Eleven

Caitlin fell onto the bed, her body racked by sobs. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest and her stomach twisted into knots. She’d caused so much turmoil—again—that Darach had turned away from her, couldn’t even look at her. She’d thought he would be pleased by her efforts, but she’d only made him despise her.

A troublemaking lass. That’s what he’d called her—yelled it at her. Any hopes of being his wife, of having a proper home and family here, had withered under his fury.

A fresh wave of agony washed over her, and she curled into a ball, her breath rasping in and out of her lungs. Turning her head into the pillow, she wept for everything she’d lost—a home, a clan, a family.

Darach.

Finally, she fell asleep. When she woke, her room was dark and cold, the shutters shaking in the storm. How long had it been? An hour? Two? She had no way of knowing and didn’t care. All she knew was she had to leave. Now. Never again would she look into Darach’s eyes and see his disdain for her. Or worse, his indifference.

She had a plan; she could resurrect it—travel to Inverness and then cross the sea to France. She had the means to get there and she had a map. Staying longer only put the MacKenzies and herself in more danger from her uncle and Fraser. She’d never be out of harm’s way as long as they could still reach her.

She would take Cloud and ride as far as possible tonight. Darach had made her a promise to keep her safe and he would only try to stop her if he knew. But in truth, it would be a relief for him—she caused trouble where’er she went.

Her pack laid under the window, ready to go, as if deep down she’d always known it would be impossible to stay. She dressed warmly, a strange roaring in her ears.

Opening her chamber door, she almost tripped over Fergus, who slept on the floor. He lay shivering, tucked up on his side. Caitlin crouched beside him and rubbed his hair. She would miss more than just Darach.

After lifting the lad and lying him on the bed, she covered him with quilts. He would be well loved when she was gone and quickly forget he’d ever known her—as would everyone else, including Darach. Soon she would be naught but a fuzzy memory.

Before she broke down again, she ran from the room and down the stairs. The hall was empty as she hurried toward the door. When she unbarred it, the wind pushed it open with a bang.

Despite the rain, she raced into the night, barely able to see through the downpour. The storm tore at her clothes and tried to push her back.

She could never go back.

The dogs brushed past her, making her jump. “Hati, Skoll, go home.” She pointed toward the keep, but they dashed ahead, disappearing into the darkness.

The stable doors loomed, and she heaved them open. Inside, the horses whickered nervously. She moved blindly toward Cloud’s stall and collapsed against his neck. He snuffled her cheek as if to tell her to pull herself together, she could make it on her own without Darach.

After attaching the bridle and securing the pack across his back, she led the stallion into the storm. He protested at first, but it was as if he sensed her desperation, and he settled down, ears pressed flat against his head in the driving rain. She used a rail around the corral to help her onto his back and then urged him toward the portcullis, where a flickering torch burned.

The gate was down.

Her jaw sagged. Why was it closed? It had never been closed before. She had gone in and out of the castle on a daily basis and it had always been open. Of course, she’d never tried to leave in the middle of the night before.

“Milady?”

She jumped. Some of the clan had started calling her by that title. Darach’s lady. She’d protested at first, but inside she’d been thrilled. Now she was being punished for her conceit. She couldn’t be a lady without a laird.

“Why is the gate closed?” she asked, barely able to push the words past her aching throat.

The lad gaped at her. He was around Gare’s age and easily flustered.

“’Tis late. Someone could sneak in.”

“Well, I need to leave. Now.”

“But the storm—”

“’Tis an emergency. Open it!” Her voice broke on the last words and the lad looked at her with dismay.

“Is there trouble in the village? Does the laird know?”

“He said I can leave. You must let me out. Please.”

It was her desperate plea that did it. The young guard hurried to a pulley and slowly raised the portcullis. He looked back at the keep. “If you wait one moment, I’ll find someone to escort you to the village. ’Tis too dangerous for you on your own.”

But Caitlin urged Cloud forward as soon as the gate was high enough. She raced from the castle, wind whipping her hair and clothes, rain pounding her body. It was both a punishment and a blessing. She welcomed it. It stopped her from thinking, stopped her from feeling the pain that crushed her heart.

Clutching the reins, she leaned forward and grasped Cloud’s neck, letting him take the lead. He found the familiar path they’d taken to the water every day and followed the trail as it wound alongside the loch and into the forest. The loch turned into a river, and it raged beside them, hidden by the dark and the trees.

In the distance, she heard a dog bark, but she was too numb from cold and grief to do anything but pray Hati and Skoll were safe.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and Cloud flinched, almost dislodging her. She sat up and tried to soothe him, for the first time comprehending the precariousness of her situation. She looked over her shoulder, wondering if she should return and take shelter in the village. Surely it wasn’t too far away—she could just follow the trail back.

Before she could turn around, lightning streaked the sky with a deafening crack, causing Cloud to rear up. She screamed and fought to stay seated, holding tight as he dashed into the trees. Branches whipped her head, almost knocking her from the stallion.

When he burst onto the muddy riverbank, she pulled hard on the reins to stop him, but his front legs slid over the edge and pitched her forward into the fast-moving water.

The cold hit her like a hammer as she was dunked beneath the surface. Struggling to resurface, she gasped for air as she broke through only to be dragged under again. She scrambled out of her cloak, but still she was too heavy, and she tore at the brooch on her arisaid. The need to breathe beat at her. Just when she thought her lungs would burst, the brooch opened and her arisaid drifted free. She pushed upward and breached the surface, drawing in great gulps of air as the current swept her downriver.

She grabbed on to the floating debris that passed by, but none of it held her up. Then a branch snagged her chemise and stopped her forward momentum. She grasped the felled tree, but her shaking fingers kept slipping, and when she tried to pull herself up, the raging water pushed her back. It sapped her strength and the will to hold on.

Maybe if she had someone to hold on for.

Good Lord, she was pathetic. After all she’d been through, she would not die like this. She was stronger than that. She would survive.

With renewed strength, she grabbed another bough, but it snapped off, and she was dipped under the water again. She flailed to the surface but could barely keep her head above water as wave after wave swamped her. When her other hand slipped from the tree, the river greedily took hold.

For the first time, she lost hope. Limbs leaden, lungs burning, she slowly slipped under, praying Darach wouldn’t find her torn, bloated body—that he’d remember her as she’d lived, not as she’d died.

Then, by the grace of God, she was grabbed by the hair and dragged upward. Her head cleared the water and she breathed air into starving lungs.

Something had her in its jaws. A small island loomed ahead and the animal steered toward it. Pain tore through her when she bashed into the rocks, but it was miniscule compared to the exhilaration and renewed hope rising through her. She struggled to hold on as she was dragged from the river.

The jaws released her, and a wet, hairy muzzle pushed into her cheek, whining and licking. Her arms encircled a strong neck, and her fingers squeezed floppy ears.

Hati.

She’d never been so happy for the smell of wet dog as he licked the tears from her face.

Darach’s demon dog had become her savior.

* * *

“Remind me ne’er to ask you for advice on wooing women.”

Lachlan had entered Darach’s solar uninvited and now leaned against the doorjamb, his words as irksome as his presence.

Darach frowned. “I wasn’t trying to woo her.”

His brother snorted derisively and sat in the chair across from him. “’Twas obvious when you shouted at her and called her names. A most inspired marriage proposal, that.”

He ground his teeth, needing no reminder of his fight with Caitlin. He’d contemplated finding her and apologizing a hundred times during the last few hours, but he was still angry and didn’t trust himself not to lose control of his temper—again. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt her to ponder her actions for a while, to suffer a little.

Hasn’t she suffered enough?

The thought gutted him and he clenched his fists. Aye, she’d suffered, but she’d also acted without thought for the consequences and deserved his reprimand. She wasn’t a child; she was a grown woman about to become his wife. She needed to know there were boundaries she couldn’t cross.

Building a chapel without his permission was one of them.

“I’ll speak to her tomorrow and set things right. She willna suffer long.”

“You’re sure of that?”

Darach wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You yelled at her and made her cry. What makes you think she’ll marry you now?”

Surely women weren’t so fickle. He’d been fair certain she would marry him when he rode toward the castle. Would she refuse him now because of a little fight?

Lachlan shook his head and Darach realized he must have spoken aloud.

“’Twas not a wee fight, Brother. You broke her heart. She’ll not marry a man who considers her a nuisance.”

“She’s not a nuisance. ’Tis only her lack of foresight which is annoying. Do you think she was right to dig up my bailey?”

“Nay, but I think she was right about your clan wanting a chapel. From her perspective, she acted in the clan’s and your best interest. Would it be so terrible to have a priest living here and a place for your people to worship?”

Darach gritted his teeth, jaw stubbornly clenched. “’Twasn’t part of my plan. Not yet.”

“Well, neither was Caitlin. If you want her in your life, you have to make room for her. She needs to create a place for herself, to feel she’s necessary to someone, preferably you.”

A knock sounded at the door and Darach’s spirits rose. Maybe it was Caitlin come to apologize, unable to sleep either, knowing he was angry with her. He would be gentle, as Lachlan had suggested. Forgive her and tell her he cared a great deal for her. Then suggest they marry. He would promise her his fidelity and protection, and she would promise to love and obey him in return.

The door opened and Fergus stepped through. Darach’s spirits dropped. It would not be so easy after all. Then he noticed the panic in the lad’s eyes and his guts tightened.

He strode around the desk and crouched in front of the boy. “What troubles you, lad?”

Fergus hadn’t said a word since his father had killed his mother, and Darach could see the strain in the boy’s face. With Caitlin’s help, he’d come a long way toward recovery, but not far enough.

Darach wanted to yell at him to hurry, but instead, he said, “Take your time, Fergus. Did something happen to Caitlin?”

The lad nodded, then shook his head. Darach gritted his teeth and took a calming breath. Fergus was making strange noises like he was trying to speak. Then he clearly said, “Gone.”

Fear blew like an icy wind up Darach’s spine. “Are you certain?”

“Aye. I slept outside her room. When I woke, I was in her bed, alone. She’s gone, Laird.” The words tumbled out of his mouth. Some of them were slurred, but Darach understood.

Caitlin wouldn’t just leave. He pulled the lad into a tight hug, then hurried from the solar, Lachlan on his heels. “Check upstairs. Maybe she’s with Edina.”

Lachlan nodded and bounded up the stairs.

Hastening down the hallway, he came to Caitlin’s chamber. The door stood ajar and the fire was almost out. Taking a candle from the passageway, he entered the room. Empty. Her personal items were scattered around, but when he searched for her boots and cloak, they were missing. As was her pack. Surely she wouldn’t have gone out in this storm?

Maybe she was in the great hall. He strode down the corridor to the stairs, scanning the dimly lit hall as he descended toward it. “Caitlin,” he called out. Then he saw the open door and felt the cold air pouring in. His heart stopped.

“Caitlin!” he shouted, panic rising as he ran across the room.

“She’s not upstairs,” Lachlan said from the upper level. Edina, Oslow, and Fergus trailed behind him.

“Check the kitchen, then start a search. I’m going to the stables.”

Darach raced into the storm. Lightning lit the sky at the same time thunder cracked overhead. He prayed he would find her curled up with Cloud, warm and safe, but deep down he knew the worst had happened.

She had left him.

He pumped his legs faster, trying to outrun his panic. He’d done this. He’d driven her out in the middle of the night and into a dangerous storm. She’d gone to escape his anger, his disapproval. She’d gone because he’d turned her sanctuary into another hell, just like her uncle, like Fraser.

The stable door was open when he reached it, confirming his worst fears. “Ronald!” he yelled as he ran to Cloud’s empty stall, hoping the stable master had seen Caitlin leave.

He mounted his nearly extinguished candle in a sconce on the wall, then quickly haltered his steed and sealed some rope and extra blankets in a leather bag. What else would he need?

Ronald appeared bleary eyed from his sleeping chamber. He wore a long lèine and leather boots. “Laird?”

“Caitlin and her horse are missing. Did you see them leave?”

“Nay. Why would the lass go out on a night like this? Is she daft?”

Darach clenched his jaw and ignored the question. She wasn’t daft, just impulsive. The complete opposite of Darach, who thought everything through and strategized all possible outcomes. But how on earth could he have planned for this?

“’Tis obvious now,” he said to himself. “I should have known she’d leave.”

“Laird?”

He shook his head and mounted his steed, urging Loki toward the exit. “Prepare the horses. Laird MacKay is organizing a search.” He hesitated at the door. “Have you seen the dogs?” Maybe they were with Caitlin.

“Not since the evening meal before you…well, before you arrived.”

Ronald’s tone disapproved, and Darach knew what he’d meant to say. Before you yelled at Caitlin and drove her away.

He spurred Loki from the stable, into the rainy night. It was too dark to see clearly, so he let the stallion have his head, trusting the animal’s senses. The wind and rain pounded them, but Darach ignored it and concentrated on Caitlin.

A last ray of hope burned that she might be huddled under the stone at the portcullis, pleading with the guard to let her out. Surely his men wouldn’t be so stupid as to let her leave on a night like this?

Aye, they would. They wanted to please her like everyone else, and she could be very persuasive. When he arrived, he saw the guard was just a lad, and Darach’s hopes fell. There was no way the young man would have stood up to her.

“Open the gate.”

The lad ran over to haul on the pulley. The portcullis heaved upward.

“What’s the emergency, Laird? Milady was verra upset when she left too.”

Darach wanted to jump from Loki and throttle the lad. Instead, he asked, “How long ago was that?”

“Maybe an hour. I asked her to wait until I found someone to accompany her, but she insisted on leaving immediately.”

“Did she tell you her destination?”

“To the village, I think.”

She could be anywhere by now. Cold and wet. At the mercy of the elements and the wild animals. What if she somehow got through the MacKenzie border and was captured by Fraser? Or was thrown from her horse and broke her neck? He could pass right by her in the dark, hurt, on the ground. The notion chilled him far more than the rain and wind, and he pushed Loki faster down the trail.

At the water’s edge, the path split, leading to the village on one side and alongside the loch, then into the forest on the other. If she’d gone to the village, Lachlan would find her. If, however, she’d followed the path into the woods, the path that led to Inverness, she would need him.

Darach turned the stallion toward the forest and cantered forward. He called Caitlin’s name as he went, but the storm swallowed his words. Near the forest, he heard a dog bark.

His hounds would have followed Caitlin. They could lead him to her.

“Hati! Skoll!”

Lightning struck the sky, and for a moment, he saw Skoll bounding toward him from the woods before it turned dark again.

Aye, he was going in the right direction. He would find her. He just prayed he found her in time.

“Good lad, Skoll.”

The dog turned and ran ahead of him, barking urgently. The trail weaved into the woods, and they followed it for another fifteen minutes or so. Then Skoll darted into the forest, toward the river.

Darach’s stomach dropped. Please God, not the river.

The hound came back before disappearing into the trees again, obviously wanting Darach to follow him.

He slowed Loki and moved carefully off the trail. The riverbank was dangerous this time of year—slippery and unstable. He stopped his stallion and dismounted. Skoll pressed his muzzle into Darach’s hand. He stroked the dog’s head.

“Where is she, Skoll? Doona tell me she fell in the water.” His chest was so tight he could barely speak.

Skoll licked his fingers, then turned to the river and barked again. Darach’s dread mounted. She wouldn’t survive long in the water. The river was high, fast, and cold from the spring runoff. If she hadn’t drowned, she would soon freeze to death.

From out in the water, another dog barked urgently. Darach strained his eyes, trying to see. It had to be Hati. Maybe he was with Caitlin.

“Hati! Where are you?” he yelled.

More barking.

Darach didn’t know his exact location, but he guessed he was near the bend in the river just before the rapids. A wee island was situated halfway across.

Heart racing, he returned to his mount and grabbed the rope he’d brought with him. He firmly tied one end to a tree, the other around his wrist. Then he shed his plaid and walked carefully along the bank in his lèine and boots, his belt looped around his waist.

When he was far enough upstream, he lowered himself into the river, barely feeling the cold. A felled tree provided a handhold to stop the current from taking him downstream as he made his way into the water. It deepened quickly, the current strong.

He reached the end of the tree and held on for a moment to orient himself. “Caitlin! Hati!” he called out. The dog barked again as lightning illuminated the night sky. Hati stood on the island. Darach thought he saw something else before the light disappeared—a shape on the ground at the dog’s feet. He prayed it was Caitlin and she was alive.

Letting go of the tree, he swam strongly against the current as it tried to sweep him past the island. He would lose valuable time and energy if he didn’t make it the first time.

He was almost there when a log struck his head and shoulder. The blow stunned him, causing him to sink quickly and suck water into his lungs. He struggled to resurface but couldn’t tell which way was up.

He couldn’t let her die out here alone. Then his feet struck bottom. With every ounce of his strength, he pushed upward, knowing this was his last chance. He broke free of the water, coughing and gasping for air.

Hati barked frantically nearby, and Darach saw he was almost past the island. Gathering the excess rope, he threw it as far as possible toward the boulders. It snagged and pulled taut, stopping his forward motion.

Hand over hand, he pulled himself along the rope toward the island. Finally his fingers groped some rocks, which he clung to with all his might. He dragged himself free of the river, body shaking and retching water from his lungs. His head and shoulder burned, but he ignored them.

Hati stood over him, barking and licking his face. “Good lad. Where is she?”

The dog darted over the rocks. Darach followed as fast as he could, gathering up the rope as he went. He circled the island and at last saw her curled up on the ground. Relief followed by fear washed through him as he raced to her side.

He’d found her, but what if he was too late?

Pulling her into his arms, he squeezed tight. She shivered violently, and he said a fervent prayer of thanks she was alive.

His throat and chest tightened as he pressed kisses from her forehead down to her mouth. “Caitlin. Sweetling, can you hear me?” He chafed a hand against her cheek, trying to warm her. Her breath was shallow and her skin tinged blue. She may be alive now, but if he didn’t find shelter soon, she would die in his arms.

“Caitlin, answer me.”

She moaned softly. Dropping his head, he spoke firmly into her ear. “I made a vow, Caitlin, and you willna make me break it. As God is my witness, you will live to see another day, so I can sit you down and tell you why you’ll ne’er run from me again!”

One of her hands lay between their chests and when her fingers moved in acknowledgment, the dam broke.

“Please, dearling. Live for me.” Then he kissed her forehead and set her down.

She moaned again. The sound gutted him, but if she was in pain, that meant she could feel the cold. If she felt the cold, she was alive.

“Hati, come.” He motioned the dog to lie next to her. She curled into him, seeking his warmth. “Good lad. Stay.”

Darach loosened the rope from his wrist and pulled it taut across the river. He found a heavy boulder and tied the line around it, testing it several times. Then he undid his belt and picked up Caitlin.

“’Tis good you’re such a wee lass.”

He laid her head on his shoulder, then belted them together, securing her legs around his waist, and her arms around his neck. It was frightening to think that if he went under she’d go with him, but he needed both arms to get them across the river. If he waited for help to arrive, she’d be dead.

He was about to step into the water when he turned back to curl his hand around Hati’s ear, knowing the dog would follow him and also be at risk. “Good luck, lad. Swim hard and fast. The rapids are close.” Hati leaned into him, then licked Caitlin’s leg, as if urging Darach on. “Aye, I’ll get her home. She’d be dead by now if not for you. Thank you.”

Hati barked and Darach strode into the river, holding the line. When the water touched Caitlin’s leg, she jumped.

“Darach!”

“I’ve got you, love. We’re crossing the river now. There are blankets on the other side. I willna let anything happen to you.”

Her arms squeezed his neck. “I’m…sorry. I shouldnae…have…run.”

“You have naught to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldnae have yelled at you.”

As the current swept his feet out from under him, Darach held the line. He flipped onto his back to keep Caitlin’s head above water as best he could, then kicked his legs and pulled with his arms toward shore. His stomach tied into knots, fearing another log would hit him and loosen his grip.

He pulled faster.

The dogs barked, and then he heard a splash. Hati had jumped in. Darach said a brief prayer for him and for himself and Caitlin.

They were almost at the other side when the rope went slack in his hands and the current pulled them under.