Nineteen
The feeling Lachlan had that Iain’s departing words were a premonition of a division to come became stronger with each passing day that he was gone. Graham was openly hostile to Lachlan, and an uneasiness settled over the men they trained. Lachlan suspected they did not want to appear to take either brother’s side, and his guilt that he had caused all this grew. Not only that but apprehension seemed to thicken the air at Dunvegan Castle. It seemed to him that everyone felt a sense of impending doom.
He spent his days training with the men, and though he knew Bridgette longed to join him in teaching, she stayed away. He only saw her at night, and then they always snuck away, making him feel angry at their predicament. The anger made him tense and terse, and as he glanced across the great hall at supper one night, Bridgette gave him a wary look before glancing away to greet Barclay, who was taking the seat beside her.
It had not passed Lachlan’s notice that Barclay had sat beside Bridgette for the last three nights, and jealousy flared within him. When he had briefly seen her earlier, Lachlan had asked her again, if she would sit on the dais tonight, but she had refused once more, saying it would be best if she sat apart.
To his right, Graham spoke. “It dunnae feel verra good to watch the woman ye desire giving all her attention—and possibly her body—to another, does it?”
All the pressure that had been building inside Lachlan exploded. He reared back and punched Graham, and as Graham tumbled over the bench and onto his back, Lachlan shoved to his feet and loomed over his brother. A furious tick beat at his right temple. “Hate me if ye wish it,” he growled, “but I will nae abide ye slandering Bridgette’s honor.”
Graham reached up from the floor, jerked Lachlan to him, and Lachlan crashed down to the floor as Graham’s fist went flying. Lachlan’s first thought was not to fight back, but then he thought of the years he had spent protecting Graham and how it had made Graham feel worthless. Maybe Graham needed this. Lachlan unleashed his own anger and struck back. Before he knew it, they rolled off the dais to the ground as they pummeled each other. Then suddenly, Rory Mac grabbed Lachlan from behind as Cameron grabbed Graham and they were pulled apart, panting and bloody.
As the blood that had been roaring in Lachlan’s ears dulled, the stark quiet of the great hall struck him. All eyes were upon him and Graham, and when he searched the crowd for Bridgette, he found her standing by Marion and Alanna, with an expression of horror on her face. As she turned and fled, he tried to follow her but Rory Mac still had a firm grip on his arms.
“Release me,” he demanded. “I’ll nae lose control again.”
“Ye’re sure?” Rory Mac responded, his voice skeptical.
Lachlan gave a quick nod, and Rory Mac released him. The noise in the great hall immediately returned, and Lachlan faced Graham as Cameron let him loose.
“If ye must hurt someone in yer anger,” Lachlan said, “let it be me. Nae her.” He knew his raw voice displayed his emotions, but there was no help for it. He could not allow Graham to strike out at Bridgette like that.
Graham’s eyes widened, showing his surprise, and then he slowly nodded before turning and walking away.
Lachlan quit the great hall himself and went to Bridgette’s bedchamber. He could hear her inside the room, and when he knocked and she did not answer, fear tightened his chest. “Bridgette, please open the door.”
“Nay,” she cried from within the room. “Ye need to away from my door. It’s happening, and I kinnae simply let it. Ye two are fighting, and soon one of ye will be dead!”
“I will nae fight with him again. I vow it to ye. Please open the door.”
He waited for the count of ten breaths and was contemplating going through the door with force when it creaked open and she peered out. Her tear-streaked face twisted his heart. He reached out, slid his hand around her neck, and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her hungrily, needing to ensure she still wanted him. Her barely restrained response assured him that in spite of his foolishness, she did.
When they finally broke the kiss, they stared at each other for a moment in silence before she reached up and pulled his forehead down to hers. “I kinnae watch ye destroy each other,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Ye will nae have to,” he promised. “We have come to an agreement.”
She pulled back and stared at him in surprise. “What sort of agreement?”
“I asked him to pledge nae to take his anger out on ye, but on me. The fight started over something he said about ye.”
“Lachlan!” Bridgette sobbed. “That is nae a good agreement!”
“It will have to do for now, so please dunnae argue.”
She opened her mouth as if to but then clamped it shut and instead pressed her lips to his once more.
As Bridgette helped Alanna and Marion in the kitchen two days later, the horn announcing an approaching enemy ship sounded. She threw down the spoon she had been holding and ran to the door. Before she got up the stairs, Lachlan loomed at the top, sword in hand.
“Come,” he ordered, sweeping his gaze over all three women. None of them hesitated to comply. When he reached the top of the stairs, he gripped Bridgette’s hand as he tugged her through the throng of armed clansmen racing out of the castle. The noise of pounding feet, clanking swords, and bows being readied roared in her ears, joining her pounding heart.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he tugged her forward, shoving his own men out of his way in his haste. Tension lay heavy in the air, along with the heat of the clansmen rushing out to meet the enemy.
“To the great hall,” he replied without looking back at her, but his fingers curled more tightly around hers as he squeezed. “Cameron is gathering the women in the castle there. Barclay will guard ye, but dunnae fash yerself. ’Tis one ship coming, and we are five hundred strong.”
Bridgette nodded, even as her heart raced. “I wish to go with ye to meet—”
“Nay!” he snapped. “Ye will stay in the great hall behind the barred door so I will ken ye’re safe.” He stopped suddenly, making her jerk to a halt so as not to run into him, and Marion bumped into her as a result. His steely gaze held Bridgette prisoner. “Vow it to me. I need to ken ye will be safe. I explained.”
She remembered. She did not want to relent, but she feared if she didn’t, his worry for her would get him killed. “Aye, I pledge it.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief and continued toward the great hall. Inside the hall, the fearful chatter of twenty women hit her and made her grit her teeth.
Lachlan pulled her to him and kissed her full on the mouth, making her chest squeeze with fear and love. “I’ll nae be long. Stay here.”
She nodded and watched as he instructed Barclay to guard the door and then left. Instantly, she made her way to the window to try to see what was happening below, but all she saw was the top of a birlinn coming into the loch below. Marion and the other women sat, but Bridgette paced the length of the hall, startling every time the faint echo of a shout from somewhere below reached her. What was happening?
Her fingers went absently to where she kept her bow, but then she remembered she had set it down in the kitchens. She could not be unarmed! She raced to the door, ignoring Marion’s call behind her. Barclay turned to her in surprise, and she prepared herself to argue with him. She would not break her vow and go down to the battle, but she refused to stay in here unarmed. What if the battle somehow managed to come to them?
“I have to get to the kitchens,” she told Barclay. “I left my bow there.”
Much to her surprise, he nodded. “I’ll take ye. The women can bar the door behind us.”
“Do ye fear the battle coming to us, as well?” she asked as Marion came to her side.
“Aye,” he quickly agreed. “I’ll lead ye there, but we must make haste.” He glanced to Marion. “Ye best come with us. The MacLeod will kill me if I leave yer side, though ye’d be safe here.”
Marion nodded and took Bridgette’s hand as Barclay unbarred the door. “Stay here,” Marion hissed to the other women. “We will return shortly.”
Alanna opened her mouth to protest, but she was the only one. Marion shook her head. “Dunnae argue,” she ordered Alanna, impressing Bridgette with her stern tone.
A hard knot of fear lodged in Bridgette’s belly as they made their way out of the great hall and toward the kitchens. The stark silence of the castle made her uneasy, and when she heard voices ahead, she tensed and tugged on the back of Barclay’s plaid. “Do ye hear that?” she whispered.
“Dunnae fash yerself,” he replied in an oddly calm voice, not even turning around.
Apprehension gripped Bridgette, and she exchanged a look with Marion who appeared equally uneasy. “But Barc—” Bridgette started.
He suddenly stopped, turned to her and Marion, and gripped them both by the arms. “I’m sorry,” he said, and the guilt in his voice set off her sense to protect. She reared up and kneed him, screaming at the same time. He doubled over and released her, and when he did, she stood face-to-face with Helena, who should have still be in the dungeon.
Bridgette was so stunned that for a moment she simply stared. “Ye!” she hissed, her thoughts immediately flying to Lachlan. If Helena had escaped the dungeon that could only mean that Colin had as well. Was it a battle for the castle or some sort of ruse to free Colin and Helena? Or both?
“Bridgette!” Marion cried, and Bridgette jerked back around to see her friend being hauled off her feet by Atholl, the elder councilman.
Confusion blanketed her, and thickened as Colin Campbell stepped around the man and Marion. Instinctively, Bridgette scrambled back a step, but Colin reached out, clutched her by the arms and jerked her to him.
“Hello, Bridgette,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming menacingly and the sickly sweet stench of sweat rolling off him.
“I still say we should kill her,” Helena whined from behind Bridgette.
A vicious smile twisted Colin’s lips. He shoved Bridgette behind him, then twin daggers flashed by his side. He threw them, and she gasped as they sliced through the air with a deadly hiss and lodged with a double thud in Helena’s chest and Barclay’s head. Bridgette stared in horror as Barclay crumpled to the ground. Helena’s mouth fell open, blood spreading from the wound in her chest, and she fell first to her knees, her eyes glazing, and then forward so that her face hit the rushes under their feet.
Marion’s screeching snapped Bridgette out of her shock. She lunged for the dagger lodged in Barclay’s head and got her hands on the hilt, but before she could release it, something hard hit her in the head with such force her teeth rattled, bright spots appeared, and then all went dark.
She awoke with a jolt. Confusion blanketed her as she turned her head, struggling to orient herself. To her side, trees swiftly passed by as if she were on a horse. She frowned as rain drizzled down on her and her body shook. Ahead of them was another destrier. She could not see the faces of the riders, but she knew the man wearing the MacLeod plaid had to be the traitor, Atholl. Moonlight glittered off his bald head, and fierce anger consumed her.
Long pale hair blew back against his arms from whomever sat in front of him. Bridgette froze at the sight. Marion. Bridgette knew well why Colin had taken her—to try to force Bridgette to marry him. The thought sent a shiver across her body.
“Ye’re awake,” Colin whispered in her ear, drawing her attention away from Marion.
Three things became apparent at once, crashing into one another and sending Bridgette’s heart into a gallop that matched the pace of the horse upon which she was riding. She went to move her hands to push herself away from Colin, whom she was pressed firmly against, but her hands were bound. His thick arm tightened across her belly, brushing the underside of her breasts as he shifted his hold higher. Purposely, she suspected.
“Where—” She started to demand to know where they were going, but her throat was dry, and a coughing fit took her.
His long, irritated sigh tickled her ear, but a flask touched hard to her lips. “Drink,” he commanded.
She did so willingly. Strong wine filled her mouth, and she struggled to swallow it down against another cough. Wine dribbled out of her mouth, and when she tilted her chin down to wipe it away with her shoulder, firm fingers stilled her.
“What are ye doing?” he demanded.
She jerked her chin free, causing a sharp pain in her neck. “I’m merely wiping the wine from my face,” she snapped.
Fingers, tinged with the strong smell of smoke and rough with callouses, swiped her lips. “I’ll do it for ye, lass,” he said, his voice rough with the distinct sound of desire. Her skin crawled at the thought of Colin’s hands on her.
“Where are we going?” she asked when he finally moved his fingers from her mouth.
“To Arthorn Castle to meet up with my father and Jamie MacLeod,” he responded, surprising her with the answer. She’d not really expected him to tell her. Stark fear swept through her at the fact that they were going to meet Jamie MacLeod and the Campbell laird. The king’s suspicions had been correct: Jamie MacLeod had allied with the Campbells in a plot against Lachlan’s family and the king.
A gust of wind ruffled Bridgette’s hair and made her shivering worsen. Behind her, Colin tugged her snugger against him until she could feel the hard press of the flesh between his legs into her tailbone.
“Unhand me!” she snarled.
He increased his grip with a chuckle. “Ye’re nae able to demand I do anything, Bridgette MacLean.”
She clenched her teeth, a feeling of helplessness rising inside her. She fought against it, knowing if she gave in and allowed her fright to blanket her mind that she and Marion would both be doomed to whatever fate their enemies had planned for them. Colin’s arm tightened like a band of steel across her midsection. She let out a strangled gasp, feeling as if one of her ribs might crack. His hold did not release, though, and his anger seemed to pulse from him into her.
“Ye have cost us a great deal of time, Bridgette, by refusing to marry me and leaving yer home to come to Dunvegan. And ye also cost me my sister, though her time was past.”
Bridgette gasped and tried to pull away once more, but she could not move. She struggled to take a breath. “Ye killed yer own sister! How could ye?”
“I kinnae trust she’d do as she was told. She thought herself in love with Lachlan.” Colin let out a derisive noise.
Panic unlike any she had ever known before welled in her throat. “What of Barclay? Why did ye kill him?” she whispered. Though the man had obviously betrayed the MacLeod clan—and her—she was certain he had thought himself in love with Helena and had been seduced.
“He was always meant to die once he got the flag for us,” Colin said flatly.
Bridgette gasped. “Ye have the Fairy Flag?”
“Aye, Bridgette.” She could hear the triumph in his tone. “Lachlan and his men went to fight at the loch, but the real fight took place when Barclay, Atholl, and I killed the men guarding the flag. Soon all our forces will be assembled, and we will help Jamie and his men take Dunvegan. He is the holder of the flag now, and he will fly it to victory.”
Bridgette’s heart raced, and her gut clenched. “Jamie will nae ever be laird!” she spat, refusing to believe otherwise.
“Aye, he will. And we will be his allies.”
“I’ll nae ever be ally to that man.”
“As my wife ye will do as I command,” he said in an unbending tone.
“I’ll never consent to marry ye,” she snarled, knowing even as she said it that if he threatened to kill Marion, Bridgette would do anything to save her friend.
Colin released a cold chuckle. “Ye ken ye will. I have Marion, and I’ll nae hesitate to kill her if ye refuse to be my wife.”
Her gut clenched on the dreadful truth of the matter as Colin slowed the destrier and guided the beast up a narrow path. To her right, Bridgette sensed the steep drop-off from the cliff, and she heard the rush of a waterfall below. She squinted into the darkness and could just make out the top point of the Black Cuillin Mountains where the Fairy Pools were far in the distance behind them. Her chest squeezed with dread. They were making fast time if they were so far past the Fairy Pools that she could hardly see the high mountains anymore. Normally, it would take three days to reach Arthorn, but it could be done in two if Colin pushed the horses. She knew it would not be long before Lachlan realized she and Marion were gone, the Fairy Flag stolen, and Colin escaped. But how would he determine where Colin had taken them?
Worry clawed at Bridgette. She and Marion had to escape. It was their only hope. They’d never be rescued in time.
As the destrier rode down the path, she glanced around. Her breath caught deep in her throat—nothing but jagged rocks rose high above them on both sides now. Even if they did escape, they may very well die on their way back to Dunvegan. But they had to try.
As they came out on the other side of the valley, a large cluster of tall trees appeared. They passed into the trees, and Colin called out for Atholl to stop. When Bridgette finally came face-to-face with Marion, neither woman spoke but their gazes locked. She read the fear and steely determination on Marion’s face, and the latter gave her comfort. If Marion felt determined, then she was fine for now.
Bridgette offered a small smile and the slightest encouraging nod of her head, and then she narrowed her eyes at Atholl. “Why?” she demanded of the elder council member, wondering if Marion had asked the same question already.
The man gave her a black look. “Because my fealty lies with Jamie and always has. ’Twas nae right that Iain was made laird when Jamie should have been. Jamie was meant to marry my sister, but then his father forced him to wed the Sinclair woman and my sister killed herself over it. But ye’d nae ken that because nae a man or woman but me even remembers my poor sister,” he growled. “But Jamie does.”
“Ye betray yer laird over something he could nae control!” she shouted.
Colin’s hand snaked around her neck and squeezed. “Cease talking,” he demanded and gave another, harder, warning squeeze. Bridgette jerked her head in a nod as Colin clicked his horse forward and the canopy of thick trees gave way to another valley between two tall cliffs.
“We’ll make way to the cave,” Colin said to Atholl, “camp there for a few hours and then ride the rest of the way to Arthorn.”
It did not take long to reach the cave, and once there, Colin and Atholl brought the horses to a halt. Colin dismounted the destrier, then reached his hands up to Bridgette in a silent offer to help her. To her right, Bridgette saw Marion allow Atholl to help her down. Stubbornness rose up in Bridgette and she shook her head. She knew it to be foolish given her bound hands, but she didn’t care.
Colin snorted. “Ye may well break yer neck if ye try to dismount on yer own.”
“Then ye should untie me so I dunnae,” she said in a false sweet voice.
He grinned at her. “I like ye, Bridgette. Ye’ve spirit and will make a fine wife. Though ye’ll have to learn to obey. I’ve nae a doubt I’ll be able to teach ye easily, though, where yer brother failed.”
“My brother will kill ye,” she said through gritted teeth.
Colin scowled at her. “Ye will be my wife. Yer brother will make an alliance with me, my father, and Jamie.”
“He’ll nae!” she responded without hesitation. Her brother loved her, but he’d never offer his support and that of his men to betrayers and murderers, even if it meant her life.
Colin frowned at her. “Ye’re a woman. Ye ken nothing about the ways of men. Yer brother will support us when our clans are joined.”
The man was a fool. He did not understand her brother. Above all, Alex would do what was best for the clan, even if it meant going against the tradition of two clans being allies due to marriage. She eyed Colin askance. He was the sort of man that could not understand a commitment to the good of the clan. He only understood what he wanted. Her gut twisted, and a tremor of disgust ran through her. He would take her in marriage and then take her in body, and he would use Marion to do it. They had to escape!
Colin motioned impatiently with his hand, and reluctantly, she leaned into him as her need to survive became greater than her pride. He helped her down, sliding her body directly along his. With a glare, she staggered away from him as soon as her feet touched the ground. Her legs almost gave, but she locked her knees in place.
He cocked a dark eyebrow at her. “Dunnae make this difficult, Bridgette. Marion’s life is in yer hands.”
Bridgette moved to Marion’s side, and Colin focused on Atholl. “Lay out a pallet for the MacLeod’s wife. We dunnae want her dying…yet,” he added with a cruel smile. Atholl nodded, and Colin continued. “Ye sleep beside her to guard her, and I’ll keep first watch. I’ll wake ye, and then ye can keep the next watch.”
“As ye wish,” Atholl replied.
Colin grabbed Bridgette by the arm and dragged her into the cave. “Will ye untie me to sleep?” she asked.
“Nay,” he clipped, set his hands to her shoulders, and pushed her to the ground. She fell to her bottom with her tied hands lying helplessly in her lap. He loomed over her, staring, and she responded by glaring up at him. Suddenly he kneeled down in front of her and ran a finger down her cheek. “Get some sleep, Bridgette. Ye can rest easy kenning I’ll nae join with ye till we are married, as my father commanded he must witness our wedding afore I join with ye.”
She sagged with relief, and he chuckled. “I’ll nae take offense at yer obvious relief, as I ken it’s simply yer stubbornness. Tomorrow night we will be at Arthorn, and by the time darkness consumes the sky, ye will be mine.” He reached for her breast, and she jerked violently out of his reach. He did not attempt to touch her again. Instead, he rocked back on his haunches and eyed her. “I’m going to enjoy breaking yer spirit.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Ye will nae break me. Ever.”
Both his eyebrows rose slowly. “We shall see.”
She lay on her side, her cheek against the hard, cold earth and fought the tears swimming in her eyes. If she could not find a way to get her and Marion away, Scottish law would soon bind her to this man in order for her to save Marion’s life. While it would never make her his, it would mean she would never truly be Lachlan’s and he’d never be hers. He’d need to marry and produce legitimate sons. The black thoughts stole her sleep and left her thinking upon the horrors that awaited her as Colin’s wife.