[Highlander Fate 01.0] Eadan's Vow

by Stella Knight

  “I’m here tae apologize,” he lied, forcing the words past his lips. “I—I ken I’ve been distant and—and not warm toward ye since our betrothal was arranged.”

  Something flickered in Magaidh’s eyes—a brief moment of raw emotion—before it vanished.

  “Ye’ve been kind and treated me fairly,” she said stiffly. “There’s no need tae apologize, m’laird.”

  “I—I ken ye cared for me once. Perhaps when we were younger, and I never noticed,” he said cautiously. This time, the look of vulnerability in Magaidh’s eyes was unmistakable, and she lowered her gaze. “I ken ye no longer care for me, and I understand. But—but if ye did care for me once, ye can help me now.”

  “How?” Magaidh asked, her voice tight with suspicion.

  “Ye can help our clans avoid bloodshed. I just need ye tae be honest with me.”

  Magaidh’s eyes darkened and she straightened.

  “Aye,” she said. “I did once care for ye. But I could tell ye felt nothing for me. Ye never looked at me the way ye look at that Sassenach,” she bit out, hatred filling her eyes at the mention of Fiona.

  “Magaidh, my attentions have only been on my clan. If I caused ye hurt—”

  “Don’t give me yer false sympathy. I ken ye’re bedding the lass. No matter. What’s done is done. We’ll be wed regardless. Ye’ll have your whore, and I’ll have my lovers. But,” she continued, her expression filling with lethal coldness, “we ken she’s lying about something. I think she’s a spy, perhaps for the English—or wherever she’s truly from. My father willnae let yer whore leave ’til we question her more. Her lies will be discovered and she’ll hang. But father is merciful. He’ll give her a quick death the French way. By the sword.”

  Panic filled him at her words. I should’ve sent Fiona away. I should’ve insisted. But a cold hard fury seared his veins, quelling his panic. He wouldn’t let them come near Fiona. He’d die first.

  He glowered at Magaidh, revulsion filling him at her assumption that they would still wed. Dughall had declared war the moment he’d proposed this betrothal, the moment he’d poisoned his father and came after his servants. There was no more need for pretense.

  He stepped forward, and Magaidh flinched at the look of fierce anger in his eyes.

  “Don’t ye ever threaten the woman I love again,” he growled. There was a flash of pain in Magaidh’s eyes at his statement, then fury, as he continued, “And yes, I’m bedding her. I want her tae be my wife for the rest of my life. Ye want tae ken why I never cared for ye, Magaidh? Because of yer cruelty. Ye’re full of spite and hatred. Fiona’s nothing but kindness, and that’s one reason she has my heart. What ye and yer father are doing, it ends today.”

  He turned and stormed from the room before she could reply, fury still flowing through him. Ronan stood right outside the parlor; he’d been eavesdropping. He gave Eadan an impressed nod.

  “So much for peace, aye?”

  “Aye,” Eadan said, as they headed out of the manor house to mount their horses. “We need tae call a meeting with the nobles once we’re at the castle. Our truce with Clan Acheson is over.”

  As he rode back to the castle, his heart hammering against his ribcage, Eadan realized that his confession to Magaidh was the first time he’d admitted to anyone—including himself—that he loved Fiona. And he did. The bonnie lass who’d crashed into his life from the future had his heart, his body, his soul. For the first time in his life, there was something else that meant as much—more—to him than his clan. She’d forced him to open his heart, to let love in. To let her in. He wanted nothing more than to make her his wife in truth, to share his life with her.

  But he needed to protect her. As long as Dughall was alive and after his clan, Fiona wouldn’t be safe in this time.

  Chapter 23

  Fiona paced back and forth, feeling useless and angry with Eadan for making her remain in her chamber. One of his men, Osgar, had supplied her with a small dagger as Eadan promised. Now, the dagger rested in its sheath beneath her bodice, and she shuddered at the thought of having to use it.

  Usually, she could calm herself by painting, and she’d considered it, but her anxiety was too great. She was also worried about Eadan. Though it was her idea for him to go see Magaidh as a last-ditch effort to avoid an all-out battle, what if Dughall had his men positioned there? What if Eadan was attacked?

  She was on the verge of storming to the door and demanding that her guards let her out of her chamber when the door flew open and Eadan strode in. Relief flooded her, but she stilled at the dark and determined expression on his face.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Eadan didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and seized her mouth in a kiss. Shock and desire spiraled through her, and she was left breathless when he released her.

  “Eadan—”

  “It didn’t go well,” he admitted, gruff. “I—I told her I loved ye, Fiona.”

  Fiona froze. She met his eyes, and joy seized her at the certainty she saw in them, chasing all her other emotions away.

  She hadn’t allowed herself to believe that the depths of her feelings for him were love, wanting to keep the barriers around her heart erect, to protect herself from getting hurt. But she’d known deep down that she loved him, and some part of her had loved him since the moment she’d first seen him in the corridor outside the cellar.

  She thought of the strange loneliness that had plagued her for her entire life, that sense of emptiness, the feeling that she belonged . . . somewhere else, but not being able to determine where that was. Well, now she had her answer. It wasn’t where she belonged. It was when she belonged.

  Here.

  “I love you too, Eadan Macleay,” she whispered.

  “Fiona,” he said huskily, stepping forward to cup her face in his hands, raw happiness in his eyes. “I want ye tae stay with me in this time, more than anything, but Dughall—”

  “—This conflict with Dughall will end. I choose to stay, Eadan. In this time. With you.”

  “Are ye certain?” he asked, searching her eyes.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Everything in her life had led her to this moment . . . to him. “With all my heart, yes.”

  “My Fiona,” he murmured, shaking his head. “All I want is ye. When this is over, I want tae make ye my wife. My wife in truth.”

  Fiona’s heart soared, and she smiled through her tears.

  “And I want you to be my true husband.”

  He claimed her mouth with his, and she leaned in to his kiss. For several moments, the world around them melted away. Dughall, Magaidh, the guards outside her door. There was only Eadan, his tongue exploring her mouth, his body pressed to hers, his masculine scent infusing her senses.

  “My Fiona,” he whispered, when he reluctantly pulled back. “When this is over, I’ll have ye in my bed for days.”

  “Is that a promise?” Fiona asked, and Eadan chuckled. But his expression turned serious.

  “I’ve called a meeting with the nobles. I’m telling them what Dughall’s done, and then we—"

  He stilled at the sound of multiple horse hooves entering the courtyard. Eadan and Fiona turned, hurrying to the window.

  Cold dread filled her at the sight. Dughall and more than a dozen of his men rode into the courtyard.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “Stay here,” Eadan ordered, striding toward the door.

  “Wait,” Fiona protested. There was no way she'd remain in this room while Eadan confronted Dughall. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Fiona, now’s not—”

  “I have my dagger,” she interrupted. “And there’s a pantry adjoining the great hall—I can hide out of sight in there. Have a guard on me if you want, but I’m coming with you.”

  A look of admiration paired with anxiety crossed his expression, but he gave her a reluctant nod.

  “Ye stay in the pantry,” he said firmly. “And if it gets dangerous, ye get
back tae Tairseach and yer own time.”

  Eadan held her gaze, waiting for her to agree. She did, reluctantly, but she had no intention of leaving him.

  Ronan and several of his men stood outside the door, on the verge of knocking when Eadan and Fiona stepped out. Their eyes went wide with surprise as Fiona stepped out with Eadan, but she gave them a hard, defiant look, joining hands with Eadan.

  “I’ve sent word tae the nobles. They should arrive soon. If Dughall and his men attack, they’ll back us up,” Ronan told Eadan as they all strode down the corridor toward the stairs. "As soon as I saw Dughall's men coming, I sent word tae Una tae get the servants out of the castle—they're leaving through the rear. And there are two men on yer father's door. But I don't think Dughall's concerned with any of them."

  He met Eadan's eyes, his implication clear. Dughall was here for Eadan. A sliver of dread crawled through Fiona.

  When they reached the great hall, Eadan turned to her, raising her hand to his lips. A wave of fear swept over her; Dughall may be on Eadan’s turf, but his men outnumbered Eadan’s.

  “Keep her safe,” Eadan said, looking away from her to Osgar. “If—if I’m killed, take her out of here, get her tae Tairseach.”

  “Eadan—" Fiona protested, horror filling her at his words, but Eadan was already striding away from her, his shoulders tense as he made his way into the great hall with Ronan and the others.

  Fiona looked up at Osgar, the man he’d left to guard her. If Eadan’s order to take her to an abandoned village caused him any confusion, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gestured for her to follow him, his face stoic.

  They entered the pantry that adjoined the great hall, and Fiona headed to the door, opening it a crack.

  From her vantage point, she could see Eadan striding toward Dughall and his men, who stood in the center of the hall, their hands on the hilt of their swords. Fiona swallowed hard, anxiety tightening her chest at the sight.

  “If ye’re here about my visit to Magaidh—” Eadan began, stopping several feet opposite Dughall.

  “I’m here tae confront ye about yer lies. He’s lied tae us all,” Dughall roared, his eyes going past Eadan to Ronan and the other men. “I had a word with yer ‘messenger.’ He told me ye and yer cousin paid him tae pose as a messenger who went tae England tae seek an annulment from a priest. A priest who doesnae exist,” Dughall said, his voice rising. “For a marriage that doesnae exist!”

  Icy fear coursed through Fiona. This was the moment she’d dreaded since she’d agreed to Eadan’s plan. The discovery of it all being a lie.

  She couldn’t let him take the fall for her. She started forward, but Osgar held her back.

  “I need to help him—” she whispered, struggling against his firm grip.

  “Ye’re tae stay,” Osgar said firmly. “Ye’ll only make things worse for the laird.”

  That rendered Fiona still, and she returned her focus to Eadan and Dughall, her heart hammering.

  “Tae make certain, I sent my own messenger down to Kington. Villagers there never heard of a Fiona, an Eadan, or a marriage between ‘em in the church records,” Dughall continued, with increasing fury. “Ye made up a marriage tae get out of the betrothal. Ye made a mockery out of the peace I offered.”

  Dughall’s men let out shouts of agreement. Eadan, who had remained silent during Dughall’s rant, though his body was rigid with tension, took a step forward.

  Dughall’s men went into protective crouches. Eadan held up his hands, palms up, but his eyes were filled with fury as he spoke.

  “Aye. ’Tis true,” Eadan said. Behind him, his own men, all except for Ronan, went still with shock. At Fiona’s side, Osgar also froze. “Fiona came tae my castle seeking refuge. But she’s not the one at fault. I forced her tae pose as my bride.”

  Horror rendered Fiona still. What was he doing? He didn’t force her to do anything. She started forward again, but Osgar held her back.

  “But I did it out of desperation. I ken something wasnae right with yer offer of peace. Ye’ve wanted our lands as long as I can remember. But now I understand what yer true intent was all along. Ye hired my own servant, Maon, tae spy on Fiona. Ye’ve been poisoning my father. When Naoghas realized what ye were doing, he tried tae tell me, but ye had him killed. When Fiona learned from my servant Sorcha that ye were poisoning my father, ye had the poor girl beaten, and now two other servants are missing.”

  Dughall didn’t look outraged by his words or shocked by the accusations. But some of his men did, exchanging looks of confusion and disbelief. But Dughall clenched a fist at his side as Eadan continued.

  “It just now came tae me why ye wanted me tae marry Magaidh. If my father dies from yer poison, I’d be chief of the clan, owner of the lands. Ronan cannae inherit as he’s not a direct heir. But if I were tae die with no heir . . . the lands of Clan Macleay would go tae my wife and her family. The same lands our clans have been feuding over. Magaidh cared for me once, but she’d not hesitate tae poison me after we wed. That’s why ye didnae try harder tae put a stop to me and Fiona, though ye must have known we were bedding. It would foster yer daughter’s jealousy, make it easier for her tae kill me when it came time.”

  By the look on Dughall’s face, Fiona could tell that Eadan had guessed correctly. Anger and disbelief roiled through her; she recalled the look of pure hatred on Magaidh’s face as she confronted her. She had no doubt that Magaidh was capable of killing Eadan.

  “My father is bedridden; yer poison has made him ill, and he cannae be here because of it. I’m glad he cannae see this. Ye are the one who made a mockery of the peace my father tried to sow with ye. Yer scheming and yer killing of innocents ends now, Dughall.”

  Dughall’s features contorted with rage, and he withdrew his sword.

  “When ye die, I will take control of yer clan. I’ll bed yer Sassenach whore, then find out who she truly is,” Dughall roared.

  Dughall’s words seemed to shatter Eadan’s barely contained control, and the two men charged at each other, swords outstretched.

  As the men in the hall began to fight, Osgar turned to her.

  “Stay here,” he ordered, then darted out of the pantry to join the fight.

  Adrenaline flowed through Fiona as she reached for the dagger tucked in her bodice. She was no match for the burly Highlanders fighting in the hall, but if it came down to it, she’d do what she could to help Eadan.

  Fiona abruptly stiffened when she sensed someone in the pantry behind her. But before she could turn, a firm hand went around her waist and a dagger was pressed to her throat.

  “Don’t move, ye Sassenach bitch,” Magaidh’s furious voice hissed in her ear.

  Chapter 24

  Fury surged through Eadan as he lunged toward Dughall, but several of Dughall’s men surrounded him in a protective circle.

  Eadan heard a snarl behind him, and whirled as Uisdean, one of Dughall’s men, the same man he’d attacked for the lustful way he spoke of Fiona, charged at him. Uisdean raised his sword, and their blades clashed as they began to fight.

  “After Dughall’s done with yer Sassenach whore, I’ll take my turn with her,” Uisdean hissed.

  Eadan’s simmering rage roared to an inferno, and he let out an enraged growl as his movements quickened, but Uisdean matched each of Eadan’s moves with his own. When Eadan missed a vital parry, Uisdean lunged forward, aiming his sword right for Eadan’s heart. Eadan dodged just in time, but lunged forward, sinking his sword into the man’s belly.

  Uisdean let out a pained roar, sinking to the floor, his sword clattering to the ground. His eyes fluttered shut, but he was still alive, his breathing pained and ragged. Eadan would not kill a man who couldn’t fight back, but it took everything in him not to spear him through with his sword for threatening Fiona.

  But there was still fighting to be done. He turned, searching for Dughall through the mass of fighting bodies. He located him at the opposite end of the hall, his sword clashing with Ronan�
�s.

  Eadan darted toward them and joined his cousin in the fight. Dughall was an expert swordsman and he easily fought them both, his movements filled with rage. When two of Dughall’s men joined the fight, edging him and Ronan to the back wall of the hall, Eadan realized with growing panic that several of his men were now injured or dead; Dughall and his men outnumbered them and were on the verge of overtaking them.

  He didn’t know if the nobles Ronan had sent for would arrive in time, but his worry wasn’t for him, or his clan. It was only for Fiona. He could only pray that she’d heeded his words and fled the castle to get to Tairseach. He couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen to her if she was here when he fell to Dughall’s sword.

  The thought gave him a surge of renewed strength and determination. His movements quickened, the blade of his sword clashing with Dughall’s as he lunged forward. Dughall’s eyes glinted, the hatred in them raw, and Eadan wondered how Dughall had maintained his civility around him for so long.

  Dughall’s men closed in on Ronan, and his cousin gave him a reassuring but fierce look as he turned to take them on, leaving Eadan to fight Dughall on his own.

  Dughall lunged forward, aiming the tip of his blade to Eadan’s throat. Eadan evaded, barely, but the blade nipped at his skin, and blood seeped from the wound.

  “Where shall I enjoy yer Sassenach whore after ye fall tae my sword?” Dughall taunted, again swinging at Eadan’s throat with his sword. “In the same bed ye had her? Perhaps here in the hall where I killed her treacherous lover?”

  Eadan was barely managing to evade Dughall’s slashes. He knew Dughall was baiting him with his words, and it was working. The fury that seared his veins made his grip tremble on the hilt of his sword, and he struggled to focus.

  Dughall was fast, his aim dangerously precise. Eadan darted a quick look around the hall—Ronan and his men were too occupied fighting Dughall’s men to come to his aid.