The Draig's Wife

by Lisa Dawn Wadler

  Attempting to keep his anger under control, he stomped behind her. “Should you become ill at the keep, you have no chance of getting Mary to safety.” He hoped rational thought would guide her actions.

  Without facing him, her soft laughter reached his ears. “Then it’s a good thing I only puke once a day. Trust me. After I sit for a minute or two and eat, I’ll be ready to go.”

  Cortland rounded the corner of the cottage and held his arms wide. Declan’s rage softened at the sight of his wife in the arms of the man who would be her father. Guilt plagued him that Emma had been forced, by his hand, from his side. Yet, Cortland’s love had kept her and the baby safe.

  “That seemed to be a short stop in the trees,” Cortland said, holding Emma.

  “I think you’re right.” Emma pulled out of the embrace and turned to face Declan. “I think having my world put back together makes all the difference.”

  After her declaration, all traces of hostility fled. She had made it sound as if their being together aided her body, not only her heart. Declan knew he stood at a crossroad. Denying her place in their battle would push her to Cortland, who would take her regardless of the danger. He wanted the next few hours of travel with Emma wrapped in his arms, even if only while they rode.

  “My wife remains as stubborn as ever, and she tries my patience with seeking danger instead of safety,” Declan said while holding her entertained gaze. “The first part of our journey will be taken slowly to ensure your comfort.”

  Before Emma could reply, Cortland interjected. “Emma is many things, though your wife is nay one of them.” Cortland’s challenge rang loud and clear. “No one asked my permission or sought my forgiveness for deeds done in the company of many. We will nay even speak of how you left her alone and with child.”

  While Emma appeared stunned at the harshly spoken words, Declan stepped closer to the man who had spat them. He had wondered when he would face the man he had wronged in his hall. Standing behind Emma, with his hand over her belly, he retorted, She is nay alone. We stand as one before you. My dagger is worn at her side, and we shared our claiming last eve. You must have heard enough this morn to ken she once again shares my bed.”

  “Aye, I heard more than any father would ever wish,” Cortland replied as he stood with his hands fisted at his side. “None of those sounds contained words of claiming, nay that I would honor such. First, you make amends to me, and then I will decide if you are worthy of my daughter and grandchild.”

  “Peace will be made later in my hall, old man. Before all, you shall be honored as my first and as my wife’s father. None will doubt we stand together as in years past. Until that time, Emma is my wife by her choice and her vow. You will nay keep me from her side this day or any other,” Declan declared with his head held high.

  Cortland turned the fire in his eyes to Emma. “Daughter, tell me what you wish. I would accept a single night given the danger all face. Should you declare yourself bound to Declan, I will honor your choice.”

  Emma shifted out of his arms, and her gaze went back and forth between him and Cortland. Fear trickled down his spine that she would deny their claiming as nothing more than the heat of a night spent in passion. Straightening his spine, he prepared himself for the blow that could destroy his soul.

  ~ ~ ~

  If she had concerns, so did Cortland, Emma realized. In the light of the new day, she had choices. A small laugh left her lips at the notion of a choice because, in reality, she had none. She loved Declan and knew with every ounce of her being that he loved her. That he had said the worst things possible could never be denied. That his intent had been meant with love and concern remained the fact she forced her thoughts to remember.

  Her gaze shifted to Declan, and though his posture screamed that the laird was back, his green gaze hummed with the warmth and love she had seen at dawn’s first light. Taking Declan’s hand in hers, she faced Cortland. Presuming that she was finishing some sort of ritual, she said, “Declan is what I want.”

  Cortland immediately relaxed and chuckled, once again pulling her close for a hug. “I question your taste in men but will honor your choice once public amends are made. So you ken, I do all to protect you and make certain your vow to him was given with clear thought. Once we have succeeded, Declan will need to make certain the village well is filled with the gossip of a penitent laird and a wife who loves beyond reason.”

  Kissing his cheek, she said, “You are such a good father.”

  “Are we done?” Declan asked, pulling Emma back to his arms.

  “For now,” Cortland said with a smirk. “Emma, go and eat a bit of the bread and ready yourself for travel. Declan and I will speak while you prepare.”

  She heard Declan’s mumbled, “Heaven help me, there is more.”

  With a chuckle, she stepped into the cottage and surveyed the home she had known for over almost three weeks, and prayed she wouldn’t be back the next day. Forcing a piece of bread down her throat, as well as more of the mint water, she tidied the small kitchen and stepped back into her room.

  Folding the soft wool gown she had just removed, she placed it in the saddlebag on the bed. Taking care to rewrap her ribs in the linen strips Kathryn had cut for her, she felt the ache and questioned her ability to fight if needed. On cue, Mary danced in her vision, and she pulled on the linen shirt and leather pants while she recalled every lesson Cortland had shared.

  With her ankle wrapped, her soft boots were laced, and she stood ready to face whatever may come. Warm hands surrounded her waist, and one came to rest on her flat abdomen.

  “Does that bag contain all of the gowns you prefer?” Declan asked quietly against her bound hair.

  “Yes,” she whispered as she stared at the hands on her body.

  “You ride with me as my cherished wife. Thoughts of you will fill me with the strength I need to take back all that is ours. On the morrow, you will still be my wife. Once again, the chest at the foot of our bed will hold all that you need. Be warned, I will never let you go.”

  Emma placed her hand over his and the child she hoped one day to welcome into the world. Turning in his arms, she stared into the eyes that gleamed with raw determination. Without thought, she pulled his head down and kissed his lips.

  Nodding her head, she said, “We need to leave. I want our daughter.”

  Cupping her cheek, he replied, “Aye, wife.”

  Chapter 34

  Cortland’s hand tugged her around the keep in the dark night. Clouds covered the moon and made it seem even nature aided their mission. With her heart thumping wildly, her footfalls were silent in the grass.

  Events had all happened as they had planned. The gates had swung open for a ranting Declan. Following in his wake, she and Cortland had stepped over the body of one of Glenn’s men. William had been unable to make the man leave his post and had disposed of the problem. Emma had watched Declan stride through the open bailey, and the few men gathered in the courtyard had followed him into the hall to see what would happen next.

  Her foot stumbled as her gaze landed on the darkened study window. In her head, mixed images crowded and blurred. He made love to me in that room, actually the laird did. I can hear that gruff voice telling me he loves me. Too bad I can still hear his insults that verbally flayed my skin to the bone. The laird nearly killed my soul.

  He was in there with Ciara. Do I really believe that he didn’t touch her, didn’t use his body to coerce information as he has done countless times? Even now I can hear his taunt that he screwed half of Scotland.

  Did he mean everything he’s said over the past few days, what he whispered into my ear? What if he is using my love for Mary to save her?

  No. I have to stop this. He practically begged me to stay behind. But he knows how stubborn I am. What did I do? Crap, I need more time to have even a shr
ed of this make sense. Emma stared at the dark window. I can see it, his pressing her up against the door . . .

  “Nay, Emma,” Cortland reprimanded. His stern command pulled her out of the mental purgatory. “Keep your heart out of the fight. A warrior maintains focus despite the world around him.”

  Forcing it all away, one clear thought focused. I chose to believe him. I have to believe in our love.

  Forcing the bile back down her throat, Emma swallowed and only stopped at the rear door. Not surprisingly, there was no guard; the massive stone walls and seaside cliffs provided all the protection the dwelling needed.

  Creeping inside the door, they paused in the deserted corridor. Emma gripped the hand holding hers and inhaled the familiar scents of the keep—the mix of hearty food and stone.

  “Your ribs ache, and your limp is back,” Cortland said.

  She didn’t need to ask how he knew and hated that he was correct. The several hours on the horse hadn’t done her any favors, and the limp had never left. Add a long passionate night with Declan, and her body was being pushed to the limits of ability. What he couldn’t see was the memory of Declan holding her on the horse or hear his vows of love and devotion during the long ride. She wasn’t about to admit to Cortland, or herself, how all of that paled to the memory of the moment her world crumbled within the place she stood. “I can do this,” she whispered, hoping she meant it.

  “Then be quick. Take Mary from her chambers, use the back stairs, and leave. If you are seen, run to the gate. William has made certain none stand to guard it. Should the child be elsewhere, take no chances as we agreed. Leave alone,” Cortland commanded.

  Grateful for the dark corridor, Emma stated, “I know what to do.”

  Cortland’s soft chuckle answered first. “The shadows dinna hide your intent. I hear your deception. Ken that straying from the plan puts many in harm’s path. Heed me, daughter.”

  “Fine,” she answered, knowing full well it was far from an agreement. Cortland needed to be ready to pounce from the kitchen, not protecting her in the corridors. With a quick kiss to his cheek, she whispered, “I love you.”

  While his hands pushed her to the stairs, he answered, “As I love you, Daughter of my Heart.”

  With a pounding chest, she reached the top of the stairs. Peeking around the corner, she paused for a quick moment of gratitude to find it empty. Only a few torches burned, and she felt the surge of confidence that everything was going as planned. So far, so good.

  The chair outside Mary’s chamber was empty and cool to the touch, telling her no one had recently been on guard duty. Part of her wondered if that was good or bad when shouts rang from the hall below. Forcing her mind away from the events unfolding, she pulled the sword from her belt and opened the door slowly.

  As her head and shoulders entered the chamber, a cold steel blade greeted her neck from behind the door. So confident to find no one outside, she had failed to consider anyone would be waiting inside. The familiar male voice demanded, “Drop the weapon and step inside.”

  Following the blade, whose tip poked under her jaw, she entered the dimly lit chamber.

  “You are too late,” Merrick said, closing the door with his free hand.

  Not looking at him, Emma’s gaze searched the otherwise empty room only to find no sign of the child. The rag doll on the bed sat utterly alone. “What do you mean?” Emma asked, turning to face him when the blade poked her soft skin. “Where is Mary?” she demanded.

  “Drop the weapon,” Merrick again barked.

  The clang of metal striking the stone floor filled the room. Lowering his blade, Emma stepped back, and Merrick grimaced at her. “I prayed you were nay fool enough to return. Have you learned naught?”

  His reaction makes no sense; after all, I’m supposed to be dead. “You sound like you were waiting for me,” she said, her voice airing her confusion.

  “Aye, Emma, I was waiting for you. Mary is in danger, and that means you follow,” Merrick replied with a soft laugh. His face sobered as he glanced at the bed. If she wasn’t mistaken, grief filled his voice. “Trust me when I say naught may be done for the child.” Holding out his hand, he said, “We leave now. I assume you have a horse tethered with supplies.”

  Ignoring his outstretched hand, Emma demanded, “Where is my daughter?”

  “Mary is no longer yours, Emma. My cousin ended your claims along with your marriage.” Merrick sighed. “I told you Declan would never be the man you deserve and that you were merely used to save his lands. Dinna waste our chance to escape.”

  “Where is my daughter?” Emma repeated as she closed the distance between them and glared at him.

  “She was taken to the hall when Declan stumbled in.” When Merrick reached out and ran his finger over the skin of her cheek, Emma pulled back her head. “Declan will nay win. Too many saw William ride from these lands and return empty-handed from his proclaimed hunts. That he pulled Draig warriors aside to whisper, dinna escape notice. Few of Declan’s men were permitted in the hall with a weapon. Even if my father’s men drink, they will still fight.”

  A pit opened in her belly, and Emma stumbled on her feet. Staring at the doll resting on the bed, she listened to the rest with numbness spreading through her limbs.

  “Messengers have been sent to the crown to make certain Declan will be declared dead. Mary is now my father’s.” With his soft brown eyes filling with grief, he added, “‘Tis over. The Draig line dies this night.”

  With staggering steps, Emma limped to the bed and sat down, oblivious to the comfort. In a flash, she recalled every bedtime story, kiss goodnight, and the sound of sweet, innocent laughter. Nausea rolled her stomach as her chest beat in a pounding pace. Tears pricked her eyes, and she struggled to breathe. With a glance at Merrick, she saw her pain reflected in his gaze. She snarled, “Shouldn’t you be happier? You get what you want.”

  Strangled laughter left his lips. “I love my wee cousin, you ken that. While Declan and I are nay close like when we were lads, he should die with a sword in his hands. I lose all this night. The small amount of pride I carried is dead. There is no gain for me.”

  “Did you really think you’d get your father’s lands without them dying?” Emma challenged.

  “I had long hoped Declan would fail to marry, and that would have prevented all. Then when he did, I had hoped my father would leave it be,” Merrick admitted. “So you ken, I receive naught.” His gaze drifted to floor with his defeat.

  It was what she needed, his single momentary lapse. In a blink, Emma was on her feet in front of Merrick with her dagger pressed against the flesh between his ribs. “Drop the sword, Merrick.” As the metal clanged, Emma cautioned, “Do us both a favor and stay out of my way. I’m going to save my family.”

  “Should you go to the hall, you will be truly dead. For now, most believe the lies of your death.” Merrick reached out to take hold of her arm even as the dagger pressed harder against his flesh. “I dinna save your life to see you throw it away. Take us to your horse, and I will find a way to provide for you. My sword arm is strong and will earn us a place far from here.” His soft brown eyes held hers. “Unlike my cousin, I would never cast you aside, Emma. I swear to you.”

  Shifting on her feet to prevent Merrick’s touch from becoming a liability, she asked, “What do you mean you saved my life?”

  “On the eve Declan broke your marriage, I heard the orders to track and kill you. While you and Cortland are capable of defense, too many men followed in blood thirst. None of the men questioned my joining the hunt, and none lived to tell of my part. As Keir attempted to choke the life from you, he found my blade buried deep in his back. Your father never saw the man at his back who fell dead to the ground. Two more men never came near either of you, thanks to me. When I could, I carried you to the horse so your father could
take you to safety.”

  “Why?” Emma asked, bewildered by his tale. Though it did explain how they survived against the odds.

  “Why?” Merrick repeated with laughter. “Even though you married another, I still care for you. ‘Tis the same reason I asked you to flee before they poisoned you. I still want you for my own.”

  Stunned, Emma drew back her dagger and took a step back from him. Her gaze locked on his, and she prayed he would understand. “I can’t leave without trying to save them.”

  “Yet to Declan you are naught.” Merrick waved away her reply with his hands. “I have nay doubt that the man found you and promised a great many things in exchange for your aid. Dinna waste your life for him. He has proven how little he values you before all.” With a nod, he added, “Your father is a fine man and always treated me with respect. I grieve his loss. For the remainder of my days, I will wonder if I could have done more to aid Mary, though I dinna ken how I could have prevented it. All I ken for certain ‘tis it can nay be stopped.”

  Straightening her spine, Emma replied, “Fine, you can’t stop it, but maybe I can. Move away from the door.”

  As he stepped aside, Merrick said, “If you wish to die, ‘tis your choice. Bear in mind life with me could bear promise. But tell me, Emma, why risk all for one who broke your marriage and took another woman? Are you such a fool to believe whatever promises were made? Once again he is using you.”

  How dare you give voice to the demons in the back of my head. The man before her had managed to neatly sum it all up in one tidy package.

  “Your face speaks when you are silent,” Merrick said.

  Scowling at him, Emma forced the doubt to the side. Declan had been adamant he didn’t want her there, and she refused to mentally travel the road of the possibilities of why. Too many of them led to the possibility she wasn’t wanted post-battle. Then she let her mind remember every moment Declan had fought to put them back together.