin. She was walking slowly toward him, her steps heavy. Most of her hair had fallen from its plait and her clothes were damp and disheveled. Reddish-purple marks marred her creamy throat, and blood seeped through a slice in her cloak over her left arm.

  But she was alive.

  “Mairin!” Ignoring the slick snow, he shot forward. She lifted her head, her gaze landing on him.

  Her dove-gray eyes were dull with exhaustion, yet there was also a flicker of life in their depths that revealed the truth. She had faced one of the monsters that lurked in her mind—and won.

  He collided with her, wrapping his arms so tight around her slim torso that he lifted her off her feet.

  “I did it,” she mumbled into his shoulder, her hands grasping his shoulders. “Bruin cannae hurt anyone ever again.”

  “You are the strongest, bravest woman I’ve ever known,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.

  Belatedly, he remembered the blood he’d seen on her arm a moment before.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “It is only a flesh wound.”

  “All the same.” He eased her down to her feet carefully. “You may need stitches. And we should seek shelter from this storm before the snow grows any thicker.”

  “The villagers?” she asked, her eyes clouding with concern.

  “Safe, and the fires put out. Only a few of the buildings burned, and no one was harmed.”

  She let a breath of relief go, but then she staggered slightly. He caught her around the waist, anxiously sweeping her with his gaze. She might not be gravely injured, but her battle with Bruin had sapped all her strength.

  Bending, he scooped her up into his arms, this time cradling her against his chest. She murmured a protest, but he paid her no heed.

  “We need to get to the cave,” he said, striding back toward where the village men had gathered. “The Bruce needs to hear that Lancaster is retreating to Dunstanburgh with the remains of his army.”

  “But that will be our last missive,” she said.

  “If we need to get word to the Bruce again, we’ll have to find another way—a regular messenger, mayhap,” he replied. “Once we reach Dunstanburgh, we’ll be close to the border. It won’t take as long to relay information to him from there if we must. And Lancaster himself plans to be in communication with the Bruce. For all we know, the Bruce may send men to meet us at Dunstanburgh.”

  She lifted her head, her brows pinched with worry. “Then ye believe we can still catch up to Lancaster?” she asked. “That we can still see this mission through?”

  From the firm set of her mouth, he knew she didn’t regret confronting Bruin, even though it had meant allowing Lancaster and his army to march out without them. But they both understood how much was riding on this mission.

  Niall glanced at the sky. The snow still fell in dense sheets, and a wind was beginning to kick up, sending swirls of flakes around their feet.

  “We cannot go after them now—we’d risk laming a horse and being caught out for the night. But it will take an army at least a sennight to reach Dunstanburgh. We’ll be able to move much faster than that, even through snow. We should be able to catch up with them along the way.”

  Mairin only nodded, then dropped her head to Niall’s shoulder. As he approached the group of villagers who still stood beside the recently extinguished buildings, they turned to stare in surprise.

  “I need a horse,” he said to no one in particular. “And blankets, and a waterskin and food, if you have any to spare.”

  The men instantly leapt into action, eager to show their gratitude for all Niall had done to save the villagers and their buildings. A horse was found milling beyond the village, and its saddlebags were filled to brimming with supplies.

  Niall lifted Mairin onto the saddle, then exchanged forearm clasps with the men who’d worked alongside him.

  “King Edward’s army will arrive in less than a day,” he told them. “If you give him aid, he and his men shouldn’t harm you. You are free to leave or stay before then, but do not expect any help or shelter from the Earl of Lancaster anymore.”

  The villagers took in this news grimly, but they all thanked Niall and wished them well.

  With a final nod to the villagers, he swung into the saddle behind Mairin and nudged the horse into motion, holding her close against his chest.

  It was slow going as they skirted the castle and rode over the snow-blanketed fields toward the cave. The muddy tracks of Lancaster’s army had already been completely covered, and their visibility ended in a grayish-white wall a mere stone’s throw in front of them. Niall didn’t dare urge the horse faster than a walk for fear of causing the animal to slip in the rapidly deepening snow.

  It took over an hour to reach the cave. When its familiar maw came into view, Niall breathed a sigh of relief. If they’d become lost in the storm, they wouldn’t have lasted long.

  Niall dismounted outside the cave, but instead of helping Mairin down immediately, he walked the horse into the cave’s shallow mouth to give the animal shelter from the snow. When he lifted Mairin from the saddle, he noted how heavy her wool cloak and dress were with cold moisture.

  He carried her deeper into the cave until he heard the soft cooing of their last remaining messenger pigeon. Mairin roused from her torpor somewhat then, disentangling herself from his hold so that she stood on her own feet.

  She fetched a crust of bread from the supplies the villagers had stuffed into their saddlebags, then crumbled it on the ground for the pigeon. The bird eagerly flapped down from its roost and pecked a
t the cave floor while Mairin prepared their last missive for the Bruce.

  “L riding north with seven hundred men,” she murmured, the nub of charcoal she’d left tucked into one of the cave’s nooks moving over the scrap of parchment. “Dunstanburgh.”

  She glanced up at Niall. “With any luck, the Bruce will be reading this in a day’s time.” She bent to scoop up the bird and fastened the missive to its foot. “I only hope he kens what he’s doing,” she murmured.

  Niall strode with her to the mouth of the cave, where she whispered her words of encouragement to the bird before releasing it. For a moment, worry over sending the pigeon out into the storm pinched in his chest, but the bird beat its wings eagerly, shooting off due north through the gray and white blizzard.

  With the task done, Mairin seemed to fade once more. Wordlessly, she stumbled back into the cave, shedding her sodden cloak and letting it drop to the ground.

  Niall hastily lifted the saddlebags from the horse and hobbled the animal, then followed Mairin, picking up her cloak as he went.

  He dropped their things in a corner, then moved to her side. She was fumbling with the ties on her dress, but she winced and sucked in a breath as her wounded arm twisted awkwardly.

  “Let me.”

  Niall untied the laces, then carefully eased the dress off her shoulders. She muttered an oath as the bloodied wool peeled away from her cut.

  As she shimmied the wet gown over her hips and let it pool on the ground, Niall turned her toward the muted light coming from the mouth of the cave. Blessedly, the wound on her arm didn’t look deep. She wouldn’t need stitches after all. Still, he crouched at her feet and tore a strip of linen from the bottom of her chemise, then bound it around her arm to protect the open skin there.

  Standing in naught but her chemise, Mairin began shivering. Niall retrieved a woolen blanket from their bags and wrapped her snugly in it, helping her sit on the ground. Then he set about making a fire with the few sticks and twigs that had collected in the back of the cave over the years.

  When the small fire blazed cheerily, sending flickering shadows over the cave walls and illuminating Mairin’s weary face in an orange glow, there was naught left for Niall to busy his hands with. He crouched before the fire across from Mairin, working his jaw for a moment as he chose his next words.

  “Mairin, are you…are you truly well? He didn’t hurt you?” He wouldn’t make her relive whatever had occurred between her and Bruin, but he had to know if she bore more injuries—physical or otherwise.

  She met his gaze, and for the first time since she’d returned from facing Bruin, she lowered the stone wall behind her eyes. “He tried.” Her hand absently rose to her throat, where bruises were beginning to darken. “But he failed. I didnae ken this morn that he still walked this earth, but now that he is gone, I can say with certainty that the world is a better place.”

  Niall let a long breath go. A vicious, animal part of him still wished he could have been the one to kill Bruin. He would have made the man pay for all the pain he’d caused Mairin over the years.

  But this wasn’t about his desire for revenge, nor his longing to always be there to protect her. He knew she’d needed to be the one to face Bruin. He could only stand in awe of her strength and courage.

  “God, how I love you.”

  It fell from his lips as if it was the truest, most natural thing he’d ever said.

  Belatedly, his throat tightened and his stomach dropped. He hadn’t meant to speak those words aloud.

  Not long ago, he’d thought never to reveal his true feelings. Even when he’d told her that he cared deeply for her, he’d held himself back. His love wasn’t her burden to carry. He’d always known she could never return it, and he didn’t want to saddle her with the knowledge of just how deep his feelings ran for her if it made her uncomfortable.

  He’d nearly spoken his heart’s truth before she’d faced Bruin, but he’d feared it would distract her or leave her confused when she needed all her energy and focus for the fight.

  But now, sitting here with her in the soft glow of the fire, his heart raw from the day’s events and too weary to guard himself against blurting out the truth, he’d told her.

  He opened his mouth, fumbling for some way to deflect the brunt of what he’d just revealed, but she spoke before he could.

  “I love ye, too.”

  Niall’s jaw went slack. “What? Nay, you don’t.”

  Her mist-gray eyes softened and warmed, and one honey-colored brow rose slowly. “Oh aye, I assure ye, I do.”

  Niall shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Was this some sort of dream? Or an exhaustion-induced hallucination? “Nay, I mean, you can’t.”

  “Why no’?”

  “That is, I never expected you to… I never even let myself hope—” He fixed her with a searching gaze. “You do not have to say it just because I did. I do not wish to burden you with any obligation to me. I know you cannot return my—”

  “But I do,” she interjected. A soft smile played at the corner of her mouth. “To be honest, I didnae ken that I could love at all, let alone love an Englishman. But I love ye, Niall.”

  Niall watched her lips move, yet his brain felt as though it was filled with numbing snow.

  “How…how can this be?”

  “How could it no’?” she replied, emotion shimmering in her eyes. “Ye have seen me at my worst—frightened, cowering, broken—yet ye have stood by me, showing me who I could become. Ye believed in me when I didnae believe in myself. Ye trusted me when no one else did. And ye make me feel safe and protected. Cherished. How could I no’ love ye?”

  Niall swallowed hard, yet he could not dislodge the knot in his throat. His pulse hammered in his ears like a drum.

  “You…you love me.”

  “Aye, just as truly and fiercely as ye love me,” she said.

  Suddenly he was on his feet and moving around the fire toward her. She started in surprise, but when he crouched beside her and pulled her into his arms, she melted against him.

  “I didnae realize it until recently,” she murmured against his chest. “I felt it in our touch, our kiss, but I wasnae sure it was the right word. But I dinnae think there is any other word for the way ye make my heart soar.”

  Niall buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, losing himself in the breaking wave of love crashing over him and sweeping him away.

  “I knew from the first,” he rasped. “I was barely more than a lad, but I knew. I have been yours since the moment I laid eyes on you, Mairin.”

  Her breath hitched and her arms tightened around his neck, but he couldn’t stop the flow of words now that the dam had been broken.

  “I was a coward before. When I told you I cared about you, I meant that I loved you with every fiber of my being. And every time we touched, I thought I would burn to dust with loving you. It has always been you. Only you, my heart, my soul, my Mairin.”

  She drew back, and he saw that tears streamed down her cheeks. For a terrible heartbeat, he feared that he’d destroyed everything good and true between them with his confession, but then her features cracked into a smile more radiant than the summer sun.

  And when she leaned in and brushed her salty-soft lips to his, he was lost.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It was Mairin’s nature to fight. But when Niall kissed her back, she surrendered more completely than she ever had before.

  At first, his lips were soft on hers, as if he still didn’t believe this was real. As if he feared that he were kissing a cloud, and if he pressed, she would evaporate into naught.

  But soon enough, the heat that was kindling in the pit of her stomach must have sparked in him as well, for he laced his fingers in her hair and drew her up against him, his mouth melding firmly with hers.

  She gave herself over to their kiss, parting her lips at the flick of his tongue, groaning at the warm invasion. She had fought against wanting him, loving him, for so long. Fir
st because he was English, then because she’d mistaken his attentions for brotherly overprotectiveness, and then because she’d let her pride get in the way, thinking she’d needed to prove something to both Niall and herself.

  But she couldn’t deny it any longer. To let his love in was like opening a tightly sealed shutter to the rays of the sun. It flooded her, humbled her, filled her with light and warmth.

  And to let her love for him flow from her heart had her soaring higher than any bird could fly, free and weightless in thin, bright air.

  So much of her life had been cast in shadow. So much darkness still prowled at the edges of her mind, the hooks of fear and suffering leaving scars on her heart.

  But Niall was like a candle in the dark, casting a protective glow over her, chasing away the lingering shadows.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair, breathed in his scent, of snow and smoke and pure male hunger. It wasn’t enough. She needed more of him—all of him.

  She reached for his tunic, grabbing two fistfuls and pulling it up. He had to break their kiss to finish dragging the tunic over his head, but a heartbeat later his lips were on hers once more.

  Her palms skimmed over the hard, warm expanse of his chest, up the corded strength in his arms, and across his broad, muscular back. He groaned in approval, his own hands fumbling with the delicate ties on the front of her chemise.

  But when the ribbons only turned into a knotted mess, he gave an annoyed growl and began tugging the entire garment off. She squirmed to accommodate him, shivering as the thin linen whispered across her skin and over her head. She was left bare to the warring sensations of the warm fire and the cold air in the cave.

  Niall rocked back on his haunches, gazing at her as if she were an angel.

  “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he murmured, his eyes moving over her like a caress.