Wings of Morning (28 page)

But, until that day, there was more than just her happiness and welfare to think on, Regan realized, the reality of the moment flooding back. There was Colin.

She looked up and, through the tears, met Niall’s puzzled glance. “Aye, Colin’s proper place is at Balloch.” She then turned to Walter. “Let Niall take my child, and I give ye my word I’ll stay with ye.

“Please, Walter.” Regan laid a hand on his arm. “It’s what ye’ve always wanted, after all.”

He stared back at her, his eyes darting nervously in his disbelief. Then, with a quick nod, he appeared to accept her offer. “Aye, mayhap that’s for the best, lass. The lad will be with his kind, and ye’ll remain with—”

“Not so fast, MacLaren!”

Regan wheeled around. From the turnpike stairs behind them, a tall man, his head still covered with his plaid, slowly descended. Behind him was Cook, looking inordinately pleased with herself. One of Niall’s men, as well as Cook, had slipped up the stairs while they talked. But why?

The answer came when something in the man’s arms moved, and a lusty cry rose from the bundle he carried. Terror seized Regan. It was Colin! The man had Colin!

She cried out and took a step forward. Walter grabbed her arm. “Let them have him,” he said in a low voice. “It’s better this way.”

Her tears nearly blinded her. “Aye,” she whispered, “but I’ll at least hold my son one last time, and no man here had dare try and stop me!”

Behind her, Niall Campbell chuckled. “I’d say ye’d better let her go, MacLaren. It’s over for ye, at any rate.”

As Walter turned back to the Campbell chief, his grip on her momentarily loosened. It was all the opportunity Regan needed. She twisted free and ran, drawing up only a few feet from the foot of the stairs.

The tall man, his face shadowed in the depths of his plaid, halted before her. She held out her hands. “Give me my son.”

“Aye, that I will, lass.”

Regan froze. There was something about that voice . . .
Och, dear Lord above,
she thought,
I’m losing my mind!
Her knees buckled. If not for the man’s swift move to take her arm, she knew she would’ve fallen.

“Have a care,” he said, his deep, rich voice setting all her senses tingling. “With our son in my arms, I’m hard-pressed to hold ye up as well.”

It wasn’t possible. It was surely a vision conjured by her overwrought mind, or leastwise all just some dream. Whatever it truly was, Regan meant to see it through to its end. Because she needed it and had so long been bereft.

Reaching up, she took hold of the plaid and slid it back. Iain’s beloved face came into view, pale and thinner than when she had last seen him, but, from the dark blond, wavy hair, eyes as deep blue as some bottomless loch, and the well-molded mouth, it was him. Aye, she thought, and he was just as she had always remembered him . . . and always would.

Then he smiled, and the smile was just as dazzling and warm and open as it had always been. And she remembered how it always spread all the way to his beautiful eyes. And, like all the other times, she was undone.

“Och, Iain . . . Iain,” Regan whispered achingly. Though she knew she risked destroying her beautiful vision by doing so, she couldn’t help herself. She reached up, touched his face, hoping, praying for a fleeting instant where reality melded with the dream, and she could feel him—
really
feel him—one last time.

The face she touched, however, was warm and substantial. It didn’t disappear as her fingers stroked his cheek. Regan blinked hard, sending her tears coursing down her face, and saw that he remained. Once more her knees buckled, and the clasp on her arm tightened. She glanced down at the long, strong fingers holding her, then back up again.

“Aye, lass,” he said. “I’m not a dream. I’m alive.”

With a moan, Regan went to him then, sliding her arms about his waist, burying her face in the damp wool of his plaid. The tears seemed to break the floodgates about her tightly guarded heart. She wept, sobbing until she had nothing left to give. And all the while, Iain held her, crooning to her as he rocked her gently to and fro.

“Nay!”

From a distant place, Walter’s outraged cry wrenched Regan back to the present moment. She released Iain and turned, hastily wiping away her tears.

Even then, Strathyre’s laird had withdrawn his dirk and was heading toward them. He had barely taken three steps, however, before Niall and two other men sprang forward, taking him down and wrestling the dirk from his hand. Finally subdued, Walter struggled to his feet.

“Ye gave me yer word ye’d stay with me if I let them have the child!” he screamed, his face purpling with fury as he fought to escape the men restraining him. “And the devil now has his spawn, so come back. Come back to me!”

Before Regan could reply, Iain stepped between her and Walter. “The only devil here is ye, MacLaren,” he growled. “I saw ye there that day. Indeed, ye were the only man among them all that I recognized. And ye’ll pay, and pay dearly, for the lads I lost, as well as for the attempt on my life.”

Walter stopped struggling. As if a sudden comprehension had at last penetrated his enraged mind, the blood drained from his face. “I . . . I but happened by,” he stammered. “It was but a coincidence that I came upon those outlaws, and fortunate it was that I did, or Regan would’ve surely died.”

“Coincidence, was it?” Iain gave a disbelieving snort. “Ye knew those men. How much did ye pay them to try and kill me, MacLaren? And, even better, where did the likes of ye even get the money?”

“It wasn’t me!” His countenance going positively waxen now, Walter vehemently shook his head. “I-I but did William Drummond’s bidding. It was all his idea. He didn’t fancy ye telling him where he must cast his allegiance. And he meant to kill Regan as well. Ye saw that. But I suspected he might try, so I watched in a secret place. And I saved ye, Regan. I saved ye!”

Iain shook his head in disgust. “Get him out of my sight,” he said, looking to Niall. “Throw the dog into his own dungeon until we decide what to do with him.”

Niall grinned. “I was wondering how long it’d take ye to sicken of him. Come on, lads,” he said, looking to his men. “Let’s see to clamping the laird in his own irons.”

Regan watched them drag Walter away. It was over then. Walter would finally receive his long-delayed punishment, and William Drummond’s wouldn’t be far behind. She could only feel pity for the both of them.

Iain slipped an arm about her waist and pulled her close once more. “Och, but I’m the happiest of men, with my wife in one arm and son in the other!”

She laid her head on him and stood there for a time, content now just to feel his chest rise and fall and hear the steady beat of his heart.

“H-how?” she finally asked, lifting her head to gaze up at him. “How did ye survive?”

“A tinker passed in the opposite direction soon after the outlaws and ye and Walter must have departed. Or so he told me. I was still unconscious at any rate. In checking all the bodies, he found that I was the only one still alive. So he bound up my wounds and took me back to the town he had just quit. In time, I was able to tell them who I was, and someone was sent to Balloch to inform them.”

“But how did ye get to Colin? Fergus had hidden him away at Walter’s bidding to ensure my cooperation. How did ye find and rescue him before Fergus could kill him?”

“I knew to seek out Cook to aid me and, as luck would have it, she’d followed Walter and Fergus upstairs when they came to ye. Then, when she saw Fergus skulk off with Colin, she followed him to the attic where he hid with the bairn.” Iain smiled in grim satisfaction. “I lowered myself down on a rope from the roof and entered a window behind the man while Cook came up the stairs to distract him. It was a simple enough thing to overcome him.”

“Yet, all this time, ye never returned for us until now.” Though this one last question hung like a pall between them, Regan had to ask, had to know the reason. “Indeed, it’s been nearly two months since the day of the attack. Why did ye wait so long?”

“Because I took an infection, and for a time it was feared I might not recover. And then I was so verra weak that I lacked the strength to ride until but a week or so ago.” At the disbelieving look she sent him, he paused, then inhaled a deep breath. “That’s hardly enough a reason, though, for my tardiness in coming after ye, is it?”

“Nay, it isn’t.”

He sighed and looked away. “Until just a short while ago, I also doubted ye and yer loyalty to me. It was evident the men who ambushed us were waiting for us. And ye, of us all, survived unscathed to return to Strathyre. To return in the arms of the man who had apparently arrived at just the right time to rescue ye.”

Regan’s hand fell from his face. “If ye’d known what I suffered, thinking ye dead and that I’d lost the love of my life, ye never would’ve doubted me.” Freshened pain slashed through her. “Och, Iain, I thought we were finally past the suspicion and recriminations!”

All the joy she had experienced at finding him alive faded in the face of the searing admission of his mistrust. Suddenly, Regan couldn’t bear to be close to him. She twisted and fought to break free of his clasp.

Iain refused to let her go. “Forgive me, lass. Och, please forgive me! I know I betrayed ye, betrayed our love in doubting ye. But it’s a weakness, a thorn in my side, that, with the Lord’s help and Niall’s wise counsel, if ye can believe it, I think I’ve finally overcome. And then, it was yet reaffirmed again today when I saw ye walking down the stairs with Walter. I saw the truth in yer eyes, and I knew. I knew!”

The sincerity of his words was mirrored in his beautiful eyes, resonated in his deep voice. But the blade of his suspicions had struck her hard. After all she had gone through for him, how could Iain think such things about her? And how could she ever forgive him?

But how could she not, after all the times he had forgiven her for doubting him? He had forgiven her even when others remained convinced of her duplicity; he had seen past it all to the person she truly was. He had seen and trusted that the goodness, sometimes buried beneath all the pain and feelings of unworthiness, was genuine and deserved a chance to shine.

He had seen, trusted, and loved until, just once, mired in his own pain and battling for his life, he had faltered for but a brief time. Faltered but had never given up.

She’d never have such a man again, and she wasn’t fool enough to lose him. With a shuddering breath, Regan turned back to Iain. Standing on tiptoe, she grabbed hold of his shirt and plaid and kissed him full on the mouth.

For an instant, as if uncertain what next to do, he stood there. Then, with a husky groan, Iain pulled Regan to him and hungrily deepened their kiss. A great, spiraling gladness filled her until she thought her heart would burst.

For in that kiss was enough love—and forgiveness—to last a lifetime.

Kathleen Morgan
has authored numerous novels for the general market and now focuses her writing on inspirational books. She has won many awards for her romance writing, including the 2002 Rose Award for Best Inspirational Romance.

Other books by Kathleen Morgan

Brides of Culdee Creek Series

Daughter of Joy

Woman of Grace

Lady of Light

Child of Promise

Culdee Creek Christmas

All Good Gifts

The Christkindl’s Gift

Guardians of Gadiel Series

Giver of Roses

These Highland Hills Series

Child of the Mist

Don’t miss book 1 in
These Highland Hills Series

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