Seven
How was it possible to long to be near someone yet desire he go away at the same time? The question burned in Bridgette’s mind as her horse galloped across the rolling hills directly behind Lachlan’s. The hunting party had split into two groups, and Lachlan had insisted she come with him. That was the only thing he’d said to her since departing Dunvegan.
A steady rain fell from the gray sky, and she blinked several times to clear her vision. The wind had picked up, and despite her cloak, it cut through her and set her teeth to chattering. She was as miserable in body as she was in spirit. She felt as if her emotions had been bunched up, straightened, and then bunched again. She had once believed Lachlan to be one of the most honorable men she knew, but his recent actions made her unsure of everything and angry at herself for not being capable of simply forgetting the man.
As Lachlan slowed their pace and sent his horse up a steep crag and then slowly down the other side, she could see Portree in the distance. She stared at Lachlan’s broad back as he led them around the boggy moorland and through a thicket of birch, oak, alder, hazel, and pine.
Even as her eyes scanned the area for the bull, a question plagued her: why had he pretended a bee had stung him and let her win the last contest?
A picture of him kissing Helena and then kissing Lillias danced in her head. God’s teeth, she was a clot-heid. Lachlan lusted after her. It was as simple as that. He did not have good, honorable intentions. He wanted her and apparently had decided that pretending to be honorable just might lead to their joining. He was definitely the devil incarnate, and clearly she was quite the sinner herself because, knowing all she now did, her insides clenched with yearning at the thought that he wanted to put his hands upon her. She disgusted herself!
Lachlan raised a hand and gave a signal to stop. Bridgette rubbed at her aching temple with one hand while using the other to pull up on her reins and slow her horse. Rory Mac and Neil, who had been riding behind her, came to a stop beside her.
Framed by the mountain in the distance, Lachlan turned his beast toward them. His russet hair hung down on either side of his face, and his green eyes blazed. “I smell the bull.”
Bridgette frowned and sniffed the air. She smelled nothing but heather and dirt, yet she instinctively knew to trust Lachlan on this. He dismounted, as did Rory Mac and Neil, so she followed their lead. They quickly tied up their horses, and then Lachlan gestured to the ground. “Do ye see the bull’s tracks?”
Bridgette didn’t know if he was talking to her or Rory Mac and Neil, but she answered. “Nay.”
He surprised her when he gripped her hand in his and pulled her toward the ground. “Here.” He pointed toward the dirt, and she saw the imprint of which he spoke. “And here. And there.”
He released her hand and followed the tracks up the steep incline. She scrambled to follow him, shoving branches out of her way as she went. When they all got to the top of the hill, Lachlan pointed to the valley below and raised his voice to be heard over the roaring of the waterfall that snaked down the mountain below them. “Rory Mac and I will track the bull down there.” Lachlan turned to Neil. “Ye and Bridgette stay here and make ready yer bows. If ye see the bull coming, ye both ken what to do.”
Neil gave a nod, and then Lachlan faced her. His gaze pierced her. “Dunnae move,” he commanded.
She didn’t care for being ordered about by him, but it was pointless to argue. She’d stay here—while it suited her. She nodded, which he acknowledged with a tilt of his head, and then he turned and she watched silently as he and Rory Mac readied their swords and started their descent down the rocky mountain toward the lush green woods and white water that pooled to blue below. Bridgette stared at Lachlan until she could no longer see him, and then she turned to find Neil had moved back down the hill and was studying the ground where Lachlan had first shown them the bull’s tracks. She squinted against the glare of the sun as she watched Neil brush leaves away, then sit up on his haunches and scrub a hand across his face.
She peered at the ground to study the indentions. “Aye.”
“Dunnae they look bigger than the other ones?”
Bridgette stared at the tracks, but she could not tell for certain. Her heart clenched. If there was even the possibility of two bulls… “We have to warn them!”
Neil shook his head. “Lachlan said to stay here.”
Bridgette scowled. “I’ll nae stay here when they may be facing two bulls. I’m going to warn them.”
“Lachlan will nae like being disobeyed.”
“Lachlan would nae like being dead, either,” she retorted while withdrawing her bow and arrow.
Neil shook his head. “I’ve a notion this is nae going to end well.”
“All will be fine,” she replied confidently.
Neil scowled but withdrew his bow and arrow and started beside her down the steep embankment, past the roaring waterfall, and into the dark woods. Once inside the canopy of the large trees, the sounds of the waterfall became muted and the temperature dropped. Bridgette scanned the shadowy area as she followed Neil slowly through the woods.
“Should we call to them?” she whispered to Neil’s back.
Neil shook his head. “If they’ve spotted the bull, we dunnae want to distract them, nor do we want to let the bulls ken we’re here.”
Fear lodged in her chest and made breathing difficult. As they walked over gnarled roots and dead leaves, the crunching beneath her feet making her grind her teeth. With all the noise they were making, she feared a bull would find them anyway. And just as the thought filled her head, she heard a deep bellowing come from the darkness ahead of them. The bull appeared out of the shadows, its long, reddish coat shaking and sharp gray horns unmistakable as it charged toward Neil. Her breath seized as she realized Neil didn’t have time to raise his bow and nock his arrow. The bull butted headlong into Neil and knocked the Scot on his back. His bow and arrow went flying from his hands.
She drew in a sharp breath as the bull charged her next, willing her hands to seize their shaking and struggling to take aim at the bull’s head. The first arrow hit the animal between its eyes, but the beast kept coming. She scrambled to prepare another arrow, but there was no time. The ground trembled beneath her feet. With a cry, she jumped sideways as the bull came at her, and when she came down, she hit a rock and pain shot through her ankle. She landed with a thud so hard that her teeth clanked together, but she kept a grip on her bow. The bull turned and started toward her again, and terror pounded in her ears and head. For the space of a breath, she debated trying to string another arrow, but the bull was almost upon her once more.
Relinquishing her bow, she scampered backward toward the hill, clawing and kicking at the grass, dirt, and twigs. She wasn’t going to make it! Her heart was beating so strong that her chest ached. Death was upon her, she knew, but then a war cry broke through the deafening terror and Lachlan fell from the sky.
Her confused mind left her momentarily befuddled, and then she realized he had come from behind her. He must have jumped. It was the only possible explanation for how he had landed in front of her, legs spread, and sword raised above his head. He looked like a furious angel bent on destroying Lucifer himself.
He moved in a blur, sword arcing above him and then hissing downward to stab into the bull’s side. The beast let out a horrible sound, and as Lachlan retreated, the animal charged again. Bridgette screamed a warning, but Lachlan’s sword was at the ready. Right as the bull was upon him, Lachlan dropped to his back and a cry of terror ripped from Bridgette’s lips. The bull was atop him, and then it suddenly stopped its forward motion and fell upon him.
She scrambled to her feet, swaying with her fear. In the distance, she saw Neil staggering toward them, clutching his side. The bull fell sideways then, Lachlan’s sword lodged in its chest, and after a long fearful moment, Lachlan staggered to his feet covered in blood. She stared in horror as he gave her a furious look and then ran to help Neil. Tears burned her eyes, and her hands shook violently as she went to her bow and collected it.
As she stood, she heard a terrible noise behind her, and her blood became ice in her veins. She whirled around to find the second bull charging her. Behind her, Lachlan screamed for her to move, but she’d not allow him to risk his life to save hers again. She drew her bow up swiftly, nocked an arrow, and released it into the bull’s eye. The beast swung its head wildly, white foam spraying from its mouth. It slowed its pace but did not stop. Her heart thudded hard, and she was unsure that’s what she was hearing or if it was the distinct thump of running footsteps. She nocked another arrow, raised it, and released it into the bull’s other eye, but he was upon her before she could draw her next breath.
His big, hairy body collided with hers and sent her flying backward onto the ground on her back. White spots flashed in her eyes as her breath left her lungs in a hard whoosh, and then the dark hair of the bull’s coat swam before her vision as it landed beside her with a thud. A scream tore from her throat, even as she realized the bull was dead.
Dead?! She’d killed the bull and saved herself and Lachlan?
She took a deep, painful, shuddering breath and released it with a shaky grin.
Suddenly, Lachlan fell to his knees beside her and gathered her into his arms. “Are ye hurt?” he demanded, his voice thick with emotion that sent a deep awareness of him from her ears to very low in her belly. Heat pooled there, and her insides clenched.
“Nay,” she responded, aware her voice was husky. “I killed the bull! Did ye see? Did ye see me?”
He set her away, his expression changing from one of concern to such fury that chills raced across her skin.
“Did I see ye?” he hissed, bringing his face close to hers as he clutched her arms and brought them both to their feet without so much as a grunt. “Did I see ye?” he repeated, his voice slashing through the silence. She’d never seen the man so angry in all her days of knowing him. “Ye defied me!” he growled, his tone low and throbbing with rage. “I told ye nae to move, and ye defied me!”
Shame and outrage collided, mingled, and burst within her chest. She yanked out of his grip, plunked her hands on her hips, tilted her chin up defiantly, and spat, “I am nae yers to order about, Lachlan MacLeod! I’m nae joined in pledges of a future with ye as Helena is, nor am I the servant wench ye betray Helena with, so ye may shove yer orders up yer arse!”
His eyes blazed emerald as his broad-carved face twisted into rage. She gasped in sudden fear and moved to scramble away from him when he yanked her to him, his fingers curling like a vise around her arms.
Lachlan’s anger thumped in his ears with every beat of his heart and stripped him of reason and control. He had to make her understand she couldn’t risk her life in such a way again. “Yer disobedience almost got ye killed,” he growled. “Ye kinnae be so careless with yer life! If ye had been killed—” Pain lanced through him at the thought and closed his throat to further speech.
God help him. As he stared into her wide, fearful eyes, he twitched with a sudden realization: what he felt for Bridgette was far more than mere desire. It was something deeper, truer, something he’d mistakenly thought he would never experience as a warrior. Bridgette MacLean had managed to invade his heart, and he was uncertain if he had the strength to banish her any longer.
Stark silence surrounded him and Bridgette. Lachlan was aware that Rory Mac had walked up, and he and Neil gaped at him now, as well they should. Lachlan was also too aware of Bridgette’s soft skin, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, and her mouth, which was parted in shock—or perhaps awareness—at his words. Her gaze met his and locked, green ice to fire. He needed to release her, but he found himself curling his fingers tighter around her arms. He’d unleashed a restraint within him for the moment, and the need to touch her, to reassure himself that she was still here and living, drove him forward blindly.
“A horn to yer gut could have been yer death,” he said hoarsely. She tensed underneath his grasp and her lips thinned. Her continued show of defiance was more than he could withstand. “Tell me ye ken me.” The words sounded raw. “Tell me!”
Her body eased at once and understanding dawned in her eyes, and he felt certain then that she could see inside his mind. “I ken ye,” she whispered.
A firm hand came to his shoulder. “Release her, Lachlan,” Rory Mac said in a strong, clear voice.
God’s truth, it was as if he was suddenly looking at himself from a distance and saw what Rory Mac and Neil must have been seeing. What must they have thought of him? With a ragged inhalation, Lachlan released Bridgette at once. He was stripped of all defenses. She’d laid him bare without ever lifting a finger. He’d lost all control. Disgust washed over him and left him drowning.
He motioned to the horses in the distance. “Let us away to Dunvegan.” He left them standing there without a glance back. He mounted his horse and stared straight ahead as Rory Mac, Neil, and Bridgette finally came to their own horses and mounted them. Only Neil’s grunt broke the silence.
After they were seated, Lachlan took off setting them to a relentless pace. The need to reach Dunvegan and get distance from Bridgette gnawed at him. He was afraid if he even glanced her way and caught her eyes, he would blurt everything he felt. Vulnerability was new to him, and he didn’t care for it in the least.