The boldness of the man was mind-boggling. Lachlan could easily kill him right now. Though tempted to do just that, he stepped forward. “You have something that belongs to me.”
“Your castle? I’m afraid you can’t have it. I’ve rather grown to like it here.”
“No, my wife.”
Hector pretended not to understand. “If you mean my sister, I’m afraid you can’t have her, either.” He sneered. “Unless you can swim.”
He pointed behind Lachlan out to sea. Lachlan turned, and his blood ran cold. For a moment, he couldn’t process what he was seeing. He didn’t want to believe it.
Less than a hundred yards from shore, Flora stood marooned on a rock, surrounded by nothing but merciless blue water. But that wasn’t all. He’d been wrong about the location of Hector’s men. Nearly his entire garrison must be lined up on the beach—a human wall of defense between him and Flora.
Worst of all, Lachlan knew he didn’t have much time to reach her. The tide was moving in fast.
Flora had never been so scared in her life. She was cold, wet, and horribly aware of the rising water all around her. She shivered, the thin white sark she wore like some hideous virgin sacrifice a useless barrier to the elements. Except she wasn’t a virgin, and she had no intention of going to her death without a fight.
She gazed out to sea, watching and waiting with burgeoning dread.Oh no, here comes another one. Holding her breath, she turned her face as another huge wave crashed against the rock, pelting her with a deluge of icy seawater. Her fingers slipped for an instant with the force, causing her a moment of heart-stopping panic before she found her grip again.
God, how much longer could she hold on before he came?Ifhe came.
Was this how Elizabeth Campbell felt? Forsaken. Left to die. Praying for someone to come? Never had she felt such compassion for what her kinswoman must have gone through on Lady’s Rock. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like in the dark…alone. At least she could see what was taking place on the shore.
She stood on the side of a jagged rock that protruded from the sea in a sharp peak. There was barely enough room for her to keep her feet flat, and she had to stand with her arms around the slippery rock in almost an embrace to avoid being knocked off. The castle seemed deceptively close—close enough to see the anticipation on her brother’s face and hear the orders that he shouted back and forth to his men. So close, but infinitely far away.
The rough waters of the sea were nothing like the placid water of the Faerie Pool, precluding any thought of testing her new water skills. Just the thought of going under…
She fought the wave of panic rising in her throat as the memories assailed her. The cold black water covering her mouth, her nose, her head. Struggling to breathe. Flailing wildly, trying to capture one more breath of air.
Not again. This couldn’t be happening again.
She’d thought Hector was joking. How could her own blood do something like this? He’d remembered her fear of water from her near drowning in the loch all those years ago and had decided to use her as bait to destroy Lachlan by staging this macabre re-creation of the incident that had befallen Elizabeth Campbell so many years before at Lady’s Rock.
She’d stared at him dumbly when he told her of his intentions, believing it only when he’d ordered his men to take her. She’d fought, but it had been useless. There were too many of them. He’d ordered her to remove her gown, and she’d refused—until he’d pointed out that his men could do it for her. Part of her still couldn’t believe it…until she saw the boat. She’d panicked, and it had taken half a dozen men to drag her down the beach and force her into the waitingbirlinn. Her terrified pleas had fallen on deaf ears. He’d claimed that she wouldn’t be hurt—if Lachlan cooperated.
Lachlan…
God, what a fool she’d been. Lachlan was nothing like Hector. She could see that now, when it was too late. Lachlan would do his duty as chief, but his ends were noble: to help his clan and save his brother. Her brother acted for ambition and greed and without compassion. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she could perhaps see why Lachlan had chosen not to confide in her: Her own fears would have prevented her from understanding had he told her the truth.
She was still furious at him for deceiving her, but she never should have run. She’d reacted rashly, out of fear. Fear that she would end up like her mother. But she’d had one thing her mother had never had, love. And she’d thrown it all away.
She’d left him on their wedding night, shaming him horribly and forsaking her vows. She thought of the things she’d said to him and deeply regretted her harsh words. She’d struck where she knew it would hurt—his pride. Now with his brother freed, she feared he was probably glad to be rid of her.
But Hector had been so certain Lachlan would come after her. And deep in her heart, she knew her brother was right. She was his wife. Lachlan would hold on to what was his no matter how much she’d shamed him. And maybe, just maybe, he did care for her.
God, how she wished they’d been wrong. Her brother’s men had watched for his arrival, and as soon as thebirlinnswere spotted, the plan was set in motion. But Lachlan and his men took longer to reach the castle than Hector anticipated, and she was running out of precious time.
Her heart leapt when she first caught sight of him marching up to the castle with her brother at his side. She drank him in, even from a distance making out the hard lines of his ruggedly handsome face. He seemed even larger and more impressive armed for war in his yellow chieftain’s cotun, leather trews, and steel knapscall.
Her husband had come for her.
Chapter 21
Across the wide expanse of sea, his penetrating gaze found hers and closed the distance between them. If she’d harbored any doubts of Lachlan’s feelings, his reaction told her all she needed to know. His entire body went still, and for an instant beneath the fading amber light of day, she could have sworn she saw him pale. He looked…haunted. She’d seen that look before. It was the same expression he’d worn when he’d rescued her from drowning. If only she’d remembered it sooner. Lachlan Maclean was the most fearsome man she knew, but for her, he was scared.
He did love her. Despite her circumstances, for a moment a surge of nearly incomparable pleasure filled her.
There was so much she wanted to say to him: to tell him she was sorry for running, to tell him she loved him, to beg for another chance. And though she knew he could not see all that, she felt that he understood.
He turned back to Hector with his hand on his sword. She tensed, knowing how badly he wanted to attack Hector. She breathed a sigh of relief when he spoke. As the conversation between the two men unfolded, though she could not hear exactly what they said, it became clear what Hector intended—to let her drown if Lachlan did not surrender.
