But he felt none of those things.
All he could think about was Anna.
If he did this, he would forever be to her the man that Lorn had been to him: the man who killed her father.
Perhaps her forgiveness was more than he had a right to hope for, but if he killed Lorn he’d destroy whatever chance remained.
What honor was there in killing a man too sick to fight? His father had his justice. Lorn was finished. His defeat at Brander had crushed whatever hope he’d had of stopping Bruce.
Anna was right. Killing him now would be nothing more than revenge, and he wanted her more than he wanted whatever fleeting moment of satisfaction killing Lorn would give him.
Well, maybe more than fleeting, but he wanted her more all the same.
From beneath the steel visor of his helm, Lorn’s gaze burned into his. “What are you waiting for? Just do it!”
Mercy. His father’s last lesson; though he’d forgotten it until now.
“Submit to the king, and I will let you live.”
Lorn’s face contorted in rage. “I’d rather die.”
“And what of your family? What of your clan? Would you have them die, too?”
His eyes blazed with raw hatred. “Better than to submit to a murderer.”
“You’d see your daughters die for your damned pride?” Arthur could feel his temper rising. He knew Anna. She would never go against her father. Family was everything to her. “Give Anna your blessing. I’ll keep her safe. You know as well as I do that you are done. But your clan can live on in our children—in your grandchildren.”
Lorn’s rage had turned frenzied. Veins bulged at his temples, his eyes were glazed with madness, and his face was beet red. He let go a string of vile oaths, spittle foaming at the edge of his mouth. “You will never have her. I’d rather see her dead!”
“Father!”
Arthur heard the anguished cry behind him. Anna. He turned instinctively.
Giving Lorn his back. Just as his father had done before him.
Twenty-six
Anna reached the courtyard just as Arthur brought her father to his knees.
Oh God, she was too late!
She ran faster.
Ewen and the other men were attempting to defend the castle with carefully aimed arrows through the slits in the curtain wall, ready to lower the gate just as soon as her father and his men retreated inside.
The guardsmen at the gate were so focused on watching what was in front of them, they didn’t see her slip past them.
“My lady!” one of the men called after her. “You can’t—”
She wasn’t listening. She darted a few feet beyond the gate, but didn’t make it far. The enemy soldiers had formed a line, separating Arthur and her father from the rest of the fight. When she attempted to run past them, one of the men caught her.
“God’s blood!” he said, lifting her feet off the ground. “Where do you think you’re going, lass?”
She opened her mouth to scream at the terrifying-looking ruffian to let her go, but then she heard Arthur speak and stilled in the soldier’s arms.
She couldn’t believe what she heard.
Arthur held a sword at her father’s neck, at the very point of achieving the vengeance and atonement that had driven him, and offered him mercy. Offered her father a chance to save them all. A chance that after what he’d probably done to him, her father didn’t deserve. A chance for a future.
He loves me, she realized. He loves me enough to put aside his quest for vengeance.
But if Arthur’s words had filled her heart, her father’s eviscerated her.
I’d rather see her dead.
She recoiled, wrenching out of her captor’s hold. Shock and horror made her cry out.
He didn’t mean it.
But she knew he did. He would rather see her dead than married to the enemy, even if she loved him. His harsh refusal of Arthur’s offer shattered what was left of her illusions.
But her cry was a mistake. A mistake more horrible than she could have imagined.
Her voice should have been lost in the heavy din of battle. No one should have heard her. But Arthur did. He turned at the sound of her voice, and the world seemed to stop.
Dear God in Heaven. Beneath the shadow of his helm the sight of his beaten, ravaged face made her stomach clench and bile rise to the back of her throat.
But the worse horror was yet to come. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her father’s sword flash.
“No!” She took a step forward, but the man caught her before she could advance. “Watch out!” she screamed.
Blind spot. She was his blind spot. But she couldn’t let him die for it.
Arthur spun, swinging his sword around to deflect her father’s death blow with enough force to rip her father’s sword from his hand and send it flying through the air.
Arthur raised his sword over his head.
Anna turned away, shielding her eyes from the horror of what was to come. He was going to kill her father, and after what he’d just done she couldn’t blame him.
She waited for the sickening thud of death.
But the silence seemed endless. It was so quiet that she realized the battle around them had stilled as well.
“Go,” she heard Arthur say. “You have five minutes to take your men and daughter from this castle.”
Her gaze shot back to her father—her father who was still alive. Arthur had lowered his sword and moved away from him. Her father had gotten to his feet, his face a mask of rage and defiance. “You’re a fool.”
“And you’re lucky that your daughter means more to me than your foul life. But I assure you, the king will not feel the same. Leave on your own or leave in chains. It matters not to me, but leave you will.”
As if to bolster his words, a cry came from above. “Ships, my lord. A half dozen of them, headed this way.”
Bruce.
Her father didn’t hesitate. Gathering his men, he ordered Ewen to evacuate the castle and bring whatever weapons he could carry.
The man holding her released her. She ran forward, but Arthur was already walking away.
He and the other Bruce warriors—she recognized her uncle among the group—moved to the side to let the MacDougalls pass.
Her uncle didn’t look too pleased with the arrangement, but after a quick but harsh exchange of words, he and Arthur stood silent.
Arthur wouldn’t look at her.
Why wouldn’t he look at her? She wanted to go to him, but he looked so remote. So distant.
Her heart squeezed with doubt.
She’d always thought he would be the one to leave her. But he stood like a sentinel: solid, stalwart, and true. A man to count on. A man who would stand down dragons and crawl through the fires of hell.
“Come, Anna. It’s time to go.” Ewen had come up behind her, attempting to steer her away by her elbow.
“I …” She hesitated, her eyes flickering to Arthur as if expecting—hoping—he would say something.
Ewen gave her an uncertain look as he moved off with his men.
Her father must have caught the exchange. “Don’t do it, daughter. Don’t even think about it.”
Her gaze fell on her father. The man she’d loved her entire life. A man who was far more complex than she’d realized. It was hard to reconcile the loving father with the man she’d seen here today, though she knew they were one and the same.
For a moment, she wanted to go back to being that little girl who’d sat on her father’s knee and looked at him as if he were a god. To go back to when things were simple.
If she’d ever doubted Arthur’s love, she could no longer. Not after what he’d just done for her.
“I love him, Father. Please.”
She saw the flash of hurt before her father’s gaze hardened. “I’ll hear no more of this. Make your choice. But do not be mistaken. Go to him, and I will never see you again. You will be dead to me.”
Tears
sprang to her eyes, burning her throat. “You don’t mean that.”
But he did. “Choose,” he demanded angrily.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Anna started to walk to the boat where her brother waited for her.
Arthur turned away, unable to watch her leave.
He’d listened to every painful word of her conversation with her father. Damn Lorn for doing this to her! For making her choose between them. It didn’t have to be this way. Arthur had tried to give him a way out, but the bastard wouldn’t take it.
He almost wished he’d killed him. Almost. But when he’d heard Anna say that she loved him, he knew he’d done the right thing. Even if it meant he had to let her go.
Unfortunately, the pain of parting wasn’t any easier the second time around. His chest burned. Every muscle in his body felt teased on a razor’s edge, reverberating with tension and restraint.
He wanted to stop her from getting on that damned boat. To tell her she belonged with him. To tell her he loved her.
To ask her to choose him.
But he wouldn’t make it harder on her than it already was. He wouldn’t tear her apart even further. One look at her stricken face when her father had given her his ultimatum was enough to see the terrible toll it was taking on her.
“I’m sorry, Ewen. Tell Mother—” Her voice broke. “Tell her I’m sorry. But I belong with him.”
He jolted still, clearing his ears, refusing to believe he’d heard her right. Slowly, he turned and saw her hugging her brother.
Hugging him goodbye.
Arthur couldn’t breathe.
Stepping away from her brother’s embrace, she turned and ventured a look in his direction. The uncertainty in her gaze sent a hard twinge through his chest that broke every last thread of his restraint.
He was at her side in a few long strides. His voice rumbled with the effort to constrain the emotion surging in his chest. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this. I’ll protect you and your family as best I can, even if you go.”
She smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes. “The fact that you would do that is exactly why I am sure. I love you. If you still want me, I’m yours.”
Oh God, did he want her. Forgetting the dirt and grime that clung to him—not to mention the stench of the battlefield—Arthur pulled her in his arms with a sigh of relief that tore from the deepest part of him. From the place he’d never thought to open again. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, absorbed the golden, silky warmth and fragrance of her hair, and held her tightly against him, too moved to speak.
But he didn’t need to say anything. The way she slid her arms around him and rested her cheek against his cotun said it all.
She’d chosen him. He couldn’t believe it. He’d never thought to feel like this. Never thought that this kind of happiness was meant for him.
But his joy was tempered by the knowledge of how difficult this must be for her.
Reluctantly, he released her. She gazed up at him, the sunlight caressing her beautiful features in a soft, golden light. Light that spread through him like a warm embrace. He felt a fierce tightening inside him. He was a lucky man.
Realizing he still hadn’t answered, he lifted one corner of his mouth. “If you didn’t guess, that was a yes.”
Her smile made his heart catch.
He’d thought he was meant to be alone, but now he knew he’d only been waiting for her. Together they would face whatever challenges and obstacles life threw at them.
Including her father. Arthur held her against his side as Lorn strode down to the jetty to take his place among his men.
He could feel Anna wobble as her father walked past where they stood without giving her another glance.
Arthur squeezed her to him tighter, wanting to protect her from this. The bastard was breaking her heart.
“Father,” she cried softly.
Lorn turned to look at her with an icy glare. But he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted to be. There was real pain in the older man’s eyes. “There is nothing more to be said. You made your choice.”
She shook her head. “I choose to love you both. But my future is with Arthur.”
Lorn gave her a long look, and for a moment Arthur thought he might relent. But he flattened his mouth and turned to leave without another word, pride dooming him once again. He was only hurting himself, cutting her off like this. Anna was the light—the glue—that had held everyone around her together. Without her, their life would be a little darker. Arthur ought to know; he’d been there.
He wished he could save her from the pain or take it for himself, but all he could do was stay by her side as her father and clansmen sailed away from her.
When they disappeared from sight around the bend in the loch, Arthur tipped her chin to look into her eyes. “I swear I will make sure that you never regret this.”
Through the shimmer of tears, she gave him a wobbly smile. “I won’t. It’s the only decision I could make. I love you.”
He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. Her mouth was even sweeter and softer than he remembered. “And I love you.”
He wanted to say so much more, but the rest would have to wait. Reinforcements would be arriving at any minute. “Which is your room?” he asked.
She blushed, looking embarrassed. “The top chamber overlooking the loch.”
He should have guessed. “That was my room.”
Her eyes widened, and she said hurriedly, “I’ll move—”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “Stay, I shall know where to find you.” He liked thinking of her in his room.
He glanced over her shoulder, seeing the ships drawing near. “Go. There are some things that I must attend to. I’ll find you when I’m done.”
She reached up to cup his face. “Your poor face.”
He winced. “I know it looks horrible.”
Guilt filled her eyes. “God, Arthur, I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “None of that, lass. It’s over. We can’t change what happened in the past; all we can do is live for today and plan for the future.”
A future that only a moment ago looked grim now blossomed with hope.
He watched her go, knowing how damned close he’d been to losing her. But now that he had her, Arthur swore that he would never let her go.
Arthur didn’t keep her waiting long. Anna heard the soft knock on the door barely half an hour after the ships departed.
Bruce’s men had not stayed long. Still, it was strange, watching from the tower window as the courtyard filled with enemy soldiers.
Nay, not enemy. In choosing Arthur she’d also chosen Bruce, though it would take some time, she expected, to come to terms with exactly what that would mean. For now, she was just trying to get used to the idea that she didn’t know when—or if—she might see her family again.
In refusing to submit to Bruce, her father would have no choice but to follow the path that John Comyn, Earl of Buchan, had taken months earlier to England. She suspected her mother, brothers, and sister would soon follow.
But no matter how difficult her decision, Anna knew she’d made the right one.
The blind love she’d had for her father was that of a child—a child who thought he could do no wrong. But her love for Arthur was that of a woman. A woman who understood that people—even those you loved—made mistakes. Forgiveness was part of loving.
She opened the door and her heart slammed against her chest just seeing him there. His large frame filled the doorway, and he had to duck as he entered the room.
The small chamber suddenly felt very small—and very warm. The fresh scent of soap filled the air. He’d bathed and changed from his armor and was wearing a clean shirt, tunic, and hose. Borrowed, she suspected, from one of her departed clansmen.
It wasn’t the visceral awareness, however, but the boyishly uncertain look on his face that made her throw herself into his arms and bury her face against his broad, warm chest.
S
he felt the deep sigh of relief go through him, as he wrapped his arms around and held her.
“You’re all right?” he asked.
She nodded, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him. “You were worried?”
A lock of damp hair flopped across his forehead. “Aye, more than I wanted to be.”
“I made my decision, Arthur. I meant what I said. It might not always be easy, but I’ll not regret it.”
Her brother Alan was right. She deserved a man who would love her as fiercely as she loved him. Who would stand down dragons and crawl through the fires of hell for her. Arthur had done that, and she would never let him go.
She paused, easing back in his arms a little. “Thank you for what you did. I know”—her voice caught—“I know it couldn’t have been easy.”
His face clouded, but only for a moment. “I’ll not regret it.” He repeated her words back to her with a wry smile. “Sparing your father’s life was a small price to pay for the happiness I’ve received in return.”
She bit her lip. “But what about Bruce? Won’t he be angry that you let him go?”
He grimaced. “Probably, if your former uncle’s reaction was any indication. But the king owes me a few favors; I think I may have just called them in. As long as your father leaves Scotland, he will likely understand.”
Likely. Suddenly, she realized she could feel only one hand on her back. She moved out of his embrace and looked down to see that his left hand was wrapped in heavy bandages. She hadn’t noticed before because he’d been wearing gauntlets.
“What happened to your hand?”
“It’s broken,” he said, matter-of-factly.
Their eyes met and he answered her unspoken question. One look at his beaten face was all it took to tell her how it happened. Her heart stabbed. “What else?”
He shrugged. “A few ribs. Some bruises and cuts. Nothing that won’t heal.” There was something in his eyes that told her differently. “It was no more than I deserved for what I did to you.”
“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head adamantly. “Don’t say that. What you did was awful, but I would never have exacted such punishment.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “We have not had a very easy time of it, have we?”
The Ranger Page 36
