by Carmen Caine
Cameron’s talk of love had been particularly disturbing, for Merry, because she was certain it meant Ruan would stop loving her, and for Bree, because Ruan hadn’t fervently agreed with what the man had said.
She sighed, slightly ashamed to be pining for Ruan’s love.
While he’d kissed her and implied that he loved her, he’d never actually said the words.
She felt foolish.
She sighed, wondering just exactly when she’d falling in love with the man herself. It had happened so gradually, she couldn’t point at the exact time. After a time, satisfied Merry was asleep, she extricated herself from the child’s embrace as the door of the chamber opened and Isobel marched in.
“I canna believe the arrogance of that high-handed harridan! Ach, what an ungrateful crone!” Isobel’s chin jiggled in outrage. “Sending me from her side, nae wanting common folk to touch her noble skin or that of her wee bairn!”
Bree stared, uncertain of what to say, but she need not have worried. Isobel was not listening. She stomped about the chamber, shaking out the plaids, refolding them, stoking the fire, and rearranging everything in her path as she complained bitterly about the arrogant Countess and how the poor young Earl deserved more than a shackling to the Personification of Conceit herself.
Somewhere in the middle of the tirade, the door creaked open once again, and Bree felt a warm hand slide over her shoulder. She jumped, but Ruan was prepared, skillfully twisting her out the door and pulling her up to his chamber before she could scarcely react. The room was dark; the fire had long since died. Moonlight streamed through the open window. There was a chill in the air, and she shivered, though, not entirely from the cold.
“I’ve rarely seen Isobel so riled,” Ruan chuckled a little.
“The Countess seems…” Bree began in Isobel’s defense, but the thought fled as Ruan crushed her close. His lips descended to devour hers for several long, glorious moments before he wrenched away. He pressed her back, hard against the door, and she felt his breath on her cheek.
“I… canna bear to lose ye, lass,” he whispered in her ear. “If I were an honorable man, I’d have this marriage annulled.”
Her heart filled with an ache of disappointment so deep that she almost missed his next words.
“I must be off to Dunvegan and soon. I… canna make ye mine, I might… not return. Domnall or Cameron could find ye another husband if I—”
“No!” Bree said, and pushed him back violently. “I don’t want another husband!”
The thought was preposterous.
He fell back a few paces, but then he reached to pull her fiercely against his chest.
She stood there, encircled in his arms, feeling the rhythmic breathing of his chest. “I feel… safe with… you,” she confessed softly.
Ruan expelled a deep breath and then whispered, “I dinna say ye are safe, lass, and I ne’er said I was an honorable man. If ye only kent what I’ve been thinking this past hour… a maiden would perish from blushing.”
Oddly, she smiled.
“My heart wants to make ye mine before I go.” He nuzzled her ear and nipped it. “Aye, with no thoughts of how ye’ll be fed or if, heaven forbid, I leave ye with a bairn, where either of ye will live—”
“Then, do not go!” she interjected, disturbed at the thought that she might never see him again.
He straightened. “‘Tis a matter of justice… for Robert, at least, if no one else. I owe him that.”
A slight pall settled over them, and Bree sighed. Would she never truly have what she wanted? A cottage filled with laughing children and a husband, and, not just any man.
She wanted Ruan.
She could agree to have the marriage annulled or wait patiently for his return, but from deep inside, her emotions began to burn. She wanted to reach out and take her dream before it slipped away. She was weary of waiting for someone else to deliver it. Lifting her hands to run them over his hair, she whispered what she truly felt. “Then, I’d rather be a widow of one day.”
He moaned, and then pressed her hard against him. “I love ye, mo ceisd, like I’ve never loved another.”
The words warmed her very toes.
“I should nae be reckless—” he groaned, smothering her with kisses.
Bree made up her mind. She’d have this night, regardless of what the future would bring. Surrendering to her desire, she arched close. “Be reckless, then.”
Ruan caught his breath and then smiled even as his brows knit into a scowl. “If ye don’t leave now, woman, I’ll never let ye.”
Sliding her hands up his chest to touch his cheek, she whispered, “I’m not leaving.”
***
Bree awoke with the dawn and Ruan’s thigh possessively pinning her to the bed. Recalling the events of the night before, her ears reddened. The chamber was in disarray with pillows and covers strewn across the floor, a chair tipped sideways.
He’d been quite vocal, speaking of his desires before making good on a decent number of them. Her cheeks burned, and she now understood precisely why a maiden would perish from the blushing.
The man possessed the passion of an animal and the loudness of one as well. He’d awakened a side of her that she hadn’t known existed. She’d become almost savage herself, knocking him back and biting his neck, causing him to shout in ecstasy. In the light of the morning, she was shocked by her conduct, but was distracted from further thoughts as Ruan’s warm hands slid around her, pulling her close.
He hungrily kissed her throat and chills ran down her spine. She shivered and he chuckled.
“Aye, I forgot to ask ye last night, lass,” his voice rumbled in her ear. “Did ye want this marriage annulled?”
Frowning, a little, she shifted to look him in alarm. “Do you?”
His dark lashes lowered.
She stared at him uncertainly.
“I’m mocking ye, lass,” he said with a chuckle. “’Tis far too late for an annulment, my wee… wild beastie.”
Recalling his continuous shouting, Bree blushed, murmuring, “You were hardly… discreet ...”
“I found myself attacked by a wee hellion!” he smiled unabashedly. “I never dreamt ye would be so vicious, though, considering how challenging ye’ve been from the start, I should have known.”
At that, she blushed harder, covering her cheeks with her hands.
Ruan laughed, rolling her over to rest on top of him. “I’m exceedingly pleased to find ye brutal, and now I’m thinking I should be right relieved ye’ve been forgetting to wear the knife I gave ye.”
She followed his gaze to her sgian dubh lying on the floor. She moved to pick it up, but he deftly twisted her again to lie under him. His kiss was gentle, but deepening into a burning passion when a knock rattled the door.
“Cameron needs ye, lad,” Isobel’s muffled voice sounded from the other side.
Ruan frowned. “Aye?”
Isobel paused before replying, “They have sent for a priest … The Countess is dying.”
With a sigh, they rose and dressed hurriedly.
They found Cameron in the small vaulted chamber staring silently out of the open window, oblivious to the cold wind. Bree huddled close by the fire, watching as Ruan joined the Earl, clasping him warmly on the shoulder.
Cameron didn’t move, but he did speak. “I truly am cursed.”
“Nonsense,” Ruan scowled. “’Tis nothing to do with ye.”
Cameron surveyed him impassively. “Can ye truly say that? This is the seventh woman to die with my name. Regardless of what I said as a drunkard last night, I wish the lass no harm.”
“Aye, but ‘tis an extraordinary set of circumstances, that is all,” Ruan replied firmly. “Childbirth is a dangerous thing. The others were mishaps, one already ill … one murdered…”
“Aye, but they are all dead,” Cameron replied. His tone was aloof. “It matters nae how it happens.”
“My lord,” a wizened, old woman cleared her throat as s
he hovered in the doorway. “The priest has arrived. The Countess calls for ye.”
Cameron straightened slowly. After a time, he bowed politely in their direction and then allowed the old woman to lead him away.
Ruan sighed, joining Bree before the fire. He lightly traced a finger over her cheek, but neither felt like speaking.
It was not long before Cameron returned. His handsome face was drawn and pale as he informed them, “She is dead.”
Bree shivered.
He stood in the center of the chamber, forbidding and detached. “I…have rarely seen so much blood.”
“My lord!” The ancient woman had returned. This time, she clutched a small bundle to her breast. “The wet nurse has come. Do ye wish to see yer daughter before she is taken away?”
Cameron remained where he was, giving no indication he’d heard.
“Allow me,” Ruan said, and stepped forward. He lifted the small infant carefully from her arms, murmuring, “Give him a wee bit of time.”
The woman nodded once and disappeared.
There was something mesmerizing about the way Ruan gently cradled the baby, never had Bree seen a man appear more virile and handsome. All at once, she wanted to kiss him, take him to his chamber, and repeat the entire night of before. Their eyes caught. She blushed hotly and glanced away.
“I suppose this is my third daughter,” Cameron observed dispassionately. He made no move to touch the infant. “Or shall I say the King’s.”
“One day, ye’ll have a bairn of your own,” Ruan said.
“I’ve no need of a bairn,” Cameron answered in icy, clipped tones. “I now have three heiresses to my estates. I could even use a few more as I’ve land to spare. I’m sure the King will provide.”
“Have ye ever even held a bairn?” Ruan raised a suspicious brow.
“I’m sure I must have wedded one, once or twice,” Cameron replied in a mocking tone.
Thrusting the infant into the Earl’s arms, Ruan ordered, “Hold the wee lassie.”
Cameron obligingly held the bundle, cold and distant. The infant began to whimper. The Earl peered at the child briefly before shoving the bundle back at Ruan. “She needs a wet nurse, nae me.”
With that, he quit the room.
As Ruan sought out the wet nurse, Bree went in search of Merry.
She hadn’t seen the little girl the entire morning, and it was unusual. She knocked on the door to Merry’s chamber, only to find it swing open, creaking on its hinges. Hesitantly, she stepped inside. “Merry?”
The chamber was tidy, apparently empty, with nothing amiss. She turned to leave when she heard the door close with a thud. Whirling, she beheld a paunchy, cloaked figure holding Merry tightly, with one hand clamped over her mouth and the other pushing a blade against the little girl’s neck.
“Do nae speak a word!” a familiar voice hissed.
It was Silas, the priest.
She could not allow herself to feel fear, to wonder why he was there. Instead, she forced herself to act.
“Leave her be,” Bree swallowed, her voice shaking a little. The fear radiating from Merry was overwhelming. “Take me, not her!”
“Aye,” Silas laughed as the hood fell back. “I’m taking ye both.”
As he moved forward, Bree shouted, “Run, Merry!”
Desperately, she reached for the sgian dubh Ruan had playfully hidden in her boot that morning, but a sudden burst of pain exploded from the back of her head and then darkness descended all at once.
Chapter 22: Fearghus
As the servants lit the candles lining the main hall, Ruan leapt up the steps to Cameron’s private chambers, two at a time, with a growing sense of dread. At first, he had thought Merry and Bree were with Isobel. When he finally sought the woman out, they discovered that neither Merry nor Bree had been seen for quite some time. A quick search revealed no sign of them anywhere in the castle grounds.
He pounded on Cameron’s door.
“What is it?” Cameron asked, his brows arching in concern.
As they headed back down the stairs, Ruan heard Isobel’s scream. His heart leapt into his throat as he strode into the hall.
Isobel was cradling Merry close to her breast, but any sense of relief Ruan felt was instantly gone as his little sister turned to him. Pushing away from Isobel, she launched herself at Ruan. An angry bruise was already spreading over her jaw and a jagged cut marred her neck, but it was the horror etched on her face that made his heart stand still.
“They took her!” Merry sobbed, clutching Ruan desperately. “Silas and another man took her back to Dunvegan! Ruan, ye have to get her, I love her! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I don’t care if ye love her too, just bring her back! Promise me, ye’ll bring her back!”
It was too much to feel. He stared in shock only for a moment before spurring into action. Now was not the time to experience even a shred of emotion.
He must act.
As Cameron lifted a hand, dispensing crisp commands to his men, Ruan wordlessly bounded to his chamber. It took only a moment to collect his weapons, and then he was back in the hall.
“I’m coming with ye,” Cameron stated, throwing his cloak over his shoulders.
With a curt nod, Ruan headed for the boats.
A group of men awaited them on the shore, battle ready and on horses, and then they were galloping into the falling darkness, with twenty more of the Earl’s men preceding them down the road.
They didn’t need to speak further.
They knew where they were going.
Dunvegan.
***
Bree’s ears rang incessantly and her stomach heaved. Someone had stuffed a rank smelling gag in her mouth and drawn a hood over her face. Vividly, she recalled Silas’ leering presence in Merry’s chamber, but how she’d ended up securely tied to the back of a horse was a mystery. Judging by the soreness of her ribs, a significant amount of time had passed. She wriggled enough to maneuver the hood to the side, allowing a partial view of the horse’s hooves squelching in the foul smelling mud. It was growing dark and she could smell the rain in the air.
From the corner of her eye, she spied another horse. There were at least two captors. Fervently, she prayed that Merry had escaped.
They began a sharp assent, a steep and stony climb. Several times, the horse stumbled, jarring her unmercifully.
“Hold!” a man’s voice called from the darkness ahead.
The horses reined in sharply.
“What took ye so long?” a gritty voice from close by startled her.
“’Twas nae an easy task,” Silas grated from inches away, apparently the rider of her horse. “Cameron guards his castles well. We were fortunate they were in great need of a priest.”
She shivered as hands untied and lifted her down. She forced herself to be limp, feigning sleep, but it was not necessary. Her abductor dumped her unceremoniously on the ground and tossed a plaid over her head.
“Where is the wee one?” another voice queried.
“I had to leave her behind,” Silas growled. “They were growing suspicious of the boat.”
Bree’s heart leapt. Merry had escaped. Then, a new wave of anxiety rose. Surely, Silas would have drawn the line at harming his own sister. And then she remembered that she was the man’s relation now as well, and he was showing little concern for her. She began to fret.
“I’ve little tolerance for yer constant bungling!” the gritty voice inserted itself again. “Ruan will be on yer trail. We must press on.”
“Nay!” Silas responded angrily. “I’ve had enough of ye! I’m leading this raid, and–”
“Fool!” the man hissed in response. “I’ll be patient with ye no longer!”
There was the sound of rasping metal, and at that, Bree’s eyes flew open. She managed to shake the plaid to the side just in time to witness the last moment of Silas’ life. He stood with his sword raised as he faced a bald, burly man she’d never seen before. Several others leaned against thei
r horses, watching in mild interest but making no move to intervene.
It was over quickly.
Silas was no swordsman.
The man disarmed him with a single stroke before his blade slashed the priest’s throat.
With a slight gurgle, Silas sank wordlessly to the ground.
Bree gasped.
“We leave at once,” the bald man announced. “I’ll nae have this fool lead Ruan right to us. The boat is waiting; we must lose nae time!”
She held still, frozen with shock, as he approached. His steel fingers crushed her wrist as he dragged her to his horse and tossed her in front. Mounting quickly behind her, he locked his arm about her waist in a vice grip that would afford no opportunity for escape and ordered his men to move.
It was a grueling ride. They traveled long into the night, stopping for only short periods of rest. The weather deteriorated, the gusts of cold rain driving through her plaid, stinging her face and hands.
Before dawn, they rested under a ledge of rock in a narrow ravine and huddle close to a small fire. Bree found herself bound securely, tossed to the side, and then ignored completely. The men spoke loudly. Their spirits were elated with their success, and she soon discovered the bald man’s name was Angus, he and his companions were Fearghus’ men, on their way back to Duntulm.
Fearghus!
This discovery brought her to a near state of panic. Ruan would never think of searching for her in Duntulm. Her mind raced, why did they want her? Was she a trap for Ruan? She listened carefully, but she found answers to none of these questions.
At dawn, they rode as if the very devil chased them. For the most part, they kept her hooded, ordering her from the start to remain silent. Twice she summoned courage to speak, but each time Angus rewarded her with a sound smack across the face so fierce that she feared it had cracked her jaw.
“Ye’ll nae speak, woman!” he shouted, planting his beefy face within an inch of hers. “I’ve no patience for it and if ye even attempt to escape, I’ll bring yer head alone back to Fearghus! He will nae mind much!”
Bree gulped. She didn’t try again after that.
