A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) (17 page)

His hand moved to the bandage covering him from his lower
right rib cage to the middle of his abdomen. The wound. He
had forgotten all about it.

As if it were some gatekeeper of his mind, the wound beckoned a tumultuous parade of memories. He harked back to the tortuous ride with Caitlin, when he had feared that at any moment
he might finally lose consciousness and fall from the horse. Or,
worse still, simply bleed to death, clinging to her for support.

Vaguely, Dar recalled arriving here, the excruciating pain of
the cautery, and then jumbled images of Caitlin and some grayhaired man hovering over him. Finally, as if his dreams had at
long last merged with reality, he remembered feeling Caitlin's lips
on his, and his hand on her silky, ink black hair.

With a sigh, Dar fell back on the bed. Though all smacked of
real events, he wouldn't know which really were true and which
were not until he could speak with Caitlin. And she was nowhere
to be found, or leastwise nowhere in this diminutive cottage.

The door opened just then. For an instant, anticipation vibrated through him. Then the gray-haired man of Dar's memories
walked in.

"Ah, good, good," he said as he headed to a basin of water on
the windowsill, washed his hands, then dried them. "I see ye're
finally coming out of that deep sleep of yers. Not that it wasn't
for the best," he added as he ambled over. "Ye needed a goodly
amount of rest to set ye firmly back on the road to health."

The man, blue of eyes, with a wispy gray mustache and beard,
pulled the chair at Dar's bedside closer and took a seat. "I'm
Goraidh." He held out a work-calloused hand. "And don't tire
yerself with introductions. I already know ye're Darach MacNaghten."

Dar eyed the man warily. If his calculations were correct, they
had reached MacNaghten lands by now. He was likely among
friendly folk.

"Goraidh ..." His brow furrowed in thought. "Aren't ye the
old hermit? The one who came back home when his abbey on
Iona was destroyed?"

"Aye, one and the same, though not quite as old as some imagine me to be. And, to clarify things a wee bit, though Iona
was destroyed eight years ago, I didn't return home right away."
His host grinned. "Now, are ye hungry? I've got an excellent,
herb-flavored soup with potatoes and carrots cooking on the fire.
If my nose doesn't betray me, it should be ready."

At the reminder of what were the obvious contents of the pot
on the fire, Dar realized he was ravenous. "Aye, I'm verra hungry.
I don't know, though, how much my stomach can tolerate, being
as how it's my first meal in a while." He paused, cocking his head.
"Indeed, how long have I been unconscious or sleeping?"

"A day and a half or so." Goraidh rose, walked to the mantel
over the hearth, and took down two bowls. "If ye only knew how
much better ye're looking, now that the color has returned to yer
face," he said, glancing briefly over his shoulder. "Och, but we
had a time of it with ye, we did. The Lord's mercy and the lass's
refusal to let ye die were the only things that saved ye. Well, that
and yer strength and natural good-"

"The lass? Caitlin?" Once again, Dar levered to one elbow.
"Where is she? I need ... need to talk with her."

Goraidh didn't answer immediately but instead ladled up two
bowls of soup, paused to take two wooden spoons from a jar on
the mantel, then walked over and placed them on the chair by
Dar's bed. Next, he pulled over the extra chair from the table
and sat down beside him.

"Do ye think ye can eat this without help?" he asked.

Dar nodded. "I'd like to give it a try."

Placing one spoon in a bowl, Goraidh handed it to Dar. When
Dar hesitated, he gestured to the soup.

"Eat a bit, and then we'll talk."

Apprehension growing with each spoonful, Dar managed to
choke down four swallows before he finally laid the spoon in
the bowl. "That was verra tasty, but I don't think I can handle
any more for a time," he said. His gaze locked with the hermit's. "Now, where's Caitlin? I spoke true when I said I'd a need to
talk with her."

"Gone." Goraidh expelled a deep breath. "She rode out several
hours ago. Took yer horse, a knife, and yer pistol, she did."

Dar looked away and cursed softly. "The little fool! What
good's a pistol without shot and powder?" He glanced up then,
and his anger flared. "And why did ye allow her to leave? It's dangerous for a lone woman to be riding in these parts. Ye could've
stopped her!"

To the other man's credit, he didn't quail in the face of Dar's
rising fury. "Aye, I could've stopped her, but then the choice to
remain wouldn't have been hers. And she's of no help to ye if she
doesn't do so willingly."

"Are ye daft, man?" Dar couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Of course she would've never willingly helped me. That's why
I had to abduct her. But at least I intended no harm to come to
her. I intended to return her to her brother as safe and untouched
as when I took her. But now ... now Caitlin risks death, if not
worse!"

He shoved the bowl of soup into the hermit's hands, tossed
back the blankets, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Immediately, a nauseating dizziness struck him. The room whirled
violently.

Dar sat there for a time, willing the spinning to ease. All he got
for his efforts was a debilitating wave of weakness that quickly
joined forces with the vertigo and queasy stomach. Finally, with
a groan, he admitted defeat and lay back on the bed.

He wasn't going anywhere this day, and perhaps not for several
days to come. Even if he'd had a horse, which he now didn't, he
would never be able to walk to the door, much less mount the
animal.

Caitlin had won. She had bided her time and seized her chance
at last. But at what eventual cost to her? What cost?

"It's in the Lord's hands now, lad," Goraidh said, leaning over
to flip the blankets back to cover him. "Trust Him to set all
aright."

"Aye, like He saw to Nara's safety," Dar mumbled, flinging an
arm over his eyes.

"Caitlin didn't want to leave ye, lad. But she thought to do
ye a greater service. She thought, in reuniting with her brother,
to divert his wrath from ye. And also, in the doing, to prevent
Athe from gaining his freedom. The lass believes, as do I, that
Athe's return to power over the clan would do it greater harm
than good."

Dar pulled his arm from his eyes and glared at Goraidh. "And
what greater harm could he do than what has already been inflicted on our people? Tell me that, hermit! Tell me-"

Outside, the sound of hoofbeats coming up the hill interrupted
Dar. For an instant, he imagined it was Niall Campbell and his
men. Then he realized it was but one horse.

A crazed hope flared in him. Once more, he shoved to an
elbow.

The door burst open, and there stood Caitlin, wild of hair and
eyes red from weeping. Her glance slammed into Dar's.

"I had to come back," she choked out. "I can't run away anymore, or turn my back on my destiny. As frightened as I am to
do so, I must persevere."

She ran to Dar and, kneeling beside him, took his hand. "Persevere . . ." she whispered, pressing his hand to her cheek, "with
ye and with the Lord."

He looked so good, Caitlin thought as she gazed at Dar. True,
he had shadows beneath his eyes, his hair was tousled, and his
jaw was darkly beard-shadowed. But his color was good. And
the sharp intelligence that had been both her bane and source
of fascination shone brightly in his eyes.

"Ye ... ye came back," he said, and the wonder in his voice
warmed her heart. "But ... why?"

Before she could reply, Goraidh, a bowl with spoon in each
hand, stood. "There's more hot soup in the pot over the fire,"
he said. "I've chores to do, so I'll leave ye two to work things
out. Then, when all is settled between ye, I suggest ye both have
something to eat."

With that, the older man ambled over to the table, set down
the bowls, then headed from the cottage.

Caitlin watched him go, grateful for the time he had given
her and Dar to talk privately. And it wasn't as if Goraidh even
needed to be present. He already knew, she felt certain, what
she would say.

"Why did I return?" She inhaled a deep breath. "Because of
what Goraidh said to me, just before I left. He accused me of
running away from the commitments the Lord has asked of me.
And," she added with a wistful smile, "running away from Him as well. It took me a time of riding, though, to mull over his
words and see the truth of them."

Caitlin laughed. "Indeed, once I did, I realized that was exactly
what I'd been doing my whole life. Seeking and never finding,
because I hadn't the insight or courage to face what had always
been there, right in front of me."

Dar's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand. Ye're
speaking nonsense, lass."

"Aye, it likely seems so," she replied with a chuckle. "It's simple,
though, really. I never gave of myself wholeheartedly to aught or,
if I did, I chose poorly. Chose what God didn't wish for me to
choose. But now I see what He wants, and He wants me to stay
the course with ye. He wants me to help ye save yer people."

His eyes widened, and he gently but firmly withdrew his hand
from her clasp. "Is this some trick, or have the hardships of the
journey and caring for me finally driven ye daft? I know ye,
Caitlin Campbell, or leastwise well enough to know ye'd never
betray yer own kind."

She smiled sadly. "Aye, I'd never betray my own kind. But
what betrayal is there in us returning to my brother and telling
him that ye no longer wish for him to give ye Athe? True, Niall
will be verra angry at what ye've put him through in taking me,
but once I've a chance to speak with him-"

"And what are ye about, to imagine I no longer wish for yer
brother not to return Athe to me?" Incredulity, mixed with a rising
outrage, tautened Dar's voice. "My intentions haven't changed
a whit. Indeed, unless ye hie yerself as fast and far from me as
ye can, while ye still can, I'll be taking ye hostage again just as
soon as I'm able. And we'll be back on the road to Dundarave."

Mild irritation filled her. Why did he have to be so thickheaded?

"Athe isn't the one who must be the MacNaghten chief," she
said, trying to remain calm in the face of his heightened emotional state. "Ye are the one who must be chief. Ye are the one who must
follow his destiny, a destiny that ye've been running from as fast
and far as I have from mine. It's God's will."

"God's will?" Dar laughed and then immediately appeared to
regret it as he winced and clutched his right side. "I pray ye, have
pity on me and don't say aught more to make me laugh. Have
ye already forgotten that I'm outlawed from my own clan, that
I'm suspected of murder?"

As if a sudden thought had struck him, he paused. "Indeed,
why have ye never asked me if I killed Athe's betrothed or not?
I know ye've heard about it. Ye've made too many allusions to
the incident not to."

Caitlin shrugged. "At first it didn't seem like a topic safely
mentioned. I only hoped ye'd not lose yet temper and murder
me as well. Then, later, as I came to know ye better, I knew ye
weren't that sort of a man. There seemed no reason to ask ye
aught after that."

"Well, I thank ye for seeing past the tales to the man himself," Dar said, his gaze softening. "Nonetheless"-his expression
hardened once more-"it changes naught. Most of my clan still
consider me a killer and don't wish to have aught more to do
with me."

His mouth quirked in grim irony. "And most of the rest will
likely never forgive me for the havoc I created in stealing Athe's
betrothed from him. If I'd known the effect it would have on
my brother, even I might have given more thought to what I
was doing."

Dar paused, sighed, then shook his head. "Well, mayhap I
would've and mayhap not. I loved Nara so passionately, and she
loved me ... But I couldn't convince my father to change his
mind. No matter that Nara wedding either of us would've brought
Clan MacNaghten the prestige and influx of additional funds
we so desperately needed. The same dowry would've come with Nara no matter which son she wed. And her own father loved
her so deeply that when she confessed to him her love for me,
he was willing to give her to me instead."

Again, he shook his head. "But not my father. Not Brochain
MacNaghten. Mayhap it was his pride that had been wounded,
in the fact that he had, in the end, not been able to control me.
And he had tried his best to control me all his life." Dar's mouth
lifted at one corner. "I still have the scars, and even a few broken
bones, to show for all his efforts."

Horror filled Caitlin and she began to understand, if only a
little, some of the events that had influenced Dar to do what he
had done in abducting her. He had never had many options in
life. And it appeared that the only time he had chosen to exercise
one, it had ended in the loss of the woman he loved and the kinship of his clan. Had his abduction of her, in the failed aftermath
of trying to rescue Athe, been his last desperate attempt to regain
the acceptance of Clan MacNaghten?

"Yet father was a hard, heartless man," she said at last. "And it
sounds as if he didn't spare much love on ye, either."

"Well, it does no good to dwell on what's past. He's dead now.
Any hope of him ever forgiving me or taking me back into the
clan is gone." Dar scowled. "Besides, none of this has aught to
do with yet decision to join with me in trying to save my clan.
And it doesn't mean that I've changed my mind about Athe being
chief. Or that I care one way or another about what God wishes
for me to do. In the end, He's given as much care to me and my
welfare as my father did. And that's pretty much near to none."

"The Lord's the only true father ye've ever had, Dar. But
whether ye do or don't believe that just now changes naught. If
ye'll have me, I want to do what I can to help."