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Authors: PATRICIA POTTER
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thought that for once and all this quest might drive the final demons from Lachlan.
And Rory had a new bairn and a wife he loved dearly.
He closed his eyes. How much did they have to do with his decision? It had been his place as the Maclean to lead his soldiers into battle. And how many of them had lost their lives? How many widows and orphans?
He would provide for them all.
Lachlan. His troubled brother who’d hidden his torments behind a smile and a song. Rory had not known how deeply scarred his brother had been until Rory had returned to Scotland after ten years at sea.
He could not lose another brother!
Patrick, his older brother, had disappeared somewhere in Europe years ago. Then Rory’s father died. Now Lachlan. He had thought the Campbell curse on his family conquered, but now he wondered whether it hadn’t been waiting out there, seizing one after another of the Macleans.
He swallowed hard. He had to find his brother. Mayhap he was wounded somewhere, or had been taken for ransom. He couldn’t be dead.
He knew one thing. He would not leave his brother on the border. He would find out what had happened, and he would bring him back to Inverleith.
The Border
He kept retreating into the dark cave. Pain didn’t follow him there. Nor did the terrible void that had become his world.
A voice called him back. Over and over. She would not let him go.
He grew angry. Anger gave him strength.
He knew when his eyes opened, she would be there. The woman who refused to let him die. His body was cold, and he had a terrible thirst. Every movement was a supreme effort. Even opening his eyes seemed too difficult to do.
He felt as weak as a kitten.
A kitten. He knew kitten. He knew water. Light. Darkness. He recognized voices. The woman’s voice. A child’s voice. A sweetness in the latter. Determination in the former.
Why didn’t he know anything else? Why did everything else retreat behind a curtain he could not raise?
“Can you take water?”
He knew the words. He’d heard them over and over again.
He opened his eyes. The woman had haunted his fevered dreams until he’d believed her to be naught but a figment of them. But she was real, her long dark braid falling over her left breast, her gray eyes intense.
“Aye,” he whispered.
He took the water she offered him, a drip at a time, then a swallow.
“The fever is fading,” she said. She put fingers to his cheek. He felt calluses on her fingers, yet her touch felt good. So good he was disappointed when she withdrew her hand.
He asked the question that had been plaguing him. “How did you happen to find me?”
She hesitated. Her eyes would not quite meet his. “I was gathering items from the battlefield, along with the rest of the Charlton family. It is what we do.”
She must have seen something in his eyes, because she continued defiantly. “Aye, it is what we do. Steal. Smuggle. Ransom.”
He saw her shoulders tense. She did not like what she was doing. That was clear. He wasn’t too fond of the idea, either. He remembered the cries for water. Had anyone slaked the thirst of the dying as she had his?
And why him and none other?
Ransom, she’d said, but there must have been others who offered similar opportunities.
Why him?
She did not offer a defense, but she looked ready to take a blow.
“You must have your reasons,” he finally said.
“I do. Audra.”
“There is no one to take care of you?” he asked. “Your family, your husband’s family?”
“I have none of my own. Will’s family wish me to remarry. I will not do that.”
“You loved your husband.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact, as if he already knew.
“Aye. I cared for him.”
Not exactly the same thing as love. He changed the subject. “I heard singing,” he said.
“My daughter. She decided to sing you back to life. She would have been very sad if she had failed and you died.”
He absorbed that, but it required too much effort to
And Rory had a new bairn and a wife he loved dearly.
He closed his eyes. How much did they have to do with his decision? It had been his place as the Maclean to lead his soldiers into battle. And how many of them had lost their lives? How many widows and orphans?
He would provide for them all.
Lachlan. His troubled brother who’d hidden his torments behind a smile and a song. Rory had not known how deeply scarred his brother had been until Rory had returned to Scotland after ten years at sea.
He could not lose another brother!
Patrick, his older brother, had disappeared somewhere in Europe years ago. Then Rory’s father died. Now Lachlan. He had thought the Campbell curse on his family conquered, but now he wondered whether it hadn’t been waiting out there, seizing one after another of the Macleans.
He swallowed hard. He had to find his brother. Mayhap he was wounded somewhere, or had been taken for ransom. He couldn’t be dead.
He knew one thing. He would not leave his brother on the border. He would find out what had happened, and he would bring him back to Inverleith.
The Border
He kept retreating into the dark cave. Pain didn’t follow him there. Nor did the terrible void that had become his world.
A voice called him back. Over and over. She would not let him go.
He grew angry. Anger gave him strength.
He knew when his eyes opened, she would be there. The woman who refused to let him die. His body was cold, and he had a terrible thirst. Every movement was a supreme effort. Even opening his eyes seemed too difficult to do.
He felt as weak as a kitten.
A kitten. He knew kitten. He knew water. Light. Darkness. He recognized voices. The woman’s voice. A child’s voice. A sweetness in the latter. Determination in the former.
Why didn’t he know anything else? Why did everything else retreat behind a curtain he could not raise?
“Can you take water?”
He knew the words. He’d heard them over and over again.
He opened his eyes. The woman had haunted his fevered dreams until he’d believed her to be naught but a figment of them. But she was real, her long dark braid falling over her left breast, her gray eyes intense.
“Aye,” he whispered.
He took the water she offered him, a drip at a time, then a swallow.
“The fever is fading,” she said. She put fingers to his cheek. He felt calluses on her fingers, yet her touch felt good. So good he was disappointed when she withdrew her hand.
He asked the question that had been plaguing him. “How did you happen to find me?”
She hesitated. Her eyes would not quite meet his. “I was gathering items from the battlefield, along with the rest of the Charlton family. It is what we do.”
She must have seen something in his eyes, because she continued defiantly. “Aye, it is what we do. Steal. Smuggle. Ransom.”
He saw her shoulders tense. She did not like what she was doing. That was clear. He wasn’t too fond of the idea, either. He remembered the cries for water. Had anyone slaked the thirst of the dying as she had his?
And why him and none other?
Ransom, she’d said, but there must have been others who offered similar opportunities.
Why him?
She did not offer a defense, but she looked ready to take a blow.
“You must have your reasons,” he finally said.
“I do. Audra.”
“There is no one to take care of you?” he asked. “Your family, your husband’s family?”
“I have none of my own. Will’s family wish me to remarry. I will not do that.”
“You loved your husband.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact, as if he already knew.
“Aye. I cared for him.”
Not exactly the same thing as love. He changed the subject. “I heard singing,” he said.
“My daughter. She decided to sing you back to life. She would have been very sad if she had failed and you died.”
He absorbed that, but it required too much effort to
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