Highland Promise

by Alyson McLayne

  Her arms squeezed his neck. “I’m…sorry. I shouldnae…have…run.”

  “You have naught to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldnae have yelled at you.”

  As the current swept his feet out from under him, Darach held the line. He flipped onto his back to keep Caitlin’s head above water as best he could, then kicked his legs and pulled with his arms toward shore. His stomach tied into knots, fearing another log would hit him and loosen his grip.

  He pulled faster.

  The dogs barked, and then he heard a splash. Hati had jumped in. Darach said a brief prayer for him and for himself and Caitlin.

  They were almost at the other side when the rope went slack in his hands and the current pulled them under.

  Twelve

  Darach desperately reached for the bank. His fingertips slipped along mud and rocks before tangling in tree roots. He seized them and pulled himself upward, breaking the surface. As he gasped for air, he heard Caitlin do the same. Then she coughed and retched up water. Her teeth chattered so violently he was afraid she would bite through her tongue.

  “We’re almost there, Caitlin. Hold on.”

  Above him, Skoll barked. Darach considered untying Caitlin and pushing her up, but he was afraid of losing his grip and the current stealing her away. Instead, he searched along the bank for an easier place to exit, but it was too dark to see. Resigning himself to scrambling out where they were, he felt with his feet for a toehold and found a submerged boulder to his left. He grabbed another root farther along and climbed onto the rock. The river dropped to his waist.

  When he searched for another handhold higher up, he found only mud, but then Skoll’s strong jaws clamped onto his wrist and tugged. Darach dug his toes into the bank and climbed as the dog pulled from above.

  They ended up halfway over the edge. The slippery mud was unstable and they slid back a few inches. The dog tugged again, and the bank began to crumble.

  “Skoll, release!”

  He let go, whining anxiously. Darach barely breathed, afraid the mud would disintegrate underneath them and sweep them back into the river. He had to move before Caitlin was crushed or they froze to death, but their position was precarious. Stretching his arms out as far as he could, he swung his leg to the side and over the edge. It caught and held.

  “Come here, lad. Help me now.”

  Skoll grasped his arm again, and this time when he pulled, Darach used his leg to lever himself and Caitlin up and onto his back. The large dog dragged them clear of the edge just as the bank gave way. Darach quickly crawled a few feet into the forest, just to be safe, then leaned against a tree to catch his breath. Caitlin trembled in his arms. He rubbed her gently to warm her, afraid to press too hard, lest she was bruised or broken.

  “Darach,” she murmured.

  “Aye, lass.”

  “Take me home.”

  He covered her ears, then whistled sharply for Loki, hoping the stallion would hear him above the storm. If not, he would carry her back.

  When the horse whinnied nearby a minute later, he had never been so happy.

  The journey back seemed to take forever. Darach wrapped Caitlin in his extra blanket and held her close, but her shivering never stopped.

  “Forgive me,” she repeated over and over, and called out deliriously for his dogs and Cloud.

  About halfway there, Hati appeared. Darach assured Caitlin her canine savior was alive and well. Unfortunately, he could not say the same for the white stallion—there was no sign of Cloud.

  The portcullis was raised when they arrived at the castle. He slowed just long enough to tell the guard to call off the search. The light and warmth of the keep beckoned and he spurred Loki the rest of the way. Sliding from the stallion with Caitlin in his arms, he ran up the steps and inside. Both hearths were blazing with fire, heating the air.

  When he saw Caitlin clearly for the first time, his heart stuttered. Mud caked her hair, and her lips and skin were tinged blue. She appeared to have lost consciousness.

  Edina raced down the stairs, hair standing out in untidy tufts. “You found her!”

  “Aye, but she’s frozen. I need a fire and bath in my chambers.”

  “The fire’s lit and the water heated. I’ll have it brought to you right away.”

  As he moved past her toward the stairs, Edina stopped him.

  The relief in her eyes turned to fear as she gazed at Caitlin. “She looks dead.”

  Darach scowled. “She’s not.”

  “Och, of course not. Thank God.”

  He sprinted up the stairs to his room, where the fire blazed. Dropping down in front of it, he shed her wet arisaid and tore the soaked chemise from her body, horrified to see blue gooseflesh and countless scrapes and bruises on her skin.

  Her eyes opened. They blazed into his, and she had a moment of clarity. “You canna see me naked. ’Tis not decent.”

  He almost laughed. Even in such a state, she would lecture him. He pressed his mouth to hers, then crossed the room and grabbed a quilt from his bed, wrapping her tight. “There. Now you’re covered.”

  Her eyes closed again, and when she breathed a heavy sigh, he did the same, the band around his chest loosening.

  Edina and several others maids came in with steaming water and filled a tub in front of the fire. When everyone but Edina had left, she turned to him, hands on her hips. “I’ll bathe her now, Laird. You can leave.”

  Darach met her gaze. He had no intention of letting Caitlin out of his sight. “Nay, I’ll bathe her. You can leave.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I’ll do no such thing.”

  “Well, neither will I.”

  Unwrapping Caitlin, he eased her into the steaming tub. She cried out as the hot water touched her skin.

  “Hush, sweetling. You need the heat,” he said. “It’ll feel better in a moment.”

  She struggled weakly, trying to climb out, but Darach held her in the tub. He allowed her to keep her hands and feet hanging over the edge, and after a moment, she settled back, exhausted.

  “Is that better, love?”

  “Aye.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and Darach suspected she would fall asleep as the heat stole through her body.

  Edina placed a linen cloth in the water to cover her torso. “’Tis a violation,” she said. “If you stay any longer, you’ll have to marry her. I’ll insist upon it, as will the priest and the rest of the clan.”

  Darach gave her a wan smile. “Aye, Edina. I’ll marry her. Tomorrow if she’s well enough.”

  “Verily?”

  He nodded and gently tipped Caitlin’s head back to rinse the mud from her hair. A shallow cut sliced across her forehead, missing her eye by inches. “She fell in the river. God only knows how she survived.”

  Edina said a quick prayer and crossed herself. “How did she fall in the river?”

  “I doona know, but the dogs saved her.” He grabbed a bar of soap with lavender petals in it and rubbed it through her hair.

  “And you, Laird. You look as sick as her.”

  “I’m all right.” His shoulder and head ached where the log had hit him, and his lungs felt heavy from the water he’d inhaled. He needed tending, but he didn’t want a gaggle of women hovering over him.

  “There’s blood on your shoulder.”

  Darach shrugged, keeping his face neutral as pain shot into his skull. “I had to go in after her. ’Tis naught to worry about.” He massaged Caitlin’s right hand to increase the blood flow. “Where’s the healer?”

  Edina crouched at the other side of the tub and massaged Caitlin’s left hand. “She’ll be a while. Mairi MacKenzie is in labor.” The water had turned cloudy, and Edina removed the cloth that covered Caitlin’s body. She caught Darach’s eye. “The marriage need not be tomorrow. A few days will allow us to prepare a
feast and sew a proper wedding dress.”

  Darach sighed. He just wanted to marry Caitlin and be done with it. He needed to know she was safe in his arms, especially after tonight. “Two days, no more.”

  “Three. I’m the closest person she has to a mother, and I insist.”

  He could see it was important to Edina, so he nodded in agreement.

  The bath cooled quickly and they brought in another tub and filled it with steaming water to rinse her off. When that cooled, Darach dried and dressed her in the fresh chemise Edina provided. After untangling her hair and wrapping it in a linen, he lay her under the quilts and sent Edina to bed.

  Finally, he eased himself out of his lèine. The blood-encrusted material pulled away from his wound and it bled again. He sat in the cool water, feeling wobbly, and rinsed the dirt away. A wave of nausea hit him, but he held it back.

  When he finished, he dried himself, dressed in a clean lèine and plaid, then drew up a chair beside Caitlin. He tried to keep his eyes open, still worried lest she sicken further, but a black force pulled him under, and he slumped forward onto the blankets.

  * * *

  Caitlin’s eyes dragged open, her sight blurry. She blinked, and the room slowly came into focus. Quilts enveloped her on a warm, dry bed. It wasn’t her room, but the stone wall lit by the dawn was similar to the one she’d stared at every morning in her own chamber.

  She was home. And she never wanted to leave again. Darach had asked her to stay—aye, he’d yelled at her, but she’d deserved it. Then he’d come after her and saved her—again.

  She would trust him to keep her safe from Fraser—and trust that he wanted her with him even if marriage between them wasn’t possible. She would support him the way he’d supported her.

  Rolling onto her back, she moaned, every muscle aching. Gently, she turned her head to the side and saw Darach.

  Her chest constricted.

  He sat in a chair with his upper body across the bed, fast asleep. Against all odds, he’d found her. She couldn’t remember everything, but she knew he’d been desperate with fear when he’d pulled her into his arms. She’d heard it in his voice, despite the paralyzing cold that had fogged her brain.

  Maybe he did care for her in a special way.

  She reached out to stroke his head. Her fingers tangled in sweat-soaked hair as heat from his scalp scorched her hand. She pushed the quilts away and sat up in alarm.

  “Darach!” Her hands touched his face to find him burning with fever. His color was high and his breathing labored. A tremor passed through his eyelids like he was trying to lift them but failed.

  He never failed at anything.

  “Open your eyes,” she said, voice shaking.

  Nothing.

  She struggled from the bed. His hand squeezed weakly on her arm, but his eyes remained closed. She leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be right back.”

  After staggering across the room, she yanked open the door. “Lachlan!” Her head spun, and she grabbed the wall for support, then made her way toward the stairs. “Lachlan!”

  He appeared from behind her, hair rumpled, and scooped her into his arms. “Why are you out of bed? Where’s Darach?”

  “He’s sick. He willna open his eyes.” Fear crawled like ants through her body.

  Striding back to the chamber, Lachlan placed her atop the quilts and crouched beside him. “He’s feverish.” He pulled back Darach’s plaid, and Caitlin gasped when she saw blood on his lèine, over his left shoulder. His hair was matted with it.

  He’d been hurt saving her.

  Edina appeared at the door, sleepy eyed. “Is the lass all right?”

  “I’m g-good,” Caitlin croaked. Blinking back tears, she peered at Edina from behind Lachlan. “But Darach’s in a b-bad way.”

  Edina hurried forward, placing her hand on her chest when she saw her laird. “The devil take me. I thought he seemed ill, but he said otherwise.”

  “’Tis my fault. He ne’er woke when I came in to check on them earlier. I should have known,” Lachlan said, then turned to Edina. “Have you a salve we can put on the wound?”

  She nodded and ran from the bedchamber. Lachlan cut through Darach’s lèine with a knife he found tucked down beside the bed. The wound, red and puffy, bled again as the linen was pried away. Lachlan pressed his knife against it and Darach shuddered.

  Caitlin gripped his hand. “You’re hurting him.”

  “Aye. ’Tis necessary.”

  He pushed harder this time and pus oozed out. “We must reopen the wound. Clean it properly.” Then his brow furrowed. “I still doona understand why he’s unconscious.”

  “There’s blood in his hair. Do you think he’s concussed?”

  “’Tis likely. What happened last night?”

  “I doona remember all of it, but he crossed the river to save me. Twice.”

  Lachlan shook his head, then leaned forward and kissed her brow. “You’re both fortunate to be alive.”

  Her stomach twisted so tight she thought she might be sick. “Will he live?”

  “Aye, Caitlin. Doona blame yourself. I’ve seen him take worse blows than this.”

  But she heard the underlying worry in his voice and knew he placated her.

  Darach could die.

  The healer arrived a short time later. She dressed his wounds, listened to his chest, and looked into his eyes. “The gash is infected and causing the fever. And his lungs are verra congested from the water he inhaled.” She peered at the cut on his scalp. “But this is what troubles me. Head wounds are always perilous. If all goes well, he’ll wake tomorrow.”

  “And if not?” Lachlan asked.

  “Maybe the next day, or the next. Or maybe he’ll ne’er wake at all.”

  Caitlin moaned. Lachlan wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He should be screaming at her, Your fault! You did this! She may have killed his foster brother with her selfish actions, and yet he consoled her. Once again she’d acted without thought to the consequences and someone else had paid for it. Someone she loved.

  Aye, loved with her whole heart.

  The realization made her tears start to spill. Of course she loved him; she’d loved him from the moment she’d opened her eyes and thought he was an angel. She loved him the way her mother had loved her father, the way Edina loved Oslow. Deeply, abidingly.

  A forever kind of love.

  The healer gave them a sympathetic smile. “I’ll brew some herbs that will help. Pour as much into him as you can.”

  She examined Caitlin next, against her wishes, and told her to eat, drink, and rest.

  After she left, Caitlin sat beside Darach, holding his hand and praying for his recovery. Eventually, fatigue overtook her and she fell asleep.

  When she next awoke, she was in her own bed. Lachlan leaned over her. “He’s calling for you. I’m hoping you can settle him.” He helped her to the door and across the hall to Darach’s chamber.

  “’Tis good he’s talking, isna it?”

  “Aye. I believe so. Doona fash, love. He just needs time.”

  Darach lay on his back, eyes closed and skin pale. He tossed his head and clenched the blankets. “Caitlin.”

  She crawled up beside him and soothed his brow. He sighed as she snuggled closer.

  Lachlan covered her with a blanket. “You should rest too.”

  Wrapping her hand around Darach’s, she fought to keep her eyes open. Her head felt leaden, and she rested it on the pillow next to his. “Are you sure ’tis all right to lie with him? I wouldnae want the MacKenzies to think I’d compromised their laird.”

  Lachlan’s mouth quirked as he tucked the blanket around her shoulders. “I promise you they’ll think no such thing, but I’ll tell Darach you were concerned for his honor.”

  When next she awoke, it w
as dark. She lay on her side facing the door with Darach curled up behind her, his arm around her waist. He no longer burned with fever, and the movement of his bare chest against her back was deep and even. She sighed with relief and laced her fingers through his.

  “Caitlin,” he whispered.

  She twisted around with a gasp, which turned into a moan as her battered body protested.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, rising on his elbow to loom over her.

  “Am I all right? You’re the one who’s been hovering at Heaven’s gate.”

  “Doona fash. I just needed a wee rest. Didn’t I say you’d be the death of me?”

  He was teasing, but the words curdled her stomach. She wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed. “I thought I’d killed you.”

  “Nay, not yet. Though, to be sure, you took a few years off my life.” He hooked his finger beneath her chin and raised it so he looked into her eyes. “You will ne’er leave me again, do you understand?”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  “Even if I yell at you, which I’m sure to do on occasion, you aren’t allowed to leave. You may yell back, stomp out of the room, and maybe even hit me if the need arises, but doona e’er leave without telling me. Then I’ll have time to send some men with you or lock you in your room.” The teasing light in his eyes turned to dismay as he realized what he’d said. “Och, sweetling, I’m sorry. I’m such a fool.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I would ne’er lock you up like your uncle did. I promise. ’Twas meant in jest.”

  She snuggled against him, tucking her head beneath his chin. His words didn’t affect her like they might have a few weeks ago. Before she’d realized she loved him and wanted to stay. “’Tis all right. I’m always saying things I shouldnae. It can be verra annoying. Someday you may want me to leave.”

  He kissed her lips this time, soft and tender. She felt it all the way down to her toes.

  “Nay. I ne’er want you to leave.”

  “Aye, but, Darach, there are things you doona know about me. I—”

  He kissed her again. “Hush. We’ll talk about it later.”

  She sighed. They had too many secrets between them. Too many things she hadn’t expressed. She could at least tell him this: “I’m sorry I was so determined to leave you, to find my mother’s family in France.”