The Highlander’s Awakening Lairds of Dunkeld Series)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Ettie!” he stroked her hair, knowing tears ran down his cheeks. Tears of exhaustion, of amazement, of fright and horror and relief. “Ettie. Is that you?”

  “Of course it is.” Ettie laughed. She had bruised her ribs in the fall, it seemed, for laughing ached through her chest. She stopped. Raised a hand and stroked his wet, rain-soaked hair. “My love.”

  Brodgar smiled. His face was dirt-streaked and strained. Nevertheless, the smile, warm and heartfelt, was the sweetest thing she'd seen.

  They kissed. His mouth was warm on hers and she felt herself melt in his embrace. She breathed in, too surprised and delighted for clear thought.

  “You're freezing,” Brodgar commented as he moved. He held her to his chest, rocking her in his arms. “Come. We must find shelter.”

  Ettie nodded. Now that she thought of it, her teeth were chattering. Her fall had sent her tumbling on the wet leaf-mold and her dress was damp, the moisture soaking through to her skin. She shivered and snuggled closer to Brodgar, seeking warmth.

  “Come on,” he said again softly. “There's a cave here. We can shelter in it.”

  “Snow-soft,” Ettie said through chattering teeth. She struggled to find words as she stood. Why was everything so difficult? “Where. Is. She.” Heavens, but she was tired. One word came at a time to her mind. Slowly, slowly...

  “She's here,” Brodgar said: he was holding Ettie beside him, her arm through his, and his other hand, she noticed wearily, held a bridle. He had called the horse to him, it seemed, and they were all headed to the cave.

  “Good,” Ettie whispered. “Saved...my life. You. Her...” she trailed off. The blow to her head when she fell, combined with the cold and the crazy exertions of the chase, had left her too tired to think straight. Brodgar nodded.

  “I don't think they would have killed you, my dear.”

  “Questions,” Ettie whispered. “Too many. No questions I can answer.”

  “Yes,” Brodgar nodded, as if she spoke clearly. “Good that they couldn't ask you questions. Now come. Not much further.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  She found herself in a cave. Ferns concealed the entrance, though inside it was big enough to stand. Brodgar led the horse in with them. She warmed the space. He knelt to the leaf-mold.

  “Fire,” he murmured. Ettie watched him dreamily. It came to her that he was trying to start a fire. She crouched down.

  “Let me help,” she whispered. She was sure that, sometime in another life, she had remembered to put a flint and striker in her belt-pouch beneath the cloak. She searched for it, her fingers thick and unresponsive with cold.

  “Let me help, dear,” Brodgar said, reaching tenderly to take it from her. He fumbled it open, and then sighed. “You wonderful, clever girl.”

  Ettie felt her soul melt. She smiled at him crookedly. She was so cold! “Thank you...I think,” she whispered. “You sound too surprised for me to take it as a compliment.”

  He beamed. “I'm not surprised,” he insisted. He was already gathering the small pile of kindling, moving flint and tinder as he spoke. “Just grateful, my dearest. So grateful.”

  Ettie smiled at him as the light flared, then went out, then flared and stayed there. The grass he had lit was dry and crackled, sending up a wisp of smoke. The horse shifted, clearly made nervous by the smoke, but Brodgar whispered to her and she stood still.

  Ettie bent to the fire, feeding it scraps of dried leaves and bark and handfuls of dry grass until they had a small, wavering blaze.

  “Twigs,” Brodgar said succinctly, crawling to the entrance of the cave. He went out foraging. Came back with the few dry twigs he could find.

  Two more trips and the two of them were seated around a small fire, painting shadows everywhere. They held their hands to the fitful blaze, letting it warm them. Ettie shivered.

  “You saved me,” she whispered.

  “And you me,” Brodgar said. “You unblocked the tracks.”

  Ettie blushed. “It was nothing.”

  “It was brave and brilliant and wonderful,” Brodgar retorted firmly. “You saved my life.”

  “And you mine.”

  The two of them looked at each other, hesitant and surprised. Her slate-blue eyes were pools in the darkness, firelight moving across their surface, orange and black and shifting. He stared into them and reached for her hand. “Henriette Fraser, I love you.”

  “I love you, Brodgar MacConnoway.”

  They meant it. Ettie felt as if a rock had settled in her chest – firm and steadfast and sure. This love was solid and firm and wonderful and would guide her all her life: anchor her and support her steps forever.

  Later, shivering, they sat against the wall. Their hands were warmed and Ettie felt Brodgar take her fingers in his, those long, muscular ones squeezing and stroking her hand, helping the blood to flow.

  His arm was around her and they touched all down one side, sharing their warmth.

  “I know this is most unsuitable,” Brodgar whispered. His fingers moved over hers, tickling her wrist. She gasped. She could feel his breath beside her and his warmth seeped through her dry clothing, setting her heart aflame. This close, she could smell him and sense him and feel him and she was aware of changes in her body – a quicker pulse, warmth spreading through her, converging at her thighs, a catch in breathing.

  “It is,” she whispered.

  They laughed.

  “We are betrothed,” Brodgar whispered back. “I wish I...I am not sorry it's so cold,” he whispered back.

  “Why?” Ettie asked, though some instinct in her made her blush, knowing answers.

  “Because. If it weren't, I'd forestall our vows.”

  Ettie flushed scarlet. So did he. They kissed.

  The fire burned into reddened charcoal and they fell asleep.

  The next morning, they awoke to a cold space, Cramped and shivering, Ettie turned sideways. She found herself looking into Brodgar's eyes. They were outlaws. They were in love and they kissed.

  Later, they planned. They had to find breakfast first – they knew they were dangerously weak. Ettie produced some way-bread from her saddlebags and was horrified to see how Brodgar wolfed it down, almost starved. She had noticed his face was thinner and she could feel his ribs. She ate hers slowly, too cold and hungry even to feel hunger. She fed a small measure to the horse, which snorted and took it.

  “We should head north,” Brodgar said, once breakfast was over. “Go to Lochlann.”

  “Lochlann?” Ettie recalled the place dimly. She was sure, sometime in that other life before her fall, when she wasn't cold and hungry and exhausted, it had a meaning.

  “My sister Joanna is there,” Brodgar explained. “It's a strong fortress. I doubt MacDonnell will suspect that we have gone there. And since he will now be convinced his daughter is somewhere in these woods, alone and riding, he will be focused here.” he grinned at her. “My lady, well done.”

  “It wasn't just my idea,” Ettie blushed. Four of them had planned it – Amice, she and Alina, with Chrissie adding thoughts. It had been her idea that the distraction was Ambeal, though, and she'd agreed to do it.

  “Well, it was brilliant.” Brodgar kissed her. “Brilliant and inspired and true. Now. Let's take stock and see if we can head north.”

  Ettie nodded. Her legs had cramped during the night and standing was difficult. Brodgar helped her and together they managed. They had a horse. Some provisions. A sense of direction.

  “We can do this.”

  Brodgar helped her onto the horse. For reasons of concealment, they swapped cloaks. Ettie had to smile, seeing him in the ocher velvet cape.

  “We look like outlaws,” Brodgar grinned crookedly.

  “We are,” Ettie smiled.

  He nodded as together, she, Brodgar and Snow-soft, outlaws all, traced the cold and lonely road north to Lochlann.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  SHELTER AND A SAFE PLACE

  SHELTER AND A
SAFE PLACE

  The wind was cold. Brodgar glanced at Ettie where she stood beside him, praying his threadbare cloak was warm enough to help to preserve her body against the draining cold. He glanced up at the soaring walls.

  “Here we are,” he said. The comment was more for himself and his own assurance than because it was useful: nobody could fail to notice Lochlann Castle.

  The road leading up to it was cobbled, one of the minor trade routes in the region. It led straight to the imposing gateway, guarded by sentries.

  Brodgar cleared his throat, ready for inquiries.

  “Halt!” Alex, one of the sentries he recognized, called loudly. “Make yourselves and business known to us!”

  Brodgar sighed. His head was fuzzy with poor sleep and lack of food and he could scarcely see straight.

  “It's Brodgar, son of Broderick, thane of Lochlann. To see my sister. This is my companion, Lady Henriette. We have business for my sister's hearing only.”

  Alex's brow shot up. He looked well-rested and warm and in that moment Brodgar could cheerfully have smote him. He had a cheek! And he was warm, which was reason enough in this moment to be jealous of him.

  “A likely story! Bunch of flea-ridden travelers, you lot. Go round the back. Lord Dougal's dispensing alms this morning.”

  Brodgar felt rage flood him like hot water. He felt Henriette's hand on his arm, which was the only reason he didn't hit the man and lose them their precious chance at getting inside.

  “We're not lying,” she said softly.

  “No,” Brodgar agreed. Her words reminded him that he had proof. “I am the thane's son. Would you care for a token to prove it? Besides, were I not, how did I come by such a fine jennet? Tell me that, if you can.” He indicated the magnificent white jennet horse who was his mother's, Snow-soft, whose bridle he held.

  “Stole her?” the second sentry asked. He was rewarded with a glare from Alex. “You have a token?” he asked sternly.

  “I do,” Brodgar said stubbornly. “But I'm damned if I'm showing it to someone as myopic as you, Alex Farley. Don't you recognize me?”

  Beside him, he heard Ettie gasp in surprise and then saw her lips move as if to hide a grin. He wanted to laugh himself. He had no idea where the sudden audacity had come from, but he was pleased it had, as the assurance altered things.

  “My lord?” Alex said. He leaned closer, putting a hand on his shoulder; Brodgar had to bite back the urge to strike it off. Impudent fellow! He was peering into his face, clearly thinking hard.

  At length, he stared. “My lord. It is you. Welcome.”

  “Damn it, Alex,” Brodgar sighed. “It took you time.”

  “My lord.” Alex looked contrite. “I am sorry. Begging your pardon, but you are an awful mess. I'm not surprised I dinnae ken ye.”

  Brodgar laughed and he heard Ettie chuckling beside him. “Yes, I'm a mess,” Brodgar agreed. “I hope I can fix that soon. If you could take us to my sister? It's horribly cold outside.”

  “Aye, my lord. That it is. Come. Come, inside!”

  Suddenly completely solicitous, the man led them through into the vast courtyard of Lochlann. He issued a few calls, and soon men were running to take Snow-soft away.

  “See that she's well fed and warm. Bran mash and a hot blanket,” Brodgar commented. He walked after Alex, his arm in Ettie's, trying to keep up. Damn it, but why was he so tired?

  “My lord, his lordship and your sister are in the solar,” Alex said after consultation with the guards at the entrance to the great hall. “Bronn here will escort you up.”

  “I know the way there, but thanks, Alex.” Brodgar sighed tiredly. “Go, get warm.”

  As he followed Bronn into the castle, the sudden warmth of four walls and fires to heat them close now, he discovered he didn't resent anyone being warm. He was exhausted, starved and cold and all he wanted was a place to sit, a fire, and a meal. In any possible order.

  His head swam and he turned to look at Ettie, who smiled back. She was pale and thin-faced and she had big bruises around her eyes from lack of sleep. His heart ached for her. If not for him, she would not have suffered.

  “My life,” he whispered, squeezing her hand as they followed the silent guard upstairs together. “Forgive me. I can't forgive myself for making you suffer this – it's my fault.”

  “Brodgar,” Ettie whispered. “We're together. This caused it. I regret nothing.”

  Brodgar felt those words warm his heart. He squeezed her hand, feeling his body respond to her closeness despite his utter exhaustion. They went down the hallway, through the colonnade and went left.

  Heat. Warmth. The scent of spices. Somewhere, a woman's voice.

  “Brodgar?”

  Brodgar, blinking, focused his swimming vision and found himself looking into big gray eyes the image of Alina's. “Sister!” he whispered.

  “Dougal, my dear. For pity's sake fetch the physician! And get Greere to bring ale and broth. These two are dead on their feet!”

  Brodgar closed his eyes momentarily, swaying where he stood. Now that they had reached shelter, it seemed his body had decided to collapse utterly. He couldn't stay upright. Couldn't see straight. He leaned on something – later he recognized it as Joanna's arm – and felt himself guided to the settee. Ettie sat down beside him and the world went misty.

  Moments later, he woke to the scent of food. As his body went through the motions of eating – oaten bread, blood pudding, and broth, warm and salted – he felt his mind wake up.

  “We have got the men together,” Joanna was saying, “and we can provide an escort to Dunkeld as soon as you say the word. Mother must be frantic with worry. I would love to hear how you two came to be on the road alone, in this state!”

  “No,” Brodgar said. He meant it to be loud, but a strained whisper emerged. He cleared his throat and tried harder. “No escort. No message. Let us explain.”

  Therefore, fitfully, between mouthfuls of broth and bread and sausage, they told her the story. Henriette filled in the bits Brodgar didn't know. Dougal returned and joined his wife on the settee opposite them and together they listened raptly.

  By the time Brodgar had finished talking, he was drained. His mouth felt like sandpaper and everything hurt. He looked at his sister. Her serene face was still.

  “So?” Brodgar asked. “Will you hide us? I know that what I ask is no small thing. I know you risk your safety. All I ask is one day. So we can recover and get warm and tend our hurts. Then we'll leave. I promise you.”

  “No, brother,” Joanna spoke softly. She reached out a hand to him, her own slender fingers strong, pale and warm. “Stay for a week.”

  “We cannot,” Brodgar whispered. “It's too risky.”

  “No one will find you here,” Dougal spoke up. A tall man with fine black hair, a solemn face and big dark eyes, he was a strong, grave presence. “The chance of word going from here to Bronley is slender. And from what you say, they are preoccupied there searching the woods. You did well with your diversion,” he added, giving Henriette a smile. Brodgar tried not to feel jealousy when she smiled back. He succeeded, if narrowly.

  “Dougal is correct,” Joanna said softly. She was greeted with a raised brow and grin from him. “Well, yes, you are!” she added, digging him in the ribs and making the solemn face kindle with grinning. “You two are welcome here as long as you need. It's much safer for you to be here than to go to Dunkeld. From what you say, the woods are impassable. To say nothing of miserable and deathly-cold. You'll stay in the north tower as long as you need. Our people won't carry tales to MacDonnell lands. And there is, after all, no reason for me not to entertain my brother in our own hall,” she added, with a smile at Dougal, who nodded.

  “Welcome, both of you,” he added.

  Brodgar sighed. “I can't thank you,” he whispered. “It's too great for so few words.”

  “Nonsense,” Dougal snorted. “It's nothing. Castle's plenty big enough for fifty times your number. We rattle around
in it all day, don't we, dearest?”

  “Speak for yourself,” Joanna teased. “I'm too preoccupied with Amabel for much rattling around.”

  Amabel was Joanna's firstborn daughter, named for their mother. Brodgar smiled.

  “I'm sure you are,” he said. His brain was fogging over. He felt his eyelids drooping. Why was he so tired? He forced himself to sit up and look at his sister. “Thank you again,” he said.

  “Nonsense,” Joanna interrupted briskly. “Now, both of you! I know it's early yet, but you've not slept for days. To bed with you! Glenna?”

  “Yes, my lady?” a maidservant said, coming through the solar's arched doorway.

  “Take these two to the northern tower, please, and see that they go to bed.”

  Brodgar smiled at his sister – that was typical of Joanna, to take charge of them like this! He stood, swaying, and let the maid lead them through the long, cold stone-flagged hallways.

  “Here we are, my lord,” she said, stopping outside a door. Brodgar looked at Henriette, who looked back. For a moment, he felt his loins flare at the thought that mayhap his sister had assumed them already joined by a marital bond. In which case...

  “My lady, if you’ll follow me? Your chamber's on the left, overlooking the woodlands...”

  Brodgar felt his heart sink. Impulsively, he drew Henriette closer to him. His mouth came down on hers hard and passionately and, as her lips parted warmly to admit his probing tongue, he felt his body ache with longing. “Goodnight, my lady,” he said. He smiled, knowing it was day. “See you soon?”

  “Goodnight, my lord,” Henriette whispered. Her eyes were shining and Brodgar had to force his stare away, knowing that the longing would swamp him if he stared a moment more.

  He let Glenna lead him over the threshold and to the vast bed warmed with a brick, then leave softly. He undressed himself, warmed his feet at the fire and then collapsed onto the bed, eyes heavy with the urgent need to sleep.