MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel (15 page)

Maggie looked with concern at the tumultuous water. She’d crossed creeks on foot and lochs in boats, but she’d never crossed a fast-moving river on a horse.

To judge by the look on Colin’s face, their predicament wasn’t good. They had the redcoats at their back and a river at their front. Her horse stomped its foot and snorted. Even the horses were nervous.

They’d ridden through the night and it was midmorning now. Crossing a river in daylight would be risky for reasons other than the raging waters. They would be in perfect sight of anyone looking for them.

They rode along the bank of the river for a time, Colin constantly searching for a good place to cross and Maggie watching for redcoats. She was becoming nervous. It was taking far longer than it should to find a good crossing point.

Colin reined his horse in. “I see no easy place to pass,” he said. “We’ll have to head upriver.”

Go back the way they had come and then some. It was worse than riding in circles, and they were wasting so much time.

“Very well.” She turned her horse around.

Another hour passed. Now it was midafternoon, and they’d wasted half a day looking for a way to cross the river. They hadn’t even stopped to eat and Maggie’s stomach was growling, but she’d rather cross the damn river than waste time eating.

“Here,” Colin said, reining to a stop. “It will have to be here.”

Maggie shielded her eyes with her hand to see across the water. The sun’s rays bounced off the rough-and-tumble rapids. The current was still strong here, but it seemed a little less so.

Colin slid off his mount and rummaged through his bag. He brought out two pieces of dried meat and handed her one. She chewed while Colin walked around, his head bent as he studied the ground. He toed one or two long sticks, then moved on before he finally found two long branches, nearly as tall as he and about as thick as his fist.

He handed one to her. “We’ll use these to feel ahead for the depth of the water. If you canno’ find the bottom with the pole, try another location.”

She slid off her horse and took the long branch.

“You lead your horse, I’ll lead mine, and I’ll go first. Try to follow in my exact footsteps.”

She nodded and looked at the water nervously. “I’ve never crossed a river like this.”

“Just follow me and all will be well.”

He checked the bags on the horses and tightened the cinches. The horses stamped their feet and rolled their eyes at the rushing water. Maggie felt like doing the same.

Colin looked at her, the reins in one hand and the branch in his other. He reached out and grasped her cold hand, squeezing her fingers. “All will be well,” he repeated.

She nodded and his hand slid away before he stepped into the water.

Maggie waited for him to walk out a few paces, and then she followed. She drew in a sharp breath as the freezing water ebbed and flowed around her boots, her ankles, her knees, and then her hips when she leaned forward to push through it.

Colin felt with his pole, then took a step. Reached with the pole and took another step. They continued like that for a long while. Maggie kept her eyes on Colin, for fear she would not follow his steps exactly.

The farther they got from the shore, the harder the water tugged at her. If she’d been wearing a gown, she would have been pulled under by now and never seen again. As it was, her breeches and shirt were becoming heavy and making it more difficult for her to take another step. She couldn’t feel her body from the waist down and was shivering violently, but she continued on, following Colin’s footsteps.

When she was certain that they had to be almost at the other end, she took her eyes off Colin to look at the shore and her heart dropped. They were only halfway there.

Colin stumbled and suddenly disappeared beneath the waves. It happened so fast. One moment he was there, the next he was swallowed up. And then the next he was standing, dripping wet. He turned to grin at her and shrug, then moved on. Heart thundering, Maggie tightened her hold on her horse’s reins and pushed forward.

Stick, step, stick, step. It became a familiar routine that numbed her mind like the water was numbing her body. Occasionally, she would look at the shore behind her to make certain the redcoats hadn’t caught up to them, but after a while she stopped. It didn’t matter. If they had, then they had to cross the river as well.

She didn’t even notice when clouds began gathering, blocking the only warmth provided them. But she did take note when thunder rumbled. Even Colin glanced up at the sky.

The rain came hard and fast. Rain streamed into her eyes and mouth, blinding and nearly choking her. She slipped and managed to regain her footing. It was a harsh reminder not to lose her focus. Colin appeared sure-footed, forging on, pushing his way through the rushing water by sheer will alone. She could only do the same.

She wasn’t certain how she remained standing. She’d lost feeling in all parts of her body. Her mind was beginning to wander. She longed for a warm fire and warm blankets. It was because of her inattention that she didn’t step where Colin had stepped. For the first time, her pole didn’t hit bottom, and instead of redirecting and finding a better place to step, she made a mistake.

Balancing on one foot, searching for purchase with her other, she automatically let go of the reins, and the river grabbed her in its lethal hold, hugging her tightly, trapping her beneath its waves.

Colin heard a strangled sound behind him. When he glanced over his shoulder, Maggie was gone. One delicate hand rose above the rapids and quickly disappeared. A few seconds later, farther down, he saw a foot and then her head rose above the water, her mouth open as she took a gulp of air before going under again.

“Maggie!” he yelled, but the pounding rain drowned his voice.

He cursed and barely stopped himself from diving in after her.

He thought he saw her head pop up far down the river, and he couldn’t believe it could be her because she was traveling far faster than he could manage to help her. He grabbed her horse’s reins and leaned forward to push his way through the water. With every step, he looked toward the spot where he’d last seen Maggie, but there was nothing except furiously frothing water.

“Head for the shore,” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t sure if it was a reminder of what he should be doing or instructions for Maggie. “Just head for the shore. Do no’ panic.
Think
.”

But he couldn’t think. All he could picture was Maggie’s terrified face as she came up for air. Could she swim? He didn’t know. She’d been swimming with Innis, so he had to assume she could, but that meant nothing in these raging waters.

He should have found a better place to cross. Damn it, he should have left her with her brother.

If he lost her…

She was smart. She was a trained warrior. She’d fight.

She had to.

He wasn’t going to lose her. Not after just wedding her.

When he finally stumbled to the shore, he dropped to his knees and sucked in air. The horses struggled to find their footing before trotting off into the safety of the trees.

He forced himself to stand and stumbled to the horses; he tied the reins of Maggie’s horse to his own and led them down the shore at a jog. But he was so numb that he stumbled every other step and kept falling to his knees.

He scanned the water and the shore, looking for her body.

Maggie.

“Please, please, please,” he muttered over and over, not knowing how to finish his plea.

At one point he dropped the horses’ reins and began running, calling her name, not even caring that the English might hear him. No one could hear him over the storm. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, but he gave them no heed.

He was shaking but not from the cold. He was damned scared. Where was she? She could be anywhere by now. Far down the river.

Under the river.

“No,” he mumbled through numb lips. Not under the river.

Exhausted, he dropped to both knees and pushed himself up only to fall again. He couldn’t feel his feet.

He swayed but managed to put one foot in front of the other, stopping every few steps to scan the water and the shore. His heart hurt, and a sob caught in his throat.

He’d lost her.

He’d been married one damn day and he’d lost her.

He could hear his brothers mocking him, telling him he would never amount to anything. Who was he to think he could care for a wife when he couldn’t even care for himself?

He fell to his hands and knees and hung his head, his breath heaving out of him.

Ye killed her.

Just by marrying her, he’d killed her.

He wasn’t certain how long he stayed in the sand with the rain pouring down on him, too numb, too exhausted, to move.

Eventually, he struggled to his feet and swayed, his eyes blurring. Without hope, he looked down the shore, his heart so heavy that he knew if he fell one more time, he would never get up.

And then he saw it. Hope had his heart pounding so hard it hurt, and he hated the hope more than anything. She was dead, and that was nothing more than an old tree lying in the sand. But he headed toward it anyway, stumbling and swaying and falling and getting back up. Slowly, he got closer, and the closer he got, the more his suspicions were confirmed.

It was nothing but a tree washed up on shore, black and wet and covered in moss. But he kept heading toward it because what else was there to do? Lie down and die?

Yes, there was certainly that.

When he reached the fallen tree, he touched it. Wet bark fell away under his touch. It was far too big to have been Maggie anyway. He sank to his knees and rested his elbows on the tree and cried like he’d never cried before, sobs that shook him so hard he feared he’d fall apart. Cries from a deep, dark place inside him that he’d walled off long ago.

He turned and leaned against the tree, letting the sobs subside until his body shuddered only occasionally. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The rain was falling softly now and he let it cleanse the tears from his face.

After a bit he opened his eyes and saw that the horses had moved toward him but were remaining in the relative safety of the trees. He had no desire, no energy, to move.

Maggie was dead, and it was all his fault.

Everything was always his fault.

Colin sat against the dead tree and watched darkness approach. The horses had moved on, munching on what vegetation they could find but still within sight. Colin didn’t care. What need had he of horses?

He stared into the distance, where the English would be if they crossed at the same place where he and Maggie had crossed. Let them come for him. Nothing mattered anymore.

A shadow moved down the beach, and he squinted to get a better look. The English? If so, this one wasn’t wearing a red coat. And he was short.

The figure stumbled to the side but kept coming at him, and Colin remained seated against the tree, not having the energy to move and not caring.

It wasn’t until the figure got closer that Colin sat up and squinted. Slowly, he pushed against the tree and stood. Prickles raced up his cramped legs.

He stood there, not wanting to believe what he was seeing.

The figure fell into his open arms.

“Maggie?” he whispered through a raw throat. He stumbled back, and if not for the tree behind him, he would have fallen with her in his arms.

She was alive.

Good God, she was
alive
.

Her face was covered in dirt and grime. She was soaking wet and shivering so violently that it made him shake. Or maybe that wasn’t the reason he was shaking.

Where had she been all this time? How had she survived?

She was talking but she wasn’t making any sense. Using what was left of his energy, he swept her into his arms and carried her into the trees, clucking to the horses. They lifted their heads, ears twitching, and followed him. He could barely hold her in his shaking arms, but he kept going until he found what he was looking for. Two boulders that appeared to have been pushed together by the hands of God, with just enough room between then for the two of them to squeeze into. The top was covered by another boulder, leaving a perfect shelter against the cold drizzle.

He gently placed Maggie on the ground and used a long stick to poke around in the crevice so any creature that had made it a home would run or slither out. When he was sure it was clear of critters, he took the packs off the horses and dug through them. The clothes at the top were damp, but as he rummaged through Maggie’s pack, he found another set of clothing that was mostly dry.

He pulled off her soaking breeches. “I was fair worried about ye.”

Her body was cut and bruised from the tumbling she took through the river. Good God, she’d been through so much, and their journey was only beginning.

He lifted her legs to slide the dry breeches on, but she was wet and cold and it was difficult, and by the time he was finished, he was breathing hard from the exertion. Her teeth were chattering and it near broke his heart to hear it.

“As soon as we get ye in dry clothes, ye’ll feel better,” he said, yanking her shirt over her head. He was glad she was wearing breeches and a shirt, because he couldn’t imagine getting a gown off her. Not to mention that if she’d been wearing a gown, she never would have survived the river, all that material would have pulled her under.

When he was finished, he stripped himself quickly and put on his own dry clothes. He spread a blanket on the ground between the two boulders and went back to get Maggie just as the soft rain started to fall a bit harder.

“Can ye stand?” he asked.

She nodded but didn’t move. He took her hands and tugged her up. Her knees buckled and he wrapped his arm around her waist, half carrying, half dragging her to the makeshift shelter. She managed to crawl in herself and collapse on the blanket. Colin quickly gathered what he could from the packs before the rain let loose, then crawled in after her. There was just enough room for them to lie side by side.

He gathered her shivering body in his arms.

“S-so c-cold,” she said through chattering teeth.

“Ye’ll start warming up soon.” Maybe the thunderstorm approaching was more a boon than a curse. The English couldn’t travel far in this rain. It seemed everyone was at a standstill.

She curled in to him and tucked her freezing hands between their bodies. “S-sorry,” she whispered.

He tucked her head beneath his chin. “For what?”

“For almost drowning.”

He smiled and couldn’t believe that in even these dire circumstances, she could make him laugh. “We all have bad days,” he said.

She huffed out a laugh.

“Do ye hurt?” It was a ridiculous question because he saw her cuts and bruises. Of course she hurt.

“All over,” she said. “But no’ seriously.”

He closed his eyes and tried not to think of the devastation he’d felt when he’d thought she was lost to him forever. He didn’t deserve her, and she certainly didn’t need him, but in the time when she was gone, he’d wanted to die himself.

“Colin?” Her voice was thin and raspy.

“Aye?”

“It’s no’ yer fault. The river just swept me away.”

“Ye should no’ have even been in the damn river.”

She lifted her head to look at him. He was pleased to see that some color had returned into her face and her eyes weren’t nearly as flat and horror-filled as they had been. “And where should I have been?”

“With yer brother. Running from the English is no life for ye. I realize my mistake now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m yer wife.”

He pressed his lips together and tried to force her head back down, but she resisted.

“Ye need to rest, Maggie.”

“Ye did no’ want to marry me.”

He wanted to deny it, meant to deny it, but the words didn’t come. His mind went blank, and when the silence stretched, she put her head down.

“Ah, Maggie. I wish I were a responsible clan leader and someone a wife could look up to, but I’m none of that. I do no’…I do no’ know what to do with ye.”

“What to do with me?” She looked up at him in amusement, and even though bruises were forming on her chin and cheek and she looked terrible, she still had the audacity to laugh. “Ye do no’ do anything with me.”

He pushed her head back down. “See? I do no’ even know that.”

“Ye are a funny man, Colin MacLean.”

“Funny as in I make ye laugh or funny as in strange?”

“Ye make me laugh.”

“I guess that’s something.”

She yawned. “It is.” Her body relaxed against him and her breathing evened out. He continued to hold her and stare up at the makeshift ceiling of their bedchamber on the second full night of their wedded life. This was what he could provide for her: rocks for ceilings, dirt for a floor, and dried meat for a fine dinner.

Ah, yes. He was funny, all right.