Conall strode forward, bent, and snatched up the letter. He inspected it and hunched backward, not taking his eyes off Lachlan. “Stay back. We will release her when we are out of sight.”
The youngest of Maggie’s brothers almost rushed him, but another held on to him.
Lachlan flexed his fingers, ready to grab hold on the hilt and slide out his own weapon. “Ye ken I cannae let ye do that. Let her go now or be prepared to draw yer sword.
“Halt,” Lachlan yelled at Hamish, who had started to move Maggie toward the crazy bastard. The man obeyed, and he turned his focus on Conall. “Ye will never touch her again,” he warned with dead calm. “Draw yer weapon or surrender now.”
…
Maggie watched with horror as Conall drew his rapier and faced Lachlan. She’d heard tales of his prowess with a sword—they had not been exaggerated. Although she had seen Lachlan wield his claymore in two battles, she was terrified for him.
As Lachlan was much larger, he would have the more powerful blows, but Conall would have more agility.
Lachlan unsheathed his claymore with a slow, deliberate ease, which reminded her of a perfected synchronized dance. It was beautiful and deadly.
She spared a glance for her family. They had appeared from nowhere, and she was surprised at how grateful she was to see them. Her brothers looked as if they wanted to pounce on Conall, and her father stared at him with murder in his eyes. Thank the saints, he would believe her now about her betrothed’s cruelty.
Conall swung first. He rolled the thin rapier right to left, but Lachlan deftly evaded the move. He swung again in the opposite direction with no results then attacked several more times, and with each thrust, Lachlan sidestepped the blade.
Watching Lachlan evade the moves was like listening to poetry, smooth and comfortable. He had a grace to him she’d never expected; his large size didn’t hamper his ability to move effortlessly from one place to another. It was as if he’d been born for this. He’d not made a move toward Conall, who was already panting and struggling to keep his pace.
Stepping forward, Lachlan took a swing of his own. A killing blow. Although Conall was able to block it with his sword, it knocked him off balance. He stumbled but recovered almost as quickly.
“I’m going to bed her every night after you’re dead.” Conall lashed out with a verbal assault, likely an attempt to divert Lachlan’s attention and weaken him, and she prayed the devil’s tongue would not affect him.
With ease, Lachlan pivoted to avoid the blow, but she flinched with each new attack.
Conall huffed out, “I’ll have her screaming my name.” Her breath caught on the threat, but his panting proved he was becoming weak.
Lachlan did not take the bait and stayed deadly calm.
“She’ll carry my bairns, not yours.” Conall swiped and missed again. When Lachlan came down with another blow, Conall blocked it, but Lachlan followed through. The clash of blades forced Conall’s arms into an awkward position. He growled in pain then aimed for Lachlan’s midsection, only missing by a hair when Lachlan jumped back.
…
Taunts during battle normally did not rile Lachlan, but damn if Conall wasn’t getting to him. It was Maggie.
While the two circled each other catching their breaths, he remembered telling Alan he would never fight for a woman. He had been wrong. If he had to, he would fight every day for the rest of his life to keep her.
“Ye’ll never touch her again, Conall.” He couldn’t stop himself after the man’s insults; he was getting too emotional. A deep breath calmed him.
He lunged, his claymore coming down just to Conall’s left, but the arse dodged the blow and came around to catch Lachlan in the back. Before the rapier could connect, he leaped out of range.
This time he waited. Be patient. Lachlan closed his ears to any other taunts from Conall’s treacherous lips and focused as the bastard continued to charge at him without success.
Once the man became winded, Lachlan struck hard and fast. His blade swooped down and skimmed his arm. Blood spurted from Conall’s shoulder, and his arm went limp while he screamed in pain. “Enough. You win.” And he feebly tossed his sword. “I give. You can have her.”
Surprised, Lachlan lowered his claymore to his side but kept it at the ready. He’d expected Conall to fight to the death. Still, the man had surrendered, and despite the urge to raise his sword and take off Conall’s head, he held still.
Staring at the blood pouring down his bicep, Conall gripped his shoulder and tried to cover the wound. His face went stone cold. In a flash, he reached into his pocket and threw some kind of powder into Lachlan’s eyes. Pain seared him. He was blinded.
Chapter Eighteen
Maggie’s heart sang when Conall admitted defeat. Lachlan had no choice but to concede, because he couldn’t cut down an unarmed man. But Conall was not surrendering—she’d seen that look on his face the day she’d rejected his advances. Dread washed over her as he slowly reached into his breeches then threw what looked like sand into Lachlan’s eyes.
In one swift move, she shoved her knee into Hamish’s groin. When he doubled over in pain, she grabbed his bow and pulled one arrow from his quiver.
By the time she looked back, Conall had drawn a pistol and pointed it at Lachlan. On instinct, she nocked the arrow, took aim, and let it fly. It connected with Conall’s hip just as he pulled the trigger on his small gun.
The impact jolted him, and the bullet flew through the air, missing Lachlan.
She sighed in relief. Heedless of anyone else on the field, she dropped the bow and ran. She needed to feel Lachlan’s strong arms around her and know he was safe. Conall writhed on the ground, but her brothers ran in to subdue him.
“I love you,” she cried without thinking as she dashed toward Lachlan. He’d straightened and was rubbing at his eyes as she moved in to poke his shoulder with two fingers. “Dinnae ever scare me like that again, Lachlan. I thought he was going to put a bullet in ye.” Tears fell down her cheeks as she grabbed his face to look into his eyes, to make sure he was unharmed.
He blinked. “Scare ye, lass? Ye are the one who ran off and got captured by the devil himself. I didnae ken how I was going to get ye away from him.” He pulled her in for a tight embrace. She welcomed the feel of him. It was like coming home, but to a home she wanted and needed. Her knees buckled as he claimed her mouth in a kiss that was both possessive and demanding. She moaned and sank into him. It didn’t matter that her family stood by watching.
She forgot about everything except Lachlan. Forgot her anger and hurt over his betrayal. She even forgot the crowds surrounding them until the cheers broke through her bliss. She pulled back and straightened in a vain attempt to maintain some modicum of propriety.
Brown spots dotted Lachlan’s cheeks and brow. “We need to wash yer eyes. I dinnae ken what he threw at ye.” She inspected and rubbed her fingers softly across his cheeks to clear it away.
“Most of it’s out. I can see all I need to now.”
She melted into him and relief flooded her as he took her hand in his and drew it to his lips.
One of her brothers swooped in and grabbed her around the waist. He twirled her around and embraced her so hard she almost lost her breath. “Roland, I cannae breathe.” She could not help but notice the disapproving glare he gave Lachlan.
He then turned his displeasure on her. “Ye have some explaining to do. Where the hell have ye been, Maggie? We were sick with worry.”
After squinting at Roland’s grip on her waist, Lachlan latched onto Maggie’s arm and tugged her back to him. It was possessive, but gentle. She didn’t mind. She wanted to feel his touch, to know he was safe and unharmed. “Please join us in the hall. We’ll have some food and drink and discuss the future.”
Lachlan led her to his horse and lifted her onto its back then jumped up behind her. Drawing her near, he slid his arms around her; it was like being enveloped in a warm cocoon to be in his embrace again, and sh
e relished the feel of his strong muscles as he hugged her close.
She’d not thought she would ever know his touch again. The warm scent of him made her ache to be even closer, and she snuggled in like he was a blanket to keep her warm from the cool night air.
“Woman, dinnae ever run off like that and scare me again. I’ll bend ye over my knee and give ye the beating ye deserve.” But the harsh words were tempered by the tender way he breathed her in and nuzzled his head against hers.
Had he gone daft? Did he think she ran into Conall on purpose? “I didnae ken he would be there.”
“Ye took off without letting me defend myself.”
At the mention of the previous morning’s events, she stiffened. Aye, he had a point, but she’d been distraught, and no matter what he might have said, she wasn’t sure she would have listened. But she didn’t want to think of that at this motherent, didn’t want to remember what he had been doing while she had helped deliver Donella’s babe. “Ye have no need to explain yerself to me.” She said it, but the words were hollow and tore at her soul.
From the beginning, Lachlan had made sure she knew there could never be anything more than fun between them. He’d never given her any reason to hope for something more.
“I did nothing wrong, but we will discuss it later when we have a motherent to ourselves.”
She deflated. Her eyes stung. He didn’t even regret his tryst with the harlot.
Maggie peeked over her shoulder to see Conall being tied and questioned. His men had all knelt down and surrendered peacefully. “What will happen to Conall?”
“The MacDonald is going to take him and his men. He has a grievance against the Covenanters. I’m sure he will send word to Conall’s father of the bastard’s whereabouts, but I dinnae ken the man can do him any good.”
“I dinnae ever wish to see him again.” She shuddered and sank into Lachlan.
“I will make sure ye never do.” He kissed her temple. “Dinnae speak of the priest. Robbie wants to stay out of it if he can.”
“Aye. I cannae blame him.” Like the lad, she wanted to blot Conall from her memory forever.
Maggie’s family came up alongside them and thankfully pulled her from her misery. They peppered her with questions as they eyed Lachlan. Trepidation, curiosity, and mistrust were plain in their guarded expressions as they watched the Cameron laird hold her as if he owned her.
“How did ye even come to be here, Maggie?” her oldest brother asked.
For the rest of the ride, she explained how she’d gotten here, omitting Lachlan’s attempt to kill her and explaining the head injury as an accident that happened during the skirmish when she’d been knocked backward into a tree. Looking over her shoulder, she was able to see the corner of Lachlan’s lip quirk up into a sheepish, guilty smile.
As they rode through the main gate, Arabella was saddling up with several men flanking her, almost as if they were guarding her. She looked as if she’d been crying, and when Maggie made eye contact with her, she froze. The harlot was staring daggers at her, as if she wanted to rip her eyes out. Goose bumps rose on her arms as she tried to shake off the malice the woman aimed her way. For the rest of her time here, she would have to stay away from that woman.
When they dismounted by the keep, Lorna ran over and took her in a punishing embrace. “Ye should have jumped on me horse, Maggie. We could have made it back.”
“Nae, he was too close. I had to get ye to safety. I wouldnae have been able to bear him harming another friend of mine.” Friend. She hugged her once more. “I am so glad ye are safe.”
“Aye. I am thankful Lachlan wouldnae let him take off with ye.” Lorna released her, and her fingers rose to Maggie’s darkening cheek. “Och. Look what the bastard did to ye. Does it hurt?”
“’Tis just tender. ’Twill be fine.”
Elspeth pulled her in tight, and when she backed away, Maggie was surprised at the sheen of moisture in her eyes. “I was so afraid for ye, lass. But I knew Lachlan would bring ye home.” She took Maggie’s hand and pulled her toward the keep, and Maggie felt as if she’d come home.
…
A dreadfully long afternoon of negotiations complete, Lachlan finally made the way from his office into the hall. Freezing when he saw Maggie enter with his mother, his heart soared at the mere sight of her. Black curls bobbed playfully as she laughed; her unbruised cheek was pink and flushed. Her presence alone calmed his frayed nerves, and he’d almost gone insane thinking he would never touch her again. He was still tempted to beat Conall for laying a hand on her, but all he could do now was take solace in the knowledge the bastard was gone and would never be able to touch her again. Hopefully, he would hang for his crimes.
He’d spent the afternoon behind closed doors with other lairds and then Maggie’s father and brothers. When the door opened at one point to admit a server with ale, bread, and cheese, Maggie was pacing outside. Although she’d protested and tried to enter the room, her father had held up his hand and said, “This is men’s business. We will see ye at the dinner meal.” Lachlan was disappointed the man had rebuffed her.
She huffed and stomped away. It had been adorable.
Images of what the evening would bring flashed through his head in vivid detail. He couldn’t wait to get her alone and turn that anger into the passion she kept hidden below the surface, just for him. He needed to feel she was real, taste her, and assure himself she would not disappear again.
Pulling himself away from his thoughts, he returned to the conversation with her father. The man was a tyrant, tedious and controlling. Despite his harsh demeanor, Lachlan recognized the care and concern he held for his daughter concealed beneath his hard exterior. He wasn’t a man accustomed to letting people know his feelings, which were hidden well behind the wall of a true leader. But the depth in his eyes gave away his true emotions.
…
Pacing at the entrance to the great hall and dreading the news to come from the afternoon her family and Lachlan had spent behind closed doors had been torture. Focusing on the smell of baking bread wafting through the air made her belly rumble, but it kept her from wringing her hands and rushing into Lachlan’s study to demand answers. Her thoughts turned to speculation. Her father would take her home, and she’d be forced to marry some other man, or worse yet, they would force Lachlan to wed her, a man who was just like her father, whose love couldn’t be won by a single lass.
A deep, instinctive part of her knew she carried Lachlan’s child. Did he have other illegitimate heirs running around? Just thinking on it made her queasy again. She wanted to be the only one to carry his babes, but what did it matter? As she was about to give in and demand she be included in their deliberations, Elspeth came up, looped her arm into Maggie’s, and drew her into the great hall to walk toward the main table. She gasped at the crowd inside. “’Tis so many.”
“Did ye bring yer sisters, then?” It was Brodie talking to a Highlander she’d never seen. She couldn’t help the giggle that broke through her lips at his jesting with the man, who growled at Brodie.
Elspeth followed Maggie’s gaze. “’Tis Ross Maclean. Those two can get into all kinds of mischief together. Best stay away from both of them this evening.”
They made their way through the crowd and settled in their normal spots, but Lachlan wasn’t there. Controlling her every move, most likely on her father’s command, her brothers, Roland and Ian took the seats beside her and pinned her in so that no one else had access to her. All patience fled, and she couldn’t stop herself. “What was decided today?” she asked Roland, knowing he would talk before Ian would give her answers.
“Maggie, ye ken we only want what’s best for ye,” Roland answered. Dread filled her at the words she’d heard so many times she couldn’t count, and she almost missed her father taking the seat next to her brother, with Lachlan on the other side.
“And a week ago that was Conall, so ye will forgive me if I dinnae trust father’s judgment?”
> Roland’s eyes twinkled with mirth, and he gave her a grin she couldn’t quite read. Sometimes she thought he riled her up on purpose. “Ye will be happy with our decision.”
“Just like I was going to ‘grow to love’ Conall.” She repeated the phrase they had used with her often. She scowled at him, but he only laughed.
Ale was brought to the table, then Maggie’s father, Gavin Murray, the Duke of Kirk and most titled man in the room, stood, raised his glass, and silenced the gathered crowd, just as she had seen him do so many times before. Relishing the control he held over the room, he introduced himself and thanked the Camerons for their warm welcome.
“Lachlan and Margaret will be wed in the morn.” Too stunned, she didn’t hear anything after that motherent.
Why had no one warned her? She peered across her family to look at Lachlan. Had he been forced to acquiesce? His stiff jaw twitched, and his brow knit together. Her appetite disappeared. He was being coerced to wed her and was not pleased with the arrangement. She would live with a man she loved who didn’t want her. Her father had sentenced her to a lifetime of sorrow like her mother.
Somehow she managed to make it through the meal, picking at her food and moving it around her plate, but she couldn’t face Lachlan’s frustration tonight. Hoping to slip from the room before he could stop her, she turned to Roland. “I’m tired. Please escort me to bed.”
“I am, too. ’Twas a long journey here.” He stood and offered her his arm.
He escorted her to the room where she would spend her last night as a single woman. She didn’t even try to sleep, just lay there all night lamenting fate for handing her a loveless marriage.
Chapter Nineteen
By the time Lachlan was able to join Maggie at the table, there were no open seats beside her, and it would have been poor manners to ask her family to move so he could sit next to her. The duke had arranged it so that he couldn’t get to her, and he felt like a child with a cake placed before him he was not allowed to taste.
Highland Deception (Highland Pride) Page 22
