Fourteen
He found her standing alone in the dark where the garden met the trees. Moonlight shone down upon her fiery hair like light to flame. Hope swelled within him. All was not lost to them.
He scanned the area and judged it safe. “Bridgette!” he called.
She whirled around to face him. He quickly closed the distance between them, took her face in his hands, and brushed a kiss across her soft lips. A muffled cry of anguish escaped her, and he shuddered as he stared down into her upturned face. For a moment, so much emotion filled him that his throat tightened and he could not talk. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she clung to him.
Around them, the wind rustled the leaves. Their bodies swayed as one, her heart pounding against his chest. She pulled away a bit and looked up at him. “Kiss me again,” she whispered, her words coming out in a white puff in the frigid night air. “It dunnae matter how wicked it may be. I wish ye to kiss me. I fear we will nae share another, and I’d rather die a sinner than live a saint.”
“Bridgette, listen to me—”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “Nay! Kiss me first.”
He didn’t hesitate. He gripped her by the neck and crushed his mouth to hers. His tongue slipped inside her warmness, and he slid it along hers, savoring the feel of her. There was not guilt. There was not tomorrow. There was only this moment. He kissed her as if she were the only thing between him and death—frenzied and fueled with a need to make her his in the only way he could at the time.
When they parted, they were both panting. They stood wordlessly staring into each other’s eyes. For how long, he was uncertain. She took his hand and pressed his palm to hers, and he took her other and did the same. Her fingers came right under the last crease of his fingers. They intertwined them, still silent, and he could feel her heart beating through the thin skin of her fingertips.
“Do I have yer trust?” he asked, feeling certain she would say yes, but needing to hear it.
“Completely,” she replied. “Ye have my trust and my heart.”
Her candor shook him to his core. One of the things that had captivated him about Bridgette was her utter lack of guile. To hear her confirm without hesitation that her heart belonged to him humbled him. He slid his hands to her back and pressed her close to bury his face in her hair. He took a long, deep breath and opened his mouth to tell her what he could of the plan, but she spoke first.
“Graham kens now that he will nae ever possess my heart. But he will fight anyway, and if he wins, he will marry me. I dunnae ken how to say farewell to ye.”
He felt her tears on his neck. He pulled back and gently brushed them away. “Dunnae fash yerself, Bridgette. Ye will nae have to marry Colin, nor Graham. All will be well. Our time will come.”
Her brow furrowed. “What are ye saying?”
He cupped her beautiful face. “Hold tight to yer hope for us,” he said, his vehemence making his voice shake.
“Lachlan!” Helena’s voice cut through the night and made his muscles twitch with annoyance. She appeared, as if she had been close already, and his suspicions rose immediately.
“There ye are,” she said, overly sweet, as she strode toward them and stopped right in front of them. “I’ve been looking for ye. Colin wishes to speak with ye about us. I have assured him we both wish to continue to a future together, but he wishes to hear it from ye.” Helena narrowed her eyes at Bridgette. “Ye dunnae mind releasing him do ye? I’m sure Colin would love to speak with ye, as well, since ye will soon be his wife.”
“I need to dress for supper,” Bridgette said stonily. She turned and left without glancing back.
Helena slipped an arm through Lachlan’s and tugged. “Tonight, we shall join, Lachlan,” she said as they walked. “I vow I will make ye want me. Ye will want me as yer wife forever.”
Her words baffled him. She sounded almost as if she thought their pledge to marry was meant to become a lasting union. How could she think she could betray his clan and have him still want her? Did she think she could bewitch him? He was already bewitched by Bridgette and had been for a very long time. No other woman would ever compare.
The next morning, a large group of clansmen and women gathered on the flat grassland where the men trained. The king sat at the dais with the rest of his party, Marion, Iain, Cameron, and the entire council, except Atholl—who Bridgette supposed must be unwell or have some great reason for not attending the fight. Lachlan and Helena were also missing, their spaces empty.
Bridgette tried to catch Marion’s gaze to mouth a question, but Marion was looking toward the castle. She could not imagine what Marion might be looking for, unless perchance it was Lachlan.
Iain motioned for Bridgette to turn around, and as she did, Graham approached her. She bit her lip as he stopped in front of her, and she offered him a piece of one of her arrows as a favor. Lachlan had vowed she’d not have to marry Graham or Colin, but Lachlan was nowhere to be found and apprehension swelled within her. Where was he? And where was Helena?
There was no time to ponder it as the king raised his hands for silence and a hush immediately fell over the crowd. “Let the match begin!”
Bridgette’s gut clenched as the horn sounded, and Graham surged toward Colin. The quickness with which he moved shocked her. It was as if his injury were suddenly healed. Perchance it was the rush of the fight or perchance he was simply bearing the pain. Whichever it was she felt he now had a true chance to beat Colin.
Colin did not appear quick on his feet, but his sword arm moved in a blur. He was coming at Graham from the right before she realized what was occurring. She bit her lip on crying out a warning, afraid it would distract him. Graham deflected the blow, but before Bridgette could blink, Colin was at Graham’s other side. He jumped out of the way when Colin lunged forward, and Bridgette heard the gathered crowd murmur behind her as her heart raced.
Colin drew up his sword once more to attempt another strike. Graham moved in and sliced him down the length of his sword arm. Bridgette’s heart roared in her ears as crimson showed on Colin’s arm, and the gathered MacLeods roared their approval.
Grinning, she turned around to share her relief with Marion and saw that Marion and Iain had risen and were moving off the dais. At first she thought they were making their way down to congratulate Graham, as was the rest of the clan, but they turned toward the castle. That was when she saw Lachlan striding toward them with his hand clutched around Helena’s arm. Bridgette frowned as the king went out to meet Lachlan, Helena, Marion, and Iain who were already speaking. The king faced Helena and Bridgette could see the woman speaking.
As Bridgette took an involuntary step closer, Alex appeared by her side.
“Do ye ken what that is in regard to?” she asked, motioning toward the king and the others.
“The king and I worked out an agreement before we ever reached Dunvegan so that ye would nae have to marry Colin even if he bested Graham. I imagine it pertains to that, but I dunnae ken why he would talk in front of Helena.”
Bridgette glared at Alex but then gave him a fierce hug. “Ye should have told me! I was so worried for ye, and for myself and Graham.” She did not mention Lachlan yet.
“I’m sorry but it had to be believable that ye may have to wed Colin, so it was better for ye nae to ken it. ’Twas the king’s wishes.”
She nodded, understanding Alex likely had little choice but to agree. Her gaze traveled to Lachlan. He must have learned the truth, which was why he had said what he had last night about her not having to marry Colin or Graham. “So the king will nae make me marry Graham?”
Alex gaped at her. “Dunnae ye wish to marry him?”
She shook her head. “Nay. He dunnae have my heart.”
“God’s teeth, Bridgette!” Alex growled. “I did nae ask the king nae to compel ye to marry Graham, as I thought ye would be happy with him.”
Horror struck her speechless, but before she could recover, Graham was at her side. She turned to look at him, and as she did, Helena raised her hand and pointed at him.
“Graham MacLeod, yer brother and Bridgette are playing ye false!” Marion slapped a palm over Helena’s mouth. Graham looked to Bridgette and she prayed with her whole heart that her guilt did not show, but his eyes turned cold, his jaw set, and he strode away from her without a word.
She rushed to catch him, hoping to stop what she feared was the seer’s prediction coming true before her eyes, but her fingers only grazed his sleeve before he was standing in front of Lachlan and demanding Marion remove her hand from Helena’s mouth. The king waved a hand for Marion to comply, and when she looked to Iain, he nodded, his face a mask of tension.
The moment Helena was able, she started talking again. “I could have loved ye, Lachlan, but ye never gave me a chance.”
Lachlan glared at her. “Ye came here under false pretenses to steal our flag!”
The king did not look surprised at the news. “Imprison Colin,” he called out to his guards, who stood watch over him from the dais where he must have instructed them to remain.
Colin, still bleeding, had just reached the dais and tried to escape, but the guards easily captured him. Iain shouted out an order for the crowd to disperse, and as they did, Helena began to rant once more.
“I did nae have a choice! I already told ye that after ye made me drink that potion! My father and brother ordered me to do so with threats to hurt my youngest sister unless I triumphed. I hated ye at first, aye, but I grew to care for ye! But ye…” Helena glared at Bridgette. “Ye have seduced him!”
“I’ve nae!” Bridgette protested.
“I’ve watched ye flirt, tease, offer yer lips to him, and then pull away, making him lust after ye. Dunnae try to deny it!”
Bridgette flushed because she did love Lachlan and felt guilt over it because of Graham, but she had not seduced Lachlan. “I did nae make him lust after me.”
“Ye lie! I heard ye last night here in this courtyard. Ye begged him to kiss ye. Ye told him ye did nae care if it was wicked, that ye’d rather die a sinner than live a saint! Ye said those words! Ye kinnae deny it, unless ye be a liar.”
Helena made the words sound so horrid. Shame rolled over Bridgette, followed swiftly by terror. Was this how the seer’s prediction began?
“Graham,” she sobbed, turning to him.
Fear struck deep in her heart as he charged into Lachlan, causing him to release his grip on Helena as both brothers barreled to the ground. They rolled in a blur of fists flashing in strikes, and the accompanying sounds of bone crashing into bone made her stomach clench as she raced forward, angry that neither Iain nor Alex made a move to stop the fight. The king had taken hold of Helena and was dragging her away toward another of his guards, and Marion cried for Lachlan or Graham to show reason, but the brutal fight continued.
This was it! The seer’s prediction had started. Fear nearly choked Bridgette, but she shoved it away and shouted at her brother and Iain. “Why are ye nae stopping them?” she demanded, rushing forward to try to do so herself, only to be halted by Alex and Iain both putting out their arms.
Iain spoke first. “’Twas inevitable, I’m afraid.”
Alex nodded. “Aye. Best to let Graham get some of his anger out if he can, so he dunnae hate Lachlan as much.”
“Aye,” Iain agreed.
As the men rolled once more, Lachlan came to his knees with Graham in a headlock. She bit her lip to hold in her cry at the blood smearing both their faces.
“Release me, ye swine,” Graham roared. He kicked his feet and drove them into the ground to gain power. When he cried out in pain, Lachlan dragged himself and Graham to a stand and let him go.
“Listen to me, Graham,” Lachlan begged. The torment in his voice made Bridgette tremble. His pain and his anguish were hers, too. She had to help him.
“Graham,” she called out. “Please dunnae turn Lachlan away. It’s nae his fault.”
Graham jerked his head in her direction, then back to Lachlan, anger twisting his features. “Even now, she pleads for ye. Are ye happy? Ye seduced her!”
“Nay,” Lachlan vowed. “I tried nae to even acknowledge how I felt.”
“Ye seduced her, and ye dunnae even care for her!”
“I do, brother,” Lachlan replied, his tone quiet and pained.
Bridgette’s breath caught. She had known Lachlan cared for her, but to hear him admit it in front of others filled her with wonder.
“Ye’re nae my brother any longer!” Graham declared. “From this day forward, ye are dead to me. Dunnae dare to call me brother. We are enemies.”
Apprehension over the seer’s prophecy swiftly clouded Bridgette’s wonder.
“Graham!” Iain snapped out the one word with the force of a well-placed hit.
Graham dragged his gaze to Iain. “He’s nae my brother.”
“He is,” Iain countered. “Let yer anger abate. We’ll discuss this later.”
“He stole Bridgette from me,” Graham growled, staggering away from Lachlan. “My hatred for him will nae abate, whether ye wish it or nae. Whether ye command it or nae.”
Graham stalked around Iain, who was farthest from Bridgette. She rushed to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Please, Graham. I’m sorry.”
Graham shook her off. “I dunnae want yer pity. I wanted ye. For as long as I can recall, I wanted ye.”
“Wanting me is nae loving me,” she said gently.
His eyes widened, but then a scowl crossed his face. “He dunnae love ye,” Graham growled and motioned to Lachlan. “He just wished to best me as he always has.” With those final words, Graham stormed off.
Marion rushed to Bridgette and hugged her, and Iain came to stand by his wife and take her by the elbow. “I must speak with the king.”
Marion nodded. “I’ll come with ye back to the castle.” She tilted her head to Bridgette. “To give ye a private moment. But if ye wish me to stay…”
Bridgette shook her head, not daring to look Lachlan’s way. She feared he saw what she did: the seer’s prediction unfolding. She did not want an audience to her sorrow.
Marion patted her arm and left with Iain, leaving only Lachlan, Alex, and Bridgette.
“Come find me in the great hall when ye are done,” Alex said. “We’ve much to discuss.”
Bridgette turned to respond, certain her brother was talking to her, but Lachlan—whose back was to her—was nodding at Alex as her brother walked away.
Lachlan slowly faced her, and their gazes locked. Her breath caught deep in her chest at the look he gave her. It was raw and primal and said, Mine. She could not breathe. Her throat tightened, heat consumed her, and her heart roared in her ears, making them ring. God’s bones, she wanted to fling herself into his arms, but the seer’s prediction swirled in her head, a dark and deadly warning: As for the other brother, jealousy will drive him to his death, whereupon vengeance shall resurrect him.
She knew now which part of the seer’s prediction was about Graham. His jealousy over Lachlan and her would drive him to his death and he’d be resurrected for vengeance? In memory only? Would it be Lachlan trying to avenge Graham’s death?
“God’s teeth!” she moaned. “Ye ken as well as I do that the seer’s prediction has begun! How can we be together?”
“Because we kinnae stay apart,” he said simply.