When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) (30 page)

Marion awoke with the left side of her face pressed
against the cold wet sand and rough grass. She attempted to sit up, but a
strong wave of nausea overcame her. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she
heard voices, but she was afraid it might be Froste’s men still, so she dared
not call for help. With a grunt, she rolled onto her back and breathed in long,
measured breaths to calm her roiling stomach.

Her head pounded viciously, and
when she raised a shaking hand to her temple, she touched something crusty,
likely dried blood, on her forehead. She slowly pushed herself up to her
elbows, the nausea still there but not quite as strong. From there, she managed
to crouch, her stomach dipping with her movements. She parted the grass just
enough so that she could see but hopefully not be seen. Her vision was slightly
blurry, but shadows of men with torches swept along the shoreline.

Her breath seized in her chest as
she remembered what Froste’s men had said they were going to do to Iain. If it
wasn’t already too late, she had to get back to the castle and warn him of
Froste’s plan. If she could stay low to the ground, she felt confident she
could make it to the seagate stairs and up to the courtyard without being seen
by Froste’s men.

Infused with determination to help
Iain, she began crawling through the grass and over the rocks. The boulders
were like a hundred small knives making precise slices across her hands and
knees, but she bit back the pain that threatened to defeat her. When she came
to the edge of the grassy area, she drew slowly to her feet, teetering where
she stood as nausea washed over her wave after wave. She took a step, and her
world tilted to the right.

Behind her, she thought she heard
yelling, and panic caught in her chest. They’d seen her! Forcing her shaking
legs to move was torturous. She tried to run, but her body was heavy and slow.
The shouting behind her grew louder, and she pushed herself harder, her legs
finally understanding her silent, desperate command. Dirt flew out to the sides
as she ran, and when she reached the stairs, she scrambled up them frantically.

Two stairs. Four. Six. Twelve.
Twenty. How many more? Thirty. Forty. Fifty.

She lifted her head to check, and
everything around her dipped and spun. She tried to gain the next step, but her
foot slipped. As she fell backward, a gut-wrenching scream ripped from her
lungs.

At first Iain thought he was imagining Marion when
he glanced toward the seagate stairs and saw her racing up them, her pale hair
glowing in the moonlight and blowing behind her in the wind. But when Angus
started shouting her name, Iain knew a moment of such sweet relief that a shudder
ran through his body. He blinked and the respite ended as she swayed
precariously. His heart lurched with the knowledge of what was to come, what he
could not stop. She flailed her arms wildly about her, and he darted his gaze
downward, counting the steep steps to the unforgiving ground.
Fifty steps.

The world around him abruptly fell
away. All sound faded. His vision tunneled onto her, only her. Tumbling.
Falling. Hitting the bottom step and lying still. His guttural cry pierced the
hum in his ears as he charged toward her, the rough terrain slowing his
progress in a torment worse than any he’d experienced in his life. He fell hard
to his knees, the stone steps cutting into his skin, but it did not matter.
Nothing mattered but her. He’d trade his life to make certain she kept hers.

He gathered her limp, wind-chilled
body in his arms. “Marion,” he cried out.

She did not move. Did not respond.

“Marion, open yer eyes,” he
demanded, his throat aching with each syllable he choked out. “Ye will nae
die!” he ordered, even as his mind shouted that she might.

Dried blood had caked on her
forehead while fresh blood seeped from her blue-tinged upper lip. His hand
shook violently as he lifted his finger to her lips and wiped away the blood,
so warm against her icy skin. “Please, Marion,” he whispered, burying his head
in the curve of her neck and holding her tightly. “I need ye,” he admitted
brokenly in her ear.

“I need you, too,” she whispered.

He jerked upward and gaped at her.
“Ye’re nae dead!”

She offered a faint smile. “Not
yet, but if you keep holding me so tightly, I may still succumb.”

He pulled her closer and held her
against his chest with care, relishing in the faint beat of her heart against
his. After his trembling subsided, he held her far enough away that he could
see her eyes. A crowd had gathered around them, but he didn’t care. He caught
her glorious gaze. “I’m sorry. For how I responded in the great hall and for
making ye feel there was no place for ye in my life.”

The smile she gave him lifted him all
the way out of the darkness he’d dwelled in for far too long. She pressed her
cold hand to his cheek. “I forgive you.”

When Marion awoke, the first thing she saw was Iain
slumped in a chair beside the bed. She moved her hand to his and brushed her
fingertips over his skin.

His eyes popped opened, and he
jerked upright. “Ye’re awake.”

She swallowed, her throat dry. “How
long have I been asleep?”

“A full day. How do ye feel?”

“Stiff,” she said as she looked to
where the trunk had been. She wanted to know what he had done with it, but she
preferred he offer the information. She did not wish to ask. When she pulled
her gaze back to his, he was staring at her.

He took her hand in his, brought it
to his lips, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “I’m verra sorry for my
part in yer injuries.”

Marion’s brows dipped together.
“You had no part in my injuries. I slipped.”

“Ye would have never been alone
outside in the first place had I nae yelled at ye for wearing Catriona’s gown.”
His face was set in hard lines. “I’ll nae make excuses for my response. I—”

“You love her,” Marion supplied,
wishing to spare him the worry of hurting her by saying the words. “You love
her, and it pained you to see me in her gown. I understand.”

His blue eyes glittered with the
hurt he was feeling. “Ye dunnae understand,” he replied. “It pained me because
when I saw ye in it, I could nae remember what she looked like when she’d worn
it. All I could see was ye. All I could feel was my desire for ye. I swore to
her that I’d nae forget her.”

She took a quick breath of utter
astonishment. “You’re afraid you’ll forget her if you let yourself love me?”

“Aye.” The word was a single one, a
small one, but drenched with misery deeper than the sea.

Her throat ached with the need to
argue, but what words were there to convince him he’d not forget Catriona? She
could not imagine loving someone as Iain had loved Catriona and then ever
forgetting him. Yes, Iain’s memories would likely fade a bit, and he’d make new
ones with her, but loving someone new would not erase the love he’d felt for
Catriona.

Marion took a long, shaky breath.
Deep within, she knew her words would not convince him. He had to realize it
himself. “I know not to expect your love,” she said, hoping to ease the lines
of worry on his forehead. He already knew she wanted it; there was no point in
saying it.

He gave her a dark, layered look
before pulling her roughly to him. “Marion, ye should expect it. Ye’re my
wife.” He shook his head. “I’m nae good with talk of the heart. Let me try
again. What I want to say is that I want to look toward the future, nae dwell
in the past anymore.”

“What of your fears?” she whispered
into his chest.

“They are mine to conquer.”

She peered sideways at his strong
profile. Did that mean he thought he could defeat them? Did that mean he
thought he might be able to make space in his heart to love her?

“What now?” she asked.

He set her away and motioned to the
foot of the bed. “I moved Catriona’s trunk out of the bedchamber, as I should
have done when ye came. This is
our
bedchamber now. I want ye to be
comfortable here and feel it is as much yers as mine.”

Tears stung her eyes as warmness
enveloped her.

He frowned and wiped the pad of his
thumb across her cheek to catch her tears. “What’s this?”

“Happiness,” she said. “You’ve made
me very happy. And I’m terribly sorry about Catriona’s gown. I truly did not
know. You see—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “I
ken all about it. Fiona admitted what she did.”

Marion moved Iain’s finger. “I’d
like to talk to her.” Part of her wanted to throttle the woman, but part of her
wanted to try to help ease the pain she must be feeling.

“Ye kinnae.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“She’s gone.”

“Iain!” she gasped. “What have you
done?”

He grimaced at her. “What I should
have done months ago when she started hinting that I should marry her. I sent
her away to marry another.”

“Oh, Iain! How could you?”

“Verra easily,” he said, crossing
his arms. “I simply sent for the man, and he came to get her. Dunnae fret. He’s
a good man.”

Marion shook her head at his words.
“But she surely doesn’t love him.”

“They’ve shaken hands and agreed to
be bound in marriage for one year, and if after that she kinnae bring herself
to stay married to him, I’ll allow her back on the condition that she’ll leave
for good if she causes trouble again. Either way, she has a year to change her
ways.”

Iain’s explanation made Marion feel
a bit better, but still. “The other women will hate me.”

“I ordered them nae to,” he
replied.

Marion choked out a laugh. “We
spoke of this before, Iain. It does not work that way.”

“It does in the clan, Marion. Ye’ll
learn.”

She refused to argue. She knew he’d
done it out of concern for her, and that part made her happy.

He leaned in and kissed her full on
the mouth. “Now we need to discuss Froste. Did ye see anyone or hear anything
when ye were by the water?”

She nodded, anxiety twisting in her
stomach. “I saw two of his men, and I heard them talking. I was attempting to
escape their attention when I fell and hit my head, and when I awoke, I saw the
torches and presumed more of them had arrived. I didn’t know it was you and
your men, so I tried to run back to the castle to warn you.”

“I thought as much,” he said, his
mouth setting in a hard, angry line.

A sudden chill took her at the
memory, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “They were sent to find
a way into the castle.”

“Oh, aye? So as to kill me first
when they attack,” he said, matter-of-fact.

She took a quick, sharp breath.
“How did you know that?”

“I’m laird, Marion. ’Tis my duty to
ken my enemies. Beyond that, it makes sense. Even if they take ye against my
will, they need me dead so Froste can marry ye. I think their aim on Alex’s
land was to get ye back before the marriage was consummated, and now”—he
grinned—“they rightly suppose it has been. Now they must get ye back and kill
me.”

She studied him, trying to
determine what he was thinking, but he’d lowered the mask he so often wore.
“Are you not worried?”

“Nay. Froste should be, though.
When he comes for me, I’ll be waiting. And ready.”

Menace wrapped around his words and
made her shudder. “What will you do?”

“Kill him,” he replied, as if it
would be so simple and not dangerous for him at all.

Iain stood, stretched, and started
toward the door. Marion clamped her jaw shut as she watched him until he turned
the door handle and her mind registered that he was actually leaving the room.
“Where are you going?”

He faced her. “To ready my men,” he
said, as if it were obvious. He studied her long and hard. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” she protested.

“Ye are. There are dark smudges
under yer eyes.”

“They are under yours, as well.
Perchance you should come to bed with me?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “A
verra tempting suggestion, but I’ve yet to deal with the watchman who fell
asleep and failed to sight Froste’s ship.”

Worry quickened her breath. “What
will you do to him?”

“His error almost cost ye yer life.
He’ll go.”

She frowned. “Go where?”

“Out of the clan, Marion.”

“What?” She scrambled out of the
bed and nearly tripped into Iain’s arms. “Do you always banish men from your
clan when they do something wrong?”

“Nay, but no one has ever done
anything that almost cost me ye. I kinnae forgive it.”

Her heart swelled that she meant so
much to him, but he was being unreasonable. She had to make him see it.
“Please, Iain.” She ran her hand lightly down his chest. “Be kind and patient
with him. For me?”

“What would ye have me do?” he
asked, his voice pitching low with what she now knew was desire.

That was a good question. Her mind
raced to come up with an answer he’d accept. “Remove him from his post and put
him in a lesser position.”

“Such as?” He quirked his eyebrows
at her. “I kinnae trust him.”

“You can make him earn your trust
again,” she offered. When he didn’t look convinced, she seized on the one thing
she hoped would work. “If you send him away from the clan, your men will surely
blame me.” It was true, but she felt guilty for using the fact that Iain would
never want to do anything to cause her problems with his clan against him.

He frowned. “I dunnae think so.
They ken what an error it was.”

“Thinking is not knowing,” she
chided. “What if you’re wrong? Please, Iain.”

He sighed. “I’ll put him in the
stables to feed and water the horses. Will that please ye?”

“Yes!” she said, grinning at him.

Iain chuckled and patted her on the
bottom. “To bed with ye. I’ll be back later to see if ye are well.”

She resisted the urge to scowl at
his order. She knew it had been given out of concern for her. “I’m not going to
stay abed all day. I feel much better. And lying here would make me feel
trapped and worse.”

He looked as if he wanted to
protest, but he finally nodded. “If ye go outside, take Archibald with ye, but
dunnae leave castle grounds with anyone but me.”

She clenched her teeth. She knew he
was worried. She was, too. But she didn’t like feeling trapped. “It’s as if I’m
being kept prisoner in our home.”

His jaw ticked at the side, showing
his mounting frustration. “Dunnae think of it that way. I’m simply keeping ye
safe until I’ve dealt with Froste.”

“Surely, you do not mean to make
poor Archibald attend me every time I want to go outside?” she prodded, trying
to make him see reason. “He’s supposed to be watching Bridgette.”

Iain’s expression hardened. “Now
he’ll watch over both of ye.”

“I feel so much better now,” she
retorted with a roll of her eyes.

He smiled at her, as if a mere
smile would make it all better. Her heart betrayed her and tugged as he’d likely
intended. His gaze softened. “I’ll attend ye when I can. If I kinnae and
Archibald kinnae, then Angus can. Or I’ll appoint someone else.”

She glared at him, to which he
responded with a broader grin. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and left
before she could say more.

Certainly no longer tired now, she
marched to the wardrobe to retrieve the gown she’d borrowed from Bridgette. But
when she opened the door, her jaw fell open. A lovely gown of wool, fashioned
with wide sleeves and a more fitting cut than the traditional highland woman’s
garb, hung there. She didn’t hesitate to put it on. It fit perfectly. As she
struggled with the laces, a knock came at the door.

“Yes,” she called out, hearing the
frustration in her own short tone.

“May I come in?” Bridgette replied.

“Oh yes!” Marion called back.

Bridgette chuckled when she saw
Marion twisting about, trying to tie her own laces.

“Help, please!” Marion begged.

“Turn round,” Bridgette demanded.

Marion immediately complied.
“Bridgette, have you any idea who put this gown in here?”

“Nay.”

Marion frowned, wondering if
perchance Kyla had made the gown. Had Iain demanded it or did Kyla still like
her? She turned to Bridgette. “Were you there when Iain sent Fiona away and
ordered the women to like me?”

Bridgette pressed her lips
together, but Marion could see she was fighting a smile.

“Oh no…,” Marion whispered. “Do the
women hate me?”

“Most dunnae for Fiona being
disciplined. Though a few of her friends did grumble, especially Alanna.”

“You said
for Fiona being disciplined
.”

“Aye,” Bridgette said, still
struggling not to smile and finally losing the battle. Two large dimples
appeared and her eyes twinkled.

Marion knitted her brow. “I hardly
think the MacLeod women disliking me should make you smile,” she grumbled.

Bridgette had the nerve to laugh in
her face. “Ask me why they are griping, Marion.”

Marion hesitated, sensing mischief
in Bridgette’s tone, but then her curiosity prevailed. “Why do they not care
for me?”

“It’s nae that they dunnae care for
ye. Many are envious of ye.”

Marion felt her jaw drop open.
“Envious of
me
?”

Bridgette nodded.

“Whatever for? There’s no reason to
be jealous of— Oh!” Her shoulders sagged. “They wish to be married to Iain.”

“Well,” Bridgette said slowly, her
laughter making her voice shake, “I’m sure afore he married Catriona, then
after her death and afore ye came along, they wished it, but now they are
envious because they long to be married to a man who loves them with as much passion
as the MacLeod loves ye.”