by Lynsay Sands
“I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth, Donaidh MacAdie.”
Donaidh turned a shocked face toward the bush Eva had just stepped around and Connall silently cursed his wife’s blasted courage. The woman had just signed both their death warrants. He watched with a combination of pride, anger, and a sense of defeat as she marched forward, toward what he thought surely would be her death. But what a glorious sight she was, all fire and fury as she marched forward, fists on hips and spitting mad.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, the church says coveting your neighbor’s wife is bad, coveting your uncle’s wife can only be but worse. And murder is most definitely frowned on, you have heard the saying an eye for an eye.” She had reached a stunned Donaidh by then, and when Eva suddenly punched her fist upward toward his face, Connall saw the branch she clutched and was now driving toward his eye. For one, heart stopping moment, he thought she would succeed to strike him, but at the last possible moment, Donaidh jerked his head to the side so that the branch merely grazed the side of his head. He grabbed her upper arm and used it to swing her around until he had her locked with her back to his chest, one arm held in his hand, the other barred by his own arm across it.
“Uncle!”
Connall had shaken off his shock at Eva’s sudden appearance at the same moment as Donaidh had and immediately started forward to grab his sword. He even had his hand on it and was straightening again when Donaidh called out so harshly. Now he glanced up reluctantly, to see that Donaidh had the edge of his sword pressed across his wife’s stomach.
“Put it down or I’ll slice ’er in half.”
Connall’s gaze shifted to Eva and his heart wrenched at the apology there and wished he could offer an apology of his own. He never should have brought her here, not until he had sorted out the business of who was behind the attacks. This was all his fault. His hand tightened briefly around the sword, then he let it fall, hoping against hope that some miracle would save them, or at least save Eva.
Donaidh relaxed and glanced down at the petite blonde in his arms. “Aunt,” he greeted her dryly. “I hadnae realized ye were here and, in truth, really wish ye werenae.”
“And I really wish you were not,” Eva snapped, her fingers tightening around the stakelike bit of branch she still held in her left hand. All she had been able to find in her bush were some stones and branches. With panic for her husband’s well-being urging her to hurry, she’d used the stones to cut a bit of a point on two of the sturdier looking branches, taking them inside the cave to do so without making noise that might draw Donaidh’s attention. Her efforts had been crude and hurried, but she had decided well enough would have to do and had marched out with her hands on hips to hide the fact that she carried a stake in each hand.
Eva hadn’t really been sure what to do even as she charged out, but the eyes had seemed a natural target to her. These men were strong, but strength was of little use if you could not see your target. Unfortunately, these men were quick too and the first strike had failed, but now she clutched her fingers around the second stake in her hand and tried to decide what to do. It seemed she had little choice, however. With his arm around her chest as it was, her upper arm was trapped. Eva had movement only in her lower arm, and not enough to aim properly or put much strength behind the blow. She could only hope that what little damage she did would be enough to give Connall time to grab his sword again.
Taking a deep breath, she swung her hand out, then back down, sinking the stake into his upper thigh with some satisfaction. It didn’t go in far by her estimation, but far enough to make the man roar in pain and release her. Eva started to stumble away from him, aware that Connall was going for his sword again as she had hoped, but was suddenly caught back by a grip in her hair, and jerked around.
“Bitch!” Donaidh roared, and raised his sword. He was going to cleave her right there, she realized and shot her hands out to claw at his face, hoping to get his eyes, but clawing at anything she could reach.
Donaidh immediately shoved her away and Eva’s feet tangled in her gown and sent her stumbling to fall on her back before him. She pushed herself up onto her elbows in time to see him raise his sword again. He was going to kill her right there and then. A roar from Connall made her glance around to see that he had his sword in hand once more and was stumbling forward, but she knew he would never make it in time. Then a soft “Unhn” from Donaidh made her glance back to her would-be killer and she saw that he had paused, sword raised above his head, back arched, expression stunned.
Eva stared at him, waiting for him to bring his sword down and wondering why he already hadn’t, then he slowly began to turn away from her. The first thing she saw was the wound in his back, then she spotted Ewan behind him, already swinging his bloodied sword at his son’s throat.
Eva closed her eyes, unable to watch father killing son, but opened them again at the soft thud of something heavy hitting the ground next to her, only to close them quickly again at the sight of Donaidh’s decapitated body.
Arms scooping her off the ground made her open her eyes again, however, and she stared solemnly at the grief on Ewan’s grim face as he carried her to where Connall’s plaid still lay.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes for his loss.
“Ye’ve nothing to apologize fer. I heard it all. I am the one sorry.” He set her on the ground next to Connall’s plaid, then turned as his laird joined them. The two men stared at each other silently, then Ewan grimaced. “Ye’d best get those out ere ye lose any more blood.”
Connall grasped the arrow in his chest and pulled it free with one vicious tug and an accompanying roar of pain. Aye, they definitely felt pain, Eva decided with a wince of sympathy. He was unable to reach the arrow in his back, however, and Eva was grateful when Ewan did it for him. It would have been an unpleasant and difficult task for her to perform.
“What will ye tell Aileen?” Connall finally asked as he settled on the ground next to Eva to allow his wounds the chance to close.
“The truth.” Ewan said simply. He looked old and tired and seemed to have aged twenty years in the past few moments.
“I should ha’e been the one to kill him,” Connall fretted. “Ye should ha’e let me do it.”
Ewan shook his head. “I brought him into the world, I failed him somehow so he turned out that way, ’twas only right I took his life back.” He ran a hand wearily through his hair, and said, “I doonae ken where we went wrong. How he—”
“Ye didnae go wrong, Ewan. Ye and Aileen were the best o’ parents,” Connall interrupted, then added helplessly, “Mayhap he was jest a bad seed.”
“Aye. Mayhap.” Ewan was silent for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. “I’ll take him home to Aileen.”
He moved with the stooped shoulders of a beaten man as he walked to his son’s side, then he forced his shoulders straight and bent to grab Donaidh by the arms and pull him into a sitting position. Connall was immediately on his feet, despite the fact that his wounds had not fully closed. He quickly joined his brother-in-law and his first and, between the two of them, they managed to shift the man to his horse and lay him over the mount’s back.
“I should ha’e done it for him,” Connall repeated a moment later as Eva stood to join him and they watched the other man ride away, leading the horse with his son’s body behind him.
“You could not have, Connall,” she said quietly. “He had to do it himself.”
“A man shouldnae ha’e to kill his own son,” he said grimly.
“Neither should an uncle have to kill his nephew, but Donaidh needed killing and forced it on the two of you.”
“Aye, mayhap.” Connall was silent for a minute, staring off into the trees where his brother-in-law had now disappeared from view, then he scowled at Eva. “Doonae think I’ve fergotten ye disobeyin’ me and puttin’ yersel’ at risk in a misguided attempt to save me.”
She blinked in surprise at t
he sudden turn his anger had taken, then felt some anger of her own coming up to meet it. “Well, ‘doonae’ you think I’ve ‘fergotten’ you dared to give me such an order and expected me to watch you die like some hapless good-for-nothing twit.”
Connall’s anger immediately gave way under amazement at her words. “Did you say doonae? Are ye makin fun o’ me speech, wife?” he asked with dismay.
“Would I do that?” she drawled.
His amazement slowly transformed, his tension easing and a small smile claiming his lips for the briefest of moments, then Connall sobered and drew her into his arms with a sigh. “Only you could make me smile at a time like this, Eva. Yer a cheeky lass.”
“And yer a stubborn ass,” Eva said a tad irritably, not having quite given up her anger. “Ordering me to stand by helplessly and what? Watch ye die? Not in this lifetime, my lord. Or any other, I should hope. I am your wife, your partner, your mate. I shall guard your back, your front, and your top to bottom to the best of my sad abilities so long as there is air in my lungs and strength in my body. Do not ever expect me simply to—”
Connall brought her rant to an end, simply by closing his mouth over hers. He kissed her with all the passion and hunger he felt for her, then eased the kiss slowly before gently easing away to kiss first the tip of her nose, her closed eyelids, then her forehead. “I love ye, Eva MacAdie.”
Eva sighed against his chin, kissed him there, then added solemnly, “And I love you Connall MacAdie. And I will do till the day I die.”
His arms tighted around her briefly, then he released her and took her hand to lead her to his horse. “Hmmm, I’ve been wantin’ to talk to ye about that.”
“About the day I die?” she asked as he mounted his horse, then before he could answer, said, “What about my mare, Millie?” Eva had left her mount in the entrance to the cave when she’d entered the clearing.
“I’ll send someone fer her.” Connall lifted her up onto the horse before him and Eva smiled then closed her hands over his as he wrapped them around her waist and pulled her back against his chest.
“Now, as I was saying,” he murmured, arranging the reins, then urging his mount forward. “I agree with the need to marry a mortal to weaken the blood we carry, but once the bairns are born…”
Eva rested in her husband’s arms and listened to his plans for the future with interest and thought she could stay like this forever…and she just might.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2004 by Kensington Publishing Corp.
“Nightriders” copyright © 2004 by Hannah Howell
“The Highland Bride” copyright © 2004 by Lynsay Sands
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-1505-5
