Highland Passage (10 page)

When he’d finished, Ciarán said without looking, “Why have you come, lass?” His voice had lost its former warmth.

“You can’t just say things like you said and then leave.”

He glanced briefly at her with a look so stern that Mac was glad it was only a glance. Without turning from his fire building, he said, “It isnae safe for you here.”

“From what I’ve seen, it isn’t that safe for you either.”

Ciarán stopped what he was doing and looked over at her. Mac met his gaze, although flinching would have been her first choice. His expression was hard enough without the evening shadows of swaying tree branches.

“You shouldnae have come. What if you had met up with ruffians?”

“Ruffians?” Mac started to laugh but caught herself. It still felt so unreal, as though she were in some sort of Renaissance fair gone wrong. She had to remind herself that she was actually in the eighteenth century. “Lucky thing I found Hamish and Fergus.”

Ciarán folded his arms. “They found you. But you were, indeed, fortunate, lass. From now on, do not go anywhere without one of us.”

His voice had an edge that matched a stern look Mac had not seen from him before. He had no right to take such an air of authority with her.

She lifted her chin in defiance. “I was close to the castle. I would have been fine.”

“Would you now?” Ciarán turned and looked at her with a haunting expression. “You could have met with so many dangers that I dare not think on it.”

“So could you. But you didn’t, because I got you out. Or have you forgotten that part?” Mac took a breath. He had made a good point, but she would not let him know it.

“Hamish and Fergus would have gotten me out.”

“Oh? Then why didn’t they?”

Ciarán clenched his jaw as he looked into the woods. “That’s a very good question, which I’ll pose to them when they’ve returned. But now we are talking about you.”

Mac stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think we’ve covered that subject.” She had tried to sound flippant, but she felt her emotions too close to the surface. She had never been able to hide feelings well. So she did what she always did; she walked away. At least this way she felt some semblance of control—that is, until she tripped on a tree root and fell. Her knee struck the root, and the pain spread through her body, jolting unfiltered emotions and a few choice curse words.

“Where does it hurt?” Ciarán asked in gentle, sure tones as he knelt down beside her.

My heart
. That was what she wanted to tell him, but instead she said, “My knee.”

He put both hands around her ankle and worked his way up, checking for broken bones.

Mac said softly, “I may have hurt my other knee, too.”

“Oh, aye?” His voice had lost most of its harshness. She could see that he wanted to smile, but he fought it. Instead, he called her bluff and examined the other leg.

When he got to her knee, Mac took in a breath. His strong fingers were electric. Neither one of them moved.

“We’ve got supper,” Fergus called out as he emerged from the woods, toting a duck and a rabbit.

Ciarán slipped his hand away and helped Mac to her feet. With a firm hand on her upper arm, he led her back to the fire. When he started to support her so she could sit down, she said, “It’s better now, thank you.” She gently but deliberately eased her arm from his grasp.

While the supper was cooking over the fire, Ciarán said, “Hamish, would you care to tell me how it came to be that you let a woman do what you should have done?” The edge in his voice cut through the restless air stirring between them.

Hamish took a long moment before responding. “The lass had a good idea.”

Ciarán said, “One that put her in danger.”

“We were always nearby in case anything happened,” said Fergus.

“Nearby? Outside the castle?” Ciarán’s voice remained quiet but grew more intense.

“Aye,” Fergus said firmly.

“Could you not bring a ransom?” Ciarán tossed a broken tree branch on the fire. Sparks floated into the night sky.

Hamish started to grin. “I did, but why waste a good ransom?”

In one move, Ciarán leapt toward Hamish and hurled him backward onto the ground. Hamish wriggled free and struck Ciarán, who in turn landed a blow on Hamish’s jaw that sent him back once more to the ground. In an instant, he was up with his hands around Ciarán’s neck. They rolled around for a bit until Fergus strode over and pulled them apart. “That’s enough, lads.”

Ciarán glared at Hamish. “If you ever put her life at risk again, I’ll put yours at risk, too—and you too, Fergus.” Ciarán turned and walked away, muttering something about getting more wood for the fire.

Hamish frowned as he brushed himself off. “Watch him, lass. Your sweetheart has a temper.” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“My sweetheart?” In light of all that had happened, Mac was not sure how to react. She and Ciarán had barely spoken, and although he had kissed her, “sweetheart” was a bit of a leap from where they were right now.

Hamish gave her his most charming grin, and it made Mac uneasy. She looked away to avoid his knowing look. She would not let him see he was right.

Having vented their anger, the men settled around the fire to quietly share a flask of whisky while Mac tried to work through her competing emotions. She had arrived with one purpose in mind: to find Ciarán, which she had done. After that, she had thought only of rescuing him, which she also had done. But now, here she was with her mission accomplished, and she felt completely off-balance. What had she expected? And what did she want? She had done something drastic: traveled through time on the strength of one heart-pounding kiss, and for what? What did she think would—or could—happen now? Yes, there was an attraction. She could not deny it. But this was not some sort of spring-break romance. Nor was it real life—at least not hers. This was more like a dream from which she would awaken, having lost something that she had never really had.

Fergus interrupted her thoughts. “We’d best sleep, aye?”

The other two men uttered grunts of agreement as they rose and went to their horses to get blankets for sleeping. Ciarán returned with a spare plaid, which he held out to Mac.

“No, thank you.” Pride had prompted her answer, but a cold gust of wind soon made her regret it.

“Dinnae be a fool.”

As if she had not heard him, Mac wrapped herself in her lightweight woolen tartan and lay down on the cold ground. She dozed off a few times, only to awaken to her own shivers and Fergus’s snores. With the moon high in the sky, morning had to be hours off. She was in the midst of longing for the down duvet from her bed at home when a warm plaid was draped over her and a large and very warm body drew close behind her and cradled her in its warmth.

Mac opened her eyes wide.

“Dinnae argue with me, woman. I’ll not have you freeze,” Ciarán said in a low voice close to her ear as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She sank into his warmth and breathed in his scent. She soon drifted off to sleep in his arms.

11

A Promise Fulfilled

When she awoke in the morning, Ciarán was gone. Hamish and Fergus were eating.

Fergus handed her a cup. “Hurry and break your fast. We’ll leaving soon.”

As she sat down on her tartan to eat, Mac eyed the watery porridge with suspicion. “On the bright side, there’s no way I won’t lose a pound or two while I’m here.”

Hamish and Fergus started saddling their horses. Ciarán’s horse was there, but there was still no sign of Ciarán. Fergus glanced over, which she took as a sign that they were waiting for her, but with limited patience. She gulped the last bit of porridge and stood up. A strong hand gripped her arm and pulled her up the rest of the way to the horse.

“Make haste,” Ciarán said. “A small party from Clan Ross is headed our way.”

“Where are we going?” Mac asked as Ciarán pulled her up to ride behind him.

“Away,” Ciarán answered. “Hold tight, Mac.” And with that, they were off.

The terrain was rocky and rough. Climbing as fast as they did spoke well of Ciarán’s skill as a horseman and of his horse’s speed. Even so, they could not keep up with Hamish and Fergus, whose horses had only one rider to carry. Hamish doubled back to ride beside them. “We cannae outride them at this pace.”

“No.” Ciarán shared a knowing look with Hamish, who nodded.

“The caves, then?” asked Hamish.

Ciarán stared into the distance. “Aye.”

With a nod, Hamish urged his horse on as they headed into a pass between two hills.

The cave was well hidden behind jutting rocks. Although the entrance was narrow and deep, after a few minutes they turned into a larger chamber that had a fissure which allowed sunlight in from high above. There was room for them here, horses and all.

Mac asked Ciarán, “How long will we wait here?”

“Until we’re safe to go home,” Ciarán said as though that were enough of an answer.

Mac tried to keep her voice patient. “And when will that be?”

Ciarán turned to her. “I dinnae ken. It depends upon them. If they ride past us, we’ll need to wait for them to turn back and go home. If they follow our trail, we’ll fight them.”

“Here?”

“Aye.”

For Ciarán, this was a simple decision that he took in stride, but for Mac, the reality of it was harsh. Violence was a part of life here. People grew up with it, prepared for it, and accepted its consequences. But Mac knew nothing about how to survive in this world.

After being lost in thought for several moments, Mac glanced up to find Ciarán studying her. It would have been a good moment for him to tell her that everything would be fine and that he would keep her safe. But try though he would, even great warriors fell. If he did, she would be helpless, and she knew it.

Without a word, he took her hand and led her around the bend in the cave. There, he handed a sgian dubh to her. “’Tis a small weapon, but effective up close.” He showed her how to best hold and wield it. “Dinnae hesitate. Strike to kill, for you’ll not have a second chance.”

Mac gave a determined nod and slipped the knife under her belt, but her trembling hand betrayed her. Ciarán put his sure hand over hers and lifted it. Gently, he brushed his lips over her fingers. “You have yet to answer my question. Why have you come here?”

“You told me that I would love you.”

“Aye, but you didnae know me then.”

“No, but I thought that I might.”

“Know me?” His searching eyes stirred her soul.

“Love you.” Mac had never felt so exposed. Instinct told her to turn away, but she could not take her eyes from his. “The way that you said it made me wish it were true.”

A gentle smile warmed his eyes. “And what else did I tell you?”

“That you would love me,” she whispered.

He brushed a wisp of hair from her brow and smiled gently. “Ah, but you see, I already did.”

“And now?”

“And now.” He cupped the back of her head in his hand and drew her into a kiss.

The nearby voices of Hamish and Fergus reminded them that they were not alone. Ciarán leaned back in an effort to put a safe distance between them, but it only served to afford him a view of the slope of her neck to her shoulders and breasts, which his hands further explored. But he stopped, put his hands on her shoulders, and let out a guttural sigh. “My lovely Mac, I believe you have come to torment me.”

She smiled, and his answering smile filled her with joy. “Not being with you like this was my torment. That’s why I went through the stone chamber.”

Ciarán grinned. “So you could watch me go mad from wanting you?” He laughed as he lifted and spun her around. But their laughter soon faded as he slid her body down against his and set her feet on the ground. They clung together. His breath warmed her neck as he whispered, “I am yours, Mistress Mackenzie.”

Fergus cleared his throat loudly and walked past them on his way outside. “I’ll keep the first watch.”

Ciarán exchanged somber looks with Fergus. “Good. I’ll relieve you when night falls.”

Mac saw the concern in his eyes as he watched Fergus leave. He was thinking of what was to come. If the Clan Ross men found them, they would be outnumbered. The very thing that now kept them protected could become their downfall, for if discovered, they would be trapped in the cave with no means of escape. But it was their best option now.

Ciarán turned back to Mac. “We must rest while we’re able.” He touched her back gently, and they went into the back of the cave. There was no fire, lest it give them away. Ciarán lay beside Mac and warmed her until she fell asleep, then he quietly went outside to join Fergus. Hamish followed.

Fergus said, “Before darkness fell, I caught a glimpse of some smoke at the foot of the mountain.”

Hamish scratched his chin as he considered this. “We’re a day’s ride away, and they’ve a climb ahead of them if they’re coming up here.”

“’Tis true,” Ciarán said. “But if they go around the mountain, we might meet them on the other side.”

Fergus shook his head. “A good tracker could find our trail. There’s a good chance they will follow it up here to us.”

Hamish nodded. “Aye, but we’ve a downhill path before us. We have the advantage.”

Ciarán ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. “Either we take the downhill path and risk meeting Clan Ross or wait in the cave while they pass by. Waiting would be the safer option.” They all knew he was thinking of Mac, but no one voiced it.

It was Fergus who broke the silence. “Unless they know of the cave—then we’d be trapped.”

It was a point no one could argue with.

“’Tis your lady at risk. What say you, Ciarán?” Hamish asked.

Ciarán knew they would defer to him, for if he chose their course and anything happened to her, he would not be able to blame them. It would be his own fault, so he considered his options with care. “We leave at dawn.”

12

A Thunder of Horses