Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T hey hurried into the dimly lit old dwelling that was theirs for the night and climbed the ladder into the hayloft. Beneath them the horses nickered and sighed in the warmth of their dry haven.

Dahlia giggled holding up two thick woolen blankets and spreading them out. "Well, I didnae expect we'd be spending this night alone together, safe and snug in a mountain refuge. I was ready tae sleep beneath a tree on a bed of pine needles, shivering me arse off with the rain coming down."

Arran laughed softly, busy with the buttons on her dress. This was a rare and unexpected moment for them to spend the night together and he had no intention of wasting a precious second.

"Ye dae need tae take off these damp clothes, melady. I dinnae wish tae see ye catching yer death of cold."

He peeled the dress over her shoulders, baring her smooth, creamy skin to his gaze and leaned in to layer a series of kisses across her shoulder. His groin twitched and hardened.

She chuckled. "Methinks ye should take off yer damp britches . " She wriggled out of her dress and petticoat. "I'd hate tae think of ye suffering in the cold when I can keep ye warm and snug in me arms."

Arran needed no further bidding, and within a brief space of time he was lying naked beside her under the warm blanket, his manhood standing to attention. He folded her into his arms and bent his head to take her lips with his in a passionate kiss.

The storm raged outside but they were deaf to the thunder and the torrents of rain falling on the roof. All their fears and worries fell away as they lost themselves in the kiss.

When at long last their need to breathe again overtook them and they pulled apart, Arran propped himself on one elbow and fixed her with a steadfast, clear-eyed gaze.

"Now that we are free of Bairre Mackinnon and away from the castle and I have ye all tae mesel' there's something important I need tae talk about with ye."

She looked up, his seriousness taking her by surprise.

"Surely we can forget about Bairre and his betrothal. At least just fer this one night. I ken our thoughts must turn his way. But nae tonight. Tonight, we are free of him for the first time."

Arran looked at her, his lips quirking into a gentle smile. "Ye're right lass, I dae wish tae speak with ye about yer betrothal. But what I wish tae discuss is the possibility of ye and me being betrothed. I wish tae marry ye darling. I ken we already talked about us being taegether forever a few days gone by, but I want ye te ken I truly mean it…."

The breath hitched in Dahlia's throat at his words. "Marry me?"

"Of course. But if ye dinnae wish tae be married tae me…"

She laughed and gave him a gentle slap on his forearm. "Ye ken that tae be wed tae ye is but a lovely dream of mine."

His eyes on her were serious. "I understand that the betrothal cannot be dissolved without the king's or Bairre's permission, but now that ye are far from the castle, is it nae possible that the betrothal willnae be upheld?"

"It isnae me that Bairre loves, but the thought of the lands and favor that will be granted him on our wedding day. I fear he willnae relinquish those readily, even though I am with ye and almost yer wife in our lovemaking."

Arran nodded bleakly. "But if there were no other obstacles would ye wed me and be me bride?"

She threw her arms about his neck, tears springing into her eyes.

"There's naught I would care fer more in all this world."

He seized her in his arms and rolled with her under the blanket. As they kissed, she moaned in his mouth. "I am yers Arrran Mackinnon. There will never be another that I will love as I dae ye."

With a sigh he stroked her face, caressing the arch of her neck with his fingers as they slid down to cup her breast.

"Ye are mine fer all time. I've dreamed of naught else since I first set me gaze on ye. The most beautiful lass I'd ever seen."

She lay back, her hand toying with his rigid manhood, making him groan with the pleasure of it.

"I'll nay be able tae wait fer ye if ye play with me like that. Me blood is running hot fer ye."

With a chuckle she released his member and looked up at him, her eyes shining in the flickering candlelight.

"I dinnae wish ye tae wait, Arran me love. Me body is already on fire fer ye and I want ye. Now."

She cried out as his hard shaft slid into her and raised her hips to meet his thrusts as their passion merged with the might of the storm and they lost themselves to ecstasy.

It was Dahlia who was awake first. She stretched and reached a hand to rouse Arran.

"'Tis morning, we must be up and moving."

He gazed at her, her eyes still filled with sleep, her cheeks pink and round, her glorious hair tumbling in a tangle over her creamy soft shoulders.

She was irresistible, but as he leaned in to plant a row of kisses over her shoulders and down to her breast, she squirmed under him.

"Nay, me love. We mustnae tarry this morning." A deep sigh escaped her lips. "We've a long ride ahead and there is nae time fer dalliance." She reached for the clothing she'd discarded so casually the night before. She pulled the blouse and kirtle over her head and did up the row of buttons down the front of the dress.

Reluctantly Arran reached for his shirt and britches. "Ye're right, there is nay time fer us tae pleasure each other."

She laughed. "There will be many times tae come. After all, ye are me new fiancé, are ye nae?"

His heart gave a jolt as the reality of last night's lovemaking came home to him. The woman he'd adored for years had finally agreed to be his bride. "Aye, ‘tis so. And I cannae wait fer the day when we shall be wed."

"But first we must meet this day head on and continue our search fer yer maither."

"Aye." He nodded slowly. "If we're fortunate, the storm made our trail difficult tae follow and we've widened the distance between Bairre and ourselves."

At the mention of Bairre's name a shiver rippled through Dahlia. "Bairre willnae be delayed fer long. He kens where yer maither is. We must make haste as I fear he will be hot on our heels, spurred on by his rage."

He met Craig and Nicol outside at the water barrel, where they were washing their faces. They were both eager to be on their way. The morning was crisp and clear with a hint of frost in the air but the rain had gone, the storm had passed over.

Nicol entered the stable where Arran and Dahlia had spent the night and emerged leading the horses. "According tae Matheus, the bothy is nae far from here," he said cheerfully. "Mayhap nay more than an hour's ride."

They made their way to Mistress Nell's tiny cottage to thank her for the villagers' hospitality and to leave them with enough coin to make their efforts worthwhile.

She plied them with buttery bannocks and goats' cheese.

"Ye cannae go on yer journey with empty stomachs," she told them sternly.

Once they'd broken their fast with her hearty offerings, they mounted the horses and, following Matheus's directions, continued on their way. "The path splits in two nae far beyond the village. Take the right-hand path. It's the steeper of the two and only used by the goatherds and their flocks but ye'll find the track is clear and easy tae follow."

Arran's heart was beating fast as they went. In a short time, he would know if he and Dahlia had been correct in their thinking that the old bothy would be the place Emilia was being held.

The path continued upwards and it was slow going over the thickly-wooded and rocky terrain.

After what seemed like a long stint of plodding upwards, they reached what was surely the pinnacle of the mountain where the trees grew thinner and the track opened out to a wide clearing.

Beside him, Dahlia gasped. She was pointing into the distance, toward another steep slope, her cheeks red with excitement.

"That peak is in MacLeod land. Many a time as a wee lass, hunting with me braithers, I accompanied them along its slopes. Once we've descended from this side, we should be able tae wind our way around that peak."

He looked into her sparkling eyes. "And once we are there, we'll be safe from Bairre Mackinnon and his men fer ye'll be under the protection of Laird Haldor MacLeod."

She gave a delighted laugh and spurred her horse forward.

They followed the track winding down, moving much faster than they'd done and it was not long before they spotted smoke spiraling into the air.

The others joined Dahlia and Arran. "The bothy must be close by," he said. "If me maither is being held captive there, nae doubt Bairre will have left the place well-guarded." He nodded to Nicol and Craig. "Are ye ready fer a fight, lads?"

Both men nodded and Nicol unsheathed his long sword from his belt.

"From now on we should take care nae tae let the bridles ring and we should keep our voices tae a whisper." He turned to Beattie and Dahlia. "Ye must keep back. If there's violence, I want ye safely away."

Pulling her dirk from her boot, Dahlia grinned. "Never fear. If there's a fight spilling out of the bothy, I'll be ready."

They dismounted and walked the horses along the path until the acrid smell of the smoke coming from the rough chimney filled their nostrils.

Once they'd tethered their horses, with Dahlia and Beattie remaining to watch over them, the three men proceeded on foot, guided by the spiraling smoke.

At last, the old bothy came into view.

It was a makeshift building, yet it had obviously withstood many years of desperate storms and snowy winters. No doubt it had provided a steadfast shelter for generations of goatherds needing protection from sudden blizzards and storms like the one they'd endured last night. The question bedeviling Arran now was, had he found his mother's whereabouts at last?

As Arran had expected, there was a guard standing at the door. He was a burly fellow but not standing straight and alert, he was rather slumped against the doorpost idly glancing around him. He dispatched Nicol and Craig to flank the man while he strolled across the clearing to distract him from the presence of the two men lying in wait.

The ploy worked to perfection. As Arran approached, the man focused his attention on the looming figure and even took several steps away from the door toward him. This made it a simple matter for Craig and Nicol to creep in from the side and deliver a resounding clout to the man's head.

He went down like a sack of barley, with hardly a sound.

Nicol was holding him and Craig busy tying his hands and feet when a second guard who mayhap had heard something amiss, emerged blinking into the light.

Arran leaped forward, sword drawn and whacked the man over the head with the flat of the blade and he, too, sank senseless to the ground.

While Nicol secured the two men with rope, Arran crept into the bothy, closely followed by Craig.

It consisted of only one room with the fire smoking at its center, an old table, and two weathered chairs beside it. A heavy, iron stewpot hung suspended from the ceiling over the fire. It was dark inside, as the room had no windows and the only light was what penetrated through the doorway.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Arran made out a rough wooden screen across one corner. The room was still, there was no sound coming from behind the screen. His heart sank and he felt a gigantic cold stone in his stomach as he strode across the room to the screen.

Seizing it in both hands he pulled it from the corner.

And there, lying on a tiny pallet among a pile of rough woolen blankets and scruffy pillows was the prone figure of his mother. To his horror, she seemed lifeless. Her eyes were closed and she lay still.

He was momentarily frozen, torn between joy at finding her at last and terror at her cold, marble-like, appearance.