Page 41 of Bewitching her Highland Savior

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

The night they had spent together played over and over in Liam's mind. Even though the danger they were in was both grave and palpable, he couldn't help but be distracted by the joy he felt every time he looked at Muriel. In the last two weeks, danger had become the norm for him. What he had with Muriel was novel and exciting, and the prospect of Macleod's men pursuing them did not dampen his spirits.

As they ran through the thick woods near the northern coast of North Uist, Liam held tightly onto Muriel’s hand, never letting her go. He never would, and he would never allow anyone to touch her, not Macleod, not his men, and most certainly not her father. He would face the man's wrath with his head held high and his sword in hand, just as he had faced everything else in his life.

The first place they reached was a small town whose name Liam didn’t even know. They were fortunate enough to find a man who would take them to the south end of North Uist in exchange for a small amount of gold. He and Muriel jumped onto his wagon, eager to get away from their pursuers.

“Do the mares nae move faster?” Liam asked half an hour into their journey. He kept looking over his shoulder but he couldn’t see or hear anyone approaching. Nonetheless, the thought that they were close behind quickened his heartbeat and made him reach for his sword whenever he heard a strange sound.

“They’re old,” the man said. “They go as fast as they can.”

At least there are two of them. We may make it to Barra unharmed after all.

Muriel, too, was terrified, her eyes wide and searching for any sign of danger around them. With a heavy sigh, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips; pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“Dinnae fash yerself,” he said. “Nae matter what happens, I’ll get ye to Barra. Ye’ll be with yer maither soon.”

If he could get Muriel home, nothing else mattered. She would be safe there. His own fate was of no importance to him.

But if I’m nae there, who’s to say that her faither willnae give her back to Macleod? Or someone even worse?

No, he couldn’t just leave her. He couldn’t surrender to his death and risk his efforts being in vain. He had to stay alive, for her.

“What if we get to Barra and me faither hurts ye?” Muriel asked; voicing Liam’s own concerns. “He has many men at his disposal. Ye cannae fight them all on yer own.”

“We must deal with it when the time comes,” Liam said. “I’ll be honest with ye, I dinnae have a plan other than to take ye to yer maither. I can only hope that she can hide ye or talk some sense into yer faither.”

“Ye’ll stay with me?” Muriel asked and it sounded like a plea. “Please tell me ye willnae go back to Argyll. Or if ye do, take me with ye.”

Taking Muriel to Argyll would put his family in grave danger. He had briefly considered taking her there and keeping her safe in the castle with the McAlpine men all around her for protection, but the clan would suffer significant losses if the McNeil and Macleod clans coordinated their attacks to get her back. Liam would never be able to live with himself if Ron, Amelia, or their families were to suffer.

Barra was the safer option of the two. With any luck, he could persuade her father that an alliance with the McAlpine clan was just as good as one with the Macleods.

“I’m nae goin’ to Argyll,” he promised her. “I’ll stay with ye and I’ll try to talk to yer faither. I ken that I’m nae a powerful laird but my clan is just as strong as Macleod’s. He may come to see reason, especially if it’s what ye want.”

“I’ve told ye before, I dinnae think he cares about what I want,” Muriel said with a frown. “Dinnae count on that.”

“Ye always said that he loves ye,” Liam pointed out. “If he loves ye, will he nae care about what ye want?”

Muriel fell silent – shifting her eyes to gaze at the horizon. She seemed to consider it for a moment and the sorrow that Liam had often seen on her face the past weeks returned, much to his disappointment. Every other word he said seemed to remind her of something painful and he desperately wanted to take all that pain away from her, even if it meant carrying it as his own.

“I dinnae ken,” she said in the end; letting out the breath she had been holding and with it, her sadness. “He’s a hard man to understand. He may show mercy or he may nae. Either way, I wouldnae count on him.”

Liam supposed it was wiser to prepare for disappointment when it came to a father like Laird McNeil. Growing up, he had envied those around him who had fathers but no part of him envied Muriel. He’d rather have no father than have one like hers.

Their journey to the south end of the island was long but they made it to one of the ports before sunset and without any incidents. Macleod’s men were still after them, there was no doubt about that in Liam’s mind, but they hadn’t managed to catch up and he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief once he and Muriel were on the boat to Barra.

They had escaped. Whatever fate awaited them in Barra could not be worse than the one they had left behind.

The closer they got to Barra, the more Muriel shifted and fidgeted beside him; nervous fingers curling around the fabric of her dress. Liam wrapped an arm around her to calm her and keep her warm, and she leaned against him; a comforting weight on his chest. He wished he could say something to make her feel better, but the stress of the day had begun to affect him as well. Whereas that morning his mind had been filled with thoughts of her, now all he could think about was all the ways his half-formed plan could go wrong.

How many men could he fight on his own? How long would he stay standing if Laird McNeil ordered his men to kill him?

“We’re here.”

Muriel's hushed voice jolted Liam from his reverie, and he now saw the port ahead of them. Soon, he could see the McNeil keep in the distance, a massive, foreboding structure perched atop a hill. Even though the sun had set a while ago, the port in front of him was alive, and he cursed under his breath.

How would they go unnoticed in such a crowd? Everyone would recognise Muriel.