The Draig's Woman

by Wadler, Lisa Dawn

  She stared at her reflection, amazed at the conviction and disappointed she was right. “So I forgot it was wrong? Fine, my morals took a holiday.”

  Cold and dark laughter came from her image. “That’s only the tip of the iceberg. We forgot who we are, how we live, and what standards we use to make decisions.” The image stared into the real Claire. “We’re not like everyone else are we? We never have been. We have always worked hard and tried to do our best, no matter what. Why were we still a virgin when everyone else was sleeping around? We wanted it all, and we wanted it to matter. Not just sex, but love and commitment.” The image lifted the strap of the black belt. “This is more than physical achievement. This represents our goals and perseverance. We threw it all away.”

  “If I wanted a speech from Michael on black belt integrity, I’d be seeing him now.”

  “Be glad it’s just us and not Michael. Believe me, I know we’re not in the mood for a lecture on integrity, honor, and our indomitable spirit.” The illusion paused to frame her thoughts. “Honestly, I’m not sure we have much of any of those things left in us today. But part of it explains where it all went wrong. It’s why we never settled for some guy when everyone else did. We wanted it all. We were raised to want it all. Well, we failed. We settled for less, content to live a lie.”

  “I did not fail. I loved him. It wasn’t a conscious choice I made. It just happened.”

  The image answered with cold clarity. “So weak. We have no choice in how we feel. We did have a choice in sleeping with him. Now we pay for that mistake, and we pay hard. Now when every part of us just wants to give up, we have to fight. We will have to build a new life for us and for the child.”

  Claire turned away from her image. “I know that.” She felt the tears roll down her cheeks. “I just can’t do it now. It hurts too much. I thought it hurt when I lost home and when I knew I was stuck here. Now I feel like I’ve died. I have nothing left. How do I go on knowing I’ve lost him?”

  “Lost him? We never had him. Ian was never ours to lose. We lost our home, our family and friends, but never Ian. How many times did he ask you to say you were his? Never once did he say he belonged to you. Ian never belonged to you, and he knew it.” The image took a long drink from the bottle of tequila on the table. “Ian belongs to Mairi, in all of her crazy glory.”

  Claire could feel the truth in every word spoken. This is what she forgot. She placed a hand to her flat stomach and knew she had to do better. “How do we do this? I mean, how do I go on? There is nothing left.”

  “Of course there is something left. You are still you, heartache and all. The pain is real, and it will be for a long time. But we are so much stronger than that. We earned our place here, and we can do the same with Hagan’s people. We start over, and we learn from our mistakes.” The image turned to look at the floor near the kitchen fire. “But first you need to get up off the floor. It’s almost dawn, and the women will be here soon to start cooking. Do you want them to find you huddled and broken?”

  “I thought I was standing at the table.” Claire looked to see her body in the fetal position on the floor tucked against the wall with bare feet, and the disgust at being found this way took over.

  Her reflection aired its final thought. “I refuse to curl up and die because Ian broke my heart. Be sad tomorrow when we are alone. We can mourn when we’re gone from here. Today, let’s be strong. Find whatever is left of our spirit and carry it with us. Let’s ride out of here with our head high and our back straight. I promise we can fall apart later.” The vision offered a weak smile and a hand to Claire on the floor.

  She rose to her feet and shook the dream from her mind. Claire focused on making her way to the baths. One step at a time. She would survive this morning one step at a time.

  She was nowhere. Ian had spent the night chasing a ghost, a very fast ghost. Claire had eluded him the whole night. He wondered where she could she go with no boots to protect her feet. He had searched most of the night just wanting to talk, to explain, or even to have her voice her anger at him. He wanted only to be near her. Near dawn, he had gone to wait in her chamber only to be told to leave by Neala. The housekeeper would not speak with him either. She simply packed Claire’s belongings into saddlebags and took the boots from his hands as she simultaneously pushed him out into the cold corridor.

  Prepared to enter his chamber, he found his dagger placed just outside his door. The bitter and painful truth of this morning had been made more real. The dagger, the symbol of his lairdship and the one item that bound Claire to him, had been placed on the floor in the corridor for him to find in morning’s light. How wrong this now feels in my hands, Ian mused. The eye of the dragon mocked him as well. He turned the dagger only to find the eye on the other side held no answers.

  The dagger’s weight was a curse on his hip. Ian walked downstairs and outside into the courtyard. The crowd gathered should not have been so surprising. There were many in his clan who adored Claire. Seeing them all here to say their farewells, his chest filled with pain.

  The women and young lasses took their turns at parting words, and each received a warm embrace. The men then offered their parting words and received the same warmth from her. Neala and Aliana stood by her side through it all with faces contorted by tears and grief. Wee Cerwyn snuggled in Claire’s arms, blissfully unaware of the sorrow felt by those gathered.

  The sight of Finella as she approached the women tugged at his heart; she never left the kitchens for anyone or anything. The small woman handed over a large bag to the lad with the horses and saw the provisions stowed to her approval. Then Finella made her way to her. Ian’s eyes followed as the small older woman pulled Claire’s head down to place a kiss on her forehead. The embrace exchanged, this was the one that was hardest to watch.

  “We are ready to leave, with your permission, of course, Laird.”

  Ian had no idea when Hagan had walked to his side. “Do we need such formality, brother? This day is hard enough to bear.” He paused to once again watch Claire be embraced by a sobbing Aliana. “You will see to it that she is well cared for?” He placed a bag of coins into Hagan’s hand. “She will have needs. I would see some of them met.”

  Hagan glared at the bag. “For my wife and son’s sake, I will see to it she is cared for. My brother will welcome her for them and for me.”

  Hagan’s words had stung, and Ian did not have the fortitude to challenge their meaning. He moved forward as Claire mounted her mare and noticed everything at once: the sunlight in her hair, the cloak on her shoulders, the green of her gown, her foreign trews beneath the skirts, and the way she faltered on horseback. He ran to reach out to hold her steady with his hands on her waist and thigh.

  So many words had danced in his mind during the night, but now faced with the lass, none of them were to be found. No words could ever hope to ease the pain of parting. “Claire, I . . .” The abrupt movement of the horse stopped Ian’s words. She had pulled away from him and out of his reach.

  Claire turned enough to face him, but her eyes locked on the sea in the distance. “Goodbye, Laird.” Without waiting for reply, she rode for the gate. Ian waited until she and Hagan were long gone from sight and then stood in the courtyard alone.

  Chapter 23

  “Why have we stopped, Hagan?” Claire asked from horseback. Her eyes stared forward, only able to see the long trail ahead of them. The rolling hills, lush greenery, and rocky outcroppings held no beauty. The clouds covered the sun, which left the day dreary.

  Hagan dismounted and grabbed the bag of food. “‘Tis past midday. We both need to eat, and the horses should be rested. You set a hard pace.” He reached up to help her to the ground. His eyes widened as she stumbled on her feet. “Are you going to be sick?”

  “That’s your wife’s thing. I’m just dizzy. Give me a moment, and it will pass.” She
paused to breathe and was grateful as the wave dissipated. “So, Aliana told you?”

  Hagan ushered her a bit away from the horses and opened the bag of food. “Aye, Claire, Aliana told me.” He motioned for her to sit and handed her a piece of the fresh bread. “Eat.”

  Ignoring the food, she stared at the tree line in the distance. “Go ahead, I’m not that hungry.”

  Hagan scolded her. “It will be late this evening before we reach my brother’s keep. You may have no hunger, but the bairn does. Eat.”

  She knew he was right and took the bread he offered. Thankfully, Hagan was contented to let the meal pass in silence as long as she ate what he placed in front of her.

  Hagan replaced the remainder of the food in the bag and returned to sit at her side. “Before we go, there are matters I need to ken. What arrangements have been made for the bairn?”

  Claire replied with a short, clipped tone. “It is hardly a bairn yet, so what arrangements could I have?”

  “I mean between you and Ian. Were plans discussed for the future? I would ken what to tell my brother to expect.”

  Rising to her feet, she walked toward the horses. “Leave it alone, Hagan. Let’s go.” How will I ever survive if even the mention of his name drives a stake through my heart?

  “You did nay tell him, did you?”

  Turning to face the charge, Claire’s voice was sharp with anger. “Don’t look at me like that. No, I didn’t tell him. Ian told me to leave, Hagan. Not exactly the right moment to tell someone a child is on the way.”

  “I ken what set us on our path this day. He should have been told. Ian has a right to ken you are to bear his child.”

  She wanted to argue and give a voice to the anger and pain she carried in her heart, yet she knew she would be yelling at the wrong man. Claire took the time to breathe deeply and let the fresh air calm her mind.

  “Hagan, the child changes nothing, and you know it as well as I do. Ian chose to do what was best for the clan. What other choice was there? It’s not like I can pay Tavis for the taxes. None of us can. Even if he knew, I would still have been sent away.” Claire turned to face Hagan. “It changes nothing. If anything, it saves Ian from the guilt.”

  “You amaze me, lass. And aye, you save him for the moment. Ian will still need to ken of his child. But we can talk about this more when you are settled.” Hagan turned to listen to noise from down the trail. “There are riders approaching.”

  Hagan turned away to climb the small rocky hill next to the trail. With a reassuring smile, he descended to her side. “‘Tis nothing to fash yourself about, Nolen and his men approach.”

  She now knew how the day could get worse. Claire asked, “Do we need to wait for them, or can we just leave?”

  With a soft chuckle, Hagan said, “I dinna like the man either. Quickly see to any needs you have in the trees. They ride too quickly for us to avoid them,” Hagan replied even as his hand rested on his sword pommel. “After a quick greeting, we can be on our way.”

  She walked a bit further into the trees than she would have if it had been just she and Hagan. Claire once again relieved herself in the woods. Her mind hoped the Douglas keep was fitted with indoor options, as the allure of the woods was long gone. Her walk back to the trail stopped immediately at the sound of metal clashing and Hagan’s loud cries. “Run, Claire, run!”

  She hesitated as her instincts were torn between running and fighting beside Hagan. The sound of a rapidly approaching man spurred her into action. She lifted her skirts and ran even as she heard a shout that she had been found. In the distance, she heard orders given for her capture. Her mind raced as she ran. Hagan must have been wrong and someone found us.

  The cloak was her downfall. Grabbed from behind, Claire felt her feet leave the ground as the pursuer grabbed the billowing material and roughly stopped her motion. She stumbled as she turned and saw only the blade in his hand; her years of training took over.

  As his hand rose to threaten a strike with the dagger, she stepped into the attack and blocked the swing with her forearms. She took full advantage of the shock and twisted his wrist and came away with the dagger. With a bend in her knees, she avoided his wild punch. Recognition dawned on her as she finally saw his face. It was one of Tavis’s men.

  The surprise of who attacked slowed her motion and gave the man the opportunity to lunge for her. She braced at the last moment, and her legs held firm as he came to take her down, only to find his dagger now buried in his chest. The man, not one she could name, fell to his knees and then to the forest floor.

  A wave of dizziness caused her to stagger and left her without the ability to react to the voice behind her. “You are full of surprises, Claire.”

  Her turn to face him was too slow, and Nolen’s voice was like ice down her spine. Claire was not ready for the blow. The hilt of the sword came into her line of sight too late. She felt the strike just below her right temple and then nothing as the world turned black.

  “Why aren’t you doing something? That was an illegal hit!” Claire turned to storm at Michael. “There’s no hitting to the head. Are you going to stop this match or am I?”

  The look on Michael’s face was a mix of sadness and determination. “This isn’t a fight I can stop.”

  She wondered why she couldn’t move her hand to touch the side of her aching face. “Of course you can, it’s your dojo for heaven’s sake.”

  Michael held out his hands to prove the statement. “Too bad we’re not in the dojo now.”

  He was right. She saw the trees, the growth-covered ground, and the gray sky above. She was not in the dojo. “What do I do now, Michael?”

  He moved to stand close and looked into her eyes. “You do what you have to do. This won’t be a fair fight. There are no rules, not here and not now.” He took her by the shoulders. “Every drill, every class, and every sparring match has prepared you for this moment.”

  Her voice whispered the words she never thought she would say. “I’m so scared, Michael.”

  “Good, Claire. That’s a great place to start. There are a lot of unknowns here: why, who, and to what end. This won’t be easy, but true battle never is. Use your strength, and more importantly, use your mind. This is your greatest asset. Wait for it, Claire, wait for the right moment. You’ll know it when it happens.”

  Pain roared through her head, as well as the sensation of something sharp on her legs. “It hurts, Michael. It already hurts so much.” With consciousness threatening, Claire begged, “Help me, Michael.”

  Michael smiled. “You don’t need me. You have everything you need inside you. Find your moment and use it well.”

  Claire wanted to stay with Michael, but the sting to her cheek brought her back to the forest, to the battle ahead.

  Unable to stop the groan from crossing her lips, the first glimpse of consciousness delivered only pain. The taste of blood on her lower lip let her know a hit of some type had woken her. Slowly she remembered the strike to the side of her head and was instantly aware that her right eye was barely open. The swelling had already taken over. She wondered why she couldn’t move her hands. She felt the hard, damp ground beneath her back and the pressure on her wrists. She was flat on her back, and her hands were over her head, tied up and attached to something. The decision to reach out was immediately regretted as she felt the cut from a blade.

  “Ahh, Claire, you finally join me.”

  Focusing on the man leaning over her, recognition dawned. “Nolen.” His cold, blue eyes stared into hers as the smile spread across his face. It took a great deal of focus to suppress her shudder of fear.

  “I began to fear I struck you too hard and you would nay wake. I wanted you awake, lass.” He stared as she tested the bindings on her wrists, and his tone was almost casual. “Save your strength. The bindings are attached t
o my sword, which is stuck deep in the ground. There will be no escaping.”

  She tried to concentrate enough to take stock of the situation. Her legs were free. That was good. With her head tilted, she could see that only three or four inches of the sword’s blade were visible above ground. Buried deep was an understatement; there would be no way to pull the sword loose from where she lay. Circulation was not an immediate concern in her hands, but it would be over time. The material used was too familiar, and her legs felt the cool breeze, which brought more into focus. She was tied with pieces of her yoga pants. With the realization, she broke out into a panicked sweat. Fear raced through her veins, and she struggled against the bindings. A hard slap to her cheek from Nolen stilled her body.

  “Dinna you wish to ask about your cousin, Claire?” Nolen began. “Three of my best chased him through the trees. They will return, and Hagan will nay.” He crouched to brush a loose lock of hair from her forehead. “Dinna waste your time mourning. You have little time left in this world either.”

  “Then why I am still alive, Nolen? You could have just killed me.” She tried to shift away from his touch, disgusted by the feel on his hand on her head.

  Nolen laughed at the question. “Did you truly believe it would be so easy, lass? There is unfinished business between us.”

  Before she could ask what he meant, Nolen moved. He sat on top of her midsection and pressed her hard to the ground with his weight. “I made you a fine offer. You and your cousin led me to believe you were a proper lass. Did you think I would accept being made the fool?” He slapped her hard on the face. “I am nay a man to be lied to, lass.”