Angel of Skye (21 page)

Alec whirled toward Fiona. She stood as if in a trance, her torn dress hanging from her waist, the blood dripping from the dagger in her hand. Her face was pale, and tears silently streamed from her eyes.

Malcolm ran to her, throwing his arms around her. Absently, her free hand went to his hair, stroking his soft locks.

Alec removed his tartan, and his hand shook with anger as he gently wrapped the plaid around her bruised ivory skin. His throat was parched and his blood was pounding in his veins as he gathered Fiona to him. Holding her, he knew he would never let go of her again. Never. Taking Malcolm’s hand, he gestured for Robert to take the boy. His hand reached down and tried to remove the dagger from Fiona’s fist, but she clutched it in a death grip.

“It’s over, Fiona,” he whispered softly. “It’s over, my love. You’re safe now.”

She looked up into his eyes and released the knife.

“My mother,” she whispered, tears rolling steadily down her face. “They were hurting my mother. I was there...but I couldn’t stop them.”

Alec wrapped his arms more tightly around her as Fiona began to sob. He held her close and felt his eyes well up at the sound of her wrenching anguish. If he could kill these men again, he would. He held her so tight that she felt a part of him.

Standing there as the wind whipped around them, Alec swore to himself that as long as he had breath in his body, no man would ever lift a hand against this woman again...and live.

Fiona looked up at him as he gently pushed a strand of hair from her face.

“I couldn’t stop them,” she said, burying her face against his chest once more as her body shook with waves of sorrow.

Belief does leap, trust does not tarry;

Authority flies, and courts do vary;

Purpose does change as wind or rain:

Which, to consider, is a pain.

—William Dunbar “
To the King”

It had been a full week since the incident at the bluffs. A difficult week during which so many questions had not found answers. From what Alec could ascertain, Iain, the slain MacLeod warrior, had been seen with the outlaws. It appeared he had supplied the attackers with horses and swords. But with all of them now dead, the motives behind Iain’s actions were baffling. There was still the matter of the gold found in each man’s possession. More gold than Iain could ever have paid them.

And Neil was gone, as well. Fearing reprisal from others of the MacLeod clan, Neil told Alec he was going to the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides and left immediately. He had done his job in finding the traitor, as Alec had earlier directed him to do. But with his maimed arm, Neil felt that he would be an easy target for revenge.

Perhaps most puzzling, though, had been Father Jack’s appearance at Dunvegan the same evening that Fiona was attacked. The priest had been looking for Adrian, for it appeared that the lad had last been seen heading for the castle. By morning, Adrian still had not returned.

Fiona had steadily wept in Alec’s arms for the entire ride back to the Priory. As they rode north through the wild and windswept countryside, she had talked in incoherent snatches about her mother, about an attack. It seemed to Alec that she was remembering a nightmare. A terrible nightmare, vicious and painful to recall. And then the tears had stopped.

He had come every day to her side, but it was heartrending to watch her lying in despair, pale and drawn, vacant, dry-eyed. But Alec knew the attack had made her remember something. And whatever it was, the memory was tormenting Fiona, so Alec remained at her side, desperately hoping for a chance to help her. For a week he had come, holding her hand, willing his strength into her.

Finally, Fiona’s tears had come, and Alec had held her long and fierce.

During those hours, after fighting down his guilt, since three of these outlaws were the same ones he had turned loose in the forest, Alec had come to grips with his own feelings about Fiona. In his mind he had relived over and over the terror and the rage he had felt seeing the filthy brutes attacking her. How she must have felt, thinking no one was there to protect her from their vicious desires. It tore at him to think he had almost been too late to save her. All he knew now was that he wanted to keep her safe. To remain by her side. To cherish her as she deserved to be cherished.

And, if need be, to help her forget.

But for the past two days she had refused to see him, and that made him crazy. Then, news from the prioress drove a shaft deep into his heart.

Fiona wanted to become a nun.

“I need to talk to her,” Alec said. “But she won’t see me.”

“I know. Right now she is out in the orchard with Sister Beatrice. Go to her, anyway,” the prioress suggested.

Alec paused, then nodded gratefully at the nun as he headed for the door.

“Lord Alec,” the prioress stopped him, smiling. “Please tell Sister Beatrice I’d like to see her.”

“Aye, Prioress. I will.”

“Oh, one more thing. Whatever the outcome of your little chat, I want to speak with both of you when you’re done.” The prioress knew it was time.

The afternoon sun was warm on Fiona’s face as she held one side of the iron pot full of the honeycombs they’d been gathering.

“Let’s sit a moment, Fiona,” Sister Beatrice pleaded. “This is your first day out of that little room of yours. The sun is so lovely, and the fresh air would do you a world of good.”

At first she had been against coming out. But Sister Beatrice had insisted. The nun had gently suggested to Fiona that the sooner she was up and around, the sooner her wounds would heal. The younger woman had acquiesced, but inwardly she wondered how that could be true.

Fiona sat silently in the grass, stretching her legs in front of her. She leaned back on her hands and looked up. The rays of the sun shimmered on the leafy branches overhead. The young birds hopped from branch to branch in excitement. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the lazy murmur of the nearby spring, to the sound of nature all around her. She had made up her mind. It was time to clear away all that had happened to her, to close the doors to her past—to her feelings—and to move on.

But it was difficult to forget him. For the past week she had longed for his presence. Every time she had awakened, Alec had been there. And every time she had seen him beside her, Fiona’s heart had ached to hold him, to tell him all that he meant to her. All she had locked inside of her. Of her past and of the present. Of the love.

Fiona wondered if the way she was feeling now was the way her mother had felt about the man who had fathered her. About the man who had never come back. About the man her mother had never married.

I can’t, Alec, she thought sadly. I’ll not be my mother.

Sister Beatrice was first to spot Alec approaching. She stood quietly and moved toward him. She was hoping he would come back, even after Fiona’s insistence on not seeing him. Lord Alec cared for Fiona, the nun could see that. And Fiona cared for him, as well. Even if she didn’t want to admit it. During those first days after the attack, Fiona had only rested when he had been there with her. Clearly, the young woman needed and depended on him. Clearly, she felt safe with him.

“Fiona.”

She had heard the sound of the approaching footsteps. But as she opened her eyes, Fiona thought she had conjured him. His massive frame blocked the sun. My God, he is the sun. No, she thought, shaking her head in denial. This was all a dream, a vision, a part of what she was trying to put behind, forever. But then his voice reached her. He was real. He was here. She got quickly to her feet, looking about her in a vain attempt to avoid his eyes.

Alec drank in the sight of her. He had missed her. Two days of emptiness had torn at him. Two restless, dream-tossed nights had filled him with weariness. Fiona’s startled eyes opened, and she looked at him before rising to her feet. But then she paused, quickly glancing away, looking like a bird about to take flight. He stood before her, hardly breathing for fear she would run.

“Fiona, why?”

She looked down at her hands and hid them in the folds of her skirt. It would have been so much easier if he’d just stayed away.

Alec moved closer. He had to control the overwhelming urge to draw her into his arms. She looked so somber, so fragile.

Fiona watched his hands move up and caress the skin of her face. Uncontrollably, she leaned into his touch. He lifted her chin and their eyes locked. Her heart pounded, and she silently damned herself for her weakness.

Weakness? she thought. I love this man.

A tear rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away gently.

“Why you have been avoiding me?” His voice was husky with emotion.

How could she tell him of the torment it was for her to be so close to him and to know she could never be his?

“It’s better this way for both of us.”

“But why?” Alec pressed, holding her shoulders, forcing her to face him, to answer him. “Make me understand.”

“I can’t see you anymore.” Fiona looked into the deep blue of his eyes. “I’ve talked to the prioress; I will enter the order.”

“No, Fiona. You won’t.”

“You cannot stop me,” she argued, looking away. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“That decision has everything to do with me...with us.” Alec tightened his hold on her shoulders. He wanted to shake some sense into her. “Look at me, Fiona.”

Her gaze traveled up to his face again. She wanted him to pull her into his arms. To make everything well. To make the past go away.

“Fiona, something incredible has happened between us. Something that neither you nor I can deny.” Alec paused, trying to contain the feelings that were racing through him. “These past few days, I’ve had time to think. I...we can’t stop. And I can’t let you run away, not to take a vow. Not to make a mistake...for life. Not when I know how you feel.”

“It’s wrong, Alec. It’s wrong.”

He started to respond and then he stopped. This was the first time he’d ever heard his name escape her lips, and his heart slammed in his chest at the sound of it.

“What can be wrong, Fiona?” His hands traveled down her arms, and he took hold of her hands. Her fingers were ice-cold. Pressing them together, he warmed them with his own. “How can it be wrong for me to feel the way I do about you? To want to hold you, to care for you, to be always near you? Fiona, when I first saw you, I felt as though I had always known you. Now I realize my whole life has just been a series of steps that have led me to you. Without knowing it, I have been searching for you all my life. I can’t put it into words because I thought I was in love once before, but this...this feeling with you is so much more than anything I have felt in the past. Ever.”

Alec raised her hands to his lips. Fiona’s body came alive at his touch, at his words. She traced his full lips with her fingers, her eyes fixed on the sensual mouth.

She decided.

She had to explain to him. He needed to know what she remembered, the reasons behind her actions, the decisions she was making for both of them. But she couldn’t do it standing so close to him, touching him. She softly pulled her fingers from his grasp and stepped away from him.

Alec watched as she wrapped her arms about her waist and moved under the branches of an apple tree. She turned and leaned against its trunk, her eyes coming back to his.

“That day at the bluffs.” Her voice cracked as the words left her mouth. Alec stiffened and looked quickly away. “The fear...”

“I know,” Alec interrupted, pain evident in his voice. “I left you. But you must forgive me for leaving you, for what those men—”

“Nay! That’s not it!” She silenced him with her words. “Please, Alec. Please listen to what I have to say.”

Fiona paused, and Alec looked at her, his gaze steady. She was clearly searching for just the right words. He reached down and picked up a leafy branch that had broken from the tree. He looked at the soft white wood enclosed in the green inner bark. There were three small apples forming at the end of the branch, clusters of green leaves around them. When she began to speak again, he turned his gaze back to her.

“Those men. The way they threatened Malcolm. The way they smelled as they came at me. They forced me to remember.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and Alec could feel her pain. He took a step toward her, but stopped when she held up her hand. A helpless feeling swept through him, and he half turned, leaning his broad back against a thick, low-hanging bough.

“The way they moved. His rough hand on my wrist.” She shuddered involuntarily. “It all opened a door to my past. A door that I’ve kept shut a long time. Since I was a little girl. A door to memories that have become nightmares for me. Things I can neither understand... nor forget.”

Alec paled, and then found himself growing angry. He would not allow anything that had happened to Fiona in the past stop her from living her life the way it should be lived now. He would do everything he could to make sure those ugly nightmares were replaced by what she deserved...by dreams of hope and happiness. He would make it happen. He tore a cluster of leaves from the branch in his hand.

“Alec,” she said softly, drawing his attention back to her words. “You asked me once about my people. About the time before I arrived here. And I told the truth then when I said that I couldn’t remember. I could not recall my childhood. But, last week...the incident on the bluffs. Many things have come back to me. Things about my past.”

She took a deep breath and tried to smooth the tremble in her voice. “I was raised in a castle far away from here. I remember gardens and open spaces. I was young, full of mischief.”

“Not much has changed,” Alec whispered, seeing a half smile break out on her lips at his words. “Do you remember your people, your family?”

Fiona shook her head in response. “It was always just my mother and I. I don’t remember ever seeing my father, and to this day I don’t even know who he was. We had a quiet life, almost hidden. I had a nanny. There were lots of servants, but I was lonely. My mother and I only had each other. And then, all of the sudden, everything seemed to be changing. It was fall. I was told my father was supposedly on his way to us. I was to meet him at last.”