Highlander Unchained (42 page)

She took a deep breath, wishing she hadn’t brought up the subject. Surely she was overreacting? This was the Highlands. Blood feuds were a part of their history and not something she pretended to understand. But Hector’s actions sounded so treacherous and…barbaric. God, she thought, cringing, had she really called Lachlan that?

Hector smiled at her. “But that is all in the past. You are here now, that is all that is important.”

He had a nice smile, didn’t he? Even though she couldn’t help notice it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Though I do wish you had come sooner,” he said. “Why did you refuse to come with my men?”

Flora heard the unmistakable censure in his voice, and it put her on the defensive. “I didn’t realize who they were at first. I was shocked. Your man Cormac treated me roughly.”

He frowned angrily. “You told Aonghus you wished to stay.”

“I did.” She paused. “At the time.”

His mouth tightened. But when he finally asked his question, he sounded so concerned, Flora wondered whether she’d only imagined it. “Tell me what happened.”

Flora recounted the circumstances surrounding her arrival at Drimnin, leaving out her failed elopement. At first he seemed sympathetic, even giving an occasional pat of encouragement on the hand, but when she reached the point of her wedding, his face darkened.

“How could you actually have married him?” he spat, his eyes as cold as onyx.

The mercurial shift of temper was startling. She forced herself to speak calmly. “As I said, I did not have any choice.”

He gave her a hard stare, obviously not satisfied with her answer. “But you left before it could be consummated. That is good.”

“Yes,” she said carefully. “I left not long after the wedding feast. But…” Heat rose to her cheeks.

His eyes narrowed. “You gave yourself to him.”

“Before I knew the truth.” She explained about the declaration that he’d tricked her into before her cousin and Rory.

His face contorted in anger. “You little fool.”

The burst of malevolence was truly frightening. He raised his hand as if he intended to strike her, and she recoiled from him, stunned that this cruel stranger could be her brother.
Dear God, what had she done?

He seemed to realize that he’d scared her, and he lowered his hand, making an obvious effort to control his rage. “It will make it more difficult to claim you were never married, but I will deal with it.”

“But—” Flora bit back her denial. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Why, then, did every instinct in her body clamor against it?

Her obvious conflict seemed to amuse him. “You will forget all about him, when you and Lord Murray—”

He stopped. It took her a moment to realize what he’d said. “How do you know about Lord Murray?” She’d omitted that part of the story.

He smiled. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Lord Murray and I have a little arrangement. He gets you—or rather you
and
your tocher—and I get his influence with the king.”

Flora was stunned. The irony was not lost on her. Just like Lachlan, Hector had used her as a bargaining chip. They were both men with steely determination and the single-minded purpose to do whatever was necessary to win—heedless of whom they hurt in the process.

Or were they? Lachlan had seemed so sincere when he’d told her he hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He’d claimed to love her. And at one time, she’d believed him. He’d also claimed to have tried to avoid using her by attempting to rescue his brother on his own. Could she believe him? She realized how much she wanted to.

She turned back to Hector. “You orchestrated the elopement?”

He sank back in his chair, stretching his legs out before him, looking well pleased. “Aye. And it was a brilliant plan. It would have worked perfectly had Coll not interfered.”

Flora thought of the fate that she’d narrowly avoided. “I won’t marry Lord Murray. He is a coward who left me to the mercy of brigands.”

Hector gave her a hard stare. “Yes, little sister, you will.”

He said it with such confidence, a shiver ran up her spine.

Like Lachlan, Hector was a fierce and ruthless Highland chief. But Hector had a cruel and brutish streak that Lachlan lacked. A lump of dread settled low in her belly. Without a doubt, she knew she’d made a mistake in coming here.

Hector was looking at her strangely. “What’s that?” he asked, indicating her amulet. “I’ve seen it before.”

Flora resisted the urge to cover it with her hand protectively. “It belonged to my mother.”

He frowned, and before she could stop him he reached for it. Turning it around in his hand, he examined the inscription on the back.

His eyes lit with excitement. “The old curse…it’s the Campbell amulet from Lady’s Rock.”

She didn’t respond.

“Lady’s Rock,” he repeated. “That’s it.”

“What are you talking about?”

But he only started to laugh. Laughter that chilled her blood and made the hair on her neck stand straight up.

A few hours later, she would learn why.

It had taken Lachlan all morning to rally his men…and to convince Rory MacLeod not to challenge him to a sword fight.

They were about one hundred strong—including a dozen of Rory’s men who’d accompanied him to the wedding. There simply hadn’t been time to send for more. Although Hector’s warriors numbered close to four hundred, only half that number were on Coll.

“If you are wrong about this,” Rory said as they tied the
birlinn
to the dock at Arinagour, “I will take my men and return to Dunvegan—after we settle our differences.”

“I’m not wrong,” Lachlan said with more confidence than he felt. “Flora was angry. She acted rashly in running to Hector—which I’m sure she has come to regret. She will be happy to see us.”

“Knowing Hector, you are probably right. But as to the validity of your ‘marriage,’ I am undecided.”

Lachlan opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut just as fast. Rory was right. Though every instinct in his body screamed to hold what was his, it would be Flora’s decision whether they stayed married. “I will not press my claim if she does not wish it.”

“Damn right you won’t.” Rory was still furious with Lachlan’s deception—as he had every right to be. Only the fact that Lachlan had convinced him of his love for his sister had kept the MacLeod at bay. If it came to it, Lachlan and Rory would be well matched—Rory was bigger, but Lachlan younger—but he didn’t relish finding out who was the better swordsman.

It took some time to unload his men from the boats, and Lachlan was surprised when they didn’t encounter any resistance. Hector had left the beach and docks at Arinagour largely undefended—something he would never have done.

It was strange.

Rory must have come to the same conclusion. “I wonder where our greeting party is.”

Lachlan shook his head. “I don’t know. But it makes me wary.”

“Aye,” Rory agreed.

After they’d marched south the few miles to Breacachadh, they had their explanation.

Hector stood outside the gate with only a handful of men behind him. The rest, Lachlan assumed, were stationed in the castle, ready to repel an attack.

The boldness of the man was mind-boggling. Lachlan could easily kill him right now. Though tempted to do just that, he stepped forward. “You have something that belongs to me.”

“Your castle? I’m afraid you can’t have it. I’ve rather grown to like it here.”

“No, my wife.”

Hector pretended not to understand. “If you mean my sister, I’m afraid you can’t have her, either.” He sneered. “Unless you can swim.”

He pointed behind Lachlan out to sea. Lachlan turned, and his blood ran cold. For a moment, he couldn’t process what he was seeing. He didn’t want to believe it.

Less than a hundred yards from shore, Flora stood marooned on a rock, surrounded by nothing but merciless blue water. But that wasn’t all. He’d been wrong about the location of Hector’s men. Nearly his entire garrison must be lined up on the beach—a human wall of defense between him and Flora.

Worst of all, Lachlan knew he didn’t have much time to reach her. The tide was moving in fast.

Flora had never been so scared in her life. She was cold, wet, and horribly aware of the rising water all around her. She shivered, the thin white sark she wore like some hideous virgin sacrifice a useless barrier to the elements. Except she wasn’t a virgin, and she had no intention of going to her death without a fight.

She gazed out to sea, watching and waiting with burgeoning dread.
Oh no, here comes another one
. Holding her breath, she turned her face as another huge wave crashed against the rock, pelting her with a deluge of icy seawater. Her fingers slipped for an instant with the force, causing her a moment of heart-stopping panic before she found her grip again.

God, how much longer could she hold on before he came?
If
he came.

Was this how Elizabeth Campbell felt? Forsaken. Left to die. Praying for someone to come? Never had she felt such compassion for what her kinswoman must have gone through on Lady’s Rock. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like in the dark…alone. At least she could see what was taking place on the shore.

She stood on the side of a jagged rock that protruded from the sea in a sharp peak. There was barely enough room for her to keep her feet flat, and she had to stand with her arms around the slippery rock in almost an embrace to avoid being knocked off. The castle seemed deceptively close—close enough to see the anticipation on her brother’s face and hear the orders that he shouted back and forth to his men. So close, but infinitely far away.

The rough waters of the sea were nothing like the placid water of the Faerie Pool, precluding any thought of testing her new water skills. Just the thought of going under…

She fought the wave of panic rising in her throat as the memories assailed her. The cold black water covering her mouth, her nose, her head. Struggling to breathe. Flailing wildly, trying to capture one more breath of air.

Not again. This couldn’t be happening again
.

She’d thought Hector was joking. How could her own blood do something like this? He’d remembered her fear of water from her near drowning in the loch all those years ago and had decided to use her as bait to destroy Lachlan by staging this macabre re-creation of the incident that had befallen Elizabeth Campbell so many years before at Lady’s Rock.

She’d stared at him dumbly when he told her of his intentions, believing it only when he’d ordered his men to take her. She’d fought, but it had been useless. There were too many of them. He’d ordered her to remove her gown, and she’d refused—until he’d pointed out that his men could do it for her. Part of her still couldn’t believe it…until she saw the boat. She’d panicked, and it had taken half a dozen men to drag her down the beach and force her into the waiting
birlinn
. Her terrified pleas had fallen on deaf ears. He’d claimed that she wouldn’t be hurt—if Lachlan cooperated.

Lachlan
…

God, what a fool she’d been. Lachlan was nothing like Hector. She could see that now, when it was too late. Lachlan would do his duty as chief, but his ends were noble: to help his clan and save his brother. Her brother acted for ambition and greed and without compassion. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she could perhaps see why Lachlan had chosen not to confide in her: Her own fears would have prevented her from understanding had he told her the truth.

She was still furious at him for deceiving her, but she never should have run. She’d reacted rashly, out of fear. Fear that she would end up like her mother. But she’d had one thing her mother had never had, love. And she’d thrown it all away.

She’d left him on their wedding night, shaming him horribly and forsaking her vows. She thought of the things she’d said to him and deeply regretted her harsh words. She’d struck where she knew it would hurt—his pride. Now with his brother freed, she feared he was probably glad to be rid of her.

But Hector had been so certain Lachlan would come after her. And deep in her heart, she knew her brother was right. She was his wife. Lachlan would hold on to what was his no matter how much she’d shamed him. And maybe, just maybe, he did care for her.

God, how she wished they’d been wrong. Her brother’s men had watched for his arrival, and as soon as the
birlinns
were spotted, the plan was set in motion. But Lachlan and his men took longer to reach the castle than Hector anticipated, and she was running out of precious time.

Her heart leapt when she first caught sight of him marching up to the castle with her brother at his side. She drank him in, even from a distance making out the hard lines of his ruggedly handsome face. He seemed even larger and more impressive armed for war in his yellow chieftain’s cotun, leather trews, and steel knapscall.

Her husband had come for her.

Chapter 21

Across the wide expanse of sea, his penetrating gaze found hers and closed the distance between them. If she’d harbored any doubts of Lachlan’s feelings, his reaction told her all she needed to know. His entire body went still, and for an instant beneath the fading amber light of day, she could have sworn she saw him pale. He looked…haunted. She’d seen that look before. It was the same expression he’d worn when he’d rescued her from drowning. If only she’d remembered it sooner. Lachlan Maclean was the most fearsome man she knew, but for her, he was scared.