Highland Enchantment (Highland Brides) (37 page)

Still, she could feel Warwick closing in, could hear his horses coming on, though in truth, she couldn't tell if the hoofbeats were reality or nothing more than an echo of her own blinding terror. Her knees trembled. She spilled forward, but Liam caught her, managing to pull her back to her feet.

There was no longer any hope of running. Instead they walked, not knowing which direction they headed, only following the fog that blanketed them like silver magic.

But they couldn't stay there, couldn't risk immobility, for Warwick was just behind them.

They began an ascent.

"If we leave the fog we are surely lost," Rachel whispered.

He didn't turn toward her. "Just over the hill."

Rachel glanced behind her. Evil! So close she could smell it, taste it on her tongue. She could no longer speak, and when Liam continued up the hill, she had no strength to resist.

But the fog didn't diminish. Instead, it boiled softly around them, climbing the hill, higher and higher, and then finally, when Rachel was certain she could go no farther, the mist drew reluctantly back.

They stood at the crest of nowhere.

"Urquhart Castle," Liam whispered.

Rachel glanced at him, but he was not turned toward her. She followed his gaze, and there, off to her left, she saw the misty image of a fortress upon a distant hill.

"If we could reach it they might take us in," she rasped.

But Liam shook his head. Already he was moving, nearly running down the hill toward the billowing fog.

It swirled about them again, welcoming them. And now all was a haze, the world, her mind, eternity. Evil dulled every other element, until she couldn't tell if she were awake or sleeping.

It almost seemed she heard the slap of water on shore, but it was drowned in the sound of her own mental screaming.

"Nearly there. Nearly," Liam rasped.

She had no idea of what he spoke, but neither did she have any choice but to follow, to hope the evil would be left behind.

Another step, another eternity, but suddenly something leapt up from her feet.

She rasped a shriek and jumped back. Liam circled her with one arm, jerking his dirk free with the other. But the demon at her feet was nothing more than water.

"You will survive. You will," Liam chanted, and though Rachel could not tell who he spoke to, she stumbled along when he tugged her hand.

They followed the river forever, searching for a way across. But the fog that had saved them thus far was now their enemy, for they couldn't see the opposite shore. There was no way to determine its width, so they traveled on, knowing that anyone who followed would know exactly which direction they were headed.

Evil was as smothering as a blanket now, surrounding them, killing them.

She heard the hiss of death before she saw it. It flew past her. She screamed. An arrow quivered in the sand ahead of her.

"Run!" Liam shouted, and grabbing her hand, pulled her along in his wake. But in a moment, he fell.

She screamed his name, certain he'd been shot, but in that instant, she saw the boat. Liam was sprawled half inside it.

"In! Get in!" he yelled.

A shriek of rage pierced the fog behind them. Another arrow hissed through the air and shuddered into the boat's hull.

Rachel turned toward their pursuers, her legs no longer working. But in that instant, Liam pushed her inside and shoved the boat into the water. Waves lapped about them. Liam grabbed the oars, pulling fiercely. They slipped onto the lake.

Horses appeared like dark specters on the shore.

Warwick screamed and raised his arm, pointing toward them.

The closest rider spurred into the water. The horse leapt toward them, throwing up geysers that splashed over Rachel's cowering form. Liam pulled harder. Another arrow sang past, nailing her skirt to the floor as it hummed into the wood. Yards away, the horse plunged again. The rider loomed nearer, sword raised, nearly upon them.

"Toward me!" Liam rasped, plowing the oars through the water.

Yanking her skirt from the arrow, Rachel twisted about and scrambled away. Her free hand fell on something. Yanking it up, she turned in a panic and threw. It was only a net, but the force of her movement tossed her off balance. She toppled sideways, grabbing hold of the gunwale to save herself.

The boat reverberated beneath her hand. A sword was imbedded in the wood between her fingers. She jerked her attention to the warrior's face. He yanked his weapon free and raised it again.

Rachel screamed and threw herself sideways, but in that moment the warrior toppled from his mount.

Half-crouched in the prow, Rachel watched him sink below the waves, his head caught in the net she had thrown, his body yanked under by his mount's powerful strokes.

The water boiled around them, the horse plowed on. But in a moment of panic, the steed turned back and disappeared into the mist. The water calmed.

She glanced toward Liam. Their gazes met, but neither spoke. Weak with relief and exhaustion, Rachel crawled forward to press herself against Liam's thigh.

The world lapsed into unearthly silence. She could hear nothing but her own harsh breathing and the rasp of the oars against the water.

Stunned and exhausted, she did nothing but sit, nothing but stare into the silver mists that enveloped them.

"It could have made me worthy of you."

Rachel turned at the sound of Liam's voice. He lowered his eyes, catching her gaze, one hand clasped over the amulet on his chest.

She shook her head in bewilderment then glanced behind her. "We've no time to waste, Liam.

They will not quit."

"Warwick was right." His tone was melancholy. "I could have been your equal."

She stared at him in silent question. Beneath them, the boat, rudderless now, spun in a lazy circle, reminding her of their hopeless flight.

"Liam," she said, and dropped to her knees to face him. "We must go."

"Nay," he intoned softly. "We are here."

She glanced to her left. Nothing but silver grayness filled her vision.

"Dragonheart is home," Liam said.

Understanding seeped into her soul. "He led us here?"

"Aye. From whence he came."

Reaching out, Rachel covered his hand with hers. Even through his closed fist, she could feel the dragon's emotion. Not excitement, not happiness, but something infinitely more intense.

"I could be wealthy," Liam murmured. "I could be lordly."

She stared into his enraptured face, feeling his struggle as if it tormented her own soul. "Or I could love you," she whispered.

He lowered his eyes to hers. Their souls met. And Liam smiled.

Loosing his fingers, she reached up and smoothed her fingers across his cheek. "Let him go,"

she murmured.

Liam lifted his hand.

But in that instant the boat lurched. Rachel twisted about. The kindly fog was ripped away.

Warwick loomed over her!

She screamed.

Liam had an instant's image of Warwick's twisted face, but in that second a dark figure leapt over the prows of their boats and plowed into him. He careened backward, crashing against the side.

Darkness slammed up to meet him. He fell toward it, but in that instant, he heard Rachel's shriek of terror.

His fingers curled around something and he swung. The brigand dropped sideways. Liam scrambled to his feet, blindly searching for Rachel.

Not in the boat! He snapped his gaze to the water. She was there, her dark hair spread upon the waves. A ribbon of blood seeped across the surface.

"Nay!" he screamed, and leapt toward the water.

Pain struck his skull. He staggered sideways. An arm closed over his throat, holding him captive.

Panic consumed him.

"Rachel!" he rasped.

"So the game ends."

Liam turned his bulging eyes to the side. Warwick stood only inches away, his dark cowl thrown back.

"It ends and I win." The wizard reached forward. His fingers closed over Dragonheart. Past him, Rachel sank below the surface.

"Nay! God!" Liam shrieked, and wrenched to get free, but the arm tightened, cutting off his air.

"God!" Warwick rasped, stepping close. "You speak to God?" He laughed, the sound low and horrible. "There will be no help from that front. Not for you."

Liam turned his eyes toward the wizard, and suddenly he was entranced, enraptured.

"You know that you are my son."

The words fell like poison on Liam's ears.

"Aye. I know."

A twisted smile. Warwick's presence seemed to burn through Liam's chest where he held the amulet in a gnarled grip. "Then you know better than to appeal to God," he rasped.

"I am not evil." They were the only words Liam could manage.

"On the contrary," Warwick said. "You are mine."

"I am not evil," he whimpered, but he could no longer pull his gaze from Warwick's, not even for Rachel.

"Not evil?" the wizard asked, his voice as dark as the night. "Then I give you a choice, Liam.

Stay and work with me. See the strength of the dragon put to the test. Or die with the woman."

Liam opened his mouth to speak, to tell him he preferred death. But the words would not come.

Time stood still.

Beneath them, the boat bucked. Warwick tottered sideways, thrown off balance.

Dragonheart dropped against Liam's chest.

Hope burst within him.

"Rachel!" he screamed and lifting his feet, crashed them against the wooden seat.

Caught off guard, his captor stumbled backward. The back of his knees struck wood. He loosened his grip, trying to find his balance. Liam twisted away, but in that second Warwick reached and yanked Dragonheart from his neck.

The wizard screamed his victory, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Jumping to the seat, Liam scanned the lake. A stream of dark hair flicked the surface of the water. Please God, please, he prayed, and leapt, but fingers snagged in his tunic. He was dragged back in, his arm twisted behind him.

Warwick rose to his feet, his hand clasped about the amulet. Past him, the last sign of Rachel disappeared.

A shriek of animal terror howled from Liam's lips.

But suddenly the world was shifting radically.

Beneath them, the boat heaved upward. Warwick screamed. Men yelled, grabbing for safety.

But the boats tipped more. Behind him, the guard fell away. Liam twisted about, prayed once and dove.

Dark waves settled over his head. Around him, water bubbled and cracked as a boat overturned. Bodies thrashed past him. He dove deeper, trying to see, to think.

Where was she?

There! A dark shape. He pulled himself toward it, grabbing at the hair, turning her toward him.

A man's face appeared in the murky water.

Nay!

He pushed it away, lungs bursting, searching for air. He broke the surface with a gasp, dragging in breath after breath.

From the single boat still remaining above the water, he heard Warwick's wail. But he didn't care. Gasping in one last agonizing breath, he dove again, plunging through the turbulent waters.

Another body floated past him. Not her. Where? Where?

A huge, dark form slashed through the water. Thrashing waves pushed Liam backward like a howling wind. His arm brushed something. He turned, and there she was. Rachel!

She floated lifelessly, her wild hair her only moving feature.

"Nay," he moaned. Water streamed into his lungs as he grasped her gown and hauled her toward the surface.

But he had lost his sense of direction. Panic burned him. Blackness threatened. But he could not fail!

His fingers felt the end of the water. Air streamed over him. He broke the surface choking and coughing. Rachel did nothing. Nothing but float in the water, her neck flaccidly draped over his arm, her lips as pale as her face.

"Rachel!" he croaked. "Rachel!"

She said nothing. Did not even move.

Horror burst over him. Despair ravaged him. "Nay, I will not let you go." He shook her, coughing and gasping, but she did nothing.

"Back!" a voice shrieked.

Liam raised his gaze to the source of the noise. Warwick crouched in the boat, gripping its sides with white-knuckled hands.

"Get away!" he screamed, and now Liam saw that the boat was tilting dramatically, falling sideways, being dragged away as if down a huge, spinning funnel.

He felt the pull of it on his legs, saw the boat slip into the whirlpool, and heard Warwick scream as he was dragged into the deep. But none of it mattered. Nay, none of it, for Rachel was gone.

There was nothing for him now. Thus he would go with her, go with her and hope the God who loved her would understand his need to be with her for all eternity.

The wild currents of the whirlpool tugged harder at him, and he let himself go, dragged soundlessly down into the depths, letting the waters fill his lungs, letting death take him as he pressed a final kiss to Rachel's brow.

"Welcome back," said a soft voice.

Liam opened his eyes. Perceptions seeped slowly into his consciousness, a beamed ceiling, stone walls, bunches of dried herbs festooned upon them. Carefully, he turned his head.

An elder version of the woman he would love forever, sat beside his bed. Fiona Forbes, healer of Glen Creag.

"I feared you wouldn't return to us," she said.

"You brought me back." It was a statement not a question, croaked in painful reason from Liam's parched lips.

"Nay, twas not me," she countered.

"Nay?" For one agonizing, heart-twisting moment Liam held his breath, praying against all reason that she would say it had been Rachel, that somehow she had not died, that God Himself had decided He couldn't bear to take her from him.

"Twas Hawk who found you," Fiona said. He realized now that her voice was thin with fatigue and her eyes red with sorrow. But he couldn't pity her, for though she had lost a daughter,
he
had lost everything.

"Hawk," Liam intoned, and squeezed his eyes closed against the pain that crushed him. He knew better than to hope for miracles, for indeed, he had seen his beloved breathe her last breath, held her flaccid body in his arms. He should be grateful that for a while, for a few fleeting, crystalline days, she had loved him. But he was not grateful. "Hawk," he said again. "How could he be so cruel?" Liam raised an arm to cover his eyes, to wish against all logic that he was not alive, that he had been allowed to accompany Rachel into death.