Page 29 of Highlander’s Wrath

Rescue

Coira had given up weeping; it served no purpose other than freezing her cheeks. She was deeply regretting her impulse to fly from the castle, but what choice did she have? Laird Barclay would never change, and all her hopes for raising Colban to be a well-balanced child were dashed. Both father and son were doomed in her eyes. However, at the thought of poor little Colban in the grips of that terrible vengeful prisoner, her eyes would fill with tears once more. But whenever she remembered Laird Barclay’s red hate-filled fury, it stiffened her resolve. All she had to do was follow the southern road down to the village and wait for the next London-bound mail coach to pass through. Soon this nightmare would be behind her.

The snow that had fallen last night had obscured the tracks left by the post rider. She shuddered as she remembered the man’s mangled corpse steaming on the ice.

So many innocents caught in between this flurry of clan retribution, it beggars all belief. Poor wee Colban, snatched from his home and taken goodness knows where. To think that playing outside would have ended in such a tragedy. And Miriam and the post rider caught in the middle of this sordid revenge. The sooner I put a hundred leagues between me and that cursed castle, the happier I will be!

These were consoling words, but Coira took no comfort from them. Her heart weighed heavy in her chest. Every step was taking her further away from the man she loved.

Even though she had started her journey just as soon as the sun cleared the moradh top, the day seemed to advance with alarming haste. One moment there was a modicum of warmth coming from the thin rays that managed to pierce through the heavy clouds, and the next minute, the light was fading, and a bitterly cold wind had sprung up around her.

Coira became alarmed. She distinctly recalled his lairdship telling her the village was less than a day’s cart ride away, but then she remembered the words that followed this: the castle servants were only allowed to visit the village in late spring and the middle of summer, when the days were far longer.

Inside the forest, she had passed a few foresters’ crofts and the occasional pile of cordwood, but when she looked behind her, Coira saw no welcoming light beckoning her to turn back. She must press forward and hope she would reach the village before nightfall. As if an evil fairy had overheard her anxious thoughts and waved a magic wand, the light began to fade from the sky, and snow began to fall. Forest surrounded Coira on all sides, impenetrable and ominous. Far away, a wolf howled. Her horse whinnied with fright and shuffled sideways. It lifted its hoof in the air and staggered, the sign of a loose shoe. Now they would be forced to go even slower.

“Hold fast, girl, hold fast. That beast is far away.”

To Coira, it sounded as if she was trying to give herself courage as much as she wanted to reassure her horse.

A loud crack made the horse shy and snort. The noise had clearly been made by some animal, but the swiftly falling snow muffled all the smaller sounds; it was impossible to know what was lurking out there in the dark amidst the trees.

“Who goes there?” Coira tried not to let the fear show in her voice. She felt safe enough on her horse and would be able to bolt if it were not for her horse’s loose shoe, but what if her pursuer was not a beast? What if it were a man, one of the escaped prisoners looking for someone to ravish or hold hostage?

“Show yourself. I demand it!” She was no longer able to hold her voice steady, and it wavered when she spoke out, “I-I have a sword...and I’m not afraid to use it!”

A dark shape loomed out of the dark. It was the silhouette of a man and horse, but Coira could not tell much else besides that. She twisted her horse’s rein around with a jerk, trying to urge the animal into a canter, but it refused to obey. Both rider and horse were exhausted, hungry, and cold. They would have to make their stand together here.

“Where’s this sword ye mentioned, Coira?” a well-known and much beloved voice asked her.

She turned around in the saddle, too overwhelmed with the sudden change in her fortune to think of much else.

“Hamish!” she cried.

It was indeed he.

If he seemed relieved at the joy in her voice, he did not immediately show it.

“Ye gave everyone up at the castle a right scare with this wee adventure of yers, Coira,” Laird Barclay said, drawing Lancer alongside her. “What say we leave yer return to London for next year when the weather’s a bit warmer?”

Coira was so happy to see him acting normally, she forgot the circumstances that had led her to flee the castle in the first place.

“Oh, Hamish, my laird, I am so thankful ‘tis you! My horse is lame—a loose shoe, I believe—and it came over dark all of a sudden...and so cold.”

“I followed to help ye, Coira, and here I am. Ye have nothin’ to fear. Come and ride up beside me. I’ll tether yer poor horse behind Lancer.”

And saying that, Laird Barclay dismounted with one leap and held up his arms for her to jump into them. Swinging her leg around from the other side of the saddle, Coira did as he bid her. She jumped into his arms.

For one sweeping moment, it seemed as though she were soaring through the air. He caught her easily around the waist but did not immediately place her back on the ground. Instead, he held her pressed up against him, face-to-face, chest-to-chest, her feet not touching the ground. It was similar to how he had held her yesterday, only this time there was no malice or wrath. This time, his face showed a different emotion entirely.

They kissed.

“Och, lass,” Laird Barclay laughed, “yer lips are so cold I swear I’ve been bussed by the Snow Queen herself. Let’s get ye back to the castle and next to a nice warm fire.”

She had to join him in laughter, but then she became solemn once more. “No, Hamish, I cannot return to the castle unless wee Colban is back safe. Is that why you came looking for me? To tell me he’s home and well?”

Laird Barclay frowned, but his anger was no longer directed at her. “Nay, Coira, he’s nae home yet. But I ken exactly where he is—in the auld Farquharson bothy not far from here. Once I have ye back at the castle, I will return there and fetch Colban back home.”

Laird Barclay did not have to tell her that the prisoner would die from that encounter. He lifted her up into the saddle and then jumped on behind her, wrapping one hand around the reins and the other tightly around her waist.

His great plaid was draped over his shoulders, but he took the two sides of the thick woolen fabric and wrapped it around Coira too. She nestled her head back against his chest, reveling in the warmth she felt there.

“Come on, out with it,” Laird Barclay said. “I ken ye have something on yer mind from yer silence. I’ve never known such a noisy thinker as ye are, lass!”

She snuggled back against him and sighed. “You know me too well, laird. I was just wishing I knew a little bit more about the history of your blood feud, that is all.”

Now it was Laird Barclay’s turn to sigh. “It seems as though me earliest memories are all of that enmity. Father Abercromby told me how Laird Edgar, me faither, made me mither’s life a misery. He was ruthlessly cruel—locking her away in the east tower when she tried to gainsay him, kicking her down the stairs when she objected to his visiting the brothels, starving her until her will was tamed.

“She found solace in another man’s arms. And I cannae say I blame her. Her only fault was that she fell in love with auld Chief Farquharson’s son. They made a runaway match of it. One of the prisoners told me they ran away to Italy, as far away from Laird Edgar as possible. It left me faither to wreak his vengeance on the clan, which he duly did. By the time I was old enough to understand, I guess his behavior had made an impression on me. I truly believed that the honor of the clan was wrapped up in that whole sordid affair. But it was nae—is nae. I want to make a fresh start. And I think I’ll need yer help for that, Miss Coira McDonald.”

He squeezed her waist and felt her stiffen slightly.

He laughed. “Never fear, lass. I will nae make ye another improper suggestion. An’ if I have nae made sufficient apology for the first time I did it, I will again...and every other transgression I have made against ye.”

He leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck. Only when he had felt her relax again did Laird Barclay say, “See? Ye have no’ only trained me son, Coira, but ye have trained me to behave well too! Ye truly are a gifted teacher.”