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When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1)

Page 31

by Julie Johnstone


  Marion pressed her hand against his heart. “So you will go to save David.”

  “Aye. I must.”

  “I know,” she replied her voice stoic, even as her lips trembled. “I wish to go with you.”

  “Nay. I’m sorry, but the journey is long and yer health is still too fragile.”

  “But—”

  “Nay, Marion. I will nae risk yer life just for the comfort of having ye with me, however much I yearn for it.”

  Two days later, Iain called for Marion, Bridgette, Angus, Archibald, Rory Mac, and his brothers—except Cameron, who had gone to take Elspeth to her banishment—to come to the great hall. When he had everyone’s attention, he spoke. “I dunnae want Marion to leave the castle unaccompanied.”

  “That’s insensible!” Marion blurted, showing the temper she claimed not to have.

  When he gave her a long look for breaching their agreement that she’d not challenge his wishes in public, she colored. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Before he could tell her he forgave her, a serving girl from the kitchen entered the room.

  “Laird, I’m sorry to disturb.”

  Iain flicked his gaze to her. “Aye?”

  “Torcadal MacLeod is outside and he brings a request from a neighboring clan he was passing through. They wish for my lady”—the girl inclined her head toward Marion—“to come to help in a birth. They heard she has some skills.”

  When Marion started to rise, Iain caught her hand but rose to stand beside her. He looked at the assembled group. He knew what he was about to say would garner protest from Marion, but it had to be said. “I dunnae want Marion going to any neighboring clans to aid anyone while I’m gone.”

  “Iain!” Marion gasped.

  He glanced at his wife and held her gaze. “Understood?” he asked the group in general, never taking his eyes from Marion. Her gaze had grown stormy, which was not a surprise.

  A chorus of agreement met his question. He nodded and faced the serving girl. “Tell Torcadal that Marion kinnae come.”

  “But, Iain,” Marion protested.

  He took her hand and squeezed. “I must depart, and I kinnae have ye gone. The worry…”

  Her gaze turned soft. “I understand,” she whispered.

  Once the serving girl left, Iain quickly finished his instructions to the group and then dismissed them. When he and Marion were alone, she spoke before he could.

  “I’m sorry. I do forget my tongue sometimes in my anger.”

  He grinned. “Aye, I ken. I’m surprised ye dunnae still try to pay for all yer sins.”

  She gave him a dark look. “That’s because Bridgette finally told me that Scots don’t practice that, and then Father Murdock laughed at me when I told him you all should.”

  “Dunnae fash, a ghràidh. Father Murdock laughs at everyone but me. The man is a drunkard.”

  “But he’s your priest.”

  “Aye. And drunk as a sow is the way the men like him, as he is likely to turn his eye from sin that way.”

  Marion slapped Iain on the arm. “You tease me.”

  “Aye.” He kissed her on the forehead, the nose, and then the lips. “I do.”

  Marion set her hands on her hips. “You cannot truly mean to leave everyone with the orders that I cannot leave MacLeod land if someone from another clan is in desperate need of my services.”

  Iain nodded. “I mean it. Other clans have healers and midwives of their own. They have gotten by without ye for a verra long time and they can do so until I return. I will have ye safe, Marion. But dunnae fash too much, I should return within a month.”

  “I wish I could go with you.”

  “Ye ken why ye kinnae,” he replied.

  She nodded. “But it doesn’t make the parting any less difficult.”

  “For me, either, a ghràidh. That’s why I got ye a gift so ye’d think of me while I’m away.”

  Marion grinned. “I don’t need anything to do that. You are here.” She touched her temple. “And here.” She brushed her fingers to her heart.

  He grasped her roughly to him and kissed her again, but this time the kiss was one meant to last her the month. He swept his tongue inside her sweetness and filled her breath with his own. When he withdrew, her bemused look made him smile. “And ye are here, as well.” He placed her hand on his heart.

  She laid her head against his chest, and for a long moment he savored the soft feel of her skin and the heathery smell that surrounded her. Everything about her—from the way her mouth tilted upward when she smiled to the way she cocked her head when listening to him—was burned into his memory. He forced himself to draw away and then he retrieved her gift from the dais, where he had put it.

  When he handed her the cloak he’d had made for her, her eyes lit up. She grinned as she ran her hand over the blue-and-green material. “I love it,” she whispered.

  He trailed his hand down the slope of her cheek. “It will keep ye warm when I kinnae.” He helped her set the cloak on her shoulders and then led her outside to the seagate stairs where his brothers were waiting to bid him farewell. He said his farewells, and then he and Marion walked hand and hand down the stairs to the birlinn. Iain kissed Marion once more, and then he and Neil, who was accompanying him, boarded the readied birlinn.

  As they sailed away, he kept his gaze fixed on Marion, until Neil cleared his throat and then nudged Iain. “What?” Iain growled, his mood already sour at having to leave Marion.

  Neil chuckled. “She’ll be here when we return, ye ken.”

  “I ken,” he grumbled. “But it does nae make departing any easier.”

  “Ye’ve been felled by the lass.”

  “Aye,” Iain agreed. “That I have, and I’m glad of it. Having a lass fell ye is the best way to crumble.”

  Twenty-Two

  Marion threw herself into helping in the kitchen and tending to ailing clansmen and women even more than she had before, but though she was constantly busy, Iain was always on her mind. She marked the days he was gone, and when a month came and went and he did not return, she thought she would go mad.

  One day, when she was sitting in the solar, a servant appeared and handed her a note. “My lady, this just came for you.”

  Hope filled her that it was perchance from Iain, and she had to force herself not to snatch the paper out of the woman’s hands.

  She quickly read the note, which was a plea from one of the MacLeod families who lived on the outer edge of MacLeod land for Marion to tend their gravely ill newborn babe. She didn’t think twice, especially since the family was on MacLeod land. She’d rather risk her life than allow someone to lose a child. She knew all too well the pain of such a loss.

  She sheathed the dagger she’d been cleaning, then rushed out of the solar and to the stables to ask Angus to accompany her. But when she arrived he was not there.

  “Where is Angus?” she asked a groom.

  “Gone hunting with Lachlan and Rory Mac, my lady. They’ll be back late tonight. Angus said the meat stock was running low.”

  Marion nodded and nibbled on her lip. That left Graham to find and ask. She didn’t think Iain would like the idea of her going alone with Archibald on such a journey, even though he had come to like Bridgette’s cousin more as time had past. Her husband, she thought with a grin, was jealous, and she actually no longer minded it one bit. He was jealous because he loved her.

  Marion left the stables and found Graham in the courtyard with Bridgette. “Graham,” she said, racing over to him, “will you accompany me to the Beacons’ cottage?”

  “Now?” He did not look at all happy about her request. “I just coaxed Bridgette into shooting bows and arrows. I’ll go with ye in a bit.”

  “It must be now,” Marion demanded. “Their babe is dying.”

  “I’ll fetch horses for the two of us,” he quickly agreed, putting his bow and arrow on his back and picking up his sword.

  “I’ll come,” Bridgette added. “Please fetch me a horse as we

ll.”

  Graham grinned and departed. Bridgette looked at Marion. “I’d like to learn more of the healing arts. Do ye mind, Marion?”

  Marion shook her head then studied Bridgette. “Are you coming for the knowledge or for Graham?”

  Bridgette pressed her lips together. “The knowledge, Marion. I dunnae think of Graham that way. He is sweet, but I dunnae have a spark for him. My heart belongs to Lachlan.”

  “What of Lachlan’s heart?” Marion could not help but ask.

  Bridgette sighed. “I kinnae tell if he likes me or nae. He seems to avoid me, but then I do catch him looking at me.”

  Before more could be said, Graham returned with the horses and they readied to depart.

  “Where are ye three going?” Archibald called as he exited the castle.

  “To the Beacons’ cottage for Marion to tend to their ill bairn,” Graham explained.

  Marion half expected Archibald to offer to come, but his brows drew together in an oddly agonized expression. “I hope the bairn will be well. I’m sure in yer hands, Marion, it will.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, catching the quizzical look that Bridgette and Graham were exchanging, but they simply bid Archibald farewell and departed.

  Bridgette looked from Graham to Marion as the three of them rode away from the castle. “That was strange.”

  “Yes,” Marion agreed. “I pity him. I think he does not feel he belongs anywhere.”

  “He makes himself feel that way,” Graham replied in an unyielding voice that reminded Marion of Iain, causing an ache of missing him to throb in her heart. Marion settled into her saddle and listened to Bridgette and Graham tell stories of childhood exploits in the highlands while she thought about Iain.

  By the time they arrived at the Beacons’ cottage, a swirling mist filled the air, which she knew by now was not uncommon for the Isle of Skye. Marion, with Bridgette behind her, knocked on the door, and the husband, Lormac, showed them in, and then he stepped outside so the women would have privacy.

  Glynnis, the ill bairn’s mother, sat in a chair looking utterly distraught as she held her swaddled child. Marion approached her and kneeled, taking a quick peek at the sweet baby boy’s face.

  “I’m Marion MacLeod,” she offered, though she knew Glynnis likely supposed this already. “This is Bridgette. What seems to be the matter?”

  “He will nae take my milk anymore,” the woman cried. “And when he was taking my milk, he kept spitting it up. There is something the matter with me! I’m killing my bairn!” Tears coursed down the woman’s face, and Marion gently wiped them away.

  “Shh,” she cooed. “I think your babe is one that cannot stomach human milk. I’ve seen it before.”

  The woman gasped. “Ye have?”

  “Yes. Do you have any animals?”

  Glynnis nodded. “Three goats. One is just born.”

  Marion bit her lip. She’d only ever seen cow’s milk used to feed a babe, but with the choice of leaving the babe to die or trying goat’s milk, she would choose goat’s milk. She nodded, hurried outside, and told Lormac to fetch some of the goat’s milk.

  When she went back into the cottage, she looked to Glynnis. “I need some linen.”

  “On the table,” she said in a clearly skeptical voice.

  Marion got the linen and ran back to the door, her excitement at possibly saving the bairn growing. It did not take long for Lormac to return. He handed her a bowl of milk and was about to step outside when she motioned him back. “You should watch, too, in case it works.”

  She dipped the linen into the milk and let it soak. Once it was dripping, she handed it to Glynnis. “Put it up to your bairn’s mouth.”

  The woman frowned at her.

  “Go on,” Bridgette encouraged.

  With obvious hesitation, Glynnis placed the cloth at the babe’s mouth, and the babe immediately began to suckle.

  “He’s drinking!” Glynnis said, stunned, as her husband grinned and kneeled beside her.

  For a long while, they all stood around the babe and watched him drink and then waited tensely to see if he’d be sick. When a period had passed and he let out a large belch after Glynnis put him over her shoulder, they all began to laugh.

  “Thank ye,” Glynnis cried, standing to hug Marion.

  “You’re very welcome,” Marion replied, as the door to the cottage opened and Graham poked his head in.

  “It’s getting late,” he said. “We must return before dark.”

  Marion and Bridgette nodded, and after providing the Beacons with some further instruction and a vow from Marion to send them a cow for the bairn, they departed.

  The sun was starting to set as they rode, and surrounded by trees as they were in the woods, deep shadows rose up around them. Marion didn’t feel nervous, though, with Graham beside them and her dagger sheathed at her side. Besides that, they were on MacLeod land. She happily listened as Bridgette and Graham chatted. But when Graham suddenly stopped talking mid-sentence and his hand went to his sword, the hairs on the back of Marion’s neck prickled.

  “What is it?” she whispered, glancing around them and seeing nothing but trees and descending darkness.

  “I thought I saw— Get down!” Graham yelled as he jerked his stallion in front of them. Marion barely had time to register the command before an arrow flew out of the woods and hit Graham directly in the chest. He slumped over immediately, and Marion heard her scream mingle with Bridgette’s. Both women dove off their horses and scrambled to help Graham, who was gallantly trying to push himself up and grasp his sword, but it was futile.

  Knights started pouring out of the forest dressed in the all-too-familiar surcoats of Froste and her father. Shock rushed the blood to her head and left her momentarily dizzy.

  She forced a deep breath to calm herself when beside her, Bridgette screeched. “Traitor!”

  For one brief moment, Marion thought Bridgette was talking to her, but then she caught sight of Archibald coming out of the woods beside Froste. Marion’s jaw dropped open as her hand went to her dagger. What was Archibald doing with Froste? Was he a traitor, as Bridgette clearly thought?

  Marion raised her dagger at the same time Graham finally managed to bring his sword up and Bridgette lifted her bow.

  Froste nudged his horse toward them, and Archibald did the same with his. Marion’s heart thumped in her ears as she stared at the two men, Froste offering a cruel smile and Archibald staring almost through them.

  Froste motioned to Graham. “Sheath your weapon, boy. You have no hope of winning against so many knights, and if you insist on fighting us, I’ll kill the redheaded wench in front of you before I kill you, too. But if you throw down your sword, I vow to let the highland lass live and kill you quickly.”

  Marion saw Archibald flinch, but she cut her gaze away from him and toward Bridgette.

  “Dunnae do it, Graham.” Bridgette’s voice was pleading and fearful.

  Graham, pale faced and with blood rapidly staining his plaid, held his sword steady. “How do I ken ye’ll keep yer word?”

  “You don’t,” Froste said with glee. “But I can vow to you that this woman”—he motioned to Bridgette—“will pleasure all my men here while you’re made to watch, and then I shall personally carve her up before killing you if you make me waste time fighting you.”

  Bridgette gasped, and bile rose in Marion’s throat.

  “I’d rather die than watch Graham submit to ye,” Bridgette yelled and pulled back her bow.

  “No!” Graham shouted, and Marion, thinking to save Bridgette and Graham and knowing they were far too outnumbered, grasped Bridgette’s bow from her hands.

  Bridgette turned to Marion with stunned eyes. “Are ye a traitor, too, then?”

  “Of course not!” Marion said. “I’m trying to save your life. Look around you. You’ll perchance fell one man, but what of the other twenty?”

  “Ah, Marion, my sweet, I would have said it was impossible, but you are more b
eautiful than I remembered, and your time away has made you wise, as well.” Froste’s dark gaze penetrated her, making her skin crawl. “I look forward to enjoying your body.”

  Marion spit at his horse’s hooves. “Never.”

  “We shall see,” he replied before turning his attention to Graham. “Well?”

  Graham shook his head. “I dunnae trust ye.”

  Froste raised his hand, motioned toward Bridgette, and barked, “Take her!”

  “Graham!” Archibald thundered. “Bridgette will be safe. I swear it. I’ve come to an agreement with Froste. She will go to England to marry one of his men.”

  Marion could hardly believe her ears. Why would Archibald do this? Why was he betraying them to Froste?

  Bridgette was grabbed by one of the knights then, but she turned toward him and punched him in the nose. The man retaliated with a backhand that sent Bridgette to her knees by Graham’s horse.

  Graham’s eyes blazed with hatred, which he turned on Archibald. “Why do ye betray yer own kind?”

  “Because my own kind betrayed me. Alex’s father killed my own, and what did they do for me? Keep it secret. Lie to me for years. Leave me to feel shamed by my father. Have me do their bidding and never feel as if I truly belonged. Well, I’ll belong when I’m laird. Alex sent me out when MacLeod was at our hold to make sure none of Froste’s men were still around, and fortunately for me, one was. I simply sent him back to England with a proposition for Froste.” Archibald gazed at the sky for a moment. “And the day Iain left for England I received word that it had been accepted. It was fate, aye, because that very day, I sent Froste’s messenger back to tell him to come for Marion, and I’d deliver her to him. The only thing I must still do is kill Iain, which will nae be hard.”

  Graham spit at Archibald, and Marion’s temper flared, prevailing over her fear. “Traitor! Treacherous, filthy traitor!”

  When Marion took a breath to say more, Bridgette hissed at Archibald, and he flinched.

 
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