He stood before her, taking her hands in his. They were shaking slightly and cold, despite the warmth of the morning. “It’s time, lass.”
The color slid from her face. The flash of panic in her eyes hit him hard.
“Let me stay with you,” she pleaded.
He stilled. She was killing him. Didn’t she know how difficult this was for him? He didn’t want her to leave, either. He wanted never to let her go. But he’d weighed the risks, and it was far more dangerous for her to stay. He shook his head. “No.”
“Neil’s wife is here, as are many of the other wives,” she protested.
“They have no choice; this is their home. Their battle. It’s not yours.”
“I don’t care,” she said fiercely. “I don’t want to leave you.”
And I don’t want you to leave. It would tear out his heart a second time to send her away. “But you will,” he said in a voice that did not bode argument.
She held his gaze, pleading with her eyes, but Alex would not be persuaded. Not in this. He wanted her safely away. Only then could he focus on the task at hand.
“Come,” he said, leading her toward the boat. “It is time.” He was relieved when she followed him without further objection.
His feet felt like lead; each step claimed a little of his heart. He helped her into the boat and looked at Jamie. “I appreciate what you did for us,” he said, realizing he’d been remiss. “Thank you. I know what it might have cost you.”
Jamie nodded.
“Take care of her,” Alex said.
“I will,” Jamie answered. “Until your return.”
Alex turned back to Meg. His eyes scanned her face, trying to take in every last detail. He wanted to memorize everything about her, from the spattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose to the golden light that sparkled in her green eyes. She was so tiny and yet so enormously precious.
Night was falling, and the wind had just begun to pick up, carrying with it a stray lock of her hair. Unthinkingly, he tucked it behind her ear, allowing his thumb to stroke the soft curve of her cheek. She pressed her face into his hand.
“I’ll see you…” Her voice fell off, and she started to cry. Softly. Bravely. In a way that broke his heart.
The tightness in his chest was almost unbearable. Each tear that fell ate a bigger hole in his heart. Heedless of those around, he kissed her gently, but with a sharp poignancy that could not be denied. His mouth lingered for a moment, savoring the taste of her, wanting to remember it always.
Finally, he lifted his head. Tilting her chin, he looked deep into her eyes. “You will, my love. Soon.” He could not doubt it.
The boat pushed away. Her hair blew wildly around her face in the wind. Tears fell unchecked down her pale cheeks.
He wanted to turn away but forced himself to stand and watch, though the pain intensified with each minute that she slipped farther away. To safety, he reminded himself.
If only they’d met at a different time. Before his life had been inextricably entwined with the fight to free Lewis. Before the series of events that had been set in motion that day long ago on the corrie in the shadows of the mighty Cuillin mountain range, when his cousins had lost their lives.
His jaw locked as he fought the swell of emotion as Meg vanished from his view. Soon, my love.
It was time to put the past to rest.
Chapter 24
Fortunes were made on luck and perseverance, and Dougal MacDonald had both.
The sun had all but disappeared beyond the western horizon. Night was falling fast, and with it came the gray veil of mist that would aid Dougal in his plan tonight, preventing those on shore from seeing what was happening at sea. He smiled. Again, luck.
There was just enough light left to make out the activities taking place on the rocky shore below him. From his vantage point hidden in the trees that lined the southern point of the inlet, he watched Margaret Mackinnon and her clansmen climb into the waiting birlinn and prepare to push back from shore.
Ironic, he thought. Their ship was going out, yet his had just come in.
By sending the Mackinnon chit away with the messenger, Alex MacLeod had unwittingly given Dougal the means to salvage a nearly disastrous situation.
The king’s men had been increasingly impatient with his inability to provide them with any useful information. The MacLeods had kept him so well contained, he couldn’t even direct the Fife Adventurers to the rebel encampment.
Dougal hadn’t expected Alex and Neil MacLeod to discover his perfidy so fast. The first time, their false information had successfully prevented him from arranging their capture, making him look like an idiot before the king’s men. The second time, he’d been sent on a fool’s errand while Alex intercepted a shipment of supplies. It was then that Dougal knew he’d been discovered.
He should have taken MacLeod out at court when he had the chance. But Dougal had been in a precarious position. He couldn’t do so without betraying himself, limiting his usefulness on Lewis. Now that he knew the MacLeods were on to him, it was no longer a concern.
Alex had forced him to choose sides. And Dougal had done so. The rewards offered by the king were too hard to refuse.
Knowing he would not get any information from the MacLeods, Dougal had realized he’d have to find it on his own. So he’d focused his efforts on intercepting their messengers. Who would have guessed that the next messenger would also bring Meg Mackinnon?
Now he would have them both—Alex and the Mackinnon chit.
The bitch had refused him. Even three weeks later, he still couldn’t believe it. And now with the knowledge of his perfidy surely spread throughout the Highlands, he doubted that she could ever be persuaded to accept his offer of marriage. Which was why he’d been doubly lucky today. Once he had her in his possession, her acceptance was immaterial.
She must fancy herself in love with the bastard. Her rejection of his offer had only made Dougal more determined to get rid of Alex. And Meg Mackinnon would be just the means he needed to bring Alex MacLeod to his knees.
Impatient, he turned and vaulted onto the powerful stallion waiting beside him. He enjoyed breaking spirited animals, just as he would enjoy breaking Alex MacLeod.
He’d done so before; unfortunately, he’d not finished the job.
Now it was only a matter of time. And Dougal could be a patient man, a very patient man. The reward would be well worth the wait. He’d serve his chief by helping the Fife Adventurers defeat the MacLeods, and he’d finally have the means to take care of an annoying loose end from his own past.
He galloped toward the birlinn of armed MacDonald clansmen who waited just on the other side of the small inlet, sniffing deeply of the morning air. There was nothing like the promise of a good hunt to stir a man’s blood.
I will not fall apart, Meg vowed. Even though she felt as though her heart were being wrenched out of her body and torn to bits. The birlinn pulled farther away from shore, and the tall man standing immovable at the water’s edge melded into the shadows of the falling night. Not willing to let him go, Meg kept her eyes locked on the place where he stood, wanting to hold on to him for as long as possible. Her chest squeezed with longing. She understood why he was sending her away, but it did not make their parting any easier.
She straightened her spine, refusing the urge to curl into a ball and give way to the desolation ripping her apart. She would be strong, a worthy mate to the courageous, honorable man who’d won her heart. Every bone in her body resisted leaving Alex, but she would do her duty, just as Alex must do his. She was proud of him, and she would not shame him by doubting him.
“He’ll be fine, mistress.”
Meg turned to Robbie, who sat protectively to her left, Jamie on her right. She’d tried to argue against the need for Robbie and the other warriors accompanying them, but Alex had been adamant. It made her feel all the worse for coming to Lewis. She was only too aware that she had left Alex even more undermanned. She wiped
the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. “Indeed he will be, Robbie.”
Meg believed in Alex, completely and without reservation. He was the fiercest, most skilled warrior she’d ever seen. If Alex and Neil MacLeod could block the supplies and reinforcements from reaching the castle and create a diversion, victory would be theirs. And Alex would come home to her. They would begin their life together. It was that knowledge that held her together.
She pulled her arisaidh more firmly around her shoulders. The mist had descended like quicksand, swallowing everything in its ethereal hold. The salty wind was cold and damp as it blew across her nose and cheeks. At least it would help speed their journey. Now that they’d parted, Meg was anxious to return home. The sooner she was home, the sooner Alex would come to her.
After some time, Jamie broke the silence. “Are you all right?”
No. There was a dull, empty space in her chest that would not be gone until Alex returned to Skye. But Jamie did not need to hear that. “I’ll be fine,” she said instead.
Jamie took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “I would have done the same thing as Alex, Meg. It’s not safe for you to stay on Lewis.”
She managed a wobbly smile. “I know.”
They were quiet for a few more minutes before Jamie spoke again, this time to Robbie. “Look over there,” he said, pointing behind them.
She could tell by the agitation in his voice that something was wrong. She looked over her shoulder and noticed that a birlinn had suddenly appeared out of the mist and was rapidly closing the distance between them. A much larger, faster, more heavily manned birlinn.
Immediately, she understood the reason for Jamie’s concern. Something about the way the boat pursued them set her already frayed nerves on edge. That reaction was exacerbated in the next few minutes as her clansmen made an initial attempt to evade the other boat, shifting directions—only to find that their pursuers had done likewise. No matter how fast they rowed, the other birlinn moved at a purposeful, almost menacing clip directly toward them.
A smattering of dark spots appeared out of the mist. In horror, Meg watched as dozens of arrows began to land with horrible precision in the water around them.
There could be no doubt. They were being hunted. But by whom? Had the king’s men found them out? Would her father’s men be imprisoned? Dear God, what would happen to Robbie? If it was discovered that he was a MacGregor, he would be hanged. Meg’s heart stalled. They couldn’t be caught.
Another spray of arrows headed for them. Jamie’s hands on her shoulders forced her down. “For God’s sake, Meg—get your head down!”
Her heart pounded, but she didn’t have time to panic. In the sudden commotion of a shared purpose, every effort was put into trying to evade their pursuers. The endless blue vistas of shimmering sea suddenly seemed the enemy. There was nowhere to go. They could not outrow the other boat, and they were cut off from retreat back to Lewis.
Her men gave it a valiant effort, but in the end escape proved futile. They were simply outmanned. When an arrow landed with a thud in the back of one of her clansmen, Meg knew she had to put an end to it.
“Stop. There’s nothing we can do.”
Jamie turned to her. “We can try—”
“They’ll kill us all,” she said, shaking her head. At least this way we have a chance. Maybe they’ve made a mistake.”
He nodded and repeated her order for the men to hold their oars.
It seemed to take an eternity for the other boat to reach them. They waited in seeming unison of tense apprehension as it neared.
A grappling hook was tossed over the side of their birlinn, and slowly their boat was pulled alongside their attackers. Close enough to make out the occupants. Meg let out an audible sigh of relief. Not the king’s men. These men wore plaids. They were Highlanders. Perhaps it was only a terrible mistake.
Her relief, however, was short-lived. A chill ran down the back of her spine that turned her blood cold. She recognized one of the men.
No. There was no mistake. They had indeed been hunted. At that moment, she almost wished for the king’s men. Because the man who’d captured them was none other than Dougal MacDonald. He stood at the helm with his arms crossed, a smug smile twisting his handsome features. The expression terrified her; she knew well what he was capable of.
He noticed Jamie, and his smugness quickly turned to anger. “What are you doing here, Campbell?”
“I would ask the same of you,” Jamie said, rising to stand. With the waves tossing their small boat around, he had to spread his feet to keep his balance. “My cousin will not be pleased to hear of your impertinence.”
Dougal flushed. “These men are rebels,” he said, indicating Robbie and Alex’s other men. When Alex’s men looked as though they wanted to protest with their swords, Meg shook her head. Dougal would only delight in the opportunity to kill them.
“These men are guarding a woman who is seeking to return home,” Jamie said. “Leave now, MacDonald, before you do something you will regret.”
Dougal stared at him, furious, as he considered what to do. Meg knew that Jamie’s presence had complicated things for him. Making war on the Highland rebels was one thing, capturing the cousin of the Earl of Argyll another. His eyes narrowed as he called Jamie’s bluff. “I think it is you who should reconsider, young Campbell. I have been authorized by the king to detain all rebels. If you oppose me, you are opposing the king. And I think your cousin would be surprised to see you with these men. Perhaps you’d care to turn them over to me instead?”
They were trapped. By bringing Jamie along, Meg had put him in a horrible position. She took his arm, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, Jamie. There is no use in opposing him. It will only make things worse for you.”
Jamie knew he was caught, but he wouldn’t give up. “Mistress Mackinnon is not a part of this,” he said. “Do you use a woman to win your battles now, MacDonald?”
Dougal shrugged, refusing to be shamed. “It is regrettable, but I will do what is necessary. The lass will be my trump card. The king will not care how the rebels are defeated, just that they are. Besides, the king will hardly concern himself in a matter between a man and his wife.”
Meg gasped. “Never!” She would die before she married Dougal MacDonald.
Robbie and Jamie moved to protect her at the same time, using their bodies to shield her from Dougal’s vile glare.
Dougal’s face darkened. “Have care, Mistress Mackinnon. I am prepared to forgive you much, but do not try my patience.” Meg shivered at the coldness in his eyes. “You do not want to anger me.”
“You bastard!” Jamie growled. “You will not involve her.”
Dougal’s amusement fled, turning to annoyance. “You are hardly in a position to be issuing orders. I will do what I must. Alex MacLeod has proved exceedingly difficult to kill. If need be, Mistress Mackinnon will prove an irresistible lure.”
Meg’s heart sank. No. She could not be the instrument of Alex’s destruction. Dear God, what had she
done? She should never have come here.
“What are you planning to do with us?” she challenged, refusing to cower before such filth. She might be terrified, but she knew if Dougal sensed her fear, it would be like the scent of blood to a vulture.
Dougal sneered at her bravado. “I’d say that all depends on you, my dear.”
Meg quickly learned what Dougal meant. He would have killed Robbie and the other men when they’d landed back on Lewis, but he spared their lives at the last minute when Meg agreed to marry him. As long as she did what he wanted, the men were safe.
Dougal MacDonald repulsed her; the very idea of marriage to him was repugnant. They both knew she’d agreed only under duress, but Meg suspected that Dougal enjoyed toying with her. Taking sadistic pleasure in manipulating her to his bidding, in watching her panic as he’d held the blade to Robbie’s neck, in making sure she knew that she was his priso
ner and that he was in control. Meg thought of Alex’s imprisonment all those years ago in a MacDonald dungeon at the hand of this man and couldn’t imagine what he’d been forced to endure.
It gave her insight into the rage that drove Alex. Dougal MacDonald was a man to inspire vengeance. Anger could be a great motivator, as Meg had learned. It was anger that had propelled her over miles of rugged terrain without complaint.
They’d camped last night in the woods well south of Stornoway. Meg had been too frightened and anxious to sleep, though she soon wished she had. Today had been a nightmare. They’d walked for hours, skirting well clear of the MacLeods as they headed north just past Stornoway to a rocky ridge above the northernmost section of the harbor. They’d stopped, finally, but it would not be for long.
Since their capture, Dougal had kept her separated from the others and well guarded, leaving her no opportunity to escape. He knew as well as she did that even if Jamie or the others could have escaped, they would not leave her behind.
Sitting on a rock, resting her aching feet, Meg wanted to weep with exhaustion and frustration. She swept a strand of hair from her face, feeling the dirt and grime of the long day sitting on her skin. But she knew that it would get much worse before this day was done.
As soon as Alex appeared below, Dougal would make his move. Using her.
Meg would never have told Dougal anything that might put Alex in jeopardy. And he must have guessed as much, because he focused his persuasion on Jamie—this time using her as the pawn. Meg begged Jamie not to say anything. Dougal wouldn’t kill her, not until he’d married her. But when he’d held the blade to her throat, Jamie had told him what he knew—which, thankfully, wasn’t much. She was glad that they were not privy to all of Alex’s plans. Though when Dougal realized he’d lost his attempt to take Alex at sea, it had forced him to use her as his sword.
By coming to Lewis, Meg had unintentionally given Dougal the very opportunity he’d been waiting for. Meg knew as well as he did what had happened to Alex’s cousins and how much Alex blamed himself for their deaths. Dougal would give Alex another chance to surrender, this time with her as his bait.