Read Highland Surrender Online
Authors: Dawn Halliday
Highland Surrender (45 page)
Cam’s fingers inched toward his dirk. From his position at the door, Irvington couldn’t see Cam’s weapon—his legs were hidden behind the pews. Still, the duke kept his focus solely on Cam, as if Cam were his only adversary. Perhaps he was. Rob was too sick to fight for Elizabeth, and beyond that, who would take a stand for the Sassenach wench?
Cam grasped the hilt of the dagger, wrapping his fingers around it and sliding it from its sheath. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flurry at the front door of the chapel.
Cam didn’t take his gaze from the duke. Their stares remained locked, a whimpering Elizabeth between them.
And then Irvington broke their connection. He swiveled his head, distracted by the movement at the door. Cam latched onto the opportunity. He raised his dirk, aimed, and, praying to God he still retained the skill he’d practiced endlessly with Alan as a youth, he flung it at the duke’s upraised hand—the hand holding the gun to Elizabeth’s head.
The dagger did not hit the duke’s hand. It clanged against the barrel of the pistol, yanking it out of Irvington’s grasp. But not before he pulled the trigger.
The boom of the gunshot resonated straight into Cam’s soul. With an agonized cry, he lunged for the duke and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was on the ground. Blood was everywhere—coating her face and her dress. But—thank God—she wept. She was moving.
Cam dragged Irvington to the ground in a full-body tackle. He rolled beneath him, the duke’s full weight slamming him to the earth, but then he gained the upper hand, sank his boot heel into the soft mud, and propelled himself on top, all the while slamming his fists into the older man’s chest.
Irvington had hurt his own niece, whom before now he’d loved and cosseted as if she were the most important, precious gem. What kind of a deranged man—
“He murdered them! He killed my parents! He killed my brother! He tried . . . tried to kill Rob!”
The shrill accusations came as if from a distance. Cam was too busy staving off the duke’s attack to register them for several moments. Then they sank in.
Elizabeth had screamed the words. The Duke of Irvington had murdered his own family. He’d tried to murder Cam’s only family.
With renewed fury, Cam slammed his fist into the older man’s face. But somehow Irvington managed to slip out from beneath him. “Roger!” he screamed. “Help me!”
Suddenly another pistol materialized in the Duke of Irvington’s hand. He wrenched the weapon around, aiming it at Cam’s chest.
Cam knew he was going to die. In the next fraction of a second, he was going to be shot through the heart.
He heard the bang of the gun. He felt the impact shudder through him.
But there was no pain.
He opened his eyes. There was blood, more blood, so much, staining everything crimson. But not his own. The Duke of Irvington’s eyes stared up at him, glassy. There was a hole in the side of his head, and gore oozed from it. His arm lay at his side, finger still curled around the trigger of the gun his man Roger had thrown to him.
Cam surveyed himself, slowly coming to the realization that he hadn’t been shot, that it wasn’t the end. The Duke of Irvington lay dead beneath him.
He glanced up. People surrounded them, some of them shouting, their voices muffled by the din in his mind. Rob knelt not two feet away. Slowly, Rob lowered the pistol with shaking hands, swaying a little, looking more green than pale. His voice pierced Cam’s shock. “Sorry. Took so long. Didn’t trust my shot from a distance.”
“Elizabeth?” Cam turned, searching for the girl amid the crowd of people surrounding them. He’d seen the duke shoot her. He’d seen the blood.
“The shot grazed her arm as the gun fell,” Rob said. “The wound isn’t fatal.”
Cam’s eyelids sank, weighted by steel. “Thank God.”
Suddenly, an arm slipped over his shoulders, and Cam opened his eyes. Rob had staggered away, probably to see to his wife.
“Here, let me help you. Can you get up? Where does it hurt?”
He looked up into Ceana’s heart-shaped face, framed by that wild, irresistible mop of curls.
He allowed her to help him off the dead Englishman. He stood on unstable legs and, with a strange detachment, watched the flurry of people rushing about. Then he pushed through the crowd surrounding Elizabeth and went to her side.
Rob knelt beside her, holding her in his arms. Blood smeared between them and stained the ivory silk of her wedding dress, but she’d found the strength to wrap her arms around Rob, so Cam felt reassured the injury wasn’t dire. He touched her shoulder. “Elizabeth?”
She turned to him, sniffing. Her eyes were bloodshot. “My lord.”
“Will you be all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered. Tears slipped in twin streams down her face. “Thank you.”
He smiled at her, brushed a tear from her cheek, then nodded at Rob. “Take care of your woman, brother.”
“Aye. I will.”
Tenderly, Rob brushed Elizabeth’s tousled hair out of her face and cradled her in his arms, though he looked near to death himself.
It would be folly to try to separate them. Cam had no wish to do so. They both might have to be carried to bed later, but let them sit in the mud and comfort each other. There was no harm in it. Hell, they were husband and wife.
Cam rose. His legs felt stronger now, more in control. He saw to the arrests of Roger and the remainder of the Duke of Irvington’s men, and had the body removed. When the tumult died down, he scanned the crowd. Where was Ceana?
There she was, her head bent as she gave a servant orders for medicines and a bandage for Elizabeth.
The castle surgeon stood at her side, scowling. “You will irritate the wound if you clean it in such a manner.”
Ceana looked at the man, raised a brow, then turned away as if she found him unworthy of a response. Cam nearly smiled.
She was a true MacNab.
But Cam didn’t believe in curses. And he wasn’t going to allow her to believe in them, either.
He intended to break the MacNab family curse.
Now
.
Now
.
Ceana ground her teeth when fingers closed around her elbow. That damned surgeon again, thinking he could put his filthy hands on her . . .
She turned, hand raised, prepared to shove him away, but instead of the surgeon, Cam hovered over her. That intense expression hardened his face. The one that sent heated shivers bouncing through her core and scared the wits out of her.
“What—”
“You’re coming with me,” he growled. “Now.”
“Cam,” she huffed. “Really. I haven’t the time. I must dress Elizabeth’s wound, and Rob—”
“Leave them alone,” he commanded. “They’re happy where they are.”
He tugged—no,
dragged
—her inside the chapel. She sighed heavily. “What do you want?”
dragged
—her inside the chapel. She sighed heavily. “What do you want?”
He remained implacable, stubbornly pulling her along until they stood at the altar. She glanced around. Only a few people remained in the chapel after the earlier uproar. One of them was the reverend. He was turned away from them, his bald head bowed as he tended to the candles.
Cam cleared his throat. “We’re ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“Hush,” he reprimanded.
She cast her gaze to the heavens, frustrated. “Good Lord.”
Cam raised a brow at her. The minister turned to her, eyes wide, and she huffed out a breath. “Forgive me, sir.”
The man inclined his head at Cam. “Are you certain, my lord?”
“Absolutely. It is what I’ve wanted, what I’ve known to be right since the day I returned to the Highlands.”
The man began to intone in Latin, blessing them both.
A heavy feeling descended in Ceana’s stomach.
Oh, hell. Oh, no.
“No,” she murmured. “This is impossible. The banns haven’t been read!”
The minister paused, then smiled benevolently. “Oh, aye, indeed they have. I’ve read them these three Sundays past.”
“That’s impossible!”
“But it is true.”
She glanced at Cam, who gave her a serene look, and she turned back to the minister. “You read them for the earl and Lady Elizabeth Grant. I’m Ceana MacNab. You didn’t read them for me.”
“Oh, but I did.” His eyes twinkled. “Indeed I did.”
“I’ve been present at every one of those Sunday services, Ceana,” a voice called out from behind her. Ceana turned to see Janet MacAdam’s round face beaming from within the gathering crowd. “I am certain it was your name Reverend Anderson called.”
“Oh, aye, it certainly was,” said a man beside her. “ ‘Ceana MacNab,’ he said, loud and clear.”
Agreement rang out from all corners of the chapel, and every single head in the suddenly crowded space nodded in smiling agreement.
“Aye, it was Ceana MacNab’s name.”
“Indeed it was.”
“I don’t believe our earl ever considered marrying anyone else.”
They were all joining together in support of her marriage to Cam. The reverend nodded in grave agreement, and even Ceana was almost convinced.
They were Highlanders. All of them. They stood behind what they thought was best—what they thought was best for their leader, the Earl of Camdonn. Their
laird
. And even though Lady Elizabeth’s name was the true name that had been called out at the services for the past three weeks, nobody would ever admit it. They’d insist, to their dying breaths, that the reverend had called Ceana’s name and no one else’s.
laird
. And even though Lady Elizabeth’s name was the true name that had been called out at the services for the past three weeks, nobody would ever admit it. They’d insist, to their dying breaths, that the reverend had called Ceana’s name and no one else’s.
Ceana’s heart began to beat rapidly, fluttering in her chest like a hummingbird’s wings. Her eyes stung, and she began to tremble.
Cam was serious. The reverend was serious. The people surrounding them were serious. They all wanted her to marry Cam today . . .
now
.
now
.
“Cam—”
“Hush.”
He held her arm in an iron grip.
Oh, God
. She could run if she wanted to. She could wrench away from him and run until she couldn’t move another step.
Oh, God
. She could run if she wanted to. She could wrench away from him and run until she couldn’t move another step.
The reverend began again, resuming the service where she’d interrupted him.
God help her, she wanted this. So badly. She’d dreamed of hearing these words spoken to her. She’d never thought she would.
She slid her gaze to Cam. He stood beside her, his face cast in stone, staring hard at the clergyman.
“Repeat after me, my lord,” Reverend Anderson said, his gaze fastened on Cam.
She watched in fascination as Cam dutifully repeated all the words the reverend recited. Tears pricked at her eyes. Would the devil smite him on the spot? Would he run away? Would he change his mind? Would someone run in and shoot him in retribution?
She looked wildly about, but though more people had entered the chapel, they were all men and women she knew from Camdonn Castle, and all wore benign, encouraging expressions. She blinked back at them in owlish disbelief.
“Now, Miss MacNab, it is your turn,” the clergyman said.
Janet MacAdam gestured toward the altar, mouthing,
Go ahead, lass.
Go ahead, lass.
Ceana swung her head around to face the reverend. He gave her a gentle smile. Cam’s hand tightened on her elbow, and she glanced at him.
“Please,” he whispered. “I love you.”
She burst into tears.
Instantly, people surrounded her, handing her handkerchiefs, murmuring their support. All the while, Cam caressed her. He rubbed his hand on her sleeve, gently touched her cheek, her nose, her lips.
“Look at me, my love.”
She raised her teary eyes to his, and the world around them disappeared.
“I love you,” he said again. “Break the curse with me. We can do this, Ceana, right here, right now. I’m not going away. I’m not going to die. I don’t want any other woman—since the first moment I saw you, there has been no one else for me. Be my countess, Ceana. Be mine.”
“I’m so afraid.” She couldn’t stop shaking.
“We’re almost there.” He didn’t beg, didn’t plead or grovel. He knew what he wanted, and he was going after it. His face remained hard, determined. “We’re moments away. I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”
“I love you,” she whispered. Fresh streams of tears cascaded down her cheeks. Her hands shook in his. “No matter what happens . . . never forget it. I love you, Cam.”
“Are you ready, miss?” It was the reverend. His voice came from far away.
She looked into Cam’s dark eyes. So much love shone there. It sank through her pores and spread deep inside her, lending her strength.
“Aye,” she murmured.
She repeated the lines, hardly knowing what she said. There was beauty to every word, though, simply because she shared each one with Cam. He mouthed them along with her, squeezing her hands tightly, keeping them safe within his own.
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