Chapter 22

Chapter 22

When she was back at his side, Lachlan's breathing was shallow, and Jocelyn knew that if she did not act soon, it may be far too late. She tore open his shirt and saw what seemed like thousands of cuts and bruises marrying his chest and belly. A dirty bandage was soaked with blood, and she hastily removed it, revealing the largest wound. It was bleeding freely where stitches had obviously burst due to his exertions.

She had no way to clean the wound now, no way to prevent infection from getting in, but she could at least bind it to try to staunch the bleeding again and keep as much dirt and dust out of it as possible. Jocelyn worked quickly, using the strip from the dead man's shirt as a makeshift bandage, binding the bleeding wound as much as she could. When she finished, her hands were covered in sticky blood, and she no longer knew if it was an enemy's, her own, or Lachlan's. Did it even matter anymore? Blood, blood, blood—Bram would not be happy until he had drenched the world in it.

"Lachlan," she murmured. "Please wake up."

He lay there, not moving. His chest barely rose and fell, his eyes firmly closed.

"Come on. Please. I already lost ye once today. Dinnae make it real this time." She leaned over and shook him gently, careful not to aggravate his wounds. Though she still spoke calmly, panic was rapidly building in her heart. "Lachlan, can ye hear me? Wake up."

Nothing.

"Stop this!" she cried out. Suddenly, all the tears she had been keeping back released in a torrent, and she sobbed, her heart feeling like it was breaking in two. "Ye stubborn bastard, ye dinnae get tae die now, do ye understand me? We found each other against all odds, over and over and over again. Ye dinnae get tae leave me now, alone in some wood somewhere. Wake up!"

Lachlan's breath shuddered, but he did not make any other move. Jocelyn suddenly felt weak, and her sobs were harder, her tears endless. Her body suddenly felt weak, and she leaned forward, her head resting on Lachlan's barely-moving chest.

"Please," she whispered. "Please. Me life only really started when I got free and when ye found me. Please dinnae leave me alone now."

Dying was a strange feeling. Lachlan was sure that he must be dying, for though he knew his body was broken worse than it had ever been broken before, he felt no pain or fear. There was just warmth, a certainty that he'd done what he was supposed to do. Perhaps what he was born to do. He knew Jocelyn was safe.

He could hear her voice, though he couldn't make out the words. Was she with him now, or was it just a part of his dying dream? It didn't matter; the sound of her voice was enough sustenance to last a man an eternity. When he passed on, he would carry the sound and feeling of her voice with him, and leave this world with no regrets.

Except…

His mind's eye swam, and images rose to the surface, memories that played out before him like he was living them all over again.

"Is it yer first day here? Ye look like ye're worried ye've made a mistake."

Fourteen-year-old Lachlan glanced up, nervous, to see a young man of his age approaching him with a grin. Lachlan frowned and said, "I didnae make a mistake. I'm here 'cause this is where I need tae be."

He winced at the sound of his own voice, sounding so low and common next to the voice of this other boy.

"We've all got our reasons for things," the other boy answered. "But that doesnae mean we cannae be scared or worried."

"I'm fine," Lachlan replied stubbornly. "Ye dinnae need tae bother wi' the likes o' me, sir. Ye can go."

The other young man laughed. "Maybe I want tae bother with the likes of ye," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Maybe I find ye interesting, eh?"

"There's naught interestin' about me, sir," Lachlan insisted.

The young man shrugged. "I'll be the judge of that," he said. He held out a hand. "I'm James," he told him. "And ye are?"

Lachlan hesitated, then took the offered hand to shake. "Lachlan," he replied. "Me name is Lachlan."

James smiled a broad smile. "Well, Lachlan," he said, "I'm counting on ye."

There was James, forced to be someone he was not. James, finding the love of his life. James, claiming his birthright. James, becoming a father. All while Lachlan watched, celebrating his joys and mourning his sorrows alongside him. James had said those words over and over again. I'm counting on you . And Lachlan had never, not once, let him down.

Would he do so now?

The memory shifted, and the faces of his family danced through his mind.

Gracie, who partly through his actions, for better or worse, had been forced to grow up alone and held him no ill will. Little Faith, who hadn't lived very long, and John, and the other babies he never got to know. Even Jamie, who Lachlan barely remembered, with his dark messy hair.

His mother, who had saved his life so recently, who had never resented him despite what he believed, who was still able to love despite living through more heartbreak than any person should ever take, over and over and over again. His father, who had lived and died for the sake of his family. The last words his father had ever said to him: We'll survive.

Would he, though? Could he? He knew that his body was failing, and no wonder. He'd survived death so many times that he felt like a cat on its ninth life, tempting fate with every breath. He'd claimed he would make his own fate, vigorously fought for that right for the last ten years but in the end, was it really possible? Could he really escape the death that was clearly meant for him?

The memories changed. Blair, smiling as she and James proudly showed him their first child. Deirdre, frowning slightly in concentration at the wise-woman's house as the old lady taught her to cook a stew. Aoife, with joy in her face as she named and petted her new horse, brightness in her smile.

And Jocelyn. Oh, Jocelyn. The thankful look she'd given him even through her mistrust when he'd saved her life that first time. The blazing expression on her face when they'd bickered, and the way her whole face lit up when she smiled or laughed. The softness of her lips when they'd kissed, the way their bodies had melded together. Her beautiful eyes, her shining hair, her life-giving smile.

Jocelyn, who had come back for him even though she was home free. She'd thrown herself into danger, risking her life for him against all odds. She'd given up a chance to see her sister again after three long years, only for him. She'd been captured, but stayed strong, for him. The memories flooded in thick and fast; the river, the grass outside the cottage, their time at the loch. Every moment he'd spent with her, even the most mundane, was precious to him, a sparkling golden moment that would stay with him no matter where his soul was headed next.

It felt peaceful to die.

But…

"Please don't leave me alone now."

Jocelyn?

That's right. They'd been together, fighting side by side in the woods. They'd found each other yet again against all odds, and he'd promised her, promised, that he would get her back to Blair. Well now, because of him, she was alone outside of the borders of the clan, probably injured. And he could hear her, begging him to return to her.

How could he refuse?

When he felt his physical body around him, the pain was unreal. He could not move or think, and it felt like he could not breathe—but none of that was important, not when Jocelyn was calling for him. Not when she was waiting for him. He felt the brush of her hair on his chest, and the wetness of her tears. She was crying for him, begging him not to go—and he knew that he could not leave her.

And so, with strength he should not have had, he raised his hand and cupped her cheek. "Oh, lass, stop weepin'," he rasped, his mouth dry. "I'm nae givin' up so easily. Not on meself, and nae on ye."

Jocelyn sat up suddenly, gasping as she stared down at him. She was injured, he could see it; there was a bruise on her elbows from where she fell, and a little blood on the back of her hair. But she smiled so brightly through her tears that he might have mistaken it for the sun. Then she leaned down and, before he could even work out what was going on, gently pressed her lips to his in a soft, quick kiss. She lay down at his side after that, resting her head on his chest once again. "Ye scared me," she whispered.

Her kiss burned on his lips, and guilt spiraled in his chest through all the pain. He knew he could not allow her to fall for him more deeply. He knew she deserved so much more. And yet, for the moment, she was all he wanted, all he needed. She and the love she somehow felt, however wrong, was what had brought him back to life.

"I wish I could be the man ye deserve, Jocelyn McMillan," he mumbled.

"Ye are?—"

He shook his head. "The shadows have nay business in the light of the sun," he told her. He saw she was about to protest, so he spoke before she could. "Never mind that. I'll never be the man ye deserve, but please, allow me selfishness, just this one time. Stay with me, just for the night. Stay by me side."

Jocelyn didn't answer. Instead, she settled closer, wrapping her arm around him. She didn't speak; perhaps she couldn't from the pain, or else she had no words to say. But her warmth flooded through him, and he moved as close as his injured body would let him. He knew that unconsciousness would take him soon, but he fought to stay awake. He wanted to enjoy every second that he got to spend in her presence, knowing it would probably be the last time they were ever alone together.

Eventually, Jocelyn's breathing slowed as her exhaustion took her into sleep. Lachlan lay there awake for some time, aware that death had beckoned him closer than ever before, aware that he should not be here. He caressed her hair, muttering nonsense soothing words, urging her to rest. God knew she'd earned it.

He knew that Stormcloud was safe nearby, tied at the edge of the wood in reach of water and grass to graze. He knew that, most likely, Deirdre and Aoife had found their way to Blair and James and safety.

For the moment, at long last, he had no responsibility—at least not until morning.

Lachlan felt it as sleep tugged at him too, his own tiredness almost overwhelming. He knew he would not slip back toward death again, not now that Jocelyn was here, holding him, needing him and allowing him to need her. And so he welcomed the rest, welcomed the chance to close his eyes without fear.

And together, they rested at last.

Jocelyn awoke with a start at the sound of horses' hooves approaching. She sat up in a hurry, grasping for her knife, only to find it wasn't nearby. Had she dropped it last night? She couldn't remember.

The hoofbeats were getting louder, and panic rose within her again. Could they not have a single moment of peace? Were they cursed to suffer forever?

Lachlan's eyes snapped open and he rolled, obviously trying to protect Jocelyn with his injured, broken body. It was a useless gesture; any attacker would make short work of them both, but it made Jocelyn calmer anyway. If they were to die, at least they would be here, together.

Then a voice said, "Who in God's name are ye goin' tae be protectin' in that sorry state, ye great pillock?"

Jocelyn froze. Slowly, Lachlan moved away from her, and together they both turned to stare at the newcomers, their eyes wide. There were six horses, carrying five people. The sixth horse, led behind, was Stormcloud, who whinnied happily to see his master. But for the moment, the two bedraggled humans on the ground could only pay attention to the riders.

Three men, clearly wearing the McFerguson colors and sigils rode as support for the two people mounted at the front of the formation. The man who had spoken was the leader, and Jocelyn realized after a moment that she was looking at James himself. The Laird slipped down off his horse and offered his hand to Lachlan, who took it, allowing his friend to haul him to his feet. The two men embraced, but Jocelyn could barely pay any attention to that either.

For her eyes were caught by the final person, the woman who was now sliding down from her horse and hurrying to Jocelyn's side, her glossy ringlets bouncing as she moved.

Then Blair was kneeling by Jocelyn's side and for the first time in three long years, the two eldest McMillan sisters were together. Both of them were already crying as Blair gathered Jocelyn into her arms and the two sisters held each other, clinging tight, not even speaking as their emotions overwhelmed them.

It was a long time before they pulled back a little, and even then it was just so that Blair could hold Jocelyn at arm's length. "Let me look at ye," Blair said, her voice a little deeper now than Jocelyn remembered. "Oh! Me wee sister is a woman grown. How did I miss this?"

"The lassies?" Jocelyn asked anxiously. Her bruised head and arms ached more this morning, and the words were too loud against her fragile skull, but she needed to know. Had her sisters arrived safely? Had she done the right thing to send them on ahead?

"Deirdre and Aoife found us, they were the ones who told us where tae come," Jocelyn rushed to assure her. She cupped Jocelyn's face, turning her this way and that, and then her eyes found the dark bruising that circled her throat. Blair gasped, obviously horrified. "Oh, Jocelyn, what have they done tae ye?"

"It's nothin'," Jocelyn said, only because she wanted to preserve the happiness of the moment.

"Nothin'! Ye're black and blue! Did they choke ye? How could they do such a thing tae a helpless lass?"

"She's far from helpless. She's a marvel," Lachlan suddenly said, and the words were so unexpected that it broke the sisters' attention from one another at last. Jocelyn saw that he was now astride Stormcloud, leaning heavily in the saddle, resting against the horses' neck. "I mean it. She is. I'm only alive now because yer sister saved me, over and over again."

"Nay more than he saved me," Jocelyn insisted as Blair helped her to her feet. Blair was staring at her with wonder in her eyes, and for some reason, it seemed extremely important that they knew everything that Lachlan had done for her. "McFerguson's Wraith has a reputation that's more than earned. He saved all of us, more than once."

"Dinnae tell him that. His pride may get too great," James said, but he was smiling. She saw him give Lachlan an approving nod. After a moment, more seriously, he said, "Either way, it's good tae see ye, Jocelyn, especially now that we're family. Thank ye for bringin' this big lout back tae me safely."

Lachlan chuckled at that, and even though it was a tiny sound, it made Jocelyn's heart soar. How good it was to hear him laugh!

Blair smiled brightly. "Oh, me wee sister. I cannae wait for ye tae meet the bairns," she told Jocelyn. Still clutching Jocelyn's hand, she turned to Lachlan and said, "I'm in yer debt, Lachlan. More than ye ken. All three of me sisters, safe!"

Lachlan shook his head. "I did me duty. I'm tellin' ye, I'm in yer debt, and Jocelyn's, me Lady. It was a privilege and an honor tae ken her. Tae ken all of them."

Though it was a compliment, something in the way he said it struck a negative chord in Jocelyn's heart. However, she couldn't examine that yet, not now when the happiness was flowing through her at her reunion with her sister. Later, they would talk, and she would ask him exactly what he had meant by that. But for now, all she could focus on was the fact that at long last her journey was at an end.

"We should go," one of James's men said. "Me Laird, we dinnae want tae wait here too long."

"Aye," James agreed. He glanced at Lachlan, then at Jocelyn, and frowned. "Can ye ride?" he asked.

"I'll manage," Lachlan said, though he sounded uncertain.

"I'll ride with him," Jocelyn declared. "Stormcloud kens me, and all I'll have tae do is keep him upright."

Nobody argued, but she did see Blair and James exchange a knowing look which Jocelyn didn't quite understand. Blair spoke up and asked if Jocelyn was well enough to support Lachlan if his wounds got the better of him, but Jocelyn was insistent that she could. After all, they had supported each other all this time. What was a little longer?

"Before we go," Lachlan said as Jocelyn clambered onto the horse behind him. "James, there are six bodies scattered in the woods. They were monsters, each one, but we should still see that they're buried and that word is sent tae the McMillan clan. We cannae leave their families wonderin'."

James nodded. "Jack, Ron, see tae it," he said to the young man who'd spoken before and another of the guards. Jocelyn told him where the first body was—not far from where she was now—and the two men set off.

"And…if ye can, on the way, we should stop at the village," Jocelyn said suddenly. She felt all eyes on her and blushed, but continued. "What they went through…I think seein' their Laird would hearten them. We should offer any help we can. Especially tae that woman and that lass, they saved Lachlan's life."

James smiled at her, though his eyes looked somber, obviously heavy with the weight of the news of the attack. He must have heard before he arrived. "A grand idea," he said approvingly. "Which women?"

"Me mam and me sister," Lachlan said abruptly. James stared at him with raised eyebrows as Jocelyn gasped, wondering how she hadn't put that together. "It turns out ye were right all these years, me friend."

With a tight nod, James said, "I'll see it done. I'll go personally, and me men will escort ye home," he swore.

Jack and Ron returned a little while later, and together, the party set off. They rode for an hour, Blair always closeby, and Jocelyn kept craning her head to see her sister. Every time they made eye contact, they both beamed.

It felt unreal, after all of this, to be together again. At last. When they got back to the keep, Jocelyn would tell her everything—what she had gone through, how Lachlan had taken care of her, and most importantly, exactly what the wise-woman had said. But before such things happened, before any of that, she would just enjoy the sheer knowledge that she and Blair were together again. Everything else could come later.

They stopped briefly at the gates of Whisperer's Rest, where James parted from the rest of them as promised. He took one of the men with him at Blair's insistence, and though both Lachlan and Jocelyn also wanted to go back, Blair made the sensible point that they should recover at home first. So, the three of them and two of the clansmen rode on.

A sudden thought came to mind as they left Whisperer's Rest behind them on the horizon. "Me horse…" Jocelyn started.

"Gracie's takin' care of her," Lachlan assured her. "Dinnae worry."

And because Lachlan had told her not to worry, Jocelyn felt calm. She trusted him, every part of him—and she hoped that soon he would realize that he deserved it.

The world seemed to lighten as they traveled through the McFerguson lands. Jocelyn was sure it was her imagination, but the air seemed lighter, the grass greener, the sky a brighter blue. She knew that it wasn't really the case, but she also could not get it out of her head that this was what she was witnessing. There was a delightful scent in the air, too, one she could not identify.

Eventually, she whispered to Lachlan, "What is that smell in the air?"

He replied, "It's yer freedom, Jocelyn."

And she knew it was true.

When they arrived at the McFerguson Keep, Deirdre and Aoife were waiting outside to meet them. The sisters squealed with excitement as they were reunited, and all four of them took some time embracing, filling each other in, and just generally being happy to be together, all four of them, at long, long last.

"Let's go inside," Blair suggested after a little time. "We must see to yer injuries. The bairns are also waitin' for ye in the nursery, Jocelyn. Ye must meet them—after all, ye're their eldest aunt."

"Their aunt!" Jocelyn exclaimed, happiness flowing through her. How strange! There were two children just inside those walls who would always know her as Aunt Jocelyn, two little ones whose lives were fresh and new and ready to be shaped.

Blair smiled and held out her hand, and Jocelyn took it. She turned to tell Lachlan to come inside with them, but to her surprise, he was already gone. Someone should take care of his injuries immediately. She must go and make sure herself that he was alright after all that happened.

They also need to have a long talk. Now that they were home, free, and at last out of danger, there was much she had to say to Lachlan. Much they had to discuss. And, she hoped, much they had to build upon.

Deirdre took her other hand, and Aoife took Blair's free one. Like that, all in a line, the four McMillan sisters entered their home, together.

At last, things were as they should be.