Dangerous Pride (28 page)

Calum eyed his opponent’s warriors meaningfully, and Lachlan motioned for them to step back from the fight. “I want you to check on her as soon as you can, Finn,” Lachlan called out to the man who held his sword.  “No matter what happens here, I want her returned safely to Tolquhon.”  Finn nodded his agreement, quietly joining the others who waited to the side.

“You can have yer wife back once I’m through with you, Forbes, though you will no’ be in any condition to enjoy her.”  An evil grin crossed Calum’s face as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shielding Catriona from her husband’s eyes.  “But then, I do no’ think she’ll be in any condition to enjoy a man for a long while, not after the time she’s had with me.”

Anger slashed through Lachlan’s consciousness like a knife, setting aside all reason or logic.  With a wild cry, he threw himself at Calum, using every ounce of his strength to knock the man from his feet.  Stumbling, Calum lashed out with his blade, slicing the sleeve of Lachlan’s shirt, a red stain following quickly in the wake of his dirk’s thrust.  Though his opponent was taller by several inches, Lachlan superior weight and rage fueled his attack.  If he even felt the wound, he gave no indication.

The two men circled each other warily, searching for any sign of weakness.  They fought within a few feet of Catriona’s body, and Lachlan could not stop himself from stealing glances at his wife, desperate for a sign that she was merely in shock, and not mortally wounded.  When he saw her turn her head, moaning softly, he whispered a prayer of thanks under his breath.  Calum followed his line of vision, noting the lass was regaining consciousness.  “We’d best finish this quickly,” he taunted, motioning for Lachlan to come forward.  “It looks as if yer wife is ready for me again.  I do no’ want to keep her waiting.”

Lachlan forced himself to dampen his fury and focus on his opponent. Despite his bravado, Calum was weakening, drawing his breath in deep gulps.  Though Lachlan had managed to inflict a few small wounds, Leslie had suffered no serious injuries. Lachlan was frustrated with himself.  He was no green lad, facing battle for the first time.  He knew how important it was to maintain his focus – in fact, he had killed many men who were unable to do so.  He needed to end this battle, and quickly.

Distracted, Lachlan did not instantly see Calum as he charged toward him like an enraged animal.  At the last minute, Lachlan turned to face him, with barely enough time to avoid Calum’s outstretched dirk.  With an enraged growl, Calum began slashing at his opponent, clearly sensing he lacked the strength and stamina to continue the fight much longer.

After sidestepping a blow from Calum, Lachlan launched  forward, striking a serious wound to his opponent’s shoulder.  Calum’s free hand flew to the wound as he struggled to staunch the flow of blood.  Lachlan allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction as he stepped forward to finish the fight.

Before Lachlan could reach him, Calum frantically kicked at the ground, sending a stream of dirt and sand into Lachlan’s face.  While he cursed and tried to clear his eyes, Calum raced to Catriona, hauling her to his side. The woman was limp in his arms, but he braced her to him, the dirk placed menacingly at her throat.  “Do no’ come any closer, Forbes,” he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As his vision cleared, Lachlan saw his men moving forward cautiously, their weapons drawn.  Noticing their intent, Calum pressed the edge of his dirk against Catriona’s throat, a thin trail of blood appearing in stark contrast to her pale skin.  She remained unconscious, unable to offer any struggle against her captor.  “Stand back, now,” Lachlan commanded his men, his eyes never leaving Leslie.  Silently, they obeyed, stepping back several paces, though their weapons remained drawn.

The evil glint in Calum’s eyes caused Lachlan more fear than the sight of the blade at his wife’s throat.  Calum was like a caged animal, and Lachlan was sure he would do anything to save his own life.  He was an unpredictable, dangerous opponent, his madness eliminating any normal restraint or honor.

“I can see we are no’ goin’ to come to terms today, Forbes,” Calum stated, his tone flat.  His pale skin was covered with a sheen of perspiration, his eyes glazed by pain and exertion.  Lachlan knew Leslie would not last much longer – but with Catriona’s life at stake, he was unwilling to take any risks.

“Let her go, Leslie,” he said finally, his voice firm.  “This is between you and I.  She has naught to do with it.”

“Aye, but she does.  Now that I’ve sampled her charms, I do no’ think I can let her go so easily.”

Lachlan fought to control the anger building within him as he continued to meet the man’s cold stare.  “I will let you have her back, but on one condition only,” Calum growled after what seemed like an eternity.  “If I set her down, unharmed, you must give me yer word I will leave here unharmed.”  Struggling for breath, Calum swayed slightly on his feet before he continued.  “I find I do no’ wish to continue this today, but I would be only too happy to accommodate you another time.”

Lachlan’s eyes never left his opponent’s face.  He knew Leslie was losing a lot of blood from the gash on his shoulder, and it would only be a matter of time before he lost consciousness.  Yet as much as he wanted to end it then and there, he knew he couldn’t risk Catriona’s life.  If Calum sensed he would be captured – or that he was dying – he would surely slit the lass’ throat, showing no mercy or honor even in death.

It was a risk Lachlan knew he couldn’t take.

“You have my word then, Leslie,” he replied, though the words stuck in his throat.  “You leave the lass unharmed, and we will no’ stop you.  But if you do aught to harm her –
aught
– you will be a dead man.”

Lachlan motioned his men back further, behind the trees.  Slowly, almost gently, Calum lowered Catriona to the ground, pausing only long enough to lay a kiss on her pale forehead.  The action was so tender Lachlan felt sick to his stomach.  “She’s yers for now, Forbes, but I will be back again.  On that, you have
my
word of honor.”  Without a backward glance, he walked awkwardly to his horse, struggling to gain his seat.

As soon as Calum had mounted the horse, Lachlan bolted across the clearing, gathering Catriona in his arms as he knelt on the grass.  As she stirred slightly in his embrace, he felt a wave of gratitude.  At least she was alive, and for now, nothing else mattered.  He checked her quickly for any wounds, relieved to find that nothing was seriously wrong with the lass.

At least nothing that was visible.

A heartbeat later, Finn was at his side, handing Lachlan the lass’ shawl.  As he gently wrapped her in the plaid, obscuring the rent in her dress, he quietly answered his guard’s unspoken question.  “We canna go after him this time, Finn, and for that I am truly sorry.  But luck had better be with the bastard when I finally find him.  There is nothing short of death that will keep me from taking my revenge.  Nothing.”

The cold, haunted look in Lachlan’s eyes left little doubt  he meant every word.

Before they left the clearing, Lachlan instructed his men to build a fire to help warm Catriona.  Though she’d tossed and turned in his arms, she hadn’t fully gained consciousness until her body had lost its chill, and Lachlan had given her several sips of whiskey to warm her blood.  While he held Catriona, infusing her with his warmth, Lachlan sent three of his men to ensure Calum didn’t turn around and attempt to finish what he’d begun.

Though she’d awakened, she remained pale and disconnected, as if in shock.  As soon as she was warm, they began their journey, the laird carrying his wife gently in front of him, her cheek nestled against his chest.  Tenderly, he kissed her hair as she snuggled closer to him, grateful to be holding her in his arms.  The thought of how close he had come to losing her warred with his fear of what Calum might have done to her, but he forced himself to push these concerns to the back of his mind.  The lass was in no condition to speak of what had happened, and her health was his first concern.  There would be time enough to gain answers to the questions haunting him when they’d returned safely to Tolquhon.

He knew it would be quicker to take her to Boyne Castle, but after all she had been through at Leslie’s hands, Lachlan couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting her to the criticism and judgment her father would surely levy.  He knew he could count on Iain to avenge Catriona’s attack, but the Earl of Seafield couldn’t be trusted to do what was right.

They took the most direct route to the keep, and even though Catriona’s presence slowed their progress, they were still able to gain Tolquhon before the sun broke free of the horizon.  There was a full guard on duty at the castle as Lachlan sent men ahead to secure their entrance and prepare for Catriona’s arrival.

When they finally made their way into the inner bailey, Lachlan was pleased to see his orders had been followed.  Sorcha stood waiting with a heavy fur cloak for Catriona, which he gently placed around her shoulders before lowering her to Rory’s waiting arms.  The lass barely stirred as he dismounted and took her in his arms again, a fact that both pleased and concerned him.  Though he realized she needed her rest, he was anxious to learn the extent of the trauma she had suffered.

A serving lad pulled back the heavy oak door as Lachlan strode into the castle, his anguished look enough to discourage even the most curious servant from coming any closer.  He took the stairs two at a time, anxious to settle the lass.  As he made his way down the hall, he passed the open door to Catriona’s small chamber, instead motioning for a servant to open the door to his larger quarters.  “See that the fire is well-built, lad, and that a warm bath is brought up for my lady.”

The young boy hurried to do the laird’s bidding as Lachlan gently lay Catriona on his bed.  He started down at her for several moments, his heart catching in his throat as he took in her wan, disheveled appearance.  Slowly, he pulled back the blanket and shawl he had wrapped around her, cursing under his breath as he saw the small cuts Calum had inflicted on her neck and chest.  The wounds were not deep, and would surely heal quickly.  Lachlan was far more concerned about the emotional scars his wife had suffered.

A gentle hand on his arm pulled him from his dark thoughts.  “Let me see tae her, laird,” Sorcha interrupted kindly, her  features etched with concern.  Nodding his agreement, Lachlan told her he would be back soon, and made his way to his study.

As he threw back the heavy door, Lachlan called down the hall for a lad to bring him ale and food.  He hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day, and as troubled as his mind might be, his growling stomach was determined to remind him he needed nourishment.  As he walked to his desk, he was startled to see his mother seated in a padded chair by the window.  “How is she, son?” she asked quietly, her expression bleak.  “And don’t be sparing my feelings now.  I want the truth.”

With a tired sigh, Lachlan crossed the room in a few easy strides, pulling a chair next to his mother’s as he took her hand in his.  “She’s doing as well as can be expected, Mother, though I suspect the servants have already told you as much.  When we finally found her, she was with that bastard, Calum Leslie.  She’d gotten away from his men, only to have him recapture her himself.”  Lachlan’s eyes darkened, his anger betrayed in the way he clenched his free hand, as if preparing to strike.  “Leslie was attacking her…I do no’ ken if we got there soon enough or no’.”

The dowager barely managed to contain her shock. She knew the horrifying situation had wounded Lachlan more than he was admitting, and she needed to be strong for his sake. “She is sleeping now, and Sorcha is attending her,” Lachlan added, giving his mother’s hand a gentle squeeze.  “I’ll go up shortly to check that all is well.”

The dowager nodded her understanding, pleased by her son’s open show of concern.  She did not know how to ask the question that concerned her most, but she knew she must have an answer.  “Do you ken why she left the keep, lad?”

Lachlan shook his head, his mother’s question troubling him more than he cared to admit.  “We ken she went out riding early this morning, and then a group of men happened upon her in the valley, near the burn.  She rode with them for some time before she could escape – at least that’s what the bastard’s man said.”  The dowager motioned for her son to continue.  “She seemed to be riding in the direction of Boyne Castle when Calum stumbled upon her – which was more good luck than planning, I think.  He was the only one with her when we found her.”

Restlessly, Lachlan pushed himself to his feet, pacing across the room as he continued his story. “I should have killed him then and there, Mother.  The fact I did no’ will haunt me for the rest of my days.  But he had a dirk at her throat, and would no’ let her go until I gave him my word I would no’ stop him from leaving.”

His eyes bright with unshed tears, Lachlan turned to the window, bracing his hands on the ledge.  “I could no’ take the chance he would kill her, but now, because of me, that animal is free.  I do no’ ken when he’ll be back, but I ken that he will. He will no’ give up until he has what he wants, or dies trying.”

Slowly, the dowager rose to her feet, taking her son’s hand in hers and laying a gentle kiss on his palm.  “The lass is back now, where she belongs, and that’s all that matters.  You go to her now.  You should be there when she awakens.  I’ll send the lad to yer chambers when the food is ready.”  The look of pain and anger in her son’s eyes tore at the dowager’s heart.  “Leave your anger and your thirst for revenge aside for the moment, Lachlan.  You must be strong enough for both of you now.  Remember that.  She needs your strength.” 
And your love,
she thought as he turned and left the room. 
Even if you aren’t yet ready to declare it.

###

Lachlan stopped in the great hall before making his way above stairs, anxious to speak with Rory before checking in on his wife.  The guards around the keep had been doubled, and Lachlan ordered several small groups of trackers sent out to ensure neither Calum nor his men made it anywhere near the keep.  He doubted the man would dare show his face for some time, particularly given the wounds he had suffered, but Lachlan was not willing to take any chances.  Before he left Rory, he ordered that a message be sent to Iain explaining what had happened, and who was responsible.  Lachlan doubted the Earl of Seafield would take the matter seriously.  But he knew Iain would do what he could to see justice done.