Bound by Wish and Mistletoe (Highland Legends, Book 1.5) (18 page)

She looked at him in amazement. “You’ve held a blade before?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “I haven’t always been a monk.”

“T
hank God for small blessings,” she said.

Silence continued. No further shadows appeared near any of the windows. The sun’s first rays pierced the corner of the window nearest the front.

What are they doing out there?

Too much time had gone by. If they’d planned to force the door, they would’ve done it by now. She inhaled deeply, scanning the windows for signs of movement, ready for anything.

A flash appeared in the window a split second before an object crashed through the glass. Another window shattered directly opposite them.

Large stones toppled some of the candles, and the flames ignited the cloth runners beneath them. Susanna stood in shock, watching as the dry wood burst into flames, setting the tables on fire. Choking black smoke rapidly filled the room. She coughed and put her sleeve up to her face as she ran back to the kitchen to look for some water. A fil
led bucket sat beside the door.

She wound the second dagger into the belt at her waist and lifted the bucket. Some of the water sloshed out as she struggled to carry
its weight into the main room.

The monk ripped a tapestry from the wall and batted the flames with it. Nearing the tremendous heat alarmed her, but with her hands on either side of the bucket, she threw her arms forward and tossed the small amount of water onto the raging flames nearest her.

The blaze continued in spite of their efforts, mocking them. They only had a few minutes to leave through one of those doors or be engulfed in fire.

Acrid smoke burned her eyes and singed her nostrils. She pulled her cloak over her face, unable to breathe any other way.

A resounding decision formed clear in her mind as she gripped the hilt of the dagger at her waist. She would rather try everything and die fighting than admit defeat.

“Weel, Father, it would seem ’tis God’s will for us to go into battle today,” she said.

“Aye,” he replied.

The monk dropped the tattered, smoldering tapestry and raced to the back door. She followed, tightening her hold on the hilt of her weapon, ready for anything. He lifted the crossbar, kicked open the door, and they ran out, thick black smoke furling out with them.

As the black smoke dissipated in the freezing air, there he stood—her greatest enemy.

“Broc.” She spat out his name, the very sound vile on her tongue.

Long, dark-brown hair curled wildly around her father’s scarred face. He stood ten feet away with his arms crossed, an evil glare leveled at her. Susanna narrowed her eyes at her lifelong demon, hatred pulsing fast through her veins.

“You ungrateful chit. Drop that ridiculous weapon,” he said.

“Nay,” she purred with calm venom. “I’m not goin’ with you.”

All of a sudden, a painful grip seized her upper arms, and she dropped the dagger. Fetid breath crawled across her cheek and filled her nostrils. “’Tis true. You’ll be goin’ with me.”

Dougal.

Anger, fear, and a lifetime of resentment rose up from the pit of her stomach and exploded out in an animalistic sound that ripped out from her throat. Every muscle in her body snapped taut at once. She punched hard between Dougal’s legs, whirled around when he bent and loosened his hold, and pulled the dagger from her boot, ramming it into the side of his neck.

He looked up at her in wide-eyed shock, a gurgling noise coming from his throat.

She ran.

The open ten-stall stable was the only other building, and she sprinted into the shelter and slammed the door shut. She spun around, her heart thundering in her ears as she stared at a door that had no lock.

Shafts of light streaming between rotting roof slats and a glow from the back wall’s grimy window cast enough light to look around. She discovered a stack of freshly cut boards in the corner and dragged one over, lifted one end, and propped it against the door. Uncertain if the one would hold, she pulled another over and wedged it tightly down beside the first. She stared at the boards, hoping the creative brace held.

* * *

Robert’s stallion broke through the dense forest on Brodie’s neighboring lands, jumped over a broken stone wall, and descended into a swirling black smoke that billowed thickest from behind a weathered monastery. As he charged through the choking haze tainting the air, he passed five horses tied to a post in the side courtyard. He squinted when a flash of blinding sunlight glinted off an ornate bridle on the nearest animal.

Dougal.

A low shout and a clash of metal announced the location of an ongoing fight, and as Robert’s stallion leaned into a turn at the back corner of the structure, he launched from his mount. In midair he unsheathed his sword, a low ring marking his presence before his boots hit the snow at a run toward the fray.

Time slowed into a series of split seconds as he analyzed the tense scene. A body lay near the back entrance of the monastery. A brown-robed monk yanked a sword from the chest of a falling man then spun, charging two others. The monk’s wild-eyed glare flicked between the soldiers as he growled, his rabid spitting snarls forcing the pair to spread wide. The last behemoth warrior, who stalked toward the stables, turned back to face Robert. A deep, puckered scar marred his sinister face, running from his left temple, through his bushy eyebrow, and along a crooked nose, ending in a split at the corner of his sneering lip.

“Broc.”

The MacEalan laird grunted as he unsheathed his sword, squaring off with Robert.

With instant deduction, Robert realized the body near the monastery door was Dougal’s, but the cutting disappointment was brief. The satisfaction of killing Susanna’s life-long tormenter would be reparation enough.

Time to even out the fight.

Robert never broke stride, sprinting through
a smoke-filled area between the two buildings as he arced his weapon back and around. Broc’s soldiers glanced at Robert racing by, but the monk seized on the ideal distraction and lunged, running his sword through one unlucky man.

Broc was ready for Robert’s intentionally telegraphed attack and blocked with his sword. Unkempt, curly hair swirled behind the tyrant’s shoulder as he turned and arced around a blow of his own.

Robert blocked the expected strike. Blade quivered against blade, sending vibrations into the bones of his arm and a deafening ring reverberating into his ears.

Broc backed away and circled around. His narrowing gaze judged Robert, assessing the worth of his unforeseen attacker.

Robert’s innate observation skills, honed with a lifetime of training, translated Broc’s every habitual weight shift and muscle twitch, recognizing favoritism in movements as hidden weaknesses to be exploited. “Your reign as abuser ends now.”

Broc’s arrogant smile stretched appallingly wide on his ugly face, a twisted laugh preceding his graveled voice. “Who are you to say?”

Robert snorted and grinned, slowly lowering his weapon as he took measured steps toward his nemesis. Noticing Broc’s muscles relax infinitesimally and head tilt slightly, he teased further curiosity from him by relaxing his stance and titling his head, mirroring Broc.

One step away from deadly reach, Robert held his ground to deliver the delightful news. “I’m Susanna’s husband.”

Broc subtly leaned back, his jaw dropping a fraction.

Robert sprang forward, closing the distance during Broc’s last heartbeat, and thrust the cold steel of delivered vengeance through his callous heart.

In a last reflex with shock-widened eyes, Broc dropped his sword and gripped the edges of Robert’s blade. His lips formed a tight open circle as if a word hung there, frozen in time.

As the life faded from his rightfully tortured eyes, Robert spoke the last words Broc would ever hear. “The beginnin’ of Susanna’s life will now be celebrated.
Yours
is already forgotten.”

* * *

Susanna remained frozen in place behind the stable door, her breath held until pain forced her to suck air into her lungs, the occasional clang of steel and muffled grunts elevating her anxiety. She guessed the monk had engaged her father in battle, but even if he’d managed to steal Dougal’s sword, he still stood against four ruthless warriors. She made a silent prayer for the monk who’d shown surprising ability with a blade.

As quickly as the commotion began, it ended. After waiting but hearing nothing, she put her ear against the roughhewn surface of the door and closed her eyes in concentration.

A distant low mumble.

The crunching of snow.

Silence.

Solus
nickered softly. She swallowed hard.

A pound on the door vibrated against her cheekbone and into her ear, and she jumped, startled. She glanced back at the grime-covered window and the tinder-dry walls of her hiding place, grimacing. Images of the fire she’d barely escaped threatened her without a single flame.

Determination rose up within her like no other force she’d ever known. Memories of Mama and Robert flashed into her mind. Good memories. Fragments of stolen time had brought her brief moments of happiness in a tragic life—and yet, they were enough.

She had lived and she had loved
...
and she’d been loved.

A lone tear drifted down her cheek as she remembered Robert staring down at her with the emotion blazing fiercely in his eyes. Her breath caught as she focused on his image, making certain Robert’s face was what she held onto until the bitter end.

She took a deep fortifying breath and shouted, “Set the place afire! I doona care. I’ll burn alive in here before I go anywhere with you!”

Another snow-crunched step. A single soft thud on the door.

“Susanna. Let me in.”

She gasped.

Robert!

“I promise not to take you anywhere, but please let me in. If you’re going to burn alive in there
...let my body be the one to shield you and set you ablaze.”

Her throat seized at his words. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she struggled to move the first board aside. It fell to the earthen ground with a hollow thud. She kicked the other one aside, impatient to free the door.

She grasped the iron handle and yanked the door open. Robert’s forehead rested on the door, and he stumbled into her open arms.

“My father? Dougal?” S
he leaned to the side, glancing around, trying to see beyond him.

He moved, blocking her view. “Nay, Susanna. They’ll not bother you again. I killed Broc. Dougal had already been felled by a dagger plunged into his throat.”

She raised her hand, covering her mouth. “What of the monk?”

“Doona worry about any of them. The monk killed the others and is removin’ the mess your father and his men created.

As he scanned her features, concern etched into his face, his brows furrowing. “Susanna, you’re blackened. Are you harmed?” He stepped back, pulling her arms wide.

“Nay, Robert. I’m hale and whole.”

A hand touched her face with the gentleness of a feather. His dark eyes bored down into hers. The handsome face she’d imagined, the last memory she wanted to hold onto when she left this world, now stood before her...
had saved her.

His face softened. “Aye, that you are. Us
...
together
...makes me whole too.”

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

The moment Susanna had smiled up at him, Robert’s upside-down world had been set right again. With glistening tear tracks across the cheeks of a soot-covered face, her hair a tangled mess, and a gown ripped and torn, she looked up at him as if he’d delivered an entire world of hope to her
...and he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Lass, I nearly died when I found you’d gone.”

Her head tilted downward, fresh tears streaming down her dirty cheeks. “Robert, I’m so sorry. I dinna feel I had any other choice. It pains me greatly to know I hurt you.”

He tucked a finger under her chin, lifting her face. “Nay, Susanna. ’Tis I who failed you. We’ve much to discuss. When we’re through, you’ll have a choice of where you go. You shall always have the choice. Know this, though. I’ll never take a solid breath in this world unless I know you are safe. I hope you’ll want that safety with me, under all the love and protection I’m able to provide.”

“What if I canna stay there, Robert? I tried. Everythin’ closed in...’til I could no longer breathe.”

“My place is with you now, Susanna. I go where you go. We can live under the blanket of the stars if you like, the sun our only daytime family. But if we talk about everythin’—if you give me the chance to explain the unbelievable things you witnessed back at the castle—I think you’ll decide to go back and try again.”

She sighed. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I
do
like Isobel and Brigid.”

“Better friends you’ll never find,” he said, pulling her gently into his embrace.

“You have a cottage. But what if I’d rather live in the bedchamber they’d given me?”

He snorted. “Lass, I would clear out every room in Iain’s castle for you if doin’ so would make you happy, and I’d gladly suffer the severe repercussions of such a feat. I only hope you’d want me there with you to warm your bed.”

She laughed, and the sound calmed him to a degree. Overwhelming panic at losing her had nearly stopped his heart, but now that he held his entire world in his arms, anything was possible.

“Come, lass.” He turned her back into the stable toward Lady Isobel’s mare, needing to lead her far away from the place that she’d run to and begin her on the journey where she belonged. By his side.

Susanna paused after they took a few steps, and he wondered at her hesitation. His heart had nearly burst from his chest at the sight of her alive and safe; but being with her alone washed a peace and happiness through him like nothing he’d ever imagined.

Overcome by raw emotion, he lifted the red ribbon from behind the folds in his tartan. “I found this—” his voice broke “—it was lyin’ on the ice.” He held it out to her.

Her gaze drifted to the ribbon, and Susanna pulled the silken fabric into her hand. She stared down at it, motionless.

Robert waited as the silence stretched out, but he began to grow concerned that he’d upset her.

“I choose you, Robert,” she whispered.

The soft-spoken words resonated into his ears like a God-given gift.

“You do?”

“Aye.” She turned around, gazing up at him. “Help me deal with the demons in my mind
...and I promise never to run from you again.”

He blew out a held breath and smiled down at her. “And I vow: if you panic and break your promise, I’ll chase after you.”

“And convince me to return with you?” She raised her delicate eyebrows, those mesmerizing blue eyes sparkling beneath them.

“Nay, my love. I’ll be wherever you are. I’ll protect you. I’ll offer all that I am to you. Wherever you are—”

Susanna raised a finger and placed it over his lips, silencing him. Her smile grew wider.

“Wherever you are
...I am found. You’re the one I wished for. I prayed for you long before I met you.” She cupped her hand over his cheek, fresh tears brimming in her eyes.

“Susanna, I wished for
us
under that mistletoe.”

She leaned up against him, entwining her hands around his neck as he dipped his head down. She placed the softest kiss on his lips. As he closed his eyes, losing himself in their tender connection, drifting as close to Heaven as God allowed a man to get,
he felt her lips curved into a smile.

Sweet words drifted from her lips, branding his heart.

“Then
us
we shall forever be.”