Highland Enchantment (Highland Brides) (36 page)

Her giggle was wild, and suddenly they were laughing together, howling like deranged banshees as they limped along the ravine.

Water ran the length of its bottom, but it was no more than a few inches deep and would do them little good, for once Warwick found a way to descend he'd be upon them. They hustled across the stream. The land here was as smooth as a road, but seemed like little more than a trail of death.

The hills loomed above them, promising exhaustion and pain, but there was little else they could do but climb upward and hope for cover at its crest.

The ascent was as difficult as it seemed. Rocks and holes tripped them up. The snaggled branches of heather tore at Rachel's skirt, but they dragged on.

They were nearly to the top, nearly hidden away, when they heard the cry from below them.

Gripping Liam's hand with ferocious fear, Rachel glanced down.

Even now Warwick's men were lifting their bows.

"Run!" Liam rasped.

She tried, but exhaustion smothered her. An arrow hissed past on the wings of death, singing into the earth not three feet away.

"Hurry!" Liam cried, and pulling her upward, drew her onto the hill's crest.

They dared not delay an instant, but galloped across the hill toward the distant trees.

Exhaustion held them in a tight fist when finally they reached the woods. Gasping like broken billows, they stumbled into its welcoming arms. Shadows wrapped about them.

"Rest," Rachel gasped.

"Aye." Liam's voice was almost indistinguishable as he dragged her deeper into the forest.

"Soon."

In actuality, it was not soon. But finally, finally, they found a tiny spot beneath a decaying slanted beech tree and a trio of boulders. There they fell onto a pillow of leaves, and there they stayed, exhausted and spent, falling into the grasping arms of sleep.

The evening was peaceful. Nothing stirred. The sky was a deep, midnight blue. The world was at peace. Rachel lay on the sand, staring into the stars that winked overhead. Her mission had been completed, that much she knew, though in truth she was too lazy to recall the circumstances, too drowsy to think of the trials past.

Here there was peace and contentment. Here there were no troubles. The king was well.

Somewhere, perhaps a thousand miles away, it seemed she heard his laughter. And in all the world there was no Warwick. She knew that too, felt it in her soul.

Overhead a hawk swooped lazily. A cool breeze blew across her skin. Happiness soared through her. The hawk circled nearer, its wings spread wide, its long neck curved toward her. She smiled at it. And it seemed almost to smile back as it swooped, circling yet again.

Nearer and nearer it came. The air swirled around her. The sand beneath her shifted. A huge bird, it was, blocking out the stars, blocking out the sky, filling her senses, and yet she was not afraid, for she was home, she was safe.

She turned toward the soaring bird, and suddenly she realized it was not a bird at all.

Rachel awoke with a start. Her breath rattled in her throat and her hands were shaking.

"What is it?" Liam sat bolt upright beside her, his words gasped and his hand already clutching hers as he peered into the surrounding darkness.

"Twas not a bird."

For a moment he still didn't turn toward her. But finally the hand that clutched hers relaxed a mite.

"What?"

"Twas not a bird." She barely dared to press out those tiny words, for in her mind she was still there, still gazing into the midnight blue sky that was not sky. Watching the bird that was not a bird.

"You were dreaming," Liam said. "Tis past. Lie down."

"Nay." Something akin to desperation speared through her, though she knew not why, and she realized suddenly that in one hand she was grasping Dragonheart. "Twas not a dream."

Liam leaned a scant inch closer. His gaze fell to her closed fist then focused on her face in the darkness. "What was it?"

"Twas a..." She ran out of words, out of breath. "The wizard must not have him."

He shook his head.

"Dragonheart. He must not have the dragon."

"We shall yet escape, Rachel. All will be well once we—"

"Nay." She shook off his hand. "All will not be well, Liam. Not until the dragon goes home."

Liam watched her in silence for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and cautious as if he did not truly wish to hear her answer. "Home?"

"Loch Ness." She breathed the words and heard his corresponding rasp of understanding.

"I was there, Liam. Or rather, Dragonheart was there. But I thought it was me, looking up at the sky, but it wasn't sky at all. Twas water, as cold and clear as eternity. And there was something else."

She whispered the words, then shivered a little, though she was neither cold nor afraid just now.

"Something it loves."

"Something the dragon loves?"

"Aye. We must go to Inverness."

"You jest."

"There is no other way."

"Rachel, you are tired, you are stunned. The dragon... the dragon boggles one's mind. This I know, but you mustn't take it too seriously."

"Too seriously! Tis you that told me, it has come to protect me."

"And you were right, Liam. But only partly so. It has come for me to protect it."

"This is madness."

"Aye, madness," she said. "But think on it, Liam. Never will we be safe so long as there is a chance that the wizard might find it."

"We can hide it away."

"Away where? He will never give up. That much you know. How much have our loved ones suffered already because of him?"

Her words hung in the darkness like evil birds of prey.

"Then I shall kill him," Liam intoned.

"Nay!" She grasped his hand in desperate fear. "You cannot, Liam. He has powers you cannot understand."

"He is mine sire. I think I can understand."

"His powers do not come of the earth."

"Then I shall draw upon the same powers to undo him," he said. "To save you."

Leaning forward, she pressed her fingers gently to his lips. "Don't say such things, Liam. Tis not true. Tis not in you to follow his path."

"You don't know what I am capable of."

She smiled through the darkness. "Aye, I know. You are capable of all that is good. For that is what's in you."

"You don't know that."

"You're wrong."

"Rachel—"

"Shh," she said, pressing his lips again. "Dragonheart wants to go home."

They didn't wait for morning before continuing their journey. Though fatigue rode them like cruel horseman, they crept from their hiding place.

Warwick expected them to travel north to reach the king. Thus, they headed east, hoping against hope that the wizard wouldn't see their tracks, wouldn't be able to follow them; would indeed finally head for Blackburn in an attempt to intercept their course.

At the first light of dawn, they found a patch of wild berries. The fruit was sweet and bountiful.

They ate as much as they could shove into their mouths, drank from the nearby stream then slept through the daylight hours.

That night they began again. Sometime before dawn, they guessed they passed Blackburn Castle many miles to the west.

Liam ached to take Rachel there, ached to deliver her into comfort and peace. But he knew there was no hope of that. She would not go, for she was committed to this course. She forged on, barely looking back, rarely stopping except when she could go no farther and would drop like a rock into sleep.

But it was not long before their sleep was interrupted. They awoke together, snapping to wakefulness and staring with mute terror into each other's eyes.

"He's near."

Liam was never certain if she spoke the words or merely thought them. But it didn't matter, for he knew her mind, felt her fear tremble through their entwined fingers to his soul.

Near, so near. It was the only thought he could find, consuming, aching, eating out his soul until his heart could barely beat with the pressure of his agony.

"We shall know happiness again." Her words were whispered, disjointed.

"Rachel."

"Believe." She touched his cheek. Her fingers trembled against his face, but her eyes were steady. "Believe with me."

He tightened his grip on her fingers, forced his eyes closed, and his mind from the terror. "We shall lie together in peace, knowing we are safe."

"Aye." The single word trembled. "We are safe. Nothing can touch us. Tis dark all around us."

"I feel your skin against mine."

"Aye. I hear the soft murmur of your breath. Beneath us the pallet is soft, filled with sweet herbs."

****

Liam snapped his eyes open. Had he heard the word or was it merely in his mind? But when he looked to Rachel, he saw that her eyes too were wide with paralyzing fear.

"We are found," she whimpered.

"Nay." He breathed the denial, though his soul was certain he was wrong. Still, as they cowered in their hiding place, no warriors stormed down on them, no all-powerful hand reached down to snatch them from life. "Nay," he said, finding his breath, forcing his lips to move. "We are gone. Lost to him. Away in our own place of safety and peace."

She did not speak, did not draw her gaze from his. Instead, she stared at him in wide-eyed terror. Sweat beaded her brow. Evil marched closer. Like an army on the move, it threatened to consume them. And in that moment, he leaned forward and kissed her.

She answered back with savage need. Lost in their sheltered copse, they lay back on the spongy moss. His fingers trembled on the laces that confined her bosom and managed to free them, her flesh like sunlight and hope against his fingertips. He kissed her throat, her ear, the high rise of her breasts.

"I love you," he whispered.

Her hands skimmed his abdomen. In moments, his laces were freed. Terror and adrenaline and hopelessness combined in one heady rush. They joined like wild animals, taut with a burning need to live each second to the fullest, until finally they fell, exhausted and spent, into a deep, unnatural sleep.

They awoke slowly, groggily. The sun was still up, they thought, but in a while, they realized that they were wrong. The sun was up
again.
They'd slept through the day and the night.

And in that time where had Warwick gone? They had no idea, but neither could they afford to contemplate it, for they dared not open their minds.

Instead, they found what food they could and pressed on.

The nights were haunted and endless, but there was not much farther to go. Neither was there any longer the need to guess in which direction Loch Ness lay. Somehow, though she was too exhausted to guess how, Rachel knew.

Dragonheart hung warm and soft against her skin, but behind them, evil gained on them until every step was torture, every thought painful.

"I have failed." Liam's voice was barely audible, though they stood so close their arms brushed.

"Nay," she countered, too weary to turn toward him.

"He has come."

Rachel's heart squeezed tight.

"Nay," she whimpered. "You have got us this far."

"Tis not me."

"Aye." The word trembled. "Tis your cunning, your wisdom, your goodness that has brought us safely here."

"He calls to me." Liam's voice was deep. "Even now he calls. Were I good I would go to him.

Go to him and destroy him, but I cannot."

"Because you are evil?"

He didn't answer. His eyes were as dark as terror, but it was far too late for him to hide his thoughts from her.

Instinctively, her hand touched the amulet. Beneath her cold fingers the metal felt smooth and warm.

"The dragon wants you."

He reared back, his body immediately stiff and his eyes intense. "Nay."

"Aye. For it knows tis you who can save us—can save
him."

"Nay," he said again, but she slipped it from her neck and onto his.

"Save us," she whispered.

"Rachel." His voice was agonized, but she pressed her fingers to his lips. They trembled against his flesh.

"I love you," she whispered.

The thunder of hooves rose from the bottom of the hill, and yet, for a moment, he could do nothing but stare at her. Then he turned away, the cords in his neck taut as he gazed into the valley below them.

"Back down!" he commanded.

"Nay!" Rachel gasped, her heart pounding in her throat. But in that moment he grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hill they had just ascended.

Hoofbeats thundered around them, echoing in her ears, growing like a giant heartbeat. But still they continued down the hill slipping and sliding, barely about to keep their feet in their harried flight.

Off to her right, a man shouted.

Rachel jerked toward the sound, terror overwhelming her, and in that moment she fell.

Evil reached for Rachel like an iron gauntlet.

She jerked, trying to catch herself, to gain her feet. But Liam fell upon her. His cape swooped over her like a falcon, covering her with its giant wings.

Horses thundered past, nearly trampling them, spurring up great divots of grass and mud that spattered on the cloak above them.

Evil smothered Rachel. Tore at her, ripped at her lungs. She tried to scream, but Liam's hand covered her mouth. His own face was pressed to her shoulder, his shudders like the trembles of a child.

But finally the evil backed off a quarter of an inch, enough for her to breathe. Liam's hand slipped from her mouth. She pulled in a desperate draught of air, recovering slowly. But Liam was already on his feet. He pulled her with him, not wasting an instant, not a breath.

They slid the rest of the way down, hit the bottom and ran, hand in hand, blindly, hopelessly, going seemingly nowhere.

They had only minutes before Warwick realized he'd been tricked.

She knew the moment it happened, felt it in her soul, sensed the wizard's evil intent turned toward them again.

Liam ran all the harder, pulling her along behind him. Her lungs ached with their flight. Her legs trembled. Sweat rolled between her shoulder blades. Her skin steamed in the cooling air, mingling with the fog that rolled up from the valley. In a moment she could see nothing but silvery mist.