“How many other men had ye to fight for?”
Her expression warmed again. He drew back enough to clasp her hand and draw her close to the waterfall. She stiffened for a moment and he realised the sound and perhaps whatever she saw must seem frightening. He considered the courage it had taken to step inside that cave and defeat the Englishmen—and it had taken none. He hadn't needed it. Ceana had been the driving force so that fear hadn't even entered his mind. Yet Ceana must have to summon courage on a daily basis to live her life normally. She had to trust herself to come away unharmed from normal situations. And now she had to trust him.
She had trusted him to see her safely from the cave. Hell, she had even said the words. Surely, she felt the same. Blane didn't think it was possible that she didn't. How could he feel this burning, bright sensation of hope in his chest alone?
“Trust me,” he said over the sound of the waterfall.
She nodded and he drew her over to the edge of the waterfall, just enough so that the water began to beat lightly on his back. The cold almost forgotten, he relished the feel of it easing the aches in his muscles and coaxed Ceana over to do the same. She let out a cry of surprise that he saw rather than heard but allowed him to hold her close and push his finger through her hair and across her face and body until almost all muddy marks of her ordeal were gone.
She closed her eyes and savoured the feel of the water. Blane was struck by the sight of her pale skin, sheening with droplets, her dark lashes fanning across her skin and her hair slick and resting on her shoulder. His heart gave a little pulse. He would never let this woman go. Not again.
He kissed her lightly while her eyes were closed and they fluttered open. She didn’t kiss him back but her lips curved into a smile.
“Come, let's get ye dry and warm.”
Ceana nodded and allowed him to lead her back out of the water and to the entrance of the cave. He wrapped her in his plaid and squeezed the water from her hair. Her gaze tracked his movements while he rubbed the wool up and down her body until her skin was pink and dry.
“Blane,” she murmured, stopping him in his tracks as he turned to retrieve his shirt. “Are ye no' cold?”
She opened his plaid in invitation and he finally took the time to eye her willowy body. Her nipples were hard, pink and beautiful, almost begging for his mouth. He held back a groan and stepped into the fold of the plaid as she wrapped her arms around his waist and enclosed them in a blanket of warmth. He hadn't quite lost his arousal from earlier and it blazed back through his body, making him as hard as stone in an instant.
“Make love to me,” she begged. “I thought I might never see ye again. Make love to me.”
How could he deny her? Here she gave him the chance to show her his love. This generous, brave woman had offered him everything and he would take it, and only pray he could one day repay her.
Sliding his hands up around her face, he lifted her chin and dusted kisses over her face. He followed the sweep of her cheek, felt her lashes flutter against his lips when he kissed her closed lids, savoured the corner of her mouth then found the sweet fullness of her lips. She gasped against his mouth and dug her fingers into his waist.
Ceana moved against him like waves on the ocean. Back and forth, rocking against him until his need for her became too great. He tugged away the plaid and released her briefly enough to lay it on the soft, tufted grass just past the cave mouth. Blane eased her down onto it and took his time spreading her damp hair around her. Then he grasped the corners of the plaid and wrapped it about them, cocooning them in it. If the heat of his desire wasn’t enough to warm her, the warmth of their bodies beneath the wool would.
She skimmed her fingers across his rough jaw and gazed up at him. Ceana saw him somehow, He just knew it. And in those wild blue eyes, he saw reflected every emotion threatening to burst out from inside of him.
“Ceana—” His voice cracked at the memory of how close he'd come to losing everything again. Never would he allow history to repeat itself. His village had paid for his neglect but he'd never neglect this woman. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Ceana, when they took ye...” He shook his head to himself, remembering the sheer terror that had overwhelmed him along with the brute determination to ensure she survived. “I...”
“I know,” she said softly. “I love ye, Blane.”
He gave a half-smile. How was it she could understand him so fully? How could she put into words what he could not? He leaned down and kissed her sweetly. Finally, the words came. “I love ye.” They were harsh as though his throat was filled with sand but they were out, and her responding smile made them worth every painful moment of his pounding heart.
“I dinnae know how,” he said, curling a damp lock of hair around his finger. “I mean, I do. Yer an amazing, beautiful lass. But I dinnae know how it is that I deserve ye.”
“And I ye.”
“Ye deserve everything, mo chroidhe. I shall give ye everything that I can,” he vowed. “I shall protect ye to the end of my days. I shall work every day to see ye smile. I willnae let a day pass by without kissing ye.”
“I couldnae ask for more. But, Blane—” she gripped his rear and urged him closer to her “—make love to me.”
How could he deny his courageous Highland lass? He used his hips to nudge her legs farther apart and locked gazes with her. Although need fired through him, it wasn't enough to drown out his want to see the flare of her eyes as they joined or to cover his need to relish every sweet, simple moment. He could never have claimed to have truly made love to a woman and he wanted to remember this forever.
She was wet and ready for him, He eased into her, noting the way her eyes widened and took on an almost cloudy cast. Lips parted, she squeezed his buttocks in encouragement. His name was but a whisper on her lips. It seared his mind and he swore he'd never forget the sound.
When they were fully joined, he rested there for a moment, taking in the fragile length of her beneath him and considering the trust she put in him, both now and during the rescue. He had known then it was likely she loved him for Ceana did not trust easily. He hoped that meant she would never act so boldly alone again. From now on, it had to be both of them facing the world together.
Together, they made love. He watched every nuance of her face and worked to bring her to a slow, gentle peak that he hoped she'd never forget. All he knew was that he wouldn't. The image of her parted lips and the sound of her gasps of pleasure would linger with him always.
He continued to move slowly, unwilling to give up the feeling of connection. Blane supposed he should have realised he was fated to fall for her after that first night together, maybe even after the first time he'd set eyes on her. There had always been that connection but now it was a hundred times more intense. His life had been about battles and, most recently, revenge. Now it was about Ceana, and ensuring her safety and happiness. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he looked forward to the future.
As the intensity of the sensations brewing inside increased, he gave her several shaky kisses before burying his head against her neck. He felt her pulse against his skin and gripped her thighs while he gave himself up to her. Spilling deep inside her, he released a long breath and smiled. Ceana ran her hands up and down his back in soothing motions while he waited for his breathing to return to normal. Finally, he eased up onto his arms and gazed down at her.
“When we return, I'll marry ye.”
She nodded.
“Will yer father say aye?”
“He will. He cannae say no once he hears of yer bravery. Even if he did, he wouldnae keep me away from ye.”
“No doubt he is aware of yer stubbornness,” Blane said with a tilted grin.
“Aye, he knows well enough he cannae tell me what to do. Besides, there are few men who would take on a near blind wife.”
“Then they are all fools.” He skimmed a finger down her nose and let it rest on her bottom lip. “But I cannae help but be
grateful for that. It meant ye were saved for me.”
Her smile widened again. “Do ye believe in fate, Blane?” She lowered her gaze when he took a moment to respond. “That sounds foolish, I know.”
“Nay, it doesnae. I cannae help but think that, aye, fate brought us together. How can I not? I didnae know I was capable of caring for someone so much but for ye, I feel like...” He shook his head at himself and his loose tongue yet Ceana appeared enraptured, gazing up at him and waiting for his next words. “I feel like together we can do anything. With ye at my side, I shall never fail. Ye are like my guiding star.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then murmured into her ear, “My beautiful, shining star. Ye shall always see me right. And I will endeavour to do the same. I only hope I never fail in that task.”
“Ye couldnae. Ye shall never fail me.” She shivered a little.
“Yer cold.”
“Nay.” She shivered again and he saw the lie. As much as he wanted to lie here with her forever, he'd left the castle in the hands of Fraser and he needed to get her home and warm.
“Let us get ye dressed.”
He eased up and away from her inviting body and began to help her dress.
“I can do it, ye know?” Ceana said with a smile.
“Aye, but 'tis much more fun when I help ye, do ye no' think?” He deliberately skimmed a hand over her breast while tugging on her dirtied gown. By some miracle, he was able not to think on the bruises on her skin and how he wished he could have protected her even from that.
Once she was dressed, he turned his attention to himself, finally fastening up his plaid and taking in their position. “We'll have to follow the falls down,” he told her. “'Twill no' be a long journey, though.”
He grasped her hand and they began the walk down the ledge at the side of the falls. Water rushed past them and he tightened his grip on her hand. He certainly had no intention of losing her to a nasty slip after what they'd just been through.
As they rounded a corner, keeping close to the rocks, he stilled. The sound of something other than the rush of water snared his attention. Finger to his lips, he motioned for Ceana to stay quiet and then realised his idiocy. She likely had no idea what the movement meant. He listened intently again but the sound was gone. It could have been an animal, he supposed. The chances were it had spotted him and decided not to gamble with its life today.
They continued their journey down and the ground began to level out. Ceana moved with too much confidence under the shady canopies for his liking. He wished she'd have more caution. Blane suspected he'd spend the rest of his days worrying for her then being scolded for doing so. Aye, she was courageous and more capable than anyone he knew, but that wouldn't stop him from worrying for her.
Using his hold on her hand to guide her, he turned to help her over several large rocks. They could move onto the mossy grass that would take her away from the edge of the ravine and to safety. As he turned back, he stilled.
“Blane?”
Ceana must have sensed there was something wrong. His heart did a thud against his ribs so hard he thought he might have added to his injuries. When he eyed the five men approaching them, his stomach bottomed out. He didn't need to hear them to know who they were.
Sassenachs.
He tucked Ceana behind him and drew out his sword. “Stay here,” he urged. “Dinnae get in the way of my swing. Stay here.”
“Blane?” Her tone was frantic now. Her gaze had fallen on the men so she must have spotted them. And she'd know from the tension in his voice that these men were enemy.
How could he have let down his guard? But these were not part of the group he'd been tracking. He'd have known if he'd missed out on killing five men.
One of the men approached. He wore clothes that only a lowlander or Englishman would wear with a hauberk and leather surcoat. The other men were dressed similarly.
“I think ye have something that belongs to us there,” the man said in English. He nodded toward Ceana.
“I dinnae think so,” Blane replied.
“Last we heard, we had a fine Scottish noblewoman in our hands. I'd been told we were to ransom her for a great deal of coin.”
“Well she's no' in yer hands any longer.”
The fair-haired man narrowed his gaze at him. “Hand her over, Scot, or pay with your life.”
“The rest of ye Sassenachs already paid with theirs. Do ye want to join them?” Blane widened his stance and brandished his blade.
The leader gave a nod to his companions and all blades were drawn. Blane liked his chances. Ceana couldn't be handed over to them and they were in daylight. It was easier than defeating many men in the dark, to be sure. Though the darkness had aided him in some respects. He had no element of surprise here.
The man in front of him made the first move. Ceana released a cry and he prayed she'd stayed back but his focus was too intent on the blade that skimmed past his side as he jumped back for him to check. Others approached but only one took a step forward. With so many blades, combat between more than three of them would prove impossible and dangerous.
His determination focused and he saw the movements in the men as though slowed down. He dodged their swipes and retaliated with his own. A knick to an arm. A slice to a cheek. But no fatal blows. When they were all drawing in ragged breaths, he said, “I'll no' let her go with ye but I will give ye yer lives if ye go now.”
“Not a chance,” the fair-haired man spat.
“As ye will.”
The clang of steel upon steel cracked the peaceful forest air. Guttural grunts rang in Blane's ears. He took several aggressive steps forward and swung his sword before feeling it bite into flesh. The other Sassenach fell to the floor, his blood staining the soft moss. Behind him Ceana said his name, as though in prayer. He hoped she was praying for his victory.
Another man took up the mercenary’s position and they fought again. He hissed when a blade connected with his thigh after a particularly clumsy lunge. The leader took advantage and came at him, near skimming his neck, but Blane met his blade with his own and forced the man's hand back. The Englishman’s sword fell from his grip.
He had his chance and he’d take it. These men deserved no mercy from him. But a shout from behind him caused him to whirl around. He clenched his jaw when he saw the blade against Ceana’s throat. The leader retrieved his blade and pointed it at Blane.
“We would have let you live had you handed her over.”
Blane barely looked at the man. His focus was on Ceana, on the fear blazing in her eyes, not for herself but all for him. Brave, foolish lass. Did she not know her life was worth more than his? But how could he rescue her now, with that blade so close to her fragile skin?
His mind whirled. It was better she survive and stay in their clutches than be killed because he could not protect her. His gut rolled. He’d failed her once and he was going to fail her again.
The Sassenach thrust his blade forward, aiming for Blane’s torso. He moved but a sharp slice of pain seared him. Clarity struck him as the sword retreated in a strange, slow movement. He knew what he had to do, even though leaving Ceana warred with every instinct he had. Her scream seemed distant. He tumbled back and saw her try to tug away from the man holding her. Blane wanted to remind her to trust him but no words came before the edge of the rocks greeted his feet.
As he fell backwards, everything sped up. The rush of water hammered in his ears and before it spilled over him, he saw Ceana drop to the ground in one last frantic tug. Her head struck the rock and the last image he had of her was her knocked senseless with blood pooling from her head. The water swallowed him.
Chapter Fourteen
“Blane!” Ceana uttered his name before she’d even dragged open her eyes.
The image of him being impaled by the Englishman’s blade before falling over the waterfall edge lingered. She forced herself to focus on her surroundings. A blur of green, people walking past, no trees though. They were out in
the open somewhere and far from the waterfall.
She winced when she shifted a little. Her head pounded and her wrists and arms ached. They were bound together with coarse rope, she realised, and she was lying on her side, presumably having been dumped there. As she sat, her stomach lurched and she swallowed down the bitter bile. More memories filtered in. The Englishmen dragging her to her feet, laughing as they peered over the rock edge.
He was gone. Dead.
Tears welled in her eyes and clogged her throat. This was her fault. She should have known he’d come after her. Any strength deserted her and when a huge sob welled from inside, she collapsed again. Footsteps echoed past her but she was beyond caring. Nothing mattered now, not with Blane dead.
A painful grip sealed around her arm and hauled her upward. Even if she’d been able to make out who this man was, her tears blurred what remained of her vision.
Ceana didn't even see the hand coming. Her cheek felt like it had exploded with the sharp blow, and she cried out, unable to keep her surprise at bay.
“We have walking to do and your father to find.”
These men must have been working with the others, she realised. That was how they'd found them. No doubt they were not happy that Blane had slaughtered more than half of them. She'd likely find no compassion from them now. Not that she assumed she would, but her captivity would be even less pleasant.
She hardly cared. The pain in her cheek burned, aye, but it was nothing compared to the crippling agony inside. She'd never touch Blane again, never feel his warm arms about her and hear his whispered words. With him, she had felt complete. It mattered not that her body was broken. He empowered her.
“If you cause a fuss, you can expect more than a light slap,” the man told her. She recognised the voice as the one who had killed Blane.
Ceana spat at him. By his sound of disgust, she managed to hit her mark. She heard the movement this time and tried to turn her face away but his heavy palm struck her. This time she held any noise back and lifted her chin. The temptation to surrender and let him do as he would with her battled inside her. She wasn't sure she had the strength. But what would Blane think? He admired her courage. Called her a brave lass. For his memory, she wouldn't give in.
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