by Connie Mason
Suddenly a woman Blair recognized pushed Gunna aside. It was Mab, the woman Blair had helped through childbirth.
“ ’Tis shameful the way ye are treating our laird’s wife,” Mab charged. “Look at all the good she has done. You, Mary—did Lady Blair not heal yer son’s wound when he cut himself playing with his da’s dirk? And you, Talia—didna Blair cure yer daughter’s chest congestion?”
“Dinna listen to her,” Gunna screamed. “The witch must prove herself.”
Unfortunately, Mab’s voice of reason could not stop Gunna’s vicious attack. When a mob was roused to fury, common sense fled.
As one, the voices rose to a chilling crescendo. “Aye, let her prove herself! Throw her into the loch. If she drowns, we will know she is innocent.”
Blair was terrified. She couldn’t swim, for she had never had the opportunity to learn, and she knew the weight of her skirts would pull her under. She prayed that the water below was shallow.
It was obvious to Blair that Gunna’s animosity was virulent enough to carry the villagers along with her. Only a few reluctant souls refused to participate. Blair looked for a way to escape but found herself surrounded.
“Save yourself,” Blair hissed to Alyce. “Run before they turn on you.”
Alyce looked as if she wanted to protest, but ultimately she lifted her skirts and fled. Blair was grateful that no one tried to stop the older woman. Marshaling her courage, she turned a calm face to Gunna in an effort to tamp down her rage. But nothing short of Blair’s death would satisfy the midwife. She stalked toward Blair.
Suddenly Grant and another man grabbed her and dragged her to the edge of the crag. She screamed, and then she was falling . . . falling until the turbulent water came up to meet her with frightening haste. She hit the water with a loud splash before she could take a deep breath.
Down, down, she went, frighteningly aware that the loch was deeper than she had thought. She hit the bottom, then thrust upward with all her might. When she broke the surface, she took a gulp of life-giving air, but her sodden skirts dragged her back down.
Panic-stricken, she began to struggle for her very life. She didn’t want to die. Not now—not before Graeme had forgiven her.
Alyce ran as fast as her legs could carry her to where Graeme was working on the bridge. Her lass was in danger, and only Graeme could save her. Would he even care? Though her old legs were ready to give way, she kept running until she collapsed in Graeme’s arms.
Graeme had seen Alyce running toward him and had sprinted forward to meet her. Intuition told him that something had happened to Blair, and his intuition rarely failed him. He had tried his best these past few days to pretend she didn’t exist. He knew that by ignoring Blair he was reinforcing his kinsmen’s fear of her, but he hadn’t been able to get past his disappointment in her. Or his anger.
But Blair needed him now, and nothing else mattered. One look into Alyce’s panic-stricken eyes was all it took to goad him into action.
“What is it, Alyce? Is Blair in trouble?”
Unable to catch her breath, Alyce nodded and pointed upstream. Graeme saw a group of people gathered on a crag above the loch.
Swallowing his fear, Graeme tried again. “Does Blair need me?”
“Aye,” Alyce gasped. “They’ve thrown her in the loch.”
It was all Graeme needed to hear. He passed Alyce over to Stuart, who had come running when he saw the tiring woman fall into Graeme’s arms.
“Take her back to the keep,” Graeme ordered as he raced to Blair’s aid.
Adrenaline pumped through his body. Shouting Blair’s name, he dove into the water and swam toward where he saw her head pop up. Then she sank beneath the water and didn’t resurface. Stretching his arms and kicking his legs, he put all his strength into his strokes.
Blair had no breath left. She felt herself floating, drifting, her mind and body at peace. She knew she was near death and could do nothing to prevent it. Her lungs were bursting; she wanted to end the torture, but the life force inside her was too strong. Water was seeping into her lungs, but still she fought death. Blackness edged her consciousness as she reached out to the spirits, beseeching them to spare her.
Suddenly she felt herself being lifted upward, but she knew in her heart it was too late. What she had done to Graeme and his kinsmen was unforgivable, and death was to be her punishment. This was one trial she had failed.
She sank into a dark abyss, unaware that Graeme had broken the surface with her in his arms and was swimming toward shore.
Graeme could detect no breath in Blair as he dragged her onto the bank. Quickly he rolled her on her stomach and gently pressed. Once, twice, three times. She remained pale and unmoving. He tried again, and was thrilled when water gushed from her mouth. Despite his efforts, however, he observed no signs of life. Still he would not give up. He continued to press water from her lungs.
Turning her onto her back, he lifted her head, opened her mouth with thumb and forefinger and attempted to breathe life into her by giving her his own breath.
“What have you done?” he roared, looking up at the villagers crowding around him.
“They wanted to find out if she was a witch,” Mab explained. “ ’Twas Gunna’s doing.”
He glared at Gunna. “Dinna tell me you believe in that old wives’ tale about witches floating. Get out of my sight! All of you! I’ll deal with you later. And, Gunna,” he added tersely, “you had best find a new home. You are no longer welcome in the village.”
“Think ye I care?” Gunna screamed. “I am a MacKay. My late husband was a Campbell, but I kept faith with the MacKays.”
“Be gone, woman! The rest of you, go home.”
He returned his attention to Blair as the crowd dispersed. Only Mab remained.
“Can I help ye, my laird? Yer lady helped me birth a healthy bairn, and I am grateful to her. I had nae part in this travesty.”
Graeme continued to blow air into Blair’s lungs, unwilling to let her die. “Cover her with your cloak,” Graeme said between breaths. “The water was cold, and she is chilled.”
Mab obeyed instantly, wrapping her cloak tightly around Blair. Then she stood aside and folded her hands in silent prayer as Graeme fought to save Blair’s life.
Mab wasn’t the only one praying. Graeme begged God to bring Blair back to him. Wishing to leave no avenue unexplored, he implored Blair’s spirits to spare her life. Witch or no, he wanted her alive.
Suddenly breath surged into Blair’s lungs. She gasped and coughed and spit out more water. Rejoicing, Graeme thanked both God and the Faery Spirits.
“Blair, lass, can you hear me?”
Blair’s eyes fluttered open. They were glazed, and she appeared not to recognize him. Graeme held her close to his heart until her breathing eased and became less labored. At length she appeared to recognize him, and that seemed to comfort her.
“You saved my life,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
He scooped her into his arms and strode toward the keep. “I’ll have you home in no time, lass.” To Mab he said, “I’ll see that your cloak is returned, along with a token of my appreciation. Tell the others who were here today that I will speak with them soon.”
“Dinna be too hard on yer kinsmen, laird, for Gunna fueled their fears and stoked them into a wild frenzy. I hope ye will find it in yer heart to forgive them.”
“We’ll speak of this later,” Graeme said as he brushed past her.
Blair’s arms tightened around his neck. “I forgive them,” Blair said. “Can you forgive me?”
“Later, Blair. Save your strength. You’ve been through a harrowing ordeal. I nearly lost you.”
“Without you I coulna have survived. God willing, I will survive the test of stone as I did fire and water.”
“There will be no stone,” Graeme said through clenched teeth. “We’re nearly home. I wouldna be surprised if Alyce is waiting to tuck you in bed.”
“Is she all right? I told
her to flee. I didna want her harmed.”
“She did flee—right into my arms. If not for her warning, I wouldna have reached you in time.”
A shudder ran through him, and his arms tightened around her as if he never intended to let her go. He reached the keep and entered the hall, ignoring the glances of those who had not yet heard about the tragedy that had nearly taken Blair’s life. He took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door to Blair’s chamber. Alyce was waiting for them.
He let Blair slide down his body and held her until she could stand on her own feet. Alyce shoved him aside.
“Thank God ye reached her in time. I never doubted it for a minute. Ye can go now. I will take care of my lass. She needs to get out of those wet clothes.” She looked pointedly at Graeme’s dripping trews. “Ye should change into something dry before ye catch a chill.”
Though reluctant to leave, Graeme obeyed Alyce with grudging respect. “I’ll be back.”
“Graeme, d-d-dinna go,” Blair said through chattering teeth.
That was all Graeme needed to hear. “I can manage on my own,” he told Alyce, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
“But—”
“No buts, Alyce. You heard Blair. I assure you I am perfectly capable of caring for my wife.”
“ ’Tis about time,” Alyce muttered on her way out the door.
“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” Graeme said, quickly working the buttons and tapes on Blair’s sodden gown and underclothing. When she was stripped bare, he dried her with a towel Alyce had provided, then carried her to bed and tucked her in.
“You’re still shivering.”
“I’m so c-c-cold. Verra, verra cold. I havena been warm since you turned away from me.”
Graeme knew what he had to do and did not hesitate. He stripped off his boots and trews, pulled back the covers and climbed in bed beside Blair. Her body was cold as ice, and he pulled her into his arms, surrounding her with his body heat. Though he had taken the same dunking as Blair, he hadn’t thought the water overly cold. But Blair’s chill seemed to go bone deep.
“Is that better?” Graeme asked.
She snuggled against him. “Aye. Dinna let me go.”
A long silence ensued, and then Graeme asked, “Why did you not use your powers to save yourself?”
Silence.
“Blair? Answer my question.”
“My powers are gone. You’ve got what you wanted, Graeme.”
“Are you sure?”
“Reasonably sure. The spirits no longer speak to me.” She paused, her expression pensive. “I pleaded with the spirits to save me when I felt life ebbing from me, and then you arrived. I wonder . . .”
“Alyce fetched me,” Graeme said, dashing her hopes that the spirits had sent him. She had been stripped of her powers because she had fallen in love with a man who did not love her. It was as simple as that.
“Rest,” Graeme urged. “I willna leave you.”
Blair did not feel like resting. She snuggled closer to her husband, one arm curling around his waist as they faced one another. His breath caressed her cheek, warming her face, while her hand moved up and down his smooth back.
“Can’t you sleep?” Graeme asked in a voice made harsh with desire.
“Nay. I want . . . I want . . .” Words failed her; she was unable to give voice to her needs, for what she needed was Graeme.
“What do you want, love?”
Another silence ensued. Then words came tumbling out. “You, Graeme. I want you.”
“I want you more,” he growled against her ear. “When I thought I had lost you, I cursed myself a thousand times for treating you so abominably.”
“You forgive me, then? For bringing havoc to your life?”
“Did you really use magic to bring the rains?”
“Nay, not magic. I asked the spirits of nature to help me save your life.”
“Did you really believe my life was in danger?”
“I didna believe it, I knew it.”
“I canna think about this now,” Graeme said, brushing aside her words.
Blair knew that asking Graeme to believe in her was expecting too much.
“Your loss of powers is cause for celebration,” Graeme said tersely.
Blair did not agree but wisely held her own counsel.
“I want to make love to you,” Graeme whispered. “But I will wait if you need more time to recover.”
“I dinna want to wait,” Blair said. “I need to feel close to you again. You are my destiny. The spirits brought you to me.”
“My destiny is to be inside you,” Graeme said, throwing back the covers.
Blair gaped at him. His erection thrust up at her, blue-veined, softly capped, rigid and demanding. If she didn’t know better, she could almost believe he hadn’t been with a woman since the last time he had made love to her.
The tendons in his neck were taut; the planes and angles of his face seemed somehow harsher, stark and feral. She smiled at him, thrilled that he wanted her so fiercely. Rising to her knees, she leaned forward and pushed her hands up the steely smoothness of his abdomen, then sent her fingers higher, into the crisp mat of dark hair that covered his chest.
Graeme had always taken the initiative before, but this time she wanted to show him how much she loved him. Since she’d lost her powers, she need no longer deny her heart’s desire. The very worst had already happened. When he started to rise, she pushed him back down, pressing a kiss to his stomach, then another, much lower this time; she nuzzled him and let her mouth linger against his groin.
His eyes flashed, searing and hungry, raking her with a glance so hot it nearly stole her breath.
Air rasped out of Graeme’s lungs as he pushed his cock against her soft lips in a violent crash of violent emotions. The gut-wrenching desire to have her take him in her mouth and the fear she wouldn’t were driving him insane. His frustration mounting, he grasped her head between his hands and moved it until he could feel her hot breath teasing his cock.
He howled like a banshee when she opened her mouth and drew him inside. When she ran her tongue down his length and over the tip, he nearly bucked her off the bed. Then he began to move, his hips flexing as she took him deep, sucking and licking until he was nearly mad. But he didn’t want to come that way. He wanted to be inside her, and he wanted her to come with him.
“Enough!” he growled, lifting her off and away. “Kneel astride me.”
She lifted one knee, then the other, wrapping her arms about his neck as she knelt over him. Then she tilted her head and set her lips to his, lowering herself until her stomach met the ridged wall of his abdomen.
Groaning, Graeme pulled her head down and ravaged her mouth as he guided the head of his cock into the soft folds of her swollen flesh. He entered her slowly, giving her all of him, glorying in the feel of her body closing lovingly around him. He was fully embedded now. It felt so good, he wanted to howl like an animal.
His tongue filled her mouth as he began to move, rising high and thrusting deep inside her.
Blair matched his rhythm effortlessly, using her arms to ease herself up, using her legs for leverage. Their bodies were moving in harmony; she felt his hands move over her skin, caressing, stroking, igniting a million small fires that blazed out of control. A vortex of heat swept her up and carried her away. Her lips melded with his, her mouth and body became his to do with as he pleased.
“Mine,” he said fiercely as he lifted her pelvis off the bed, angling her higher to meet his fierce thrusts.
His possessiveness created a warm, sweet pleasure inside her, and Blair wondered if he realized what he had said. A sense of peace suddenly came upon her, and she thought she heard the spirits murmuring approval. But that was not possible, for they were no longer with her.
She was losing hold of the world around her. She felt it slipping away as the friction of their joining sent her spiraling toward sweet oblivion. With a cry of abandon, s
he crushed Graeme’s moisture-slicked body to hers. Then her climax began. Spasms spread through her in searing waves, flinging her toward the stars as pleasure exploded.
Rocking against her, Graeme shouted, his body jerking as he spent himself inside her. When it was over, they lay limp and content in each other’s arms.
Graeme couldn’t think.
It was a frightening realization. No matter how hard he tried to focus on what had just taken place between him and Blair, his mind remained overwhelmed.
Graeme had no idea how long he’d lain there, stretched out naked beside Blair, her body cuddled against him, their limbs entwined. Gradually, reason returned. He knew Blair was not like other women, but it no longer seemed to matter. Nearly losing her had changed his narrow way of thinking. She had given him her all, and he had greedily taken it.
Graeme was satiated in a way he had never been before, but he still clamored for more. His gaze drifted possessively over Blair as she rested in his arms, her body warm and glowing. She was just where she should be, just where he would have her . . . forever.
Graeme knew that what he felt with Blair was more than simple contentment. It was deeper, more profound, more compelling. Loving Blair was beyond anything he had ever experienced.
What in the world was he going to do with her?
His kinsmen still feared her, and mayhap with good reason. But if Blair was to be believed, she had lost her powers and was no longer a threat to anyone. That thought brought another.
Blair loved him. According to the Prophecy, she would lose her powers only if she loved someone who did not return her love. Though Graeme cared a great deal for Blair, obviously he didn’t love her. If he did, she would still possess her powers.
More confused than ever, Graeme fell into a troubled sleep. He was beginning to think the Prophecy was a myth.
Graeme woke to a ruckus at the door. He sat up and eased away from Blair. That she could sleep through the awful racket was ample proof of her exhaustion. Naked, he walked to the door, opened it and peered sleepily at his steward.
“How can a man sleep with all that racket? This had best be important, Jamie.”
“I wouldna bother ye otherwise. Heath has returned from Inverness with a tale ye will want to hear.”
