Highlander Undone (Highland Bound Book 5) (19 page)

“That is not what I meant.” He sounded hurt, and she felt immediately guilty for shunning his love.

Moira sighed. “I know.” And she did. Rory was not that type of man. He wanted her to be his, not because he wanted to own her, but because he wanted to protect her and cherish her. To love her in earnest. And didn’t she want that? Didn’t she want to return those same feelings and gestures? The answer was an easy and resounding:
yes
.

Moira stopped walking, turning to face Rory. He was easily a foot taller than her; she’d always admired his wonderful height. She loved that he towered over her, it made her feel safe and when he wrapped his arms all the way around her, she could cuddle up against him and feel like nothing bad would ever happen.

“I’m sorry, Rory.” Tears burned her eyes. “I know ye didn’t mean it like that.” She swiped at her tears. “I’m just scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I opened my heart before and—”

He started to interrupt, but she pressed her fingers to his lips.

“Please let me finish. I know it wasn’t your fault that ye were called back to your time, but I spent years blaming ye and hurting, and those feelings are still fresh. I don’t even know if I’ll be here in the morning. I want to go home. I
like
living in modern times. I like medicine and my cell phone.”

Rory nodded, his face falling. “Love, if ye want to live in the present, I’m willing to give up everything here to be with ye.”

“I could never ask that of ye.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

His hands slid from her elbows to her shoulders and then he tugged her forward into his embrace. “But I want ye to know that I speak the truth. That I would. Everything.”

Moira wrapped her arms around him, sinking into his hold, her ear pressed to the sound of his beating heart. She closed her eyes, breathing out a contented sigh.

“I thank ye, Rory, from the bottom of my heart, I really do.”

“I love ye. I know my disappearing hurt ye, and that the pain will take some time to ebb, but I want ye to know that. I love ye still, with all my heart.”

Moira pressed a kiss over his heart, breathing in his familiar masculine scent, wanting to tell him that she’d never stopped loving him, but unsure how to say it without crying or falling apart. She wasn’t ready to make that kind of verbal commitment, and Rory didn’t seem to be asking for one. She hoped that her small kiss showed just how much she actually felt, without having to say the words.

“Did ye hear that?” Suddenly Rory stiffened, his hand went to his sword and his eyes scanned the horizon.

Moira inched away from his chest to look and listen, not seeing or hearing what he did.

“What is it?”

“Horses. Maybe a dozen of them.”

“Is that unusual?” What did she know, there seemed to be horses everywhere.

“It’s hard to explain. Horses are not unusual, but we are not expecting anyone.”

“Are ye certain?”

“Aye. I’ve been…working with Ewan and Logan.”

Working? What did he mean by that? “Does this have to do with MacLeod?”

Rory met her gaze, his brow furrowed, eyes filled with concern. “Aye, lass.”

“Should I be worried?”

“There is something I have to tell ye.” He threaded a hand through his hair, blowing out a harsh breath.

Her heart skipped a beat. Whatever it was sounded as though it would be intense and she braced herself, trying to keep her cool. She placed her hands on his chest and said, “I will listen.”

“My uncle was—”

A horn blew from the top of the castle.

“What was that?”

“They are arming the gates. We have to go.” He looked so conflicted. “But ye must know…”

“Ye can tell me later. Rory, whatever it is, it won’t change in the next moment.”

But he didn’t look so convinced. “It will have to wait. Your safety is top priority.”

Rory grabbed her hand and they ran along the shore to the rocky stairs. Moira tried to keep pace with him, but for every stride of his, she had to take two. When she tripped on the fourth stair, he swept her up into his arms and ran the rest of the way up and then through the postern gate.

“Ye can put me down. Go. See what’s happening. I’ll be along shortly.”

“Nay, I canna. I must see that ye are safe first.”

“Then at least let me run, I couldn’t bear it if I stole any strength ye needed.”

“I’ve plenty of it.” He managed to smile and wink at her in a way that made her belly flip, and warm heat rush to her face.

Even with imminent danger, Rory made her feel like she was the only one in the world.

Moira wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled back. “Ye are unique, Rory. An amazing man with boundless compassion.”

He grunted.

By the time they reached the castle, Logan and Ewan were at the top of the barbican, watching those on the other side of the gate. They motioned to Rory.

“Will ye be all right now?” he asked.

“Yes. I see Shona and Emma on the steps.”

The two women wore equal expressions of concern standing just outside the castle doors.

Rory pressed a kiss to her forehead when he set her down. She closed her eyes a moment, her hands squeezing his upper arms. There were so many things she wanted to say to him and not nearly enough time in which to do it.

“I’ll speak with ye soon,” he said.

She dipped her head. “Good luck.”

Moira watched him climb the stairs to the battlements, where he joined the men, regretting that she’d not just come out with how she felt. Had just leapt from the ridge and told him she still loved him.

From here, the way he stiffened his back, she could tell that whoever was below was not someone he wanted to see. One guess, she’d say it was MacLeod. Lifting the hem of her skirts, she hurried up the castle front stairs to stand with Emma and Shona.

“Who is it?” she asked hesitantly.

“Ranulf MacLeod.” Emma’s response confirmed Moira’s fears.

She shivered, hugging herself. “What does he want?”

“Rory,” Shona whispered.

“Logan will protect him,” Emma said.

Moira kept her gaze on Rory and the men, they were shouting to those on the other side of the gate, the answering call lost to her ears at this distance.

“Open the gates!” Logan shouted.

“Protect him?” Moira said, panicked. “He just invited the enemy inside!”

“I’m not certain this is a good idea. MacLeod could try to take a shot at ye, Rory,” Logan said. “Ye’ll need to be on your guard.”

“Aye.” Rory clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. “Ye’ve done the right thing; the best thing for me to do is to talk to him. Perhaps with ye as a mediator he will be more understanding.”

The men descended the stairs as the gates were opened and the clopping of horses’ hooves was heard in the bailey below. Rory caught sight of Moira on the stairs. She was hugging herself, worry written all over her face. He wished more than anything to rush over to her and offer comfort, but he couldn’t. Their gazes locked and he quirked a smile, hoping that small gesture would settle her nerves.

She smiled tentatively back and he mouthed the words:
It’s going to be all right.

And it damned well better be.

“Shouldn’t the women go inside?” Rory asked.

“Aye,” Logan said, turning to Gregor, one of the guards walking with them. “Escort them inside. Tell my wife I’ll be along shortly to speak with her.”

Gregor nodded, though his face paled slightly. If Rory had to guess, Lady Emma didn’t much like being told what to do, and was likely to give the poor guard a hard time.

Rory chanced a glance toward the women and could have laughed at Logan’s expense, but the situation left him feeling so tense he barely smiled. Lady Emma was shaking her head, hands on her hips, looking as though she was about to give a piece of her mind to Gregor. The man uttered something softly and her hands dropped. She nodded then encouraged Shona and Moira to go inside, too. Easier than Rory had guessed. Perhaps because of the other two women present.

Rory stepped off the last stair and came face to face with his son. He halted, breath caught. Damn, but it was like beholding himself fifteen years ago.

“Rory MacLeod,” Ranulf said. “I’ve been looking for ye.”

“I’ve only just returned, and heard of it.” Rory kept his voice calm and void of any emotion.

“Why have ye been hiding for all these years?” Ranulf slid from his horse, sauntering within a few feet of Rory.

Ballocks. He’d not expected the sudden crush of emotions tunneling through his limbs. Overwhelmed, he dragged in a breath. “Ye’ve grown up,” he managed.

“Traitor,” Ranulf seethed.

Rory shook his head. “I’m no traitor.”

Ranulf puffed his chest, his cheeks ruddy from anger. “Ye will address me as Laird.”

“Ye’re not the only laird present, ’twould be rude of me.” Rory couldn’t help the jibe. The lad was obstinate, and try as he might to be civil, Ranulf was not cooperating.

“I
am
your laird.” Ranulf’s eyes skated to his guards. “And I deserve your show of loyalty afore I bring ye to justice for what ye did.”

“Let us speak privately.” Rory tried to walk around Ranulf, but the young buck was not interested in talking, he’d come for a fight.

And Rory knew it, for a certainty, the moment the tip of a blade touched his spine. The sound of at least a dozen or more swords being drawn from their scabbards followed. MacLeods and Grants, all with weapons drawn.

“Dinna do it,” Logan said. “I’ve welcomed ye into my gates and I’d hate to toss ye out afore we’ve had a chance to talk.”

“Toss me out with this vermin,” Ranulf demanded, the tip of his blade pressing a little harder to Rory’s back.

“I’m afraid I canna do that. Ye see, I’ve offered Rory my protection.”

“Ye, the Guardian of Scotland, would offer protection to a murderer?” Ranulf sounded put out, the venom in his tone thick.

“He’s no murderer, and ye know it,” Logan said. “Drop your weapon. Let us go inside.”

“Nay,” Ranulf hollered.

“If ye dinna drop your weapon, I will order my men to take your men down, and then I’ll be forced to take ye down. I have the power to do so, but it is not a power I wish to wield.” Logan had remained calm throughout his speech, but the undercurrent of his tone brooked no argument.

Rory raised his hands in the air, showing he held no weapons, and slowly turned around. Ranulf didn’t move, his blade only sliding over Rory’s ribs and pressing against his chest.

Looking his son in the eyes, Rory said, “The lad does not want to talk, my laird. He wants to fight. I shall give him what he wants.”

Logan didn’t argue. From his periphery, Rory could see the man gave a curt nod, but what he was really staring at was Ranulf, and the way he fumed even more at being called a lad.

“I dinna just want a fight. I want ye dead!”

Rory grinned, though it was more of a grimace. “I know it.”

“Ye murdered my parents.”

Rory shook his head.

“Ye left our clan to die.” Ranulf would most likely run through his list of accusations.

“If there is one thing I’m guilty of, ’tis running when I should have stayed. But look what it got ye. Ye’re the laird now.”

Ranulf’s eyes turned dark with hatred, his lips curled. The men that stood around them simply looked from Ranulf to Rory and back again. Many of them were young, they wouldn’t remember that Rory was the nephew of the late laird, and they definitely wouldn’t know that Ranulf was Rory’s son.

“Of course
I’m
the laird. Who else would be? Certainly not
ye
.”

Rory put the flat of his hand on top of Ranulf’s sword and slowly pushed it down. “I’ve never wanted to be laird.”

“And ye canna!” The lad sounded positively irate.

“A blessing.”

“A blessing?” Ranulf sounded exasperated, letting out a short bark of laughter. “Have ye lost your mind?”

“Nay. ’Tis a blessing ye were left alive. I thank the stars every night that ye and the other children were taken to safety.”

“But ye
abandoned
us.” Ranulf raised his sword once more.

“For your own good.”

Again, he laughed. “Ye know nothing of what is good for me.”

“Ye may be right about that. I’m happy to give ye the fight ye want, Ranulf, but let us do it like men. No weapons. We’ll use our bare hands.”

“I will bludgeon ye to death.” Ranulf jerked the blade, and Rory yanked away in enough time that it didn’t pierce his skin.

“So ye say. I’ll not be killing ye today.”

Ranulf turned another shade of red. Seemed that every word Rory uttered made the lad angrier and angrier.

“Because I’m going to kill
ye
.”

“I’m afraid I will not allow that, either.”

Ranulf threw his sword to the ground. “Ye should have died. Ye should have been the one left to bleed into the earth.”

Chapter Sixteen