Now, only a blackened area of destruction and death with some strewn remnants of the wood that had not been burned to ashes sat where the cottage used to be. It had been a fast fire. She saw the first flicker of it and then the whole cottage was engulfed in flames before she could reach it … reach him.
She’d tried to get to the door, to get to him, but her sleeves had caught fire and the pain had driven her back. What must he have suffered within this place when it became Hell on earth?
Ailis didn’t try to stop the tears. She walked around the perimeter of the clearing and sat on a large rock under the trees.
“I have come to beg yer forgiveness, Lachlan,” she said aloud. “If it werena for me, ye would be alive now.”
There. The truth of what lay at the bottom of her soul. If not for her, Lachlan would be alive this very day. That truth and her own guilt in his death had kept her from being able to let it go and live the life she had. Mayhap if she confessed to him, to his eternal soul as the priests taught, she could begin to live once more.
Oh, she would never, could never, forget him or their love. But if she accepted her part in bringing him here to his death, could she forgive herself someday?
“I admit it to ye and confess my guilt, Lachlan. If I hadna pressed the matter, if I hadna lied about my father’s knowledge about us, ye would be alive today.”
She let the words out and the wind carried them away. Ailis had thought it time to announce their intentions to their families. Lachlan thought it best to wait until the matter of his brother’s marriage and the rising conflicts between their clans had been settled. Then, when word came of his brother’s and mother’s deaths, she’d sent word for him to come. She’d lied in her note to him that her father knew.
“I beg yer forgiveness, Lachlan. For lying to ye. For bringing ye here when it was not safe. For … all of it.”
Ailis closed her eyes and waited. She was not certain that she expected a reply or a sign he’d heard her words. Truly, just speaking them had lightened her soul. There was more within her, but the only thing she could do was go on without him. She must move on from the stubborn daughter she had been to a more mature woman who thought on the cost of her actions before she acted.
She wiped the tears away from her eyes and took a breath before standing. Walking towards the horse, Ailis understood she’d never return here. Lachlan was gone and nothing could bring him back. She managed to mount using the rock. As she rode down the path, she turned back for one last look. And one last moment of regret.
If only …
The storm clouds gathered ahead of her as she made her way back to Dun Ara. She still had to speak to Davina before this was all settled. Then it would be done.
He was Lachlan MacLean.
Not Iain the Unknown.
Lachlan MacLean, the second son of Dougal MacLean, chieftain here on Mull.
He knew it now. He knew it even if his memory hadn’t returned. He was Lachlan MacLean and he had died on this spot almost nine months ago.
He was the man Ailis claimed to have loved and lost.
He was the same man she had just confessed to having a part in his death.
Lachlan walked from the shadows of the forest that surrounded the burnt cottage and pulled his hood back. Removing the mask, he let the cool breeze soothe his skin. He glanced around this clearing, studying the landscape and recognizing it.
It would take him almost two hours of hard riding to get here from … Aros Castle down the coast. He stared off in that direction trying to will more memories to come. Only the simplest ones did. Nothing that would explain her confession or her role in killing him.
Or how he’d survived the inferno that had destroyed the cottage. He walked to the edge of the ashes and moved some of them with his foot, hoping it would make something happen within his mind. Surely, facing the place where he’d nearly died would elicit some strong reaction?
Something, a trick of the light mayhap, caught his gaze. He made his way through the ashes and lumps of wood to the very center. He waited to relive the fire that destroyed this place and him, but it didn’t happen. No flash of memory. No feelings.
Then his foot snagged on something under the ashes.
Lachlan knelt and pushed aside the layers of wood, ash and dirt that had been matted down by rain since the fire and found what had tripped him. An unburned panel of wood. Cleaning the debris from it, he discovered the entrance to a root cellar dug into the ground. He pulled on the edge and it came free, sending him careening off balance. He regained his stance and stared into a hole of darkness.
If he could get to the cellar, he thought he might survive.
When he regained consciousness, he lay on the floor of the blazing cottage. The flames crept up all the walls. The rough sod roof would do nothing to stop them. The door was blocked and he could not push his way out.
Somehow, he managed to find the opening in the smoke that burned his eyes and throat. Pieces of wood dropped like flaming ingots on him as he tugged open the wooden panel, jumping into the space. But the smoke followed and filled the cellar around him. Coughing and gasping, he waited as long as he could before trying one last escape. Hoping that the less-than-sturdy cottage walls were gone now, he pushed up, intending to rush through the remaining flames.
He felt the ungodly heat around him as he climbed out, trying to avoid the worst of it. The flimsy walls still burned but Lachlan saw a path to the window. He crouched low, trying to see his way when an ominous crack sounded above him. With no more warning than that, the roof came down on him, trapping him there.
He screamed …
Lachlan’s throat convulsed against the terror and the scream that would not come now. He fell to his knees as his stomach heaved and he vomited up the meager meal he’d eaten.
He remembered nothing before waking there and nothing after the roof caved in on him. Somehow, though in God’s Holy Name he could not figure how, he’d survived and made it out. The brothers hadn’t given him a specific location where he’d been found, but Lachlan knew it had to be close to here.
As he stood, he realized something else. He didn’t know himself when he’d woken up amidst the fire. His identity was gone from him already, taken by. … Reaching up, he felt the back of his head. A deep gash had been there. The brothers said his skull had been damaged by a blow. They suspected that had been the cause of his memory loss.
He’d been struck from behind before the fire began. Whoever set the fire, did it knowing he was inside and unconscious. Knowing he would perish.
Lachlan felt the change in the winds. The threatening storms were closer. A surreal sense of control filled him as the information he’d discovered took hold. The memories began to return. He had kith and kin. He had a place he belonged.
He had someone who’d wanted him dead.
Ailis’ words of confession echoed in his head now.
I admit it to ye and confess my guilt, Lachlan, she’d said. I beg yer forgiveness, Lachlan. For lying to ye. For bringing ye here when it was not safe. For … all of it.
It made no sense. Whenever she’d mentioned or thought on him, he’d seen only grief and loss. Considering her words now, had he misinterpreted her expression?
He kicked the dirt and headed back into the forest where he’d left his horse. Mounting, he headed north, back to Dun Ara, back to Ailis.
Lachlan would discover the truth before he let her go. If he let her go. … For now that he knew who he was and that the visions of her, of them, were memories and not the imaginings of a pain-crippled mind, Lachlan wouldn’t give her up easily, if at all. He didn’t doubt the rest of his life would return to him.
Virtue. Mine. Honor.
The words of the MacLean motto seemed appropriate as he rode to take back what, who, was his.
Chapter Eleven
“May I come in, Davina?” Ailis asked when the maid opened the door to her stepmother’s chamber.
“Ye are always welcome here, Lis,” she said. “Always.” Davina motioned to a chair and waited for her to sit. “Would ye like something to drink?”
“Nay,” she replied. “I would just like to talk with ye.”
She’d gotten back to the keep just as her father sent word that she was to join them for the evening meal. Suspecting that her betrothal would be both broken and remade then, Ailis needed to speak to Davina first. She couldn’t leave here with a new husband without reestablishing peace between them. Davina sat abruptly as though expecting the worst. Clutching her hands, she watched Ailis and waited.
“Since Lachlan’s death, nay, since my mother’s, I have behaved terribly towards ye. Ye are correct. Ye have the right to seek yer own happiness and I have no right to begrudge ye that.”
Daring a glance, she saw the color drain from Davina’s face. But when her friend reached out and took Ailis’ hand, Ailis kept speaking. The words, the guilt, the fear poured out as if they had been waiting.
“It was easier to be hateful than accept the changes in my life. And easier to spurn yer attempts to make peace than consider yer needs. I was desperately unhappy, mired in my grief and couldna stop to think about anyone else.”
“What has brought this on, Lis?” Davina asked.
“Iain,” she replied. “And Lachlan.”
The soft sound of distress made her meet Davina’s gaze. She was ghostly pale now.
“Davina? Are ye well?” Ailis stood and fetched a cup from the table. Filling it with ale, she held it while Davina drank deeply.
“I am better now,” Davina said. “Iain made ye speak to me?”
“His arrival here made me question many things. The way he reacted to me and the position he found himself made me realize how terrible I have been,” she admitted. Ailis realized there was more to it than that. “’Twas time, Davina. ‘Twas simply time for me to move on and let him go.”
It didn’t hurt as much when she spoke the words as she thought it would. Mayhap saying it to Lachlan had eased the way of it.
“Of Lachlan?” Davina questioned. “Or Iain?”
“Iain and I understood how it would be. Father wouldna allow a marriage between us. He was using Iain to pressure me to my duty. I,” she said, letting out a sigh, “I am ready to do that.”
“Did anything happen between ye and Iain?”
“Davina, I dinna think that is important.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew it was the wrong thing to say.
“Ye were attracted to him?” Davina’s previous distress was gone. She seemed to have regained her color and her interest.
“I found many things about him that. …”
Dare she admit the truth? A shared truth could bridge the distance between them.
“He reminded me of Lachlan in many ways, Davina. His mannerisms. The words he used. The way he stood.” Ailis paused as she remembered the last time she’d seen Lachlan. They had made love in that cottage. He laughed as she said something outrageous as she rode away. She never dreamt it would be the last time for them. “Iain made me think and forced me to consider how I have been treating ye.”
“Did Iain show ye his face? The injuries he sustained?”
“Nay,” Ailis said shaking her head. “I asked him to, but he wouldna.” She believed her friend’s words about not sharing her secrets with Ailis’ father. It gave her courage to admit another truth. “I felt the damage.”
Davina looked as if she’d swallowed her tongue. She’d sucked in so deep a breath that it left her gasping. Ailis ran to her side and smacked her on the back, trying to help her breathe. When Davina waved her off, Ailis waited for the stern admonition to begin.
“Why? Why did ye do such a thing?” Davina asked softly. Ailis didn’t expect that.
“I’ve been lonely, Davina. Without Mother, without Lachlan, without ye, I had no one. Iain made me feel something other than grief and pain for the first time in a long time. I needed him. I ken that it’s sinful and wrong. But, Davina, I owe him so much for what he gave me.”
“And Lachlan?”
And now the hard part. Admitting her part in his death.
“I lied to him, Davina. I drew him to his death.”
“What?” Davina asked, rising and walking to her side. “What do ye mean?”
“I told him that Father kenned of our relationship and we needed to talk. Now, thinking back on it, I wonder if he did not.”
“Ye think yer father had some involvement in the fire?” Davina grabbed her hand. “Why would ye think that?”
“I think Father kenned about us meeting. He said some things at the time about my time spent away from the village, about being seen in the south. I think he had someone following me and kenned the truth.”
“Ye think yer father would burn a man to death?”
Davina’s whisper was furious. But then, she was the man’s wife. Ailis had seen the ruthless part of him before. He was first the chieftain of the clan. She’d thought on this the entire ride home today.
There were surely others who wouldn’t want Lachlan and Ailis to be together, in addition to her father. Lachlan’s father wouldn’t be happy, but he would never cause his son’s death. Nay, the most likely one behind it was Finnan MacKinnon.
“He wouldna want me married to his enemy’s son. He wouldna allow me the choice. …”
“If he had Lachlan killed, why wouldhe. …” Davina clamped her lips closed before she finished. “If yer father wanted him dead, then why. …”
Davina shook her head several times before letting out a shriek and stamping her feet. Ailis couldn’t ever remember seeing this kind of display and loss of control in her friend.
A terrible feeling crept over Ailis. Her stomach gripped at the tension growing within.
She closed her eyes and many images raced through her thoughts. Lachlan laughing and taking hold of her shoulders. Then the image changed and Iain was in his place. Lachlan murmuring as he touched her and brought her to completion. Then it was Iain’s touch last night.
Lachlan. Iain.
Iain.
Oh, God in Heaven, Iain was Lachlan!
“How?” she screamed at Davina. “How could he have survived? I saw it burn, Davina. I saw it burn!”
Ailis held out her hands, sliding back her sleeves to reveal the burns she’d suffered. They were only superficial compared to what he’d suffered. Large areas of his skin had melted and reformed. She’d felt them. His back and legs. His head and neck. His face and jaw. And he’d survived?
Aye, he had lived through it.
“He is alive?” She grabbed Davina and shook her. “How long have ye kenned? Does Father know?”
Then the worst thought struck her. Did Iain know who he was? Had he known when they had … ? Had he known when he’d left?
“Did he ken that he was … is Lachlan MacLean?”
“Nay, I dinna think so,” Davina said, easing out of Ailis’ grasp. “Yer father suspected his identity and spoke with me. He asked many questions about ye and the possibility. Lis, I dinna tell him about ye.”
Lachlan was alive. Alive and gone from here without knowing the truth.
“I must go. I must find him and tell him. Where could he have gone?”
Now it was Davina’s turn to grab hold of her and bring her to a stop.
“Look at me, Lis!” she said, while shaking her. “Think a moment. If yer father planned that fire, why would he allow him to live even now with the knowledge he has? If Finnan had no part, as I believe, how safe will Lachlan be if he reveals himself? Ailis, he only remains safe if that person believes him dead.”
Ailis wanted to challenge her words, but they made sense. No matter that Lachlan was alive! How could she not find him? How could sh
e let him go?
“He has no memory of who he is, Lis. He doesna ken his allies from his enemies. Or his kith and kin. If he looked on ye, kissed ye and loved ye, and dinna remember ye, what chance will he have if he faces the person responsible for his condition without kenning them?”
Lachlan told her that he’d seen her in his dreams or memories, but he had never remembered her or that they were together. He’d walked out of her life without knowing the truth. But what would happen if she told him about himself? Or about them? If he didn’t remember, would he still love her?
Would the promises they’d made still bind them if he didn’t remember making them?
“Ye are betrothed to another man now.”
Ailis turned to face her stepmother. Surely, if Lachlan lived, she couldn’t marry another man. Her father wouldn’t force her to this, would he? One glance at Davina’s expression gave her the truth. He would.
Worse, if she confirmed his identity, her father could have him killed and no one would miss the stranger. He would rid himself of an enemy in one move.
“I need to find him. If he truly doesna remember me, I will let him go and not tell him.”
She rushed to the door but stopped with her hand on the latch. Ailis had heard the selfishness in her words. After what he’d suffered and lost, how could she think only of her pain and loss in this situation? If he didn’t remember her, it didn’t add to the burden he carried. It only hurt her.
Leaning her head against the door, she wanted to scream at the unfairness. He lived and yet she must live without him? Could she do that? Could she live without him if it gave him a chance to be safe?
She must. For him. For what they had. Even a few days ago, that wouldn’t have been her answer. But now, she knew he meant more to her than her own happiness.
“I will treasure every moment I spent with him,” she whispered against the wood. “Especially these last days.” Turning, she brushed away the tears. “For all the days of my life.”
Across a Windswept Isle Page 8
