Halfway to Falmar on the east-west trail, Jupiter stopped short where a narrow path led north, higher along the ridge line flanking the trail.
Conall joined him. “What is it, boy? What do you smell?”
The mastiff nosed a tangle of whortleberry just off the path. Conall squinted into the half darkness and suddenly recalled where he was. ’Twas the path he and Rob and Dora had taken the night he swam Falmar’s moat to retrieve Mairi.
He remembered the narrow path had many cuts along it, affording one opportunities to rejoin the main road, should one wish to.
Jupiter began to whine.
“What’s amiss?” he heard Iain shout from the head of their party, which was now stopped to see why Conall tarried.
“I dinna know,” he called to his brother.
“’Tis a wee path that parallels the road,” Rob said, “in some places no more than a stone’s throw from it.”
“Ride on,” Conall called. “I’ll follow the path for a bit, then meet up with you.”
Jupiter took off. Conall didn’t wait for his brother’s response. Driving his mount through the foliage, he followed the mastiff onto the path.
Mairi stared in horror at the cup of steaming liquid in Geoffrey’s hand.
“But ye must drink it, love. ’Twill make ye well again.”
Her mouth went dry as he eased onto the bed beside her. While Geoffrey hadn’t lived the noblest of lives, never in her wildest imaginings had she thought him capable of such evil. The look of triumph in his eyes as she took the cup from him was more chilling, even, than his words.
He meant to kill her unborn child.
“That’s it,” he said, encouraging her. “Drink it all down. And if ye like, I’ll have Tang prepare more.”
“A-aye. When it c-cools a bit.” With a shaking hand she managed to reach past him and place the cup on the table flanking the bed. The smell of the potion itself made her want to retch. The thought of what it would do to her child made her want to rip Geoffrey’s own dagger from its sheath and plunge it into his heart.
She did neither.
Instead, she smiled at him. ’Twas the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.
“The priest is arrived, is he no’?”
Geoffrey smiled back. “Aye. He waits below stairs. As do my kinsmen from the west.”
He meant the Frasers, who’d arrived at Falmar mere moments after Geoffrey had come upon her in the hallway. ’Twas a stroke of luck, for their presence had distracted him for hours. Hours she’d used to prepare a means of escape.
She didn’t know for certain if Geoffrey was aware of her eavesdropping, but instinct told her he was not. After he’d carried her up to bed to rest, he’d left her chamber unlocked, and her free to roam about the castle.
“Leave me now, so I might prepare. A bride has much to do.”
He leaned in to kiss her, and she forced herself to kiss back. The moment he left the chamber, she washed her mouth out with a slug of fresh water from the ewer, then dashed the foul contents of the cup that Geoffrey had ordered prepared for her into the chamber pot under her bed.
Fleetingly she thought of Conall. Recalling the momentary look of pain in his eyes when she left him in the wood, she cursed herself for not telling him the truth of things. ’Twas foolish pride that had stopped her.
But that was meaningless now, as were her other feelings, and his. All that mattered was the safety of her unborn child. She had no choice. She must get to Findhorn, or at least Monadhliath, and ask the Mackintoshes for help.
She dragged from under the bed the saddlebag she’d packed earlier that afternoon. A bit of food, a full water skin, and a couple of dark hunting plaids were all it contained. ’Twould have to do.
From the small window in her chamber she saw that torches had been lit all along the land bridge leading to Falmar’s entrance. The icy water of the moat glittered black. Men came and went, on foot and on horseback, over the bridge. Geoffrey had gone all out to impress the Frasers, and preparations were still under way for the celebration that would follow the speaking of their vows.
’Twas now or never.
Mairi tossed the saddlebag over her shoulder and used one of the hunting plaids as a cloak, covering her telltale red hair and shrouding her features. She was below stairs and out the great front door, which stood wide tonight, in minutes.
No one had noticed her amongst the scores of Frasers and Symons already making merry. She kept her head down and her feet moving as she stepped into the bailey and made for the line of mounts tethered nearby.
A Fraser warrior stood guard over the animals, though at the moment he seemed much engaged with a buxom Symon lass sporting two overflowing ale cups.
Mairi saw her chance and took it.
The mount she chose was small and apparently docile, for it allowed her to lead it away from the rest of the pack and out of sight behind a farrier’s cottage.
It took her three tries before she was seated, awkwardly and skirts askew, in the saddle. Riding was not on her shortlist of talents. She swore and grabbed the pommel as the horse took off in response to her digging her heels into its sides.
By the time it shot from the cover of the cottage and into the bailey, which was choked with other riders, revelers on foot and wagons loaded with kegs of ale, she’d managed to grab the reins and find her seat.
No one seemed to pay her any mind. The young warrior charged with guarding the mounts was already kissing the buxom lass. Mairi guessed ’twould be hours before he noticed one of his charges was missing. And one hour was all she needed. Just enough for a head start.
Where the land bridge met the gate at the outer bailey, she turned in the saddle and looked back. The plaid slipped from her head, revealing her fire-bright hair, as her gaze connected with a set of ice-blue eyes.
Geoffrey stood amidst the revelers looking directly at her.
She didn’t think, she didn’t cry out, she simply turned and rode, thundering across the land bridge toward the wood, driving the stolen mount as fast as it would go. Which proved much faster than she’d expected. ’Twas all she could do to keep her seat.
In seconds she’d made the wood, revelers and other riders scattering before her. A wagon nearly pitched over the edge into the moat as its driver worked frantically to remove it from her path.
She didn’t have to look back to know Geoffrey was behind her. By the time she turned onto the tiny, unmarked path flanking the main road—the path she and Conall had used the night he’d come to fetch her—she heard hoofbeats on her tail.
The path was steep and the foliage close. She leaned low over the pommel and urged her mount to fly. When at last they made the ridge line, she saw torches on the road below her streaming out from Falmar’s main gate. Geoffrey’s men. They’d missed the path! Thank God!
When the trail leveled out, she reined the horse in, slowing their speed. She must think now. The path would join the main road again in little more than a league. She had to get off it and away from the road altogether. But which way? Due west? Northwest? Findhorn and Monadhliath lay due north, and while she knew this bit of the forest like the back of her hand, ’twas dark, and she feared getting lost should she leave the path.
Hoofbeats sounded behind her. Nay, wait, in front of her!
Oh, God.
“Which way?” Her mount burst into a clearing, and she reined him hard left, then right, assessing her options. There was someone behind her—and ahead of her.
Before she could make her choice, the rider following close behind caught her up.
Geoffrey! The moon had risen, and cast the hard features of his face in a deathly gray.
In seconds he was on her. “Bitch!”
She fought him, but he was far too strong. Mairi screamed. Their mounts reared, and Geoffrey tumbled with her to the ground, breaking her fall.
“Think ye to jilt me again?” He rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him. “With my liege-lord witness to it
?”
She struggled to free herself, but ’twas useless. “I’ll never wed ye, never!”
Hoofbeats drummed on the path ahead. Others—dozens, hundreds, she couldn’t tell how many—thundered on the road below them from both directions.
“Aye, ye will, and willing, too. Or I’ll see that orphaned snipe ye call son meets with an accident.”
“Kip!” God, no! “Ye’d dare to kill him, and my unborn babe, as well?” She fought violently, pummeling him with her fists, twisting beneath him, desperate to free herself.
A rider, silhouetted against the moon’s pale light, burst into the clearing, nearly trampling them. A Fraser? A Symon? ’Twas too dark to tell.
Geoffrey rolled sideways, dragging her with him, paying his kinsman no mind. “Ye think I’d let that bastard spawn live inside ye? Think again!”
She snatched at the dirk belted at his waist, but he was too quick for her. A split second later ’twas in his hand, its point pressed against her abdomen.
“Dinna harm my child!” Mairi cried.
The rider leaped from his mount. His war cry ripped the air. “My child!” he roared.
“Conall!”
Chapter Eighteen
Jupiter got to him first.
Symon cried out as the mastiff sank his teeth into a flailing leg. He dropped the dirk, and Mairi scrambled for it. A heartbeat later, Conall jerked him off her, his own blade poised at Symon’s throat.
“Get up!” he ordered, dragging the chieftain to his knees.
Symon clutched at his trapped leg. “Devil beast!”
“Jupiter, off.” At Conall’s command, the mastiff released him but continued to snarl, planting himself squarely between Symon and Mairi.
“’Tis truly you?” Mairi struggled to her feet, brandishing Symon’s dirk.
“Are you hurt?”
“Nay.” She was breathing hard, and he feared desperately for her welfare. Moonlight flashed off steel as she maneuvered around the dog. Just in time, he read her intent.
“Stay back!”
Symon swore as Conall dragged him backward, away from her, pressing the edge of the blade against his throat.
Men’s shouts and hundreds of hoofbeats sounded on the road below them. Torchlight flashed through the trees. Conall’s mount nearly reared in the tight surroundings as Geoffrey cried out and began to struggle.
“He gave me poison to drink, to murder my child!”
Conall’s gut clenched. He’d heard a moment’s worth of the conversation between them when he’d come upon them, but hadn’t realized Symon had already acted on his words.
“I poured it out. I fled. I meant to find your brothers, and—”
Symon shrieked out a laugh. “And do what? Tell them ye’re a whore?”
Conall nearly slit his throat.
“Get up!” He jerked Symon to his feet and slammed him into a tree. “Draw your sword! Draw it!”
“Sweet God,” Mairi breathed, and moved behind him. The feel of her hand lighting briefly on his arm was like a tonic.
“Take my mount,” he said to her. “Get ye gone!” He sheathed his dirk and drew his broadsword. Symon did the same.
“Nay, I will no’ leave ye.”
Hoofbeats sounded closer. Jupiter began to bark. Light flickered from behind them on the path, but Conall would not be turned. Symon whirled on him as another mount burst into the clearing, its rider bearing a torch, flooding their surroundings with golden light.
“Rob!” Conall nodded toward Mairi. “Get her out of here.”
“Nay! I will no’ go.”
Rob reached for her arm, tried to make her mount behind him, but she’d have none of it.
“Nay, I say!”
Geoffrey lunged.
Conall reacted, a rush of raw emotion propelling him forward. Steel clashed with steel. They pushed off and came at each other again.
Mairi cried out.
Symon ducked, parried, and Conall went for him, his rage exploding into a dark, primitive force, fueling a strength and determination he hadn’t known he possessed.
Symon would have murdered his child. Their child.
He’d heard his brothers speak of bloodlust, that all-consuming maelstrom of passion and pain and rage that would not, could not be quelled without action. He’d not felt it till this night, this moment, when what he cherished most in the world—the stalwart woman behind him, the babe inside her womb—was viciously threatened.
At the edge of his awareness he registered a thunder of hoofbeats, torchlight, his brothers’ shouts, clanking livery and steel unleashed. But all his world was Symon, who came at him one more time.
Conall’s blade connected, his sword arm rigid as stone. ’Twas met with more resistance than he’d expected as it slid into Symon’s gut. In shock, the chieftain’s blue eyes widened.
Suddenly men were all around them, on horseback, on foot—his kinsmen, his brothers—weapons drawn. Jupiter barked a greeting.
Symon’s body thudded to earth as Conall freed his blade.
Weeping, Mairi rushed to his side. In a daze, he pulled her to him, held her close.
Iain didn’t bother to dismount. Grasping the situation, he said, “See to your woman. The Frasers are below.” With his sword he pointed toward the road. “Gilchrist and I will take care of it.”
“Nay. I shall take care of it. ’Tis my doing.” He nodded at the dead chieftain lying at his feet.
His brothers exchanged a glance, surprised, he knew, at this change in him. He was changed. Irrevocably. The love of the woman looking up at him was the cause.
“What mean ye to do?” she said, clutching him desperately. “They are an army, come to see Geoffrey wed. They will strike ye down, they will—”
“Go with Rob.” He pressed her into the warrior’s arms.
“Nay, I will not! I will stay with ye.”
“Take a dozen men with you,” he said to Rob. “Take her to Loch Drurie and stay there.”
Rob nodded and pulled her toward his mount.
“Nay!” Mairi struggled, but Rob would not be put off. In the end it took two men to seat her behind him on the mare, with her fighting them every move.
“’Twill be all right,” Conall said, and held her gaze as he sheathed his bloodied sword.
“Will ye come?” she asked, breathless.
A kinsman steadied his horse so he could mount. “Aye,” he said. “Count on it.”
They were the longest hours of her life.
Mairi paced the worn floorboards of the lake house, taking care not to wake Kip. He’d fallen asleep on her pallet, waiting up with her for Conall to return.
’Twas well past midnight, now, with no sign of him or anyone. In the village all was quiet. The sounds of insects, nocturnal birds, an occasional splash of a fish breaking the still surface of the loch were the only respite from a silence that weighed heavy on her heart.
Count on it, he’d said. And she knew he’d not break his word.
He’d come to claim her and his child. Still, she couldn’t believe he hadn’t known ’twas his that day in the wood. She’d been so certain. On the ride back from Falmar, Rob convinced her he’d not known. He’d thought the babe was Geoffrey’s!
That explained much.
Mairi paused, gazed blankly at the fire crackling in the hearth and shook her head, remembering.
The question burning in her mind, the question that kept her from sleep, from any rest at all, was why? Why had he come? Did he think to take the child, once born, but not her? Men have done so before. Perhaps he didn’t want either of them, but was forced to action by his brothers.
Another possibility filled her mind, her heart, infused her blood with a drug that was part joy, part fear, and that kept her pacing, on edge, ears pricked to every sound.
Perhaps he wanted them both.
“D’ye hear it?” Kip’s sleepy voice pulled her from her thoughts.
“Go back to sleep. ’Tis a dream.”
&nbs
p; “Nay, I hear them.” He blinked the sleep from his eyes and threw off the plaid that covered him.
Mairi listened.
“There!” Kip said. “’Tis a dog’s bark.” Like a shot he was at the window, ripping the deerskin drape away so both of them could see.
“Good Lord.”
Torchlight danced between the trees in the wood above the village, reflecting gold off the dark water.
“Look!” Kip shouted. “He comes!”
A moment later Jupiter burst from the trees onto the beach, instantly grabbed a stick and began to play. Not bothering to slip on his boots, Kip ripped the cottage door wide and shot down the pier toward shore.
“Conall!” he cried. “Conall!”
Mairi’s heart twisted tight inside her chest. She gripped the window frame and waited. What if he’d only come to wish her well? To offer gold or goods for her child’s maintenance? She couldn’t bear to watch him break Kip’s heart again.
Could she bear having her own cloven in two?
A rider broke from the trees, and she knew at once ’twas him. He sat tall in the saddle, the golden light of torches borne by his kinsmen illuminating the chiseled features of his face.
Mairi held her breath.
Kip hit the beach at a dead run and nearly collided with the mastiff. The two of them tumbled head over heels over paws onto the sand, Jupiter licking Kip’s face with unleashed joy.
Conall dismounted a few feet from where they tangled. Kip looked up at him, his face alight. Conall spoke to him, but ’twas impossible from this distance for Mairi to hear his words.
When he knelt in the sand and opened his arms to the boy, she felt a pressure inside her chest she feared might crush her. Tears welled hot in her eyes as Kip embraced him, and Conall pulled him close.
She moved to the open door and watched as Conall lifted him off his feet and swung him ‘round. She heard their laughter, Jupiter’s deep bellow, and choked out a sound—half laugh, half joyful cry—herself.
The two disengaged, and Kip and Jupiter scampered off together into the trees to welcome the other riders. Cottage doors opened. Women poked their heads out to see who’d come. Dougal and Rob appeared, taking charge of directing the party to the camp next to the village where they might rest.
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