Return of the Highlander (28 page)

She considered this. “What makes you think Angus will help us?”

“He owes me a debt.”

“What sort of debt?”

“I saved the life of his young son a few years back.”

She inclined her head. “What happened?”

He shook his head quickly as if there wasn’t time for this, but then he explained. “The lad was misbehaving and wanted to avoid being punished, so he ran off with another boy. They were missing for three full days in the dead of winter. I didn’t stop searching until I found them huddling in a cave, half frozen to death. I brought them both back alive, but just in the nick of time. One more night in that cave and they wouldn’t have survived.”

“I see.” She closed her eyes and shook her head as if to clear it. “All that aside, this is madness. You’re asking me to give up everything I know.”

“It’s all gone now anyway, lass. Your home is occupied by the English army and your father and brothers are gone. Everything that was important to you is gone. Except me. I am still here and I want to protect you. Forever.”

She sat down again. “That’s exactly what Gregory said to me.”

“But you don’t love him,” Darach replied. “You know it’s true.”

She sighed heavily and said nothing.

“Just
trust
me,” Darach persisted. “Trust your heart.”

She thought about it for a long moment, then looked up at him. “I
don’t
trust you, Darach. I can’t. But you’re right about one thing. I don’t want to marry Gregory.”

All the tension sailed out of Darach’s lungs. It was one small concession, at least.

“Then let us go,” he said. “We’ll travel on foot until we can purchase a horse in one of the villages north of here.”

“Fine,” she said, rising uncertainly to her feet.

Overcome with relief, Darach straightened, and though he was in significant pain, he knew that the loss of this woman would have been far more excruciating than any fatal wound.

He took her by the hand and they walked out to the main room of the cottage where Mary was hanging a pot over the fire.

“Thank you for your care,” Darach said to her. “I owe you my life.”

“You owe us nothing, Darach MacDonald. Or is it Campbell?” She cocked her head to the side.

He swallowed uneasily. “You were listening.”

“Aye, but if you are our former chief’s son and you must go into hiding, your secret is safe with us. Now you be careful. Take care of each other.”

“We will. And please, for your own protection, say nothing to anyone about my presence here. You mustn’t reveal that you ever saw me.”

Mary quickly set about packing up a sack of food and other provisions.

Larena turned to John. “There were tracks in the woods where Darach was shot. It’s what led me here.”

“I’ll take care of that straightaway,” he assured her. Then he moved quickly to pull a basket down from a high shelf, and rifled through it. “Take this.” He held out a knife in a leather case. “I cannot let you leave here without some means of survival.”

Darach reached for it and slid it out of the leather casing. “This is a very fine blade,” he said, running his fingers over the decorated ivory handle. “I cannot take this from you, John.”

“Do not be daft,” he said. “Take it. Maybe someday you can return it, if we are fortunate enough to cross paths again.”

Darach thanked John and Mary, who escorted them into the yard. Darach fastened the leather sheath to his belt, then said good-bye and wished them both well.

A few minutes later, as Darach was leading the way across the narrow valley toward the forested hill on the other side, Larena stopped.

“Darach,” she said, “just because I am going with you doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what happened. I feel as if I don’t know you at all.”

He stared at her a moment and realized with despair that no matter how badly he wanted to be with her and protect her, he’d never be able to erase what happened in the glade or shield her from the pain of all she had lost.

Not yet ready to give up, he glanced around to scan the horizon for Redcoats. “I understand that, lass, but I hope that one day, you will.”

She looked down at the grass and followed him across the glen.

* * *

When Larena did not respond to Gregory’s dinner invitation that evening, he grew concerned and went himself to the South Tower where her rooms were located.

Climbing the curved staircase, he worried that she might have become inconsolable over the death of her father and not risen from bed all day. She had no one to talk to, after all, here in the garrison. Most members of her clan had chosen to leave, even though he’d invited any and all loyal British subjects to remain. Perhaps they feared guilt by association?

Either way, he would need to remedy that situation when Larena became his wife. What he wanted was for the loyal subjects to return and discover him to be a generous and benevolent laird. Some soldiers would have to remain for a time, of course, but eventually, as the Jacobite cause was stamped out, the gates could open up again. Life, as it was, could resume and become similar to what it had been like when he lived here as a boy.

He reached the top of the stairs and found Larena’s door closed. He knocked firmly upon it.

No answer came so he knocked a second time.

Then a third.

“Larena? It’s Gregory. May I come in?”

Still, no answer came, so he took the liberty of opening the door and peering inside.

The bed was in shambles with the covers strewn about. A strange feeling of foreboding tingled down his spine as he slowly moved closer and walked to the window, which looked out over the bailey below.

The room was silent as a grave, and he wondered with increasing unease where Larena had gone.

Striding out of the room with purpose, he ran down the stairs, entered the hall where the officers were eating supper, and approached the long table upon the dais. “Has anyone seen Larena Campbell today?”

All the men stood. “No colonel,” the highest ranking officer replied.

“You haven’t seen her at all…heading to the stables or the kitchen? The gallery perhaps?”

“No, sir.”

He strode quickly out of the hall and descended to the kitchen—the one place in the castle where a few Campbell women still presided. “Has anyone seen Larena?” he asked.

The clanswoman who was kneading bread dough at the worktable looked up and wiped her brow with her forearm. “Not since yesterday, Colonel Chatham, when we sent up her supper tray.”

“She didn’t have any breakfast?”

The clanswoman hollered over her shoulder. “Did any of you lassies take breakfast to Larena’s chamber this morning?”

“No, ma’am,” they each replied.

Gregory walked out and returned to his private chambers. He went straight to the drink tray and poured himself a brandy. He tossed it back in a single gulp, then poured another.

“Roberts! Come in here!”

The young lieutenant hurried into the room. “Yes, colonel?”

“Larena Campbell has gone missing. Was the gate lifted today?”

“A few times, when the men were coming and going.”

“Did she leave? Did anyone see her?”

“I haven’t heard, but I can enquire about it.”

“See that you do, and report back to me immediately. Then I want you to assemble a few men and search every nook and cranny of this castle.”

“Are we to search for the lady, colonel?”

“Yes, and if you find her, you will politely and persuasively invite her to join me for supper in my chambers. She will not refuse you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Roberts walked out and left Gregory alone to obsess about that dirty Highland imposter whom he’d presumed to be dead. Gregory imagined for a moment that Darach might not be dead after all and might have returned for Larena. He could have snuck in somehow when the soldiers were coming and going.

If that is what occurred—and Larena left with him willingly—Gregory wasn’t certain if he’d be able to forgive her. Especially when he had done everything possible to show her patience and kindness.

What had she given him in return?

An appalling betrayal. A shocking lack of respect.

There would have to be consequences.

He downed the rest of the brandy and moved to sit in the chair in front of the fire. While he envisioned what the appropriate consequences might be, he noticed a long-legged spider on the floor and considered crushing it with his boot, but instead he gently scooped it up onto his palm and watched it crawl toward the tips of his fingers. Eventually, he couldn’t resist plucking off one leg at a time until there were none left. He then tossed what was left of the spider into the fire and returned to his thoughts about consequences. What he did to Larena would all depend, he supposed, on whether or not there was still going to be a wedding.

He hoped to God there would be. Surely there was still hope.

Chapter Thirty-one

“We’ll stop here for the night,” Darach said, dropping the food sack on the ground and sinking to his knees on the forest floor.

“Dear Lord, are you all right?” Larena rushed to his side. “It’s nowhere near nightfall. You must be at death’s door if you want to stop now.”

“I’m fine. We just need to rest awhile.”

“But you’re white as a sheet,” Larena said with concern and a heated rush of dread. She may have been angry over what happened, but she didn’t want him to die. “Let me check your wound.”

Heaven help them both if it was festering.

She tugged at his shirt and pulled it out from under the belt at his kilt. Rolling it up, she found the bloody bandage, which was wrapped diagonally across his back, and gently lifted it. The wound was raw and had been sewn closed, but it did not appear to be blighted.

“My word, how did you ever survive such a shot? You should be dead, Darach—or at least in bed, not crossing half the Highlands on foot.”

“I didn’t see that we had much choice, lass. And the soft ground will serve just fine as a bed for this evening.”

She glanced up at the angry sky beyond the canopy of leaves overhead. “Normally I would agree with you, but it looks like rain. We need to find shelter for the night.” She lowered his shirt and patted him on the arm. “Stay here while I go and see what I can find for us.”

“Do not get lost,” he replied as she walked away. “And tread lightly. Keep your eyes and ears open for Redcoats.”

“I will say the same to you.” With that, she ventured out on her own.

* * *

When Larena returned a short time later, she found Darach asleep on the ground, lying on his side. Kneeling over him, she laid a hand on his shoulder. He startled awake, sat up with wild eyes, and grabbed her by the throat.

Searing adrenalin sparked in her blood as he glared at her with murderous eyes. Gasping for air, she slapped at his hand. Within seconds, he realized she was not his enemy and released her. Larena fell back onto her hands.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly said, sitting up and taking hold of her by the shoulders. “Are you all right? I was dreaming.”

“About
what
?”

“About Chatham coming after us. He had me in irons and was beating me to a pulp with a horsewhip while you watched.”

She shook her head at him. “It was just a dream.”

“I know that now, lass. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Larena rose to her feet. “I’m fine,” she said, but she was
not
fine. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was how Darach had looked at her father in the glade—with those same murderous eyes just before he lost control of his senses and struck out with the knife.

Heaven help her. What was she doing here? She was still so uncertain of Darach and his true intentions. Why had she thought this was a good idea?

Pushing those thoughts aside, for there was nothing she could do about it now, she started off. “I found a place for us to set up camp for the night. We should go now, before the rain comes.”

Darach rose to his feet as well and followed her through a patch of trees and down a gradual slope to a wide, slow-moving river. “There’s a large weeping willow up ahead,” she said. “It’s not far. We can hide underneath it.”

A fat raindrop struck her nose, followed by a few more upon her cheeks. “Hurry.” She ran ahead, found the tree, and passed through the drooping foliage into a tent-like shelter beneath.

Darach was much slower to arrive. She had to wait for him. Clearly he was in pain.

“This will do nicely,” he said as he finally entered behind her.

Rain began to patter heavily on the leaves. They sat down, huddled close to the wide trunk and she dug into the pack to find something for them to eat.

* * *

“Do you think, by now, he’s noticed that I’m gone?” Larena asked much later as they lay down to go to sleep.

“Probably,” Darach replied. “And when they don’t find my body where it’s supposed to be, they’ll search for us. We’ll need to keep to the forests and stay off the main roads.”