Arran laughed, hugging her close. “Are ye saying ye wilnae patch me up again?”
“Of course, I will,” she responded, her voice starting to sound sleepy. “Always.”
Arran stroked her hair until her breathing was even before he let his own body relax. She cared for him. Even after all that he had done to her, Ainslee cared for him. It was hard to believe, yet Arran treasured it regardless. He had to come back.
Happiness unlike any he had ever known was just within his grasp. “Ye will never know,” he whispered against her temple, “how much joy ye have brought into mah life.” She had not only saved his life, but she had given him something far more precious.
She had given him life.
“Tell me wot ye will do for her?”
Arran strained against the bonds that held him in place, glaring at the leering grin of McDougal as he held the blade to Ainslee’s throat. He did not know how his enemy had gotten his hands on his wife, but he had to rescue her.
“I will give mah life for hers.”
“Nay!” Ainslee cried out, struggling against her brother’s grip. “Nay. Take me! Take mah life, Liam. Not his!”
“Quiet, dear sister,” McDougal replied, gripping her hair roughly and causing Ainslee to cry out.
Arran pulled at the bonds, feeling the strain on his own arms. He had to get to her. He had to save her.
“Please,” he told the laird. “Take me.”
“Begging, are ye?” he asked, a peculiar light shining in his eyes. “Well now, has mah dear sister taken ye under her spell? I thought that nothing could break ye.”
She had, and now he had to get her to safety. “She’s mah wife.”
“Arran.”
Arran attempted to move toward her, seeing the hopelessness in her eyes. “Nay, Ainslee, Nay!”
She gave him a small smile before pushing into her brother’s dagger, the thin red line becoming bigger as the steel cut into her throat. Arran let out a sound of pure anguish as Liam let her go, her body falling to the stone floor.
This could not be happening. She had given her life for his.
There was nothing in his chest now, only a gaping hole where his heart used to be.
“Ye are weak,” Liam sneered, not bothering to wipe the blood from his blade. “Just as she was. And now ye will join her in death!”
Arran jerked awake, his heart racing in his chest and his body covered in sweat. For a moment, he could still smell the faint scent of Ainslee’s blood spilling out of her throat, but the touch of her hand on his abdomen told him that it had only been a dream.
She was not dead.
Still, he gathered her close, pressing his nose into her hair and breathing deeply. He would end this so that they never had to worry about her brother ever again.
And then he would come home to her.
16
Ainslee drew in a sharp breath as she threw the cloak over her dark dress, the nervousness nearly upending her stomach. It was still hours before sunrise, before the clan would march to meet her brother on the battlefield.
She had no plans to allow Arran to do so.
Drawing near the bed, Ainslee kept her movements silent as she gazed at her husband for the last time. He was sleeping soundly, his arms curved around the empty spot that she had just vacated, and Ainslee wished she could climb back into the bed and forget this hairbrained scheme of hers.
But she could not. If she did not confront her brother, Arran would, and he would die. He had so much more to live for than she did. An entire clan was looking to him to be a leader.
It had to be Ainslee.
