Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The darkness was a strange beast, both a threat and a protector all at once. It was a realization that Jocelyn had made before, during her long captivity in the place that had once been her home, but now, waiting in the night for Lachlan to return, she felt it more keenly than ever. How strange it was to be terrified of the unknown but glad of the shadows that cloaked her and her sisters from sight! How odd to fear Lachlan going missing into the unknown, but at the same time feel exhilarated knowing that he, renowned for his silent, hidden work, was protected by that same veil of darkness.

Deirdre muttered something in her sleep and Aoife turned restlessly, but neither of Jocelyn's younger sisters awoke. That was good; at least until Lachlan returned and confirmed things one way or another, Jocelyn wanted her sisters to enjoy a little more peace and a little more rest.

She listened, but while there were still faint hoofbeats and sounds that may have been distant murmuring, she heard no evidence of what might actually be going on. Could it be true that Bram's men had somehow found them again, now after they'd finally thought themselves safe for the first time? How was that possible? Had he trailed them somehow, or was it perhaps just the worst luck in the world that had brought them back to his clutches once more?

Or maybe it wasn't Bram's men at all. Maybe there was something else lurking in the darkness awaiting them, some other threat that Jocelyn hadn't even conceived in her mind yet. Her mind swam with all the talk of prophecies and curses. Perhaps they were cursed, the four of them; Blair, Jocelyn, Deirdre, and Aoife, cursed from birth to suffer. Blair had escaped and was thriving in her marriage with children of her own, but how long would that last? Would the curse get her, too?

"Stop it," she scolded herself firmly in a whisper. "Stop that right now. Ye ken that there's nae curse; Blair is happy and safe and ye and yer sisters will be too soon. Just be patient."

She kept whispering to herself, hoping perhaps she could convince herself that it was true. And worrying, desperately worrying, that it was not.

Lachlan loved nighttime. During the day, there were too many chances to be exposed, too many ways that a mission could go wrong, but at night—he was the Wraith, and he was unstoppable. He flitted through the long grass and the cover of the trees, moving steadily toward the sounds he'd heard in the distance. Not long after, telltale lights began to flicker; someone ahead was building a campfire for the night.

"That's a good sign," he muttered to himself. If they were building a campfire, then whoever it was, they were not hunting the girls, at least not directly. At best, even if it was their pursuers, they were here by coincidence rather than through tracking Jocelyn and her sisters to this point.

Still, Lachlan was well-trained, and he knew that he could not simply leave it at that. He had to get closer, to figure out exactly who was there and what they wanted. It could be an innocent party of travelers, perhaps even James's own clansmen, settling for the night. After all, they were on the borders of James' land.

But no, that didn't make sense. Whisperer's Rest was close, perhaps an hour from here by horseback, and these men had horses. If they were simply travelers, especially if they belonged to the clan, would they not have more likely traveled on to the village? Yes, Lachlan had chosen to camp outside of the clan limits for the night with the sisters, but he'd done so because they needed to keep a low profile—as well as for more personal reasons that he would not allow himself to consider right now. Regardless, innocent, unassuming travelers would have no such need.

Lachlan had to get closer. He moved silently, wrapping his dark cloak a little more tightly around him to help protect him from sight, using the natural terrain as his visual shield. It took him some time to get close enough to overhear the words the people around the campfire were saying, but when he did it filled him with an icy chill that had nothing to do with the night air.

"... Laird McMillan's gone away with the faeries," one man was saying in a loud voice, apparently not afraid of being overheard. And why would he be? As far as he knew, there was nobody around here for miles. "This new plan of his is mad, and so is he."

"Careful what ye say, Bern," his companion warned sharply. "There are twenty men here. Ye never ken who'll get word back tae the Laird."

Bern, scoffed. "Let them talk. Kennin' what I do of our Laird, he'll have their tongues for botherin' him with gossip and nae even listen tae what they're sayin'!"

"I wouldnae be so sure of that," the other replied. He sighed as Lachlan inched closer to get a look. Sure enough, Bram's sigil glinted on these men's chests in the firelight. "But ye're nae wrong. The plan's unhinged."

"So do we go through wi' it, Charlie?" Bern asked, a note of anxiety creeping into his voice. From his vantage point, Lachlan could see that both of these soldiers were young, perhaps even younger than twenty. "Are we really goin' tae do this?"

Charlie didn't answer for a moment, then shrugged. "What choice do we have? It's this or the sword."

"Or desertion," Bern noted, but he didn't sound enthusiastic. "Which would mean losing everything. Me home. Me family. I could never show me face in the clan again."

"So we do it then," Charlie said firmly. "Distasteful or nae, we do it."

Bern nodded. "We have nay choice."

Lachlan withdrew, giving himself a wider view. Sure enough, around twenty figures lay sprawled on bed rolls around the area, with one large tent that must hold equipment and perhaps the unit commander. This was a small army, and they were clearly ready to attack.

"But attack what?" Lachlan wondered under his breath. Had it something to do with the girls? It made sense in a way; Lachlan had dispatched their guards so easily that perhaps Bram had sent all these men as overkill. But something told him that wasn't the case. Even if the men found murdering the sisters distasteful indeed, it wouldn't make sense for them to refer to it as unhinged , not when that had been the plan all along.

Lachlan had to accept it was a coincidence that he'd run into the unit here, but that brought up all sorts of questions, and each probable answer was more troubling than the last. What were Bram's men doing here on the borders of McFerguson land if it wasn't directly to capture Jocelyn and her sisters? Lachlan knew there had been threats of war, but that couldn't be it either. Bram would not send twenty men to attack the entire might of McFerguson. And there was nothing near here of value at all, except for farmland and a few remote villages—nothing that Laird McMillan could possibly take any interest in.

It was a puzzle, and a troubling one, but right now it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Bram's men were here, within a medium-length journey on foot from the sisters, and that was unacceptable. Lachlan's urge was to rush back and get them moving immediately, but he forced himself to slow down and think.

Turning away from the campfires, he began to make the covert trek back to the girls, careful to balance speed with stealth. It would do no good to be discovered now.

Waking them would be a mistake, he realized with a deep frown to himself as he slipped through the night and back to where Jocelyn was waiting for him. The noise they'd make gathering their things and riding the horses would alert some of the soldiers to their presence. After all, it was the beat of horse hooves that had told Lachlan that Bram's men were here in the first place. Even if the men weren't here for the girls, they'd soon come to investigate any noises—and once they realized who and what they had, it would be all over.

No. Best to rest for the night, and leave once the sun was high enough in the sky that the sound of travel would blend in with the daily hustle and bustle of the roads. He worried, knowing his plan was risky, but he also knew it was their best bet.

His mind went to Jocelyn, and the anxiety on her face when he had ordered her to wait. It troubled him a little to think she was so upset, and worse to know that she'd be even more anxious when she knew who was here. Lachlan found himself hoping, as the familiar sounds of the loch got closer, that she'd already be asleep.

Somehow, though, he thought that was a fool's wish.

Jocelyn was still wide awake when she felt the air shift and realized that someone else had entered their little impromptu camp. She tensed, unable to see who was there except for a vague shadow, unwilling to speak lest she gave herself and her sisters away to some unknown invader.

But then the shadow approached the horses and though Stormcloud looked up sleepily, none of the three horses reacted in any way negatively. This relaxed Jocelyn as she realized what it must mean. Only one person could gain the horse's trust so easily with just a touch.

"Lachlan," she whispered. She got to her feet, carefully extracting herself from her sleeping sisters and stepping toward the tree where the horses were tied for the night.

He didn't answer at first, but a moment later he moved to her side. This close, her eyes adjusted to the gloom and the natural light of the moon was enough for her to see him.

"Ye should nae have spoken," he chided her gently. "It may nae have been me."

By way of explanation, she nodded at the horses. She wasn't sure, since it was still hard to make out expressions in the dark, but she thought she saw a slight smile cross Lachlan's face at that.

"In any case, ye should be asleep," he went on.

"Asleep? When ye were off God-kens-where? Nay, may the thought perish; I was waitin' on ye. I had half a mind tae follow ye, truth be told, yer orders be damned," she replied, a little stubbornness slipping into her voice. "Ye're lucky the lassies needed me."

"They're lucky tae have ye," Lachlan replied, and she definitely heard a small smile in his voice now. It faded, though, when he spoke again. "Listen. I dinnae want ye tae get upset, but I must be honest with ye. There are twenty men close by, each of them belongin' tae yer cousin."

Jocelyn thought she might cry out at the news, but instead her body seemed to freeze, an internal shudder making her soul tremble even as her limbs and face went rigid.

"They dinnae ken that we're here," Lachlan went on quickly. "I'm sure of that. And I dinnae think they're all here for us—for ye—anyway, at least nae at the moment. I cannae quite work out what they want."

"We need tae get out of here," Jocelyn declared urgently, but Lachlan surprised her by placing his hands on her shoulders. She looked up, squinting in the darkness, and saw him staring steadily at her.

"We cannae leave yet," he told her seriously. "We mustnae risk detection by makin' noise. All we can do is wait out the night here and leave as soon as it's safe."

"So ye expect me tae sleep, kennin' they're nearby?" Jocelyn demanded incredulously. "How can I do that?"

Lachlan didn't say anything, but his hands tightened on her shoulders in what she realized was a comforting squeeze. Jocelyn suddenly understood very clearly that she wasn't the only one here nervous. Much as Lachlan hid it behind his professionalism and tough exterior, he seemed shaken.

"Ye're worried," she said out loud.

"Aye."

"Only about us?"

Lachlan once again didn't answer. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and sighed. "Ye should try tae sleep, Jocelyn. Even though the borders are only an hour away, we've a fair ridin' time before we reach the Laird's home tomorrow."

The thought made Jocelyn's heart swell, and she momentarily forgot her worries about the men surrounding them. "I'll see Blair on the morrow," she whispered. "I can scarce believe it's possible."

A low chuckle brought some gentleness into Lachlan's voice as he replied. "Aye, ye will. And it'll come quicker for us both if we sleep. Rest well, Jocelyn."

Lachlan headed over to his bedroll and stretched out on the ground. Jocelyn was about to return to her own place between her sisters, but something stopped her. She paused for only a moment, then headed over to where he was resting and knelt down in the soft grass next to him.

"What is it?" he asked.

Rather than answering right away, Jocelyn leaned over, her hair dropped to brush his face as she pressed her lips against his cheek in a gentle kiss. He wore no beard, but it had been a few days since he'd had a chance to shave and she felt a little stubble there, tickling the skin of her lips.

When she straightened up again, Lachlan asked, "What was that for?"

Jocelyn shrugged, though she knew he could not see her in the darkness very well. "Earlier, ye told me that a lass like me should nae be kissin' a lad like ye," she replied. "Well, let me tell ye somethin', Lachlan McAndrew; a lass like me would nae want to kiss anyone but a lad like ye. Understood?"

The silence that fell following her declaration was thick and pregnant with meaning, but not uncomfortable. While she waited for his answer, Jocelyn had the urge to curl up next to him and have him wrap his arms around her, allowing them to fall asleep in each other's arms, but she resisted. Now was not the time for such things. She needed to rest, after all—and if she gave in to such temptation, she knew it was likely they wouldn't get much sleep done at all.

"Understood," he replied, a note of soft amusement in his voice. "Ye're somethin' else, Jocelyn. Go rest."

"Aye," she agreed, and reluctantly got to her feet and returned to his sisters' side.

When she had settled into her position, a sleepy voice asked, "Who was talkin' about kissin'?"

"Nobody, Aoife," Jocelyn assured her. "Now hush, lest ye wake our sister. Go back tae sleep."

Aoife didn't need telling twice. She yawned and rolled over, and within moments her breathing changed and Jocelyn knew she was sleeping again.

Settling in, Jocelyn closed her eyes as well. Sleep would come, she knew—she couldn't fight it off—but she had the feeling that it wouldn't be as restful as she might have hoped.

On the other hand, given what had just happened…well, she may be in for some interesting dreams.

The waves crashed against the shore, each time they withdrew leaving salt-strewn kisses on the sand and rocks of the shoreline. The sun shone from a cloudless sky, the latter so blue and deep that it seemed to meld with the ocean on the horizon. The occasional gull cawed on its way past, and the only other sounds were the water and the gentle breeze that blew around them.

Lachlan and Jocelyn were alone on the shore, she in a thin white dress, he in a loose shirt and short linen trousers that stopped midway on his calf, similar to those farmers wore on hot summer days. Jocelyn could not help but notice the muscles that shone through his thin shirt, nor the toned strength of his legs as they walked along together, hand in hand.

They stopped to gaze out at the waves, and then suddenly the sea spray got stronger, splashing against them and soaking the front of Jocelyn's dress and her hair, and dampening Lachlan's clothes as well.

Jocelyn shrieked in surprise as Lachlan laughed. She turned to face him to teasingly tell him off, but before she could he swept her into his arms, his lips crashing against hers with all the strength of the sea. She melted into his kiss, her arms around his shoulders, her response eager, welcoming.

His hands slipped under her buttocks, lifting her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her away from the shoreline. Gently, he pulled back from the kiss and laid her on her back on the sand. She gazed up, seeing nothing but the endless sky, the cliffs secluding them from the rest of the world, and Lachlan as he knelt before her between her parted legs.

He leaned to kiss her again, and her body responded with delight.

"Now," he said. "Let us be gettin' out of these wet clothes, shall we?"

"Jocelyn."

The voice stirred her to consciousness, and when she opened her eyes she saw Lachlan leaning over her. Behind him were trees, not cliffs, and the sounds of the water were from the loch, not the sea. A blush rose to her cheeks as she woke up fully and realized she had been dreaming, though part of her longed to return to it.

"I'm awake," she assured him. She stretched, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and sat up.

Their makeshift camp had already been packed up. Her sisters were finishing the small breakfast of gathered berries that Lachlan had no doubt collected for them, and the horses were bridled and ready to go.

"Time tae go?" she asked.

"Aye," he told her. "I've already told yer sisters the importance of haste today. Make sure ye stay close tae them."

And tae ye, Jocelyn wanted to say, but she just nodded. "Let's go," she told him. "I'm ready."

"Willnae ye eat first?" Aoife asked, offering her some of the berries.

Jocelyn shook her head. "Later. Home is waiting," she said. She glanced at Lachlan, and couldn't help but smile. "For all of us."