Her chest rose and fell in short, breathless movements. She swallowed and shook her head.
“Neither do I.”
The fire had not burned for long, but Arran stood and separated the logs with his boot. He then offered Eleanor his hand.
She took his hand, her arm tingling from his touch.
He slowly reached down and lifted her shawl back onto her shoulder, brushing her bare skin with his fingers.
When he straightened to his full height again, he met her gaze, looking deeply into her eyes. “I love you, Eleanor MacLean. I’ve loved you for five years, and though I tried to forget you for four of them, you never left my mind or my heart.” He shook his head, his dark eyes taking her in. “I dinna ken what I did to deserve you, but I will dedicate the rest of my life to loving you and serving you.”
He lifted her hand to his lips once again and she bent her head, love and affection blooming in her chest. She put her hand on his cheek. “You have had my heart since the moment you took my hand in the garden at St. Mary’s Isle. Do you remember that?”
He smiled. “Aye. How could I forget?”
“You never lost my heart, Arran. It’s been yours, and it will continue to be yours, for as long as I live. I will dedicate the rest of my life to loving you and serving you, as well. I could not be prouder to bear the name MacLean, or to wear your mother’s ring upon my finger.” She looked down at the ring now. It was shiny with age.
“And you’re not sad you dinna marry a lord?”
She put her hand at the back of his head, lacing her fingers through his curls, and pulled his lips to hers. “I want no one but you.” She kissed him then, as thoroughly as he’d kissed her.
And slowly, almost without her knowing, he led her to their tent and drew her into the dark and private interior.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Acold, pelting rain pummeled Arran and the hundred and fifty men at his command. Lord Selkirk had sent half his army to the shores of the Red River and they had met the colonists where the river emptied into Lake Winnipeg. For two days, they had planned their attack, familiarizing the de Meuron soldiers with the fort’s dimensions, and then took three days to travel up the river to the colony.
“Dinna fash,” Arran said to Eleanor as he stood in front of her, the rain dripping from the brim of his hat. He could hardly make out the form of her face in the inky darkness as she held Miriam in her arms. “Wait in the tent I’ve set up for you. It will take us an hour or so to reach the fort, and less time to take it back from the Nor’westers.”
A flash of lightning filled the sky, followed close by a clap of thunder.
“And what if—” Eleanor paused and dropped her gaze from his face.
“I will return to you, like before.” He pressed a kiss against her wet forehead.
It had been three weeks since Arran had returned to the colonists. Three weeks since he’d taken Eleanor as his bride. It had been the most glorious three weeks of his life, though he knew what they must face at Fort Douglas. Leaving her with the other women and children, even under the protection of a dozen soldiers, was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
“Pray,leannan.” He used the Gaelic word for sweetheart, which he’d come to call Eleanor since their wedding night. “We will be smart, but we canna let our enemies win.”
“I will pray. Ceaselessly.” She pressed her warm lips to his. “May God go with you.”
He made sure she, Miriam, Nicolette, and Isla were safe in their tent before he left them to return to the canoes.
Captain D’Orsonnens was present, though he looked to Arran for leadership. Lord Selkirk was still on his way from Fort William, having been detained. He had sent the de Meurons ahead, knowing Arran had been anticipating them. He had retained his six guards, supplied by the Canadian government, and twenty other soldiers. The rest were now approaching Fort Douglas with Arran.
The rain filled their canoes as they continued their course. Lightning sliced across the sky and thunder reverberated in Arran’s chest. The storm did not pass quickly, as in the summer months, but lingered, dumping a vast amount of water on the land. It rushed over the banks of the river and ran into the water with great, destructive rivulets cutting into the soil. The river had already begun to rise and it took several strong men to paddle against the current.
Arran recalled another such night, when it was just him against the Kaministiquia River, on his way to warn Lord Selkirk.
Then, he had been alone, but tonight, he was surrounded by dozens and dozens of trained soldiers, all of them loyal to Lord Selkirk and to Assiniboia. This would be their new home.
The men had crafted ladders in the two days they had made their plans at the mouth of the Red River. Those ladders were in the canoes even now, waiting to scale the fort walls.
No one spoke as the storm blew and the men paddled. James was in Arran’s canoe, while Archie and the other prisoners from Fort William were in their own canoes. Every able-bodied man had come, including the voyageurs employed by the Hudson’s Bay Company who would inhabit the fort once it was back in their control. These men worked directly for James and were following his lead, even as James followed Arran.
It felt like it took all night to finally arrive at the base of Fort Douglas. Even in the dark, Arran knew it well. It had been his home for four years. Without a word, the men pulled their canoes onto the shores, removing the ladders.
Arran, James, and Captain D’Orsonnens led the way up the banks of the river. The pitch-black night was perfect for their mission, though the mud made it difficult for them to traverse the riverbanks.
