Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm Deirdre. She had no idea how many days she and Marjorie had been riding as fast as their horses could take them, stopping only to allow the poor creatures to rest briefly before they began their flight again. She hadn't slept since they left the keep, and all of her energy and focus were going toward helping Marjorie to focus and keep going. Their provisions were running thin, the map had been dampened and smudged by rain, and Deirdre was beginning to feel like she'd never make it home.

Now, they rested by a small brook as their horses drank, allowing themselves an hour to collect themselves before they had to start their journey anew.

How ironic it would be, Deirdre thought, to be so close to freedom to just die here. How depressingly poetic it would be to escape Laird Brennan and Bram's clutches, only to lose herself here.

"I'm sorry," Marjorie muttered from where she half-lay on a bed of heather nearby. "I was supposed tae be a help tae ye—but I'm only holdin' ye back. Ye should take the horses and go back without me."

"No," Deirdre said firmly. "No. We're close now, we have tae be. We just need tae hang in there a little longer until we've made it back. Ye'll like James's keep, I ken it—och, and me friend Gracie, ye'll bond with her in no time. It'll be wonderful for ye."

Marjorie coughed and shook her head. Deirdre could see that she was shivering. She realized that maybe this was more than exhaustion, and concern flooded through her.

"Marjorie?"

"I'm fine," Marjorie told her, though the weakness in her voice told another story. "I…Deirdre, I really do think ye should go on ahead. I didnae tell me Da, but I had a cold already formin' before I undertook this journey, and I think—I think?—"

Deirdre moved forward and knelt by the girl's side, placing the back of her hand to Marjorie's forehead. Concern flooded her as she felt blazing heat on the damp skin. Marjorie had a fever, and not a small one, either; she'd need to see one of the healers soon or this could get much, much worse.

The best thing to do would be to wait, Deirdre knew—to stay here, perhaps find some makeshift shelter, and just let Marjorie rest for a day or two until the fever broke. But there was no time for that, not really. They had no way of knowing if they were being pursued by Brennan soldiers, or how nearby those pursuers were, if so. If they didn't keep moving forward now, they might not be able to get back at all.

"Can ye ride?" Deirdre asked. "Without fallin' off the saddle?"

Marjorie didn't answer, and Deirdre saw that the girl's eyes had fluttered closed from exhaustion. Deirdre groaned in frustration, trying to overcome her own tiredness, trying to force her own weary mind and body to think. It would be so tempting to just wait here, to let rest take them. And if they got captured? Well, she'd tried. She wouldn't be killed, she was fairly certain of that, and so it would just mean returning to imprisonment. Would that be so bad?

They'd kill Marjorie. And me sisters would have no idea of the danger that was comin'. If I'm captured again, Bram wins.

The thought was enough to rouse Deirdre, snapping her out of the dread that had been settling over her. "No," she said, mostly to herself. She shook Marjorie, trying not to panic at the heat of the other woman's skin. "Get up. Come on. We keep goin'."

"It's no use," Marjorie mumbled. "Go on ahead."

"Get up ," Deirdre commanded through gritted teeth. "I'm not leavin' ye here—and I'm not goin' back there."

Through coaxing and a bit of manhandling, Deirdre managed to get Marjorie over to her horse and over the saddle, laying self-conscious over the horse's back. Deirdre secured Marjorie to the saddle as best she could, making sure she was tied in place so that she would not fall off as they rode. It wouldn't be comfortable, but it was their only option.

She moved to Cider, patting his nose. "I'll need ye to work twice as hard for me. We're almost home, I promise," she said quietly. The horse nudged her affectionately, and Deirdre took that as permission. She tied the bridle of the other horse to Cider's saddle, and mounted. It would be awkward to ride like this, exhausting for her and her horse alike, but it was their only option remaining.

It started to rain again at some point, but Deirdre gritted her teeth and pushed ahead. She had no idea if she was going in the right direction, nothing but a feeling to guide her as she barreled ahead—a feeling, and the knowledge that if she stopped, all would be lost.

An hour passed, and Deirdre was chilled to the bone. She could feel Cider sagging beneath her, and when she glanced behind her, Marjorie hadn't moved on the other horses' saddle in quite some time. Despair overwhelmed her, and she realized that it was entirely possible that she'd failed.

But…

A light flickered in the distance. As Deirdre got closer, her heart lurched as a small watchtower rose before her, candle flame flickering through its windows. She knew this cottage! She was on McFerguson land, and not only that, she was only a half hour ride from the castle.

She slowed her horse to a stop and jumped down, rushing through the muddy ground to the door of the watchtower and knocking so hard she felt her knuckles bruise. The door opened, and a young soldier, a boy of fifteen or so, opened the door.

He took her in with wide eyes, and she imagined how she must have looked—dirty and rain-sodden, her red hair plastered to her face, her exhaustion clear after days of riding. He didn't recognize her, but that was no surprise. Deirdre wasn't sure if she would have recognized herself.

"Do ye have a rider?" she demanded without preamble. "Someone who can get tae the keep quickly? I need tae send a message tae the Laird."

"I…" the boy faltered, then shook his head. "It's just me an' the healer here for now, ma'am. Graham is out on patrol. He'll be back in a hour…"

Deirdre cursed. "No time." She paused, then said, "Ye have a healer? Good. Take me friend and stable her horse. Look after her."

The boy glanced out at Marjorie, and to his credit, he didn't ask any questions, just sprung into action. With Deirdre's help and the help of another woman who exited with him—the healer, Deirdre presumed—they got Marjorie inside. While the healer was fussing over Marjorie, the boy led the horse to shelter, then returned just as Deirdre was climbing back onto Cider's back.

"Where are ye goin'?" he asked in alarm. "Just wait for Graham tae get back—whatever help ye need, he'll give it. Ye cannae ride off intae this alone, miss."

"No time," she repeated. "Look after Marjorie."

And then, before the young soldier could object, she set off, a renewed vigor in her heart. Just a little to go. A little more, and then she'd be home.

Aoife watched the storm from her window, feeling wretched. In a few more days, William McLeod would arrive at the castle, and she'd have to break his heart to his face. She'd been avoiding everyone: she had rebuffed any attempt by dear Liam to talk to her for days, and she'd said as little as she could to her sisters or James or Lachlan, sure they were angry at her for ruining the potentially strong alliance, no matter how many times they told her otherwise. She knew that she was letting them down.

She glanced up at the flashing gray sky, wondering if the stars were really still there and watching her just beyond the thick veil of clouds. Could they still hear her wishes and prayers even through all of this? Was there anyone left to listen, to care? She didn't know.

How she wished Deirdre was here. Her little sister had always understood her in a way nobody else did, even if in recent years they'd all forgotten that. What she wouldn't give to bicker with Deirdre over clothes or stories or something equally trivial once again. What she wouldn't do to hear Deirdre's playful taunts about Liam, or listen to Deirdre's too-strong opinions about the whole concept of marriage for alliance in the first place.

Gracie had tried to talk to her, but Aoife had rebuffed her too. She only wanted Deirdre, she knew that now. Jocelyn and Blair were beloved, of course they were, but their bond was different to what Aoife had with Deirdre. The older sisters were married, in love, and committed to their roles; they could not understand the positions of their younger sisters.

Was that why Deirdre had left? Could Aoife have stopped it, if she'd just listened to her little sister, the way she longed for Deirdre to be here to listen to her now?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Then the words bubbled up, loud and unstoppable, escaping in a shriek. "I'm sorry!" she screamed out into the storm. "Wherever you are, Deirdre—just come back to me! I can't do this without ye!"

Lightning flashed, and thunder clapped, and Aoife felt hot tears on her face mixed with the cold rain that spat through her window.

"Give her back tae me, ye hear me?" she shouted, unsure who was on the other end of her censure. Be it God, or fae, or the storm itself, she did not care. She would fight them all to have her sister back by her side. "Give her back!"

The sky didn't answer.

Aoife's emotions burst out at once. "Take whatever ye want from me, do ye understand? Take me heart, take me love, take me life! None of it matters without her. Give me back my sister!"

Another flash of lightning cut across the sky—and that was when Aoife saw it. A lone figure, far away in the darkness, riding at top speed toward the keep. And, though the figure was soaked, though the rain was thick and it was hard to see through the darkness, when the lightning split the sky and illuminated the world and shone upon the figure's hair, Aoife saw the unmistakable flash of red hair.

Liam and Diarmid were posted at the gates when Deirdre finally arrived, and it all moved very quickly after that. Dizziness threatened to overcome her as soon as she got down off Cider's back, and Liam caught her, shouting directions to the other guards over his shoulder. Deirdre watched as Diarmid led Cider off to the stables and felt a flash of relief that her dear horse would be taken care of.

"Come on," Liam said quietly. If he was shocked to see her, or had anything to ask her, it didn't show in his gentle voice. It was clear why Aoife cared for him so much; he was soft, gentle, and kind. "Let's get ye tae the healer."

"No," Deirdre murmured. "No, please, Liam, I need—please, I need me family."

She expected him to argue, but the next thing her fuzzy brain knew, she was being led through the castle to a small room, and an excited cry from inside was the only warning before Gracie had caught her up in her arms.

"Ye're alive!" Gracie cried, "Ye're alive, ye're alive!"

"Gracie…" Deirdre's head hurt, and reality was swimming in and out of focus. Hadn't she been outside a moment before? What was going on? If she could just rest for a moment…

"Nae, hush," Gracie commanded. "Liam's gone tae gather me brother and yer sisters and James. Before ye tell them anythin' , ye're gonnae let me dry ye off, and—God above, what did they dae tae yer hair?"

Deirdre surrendered to Gracie's fussing, and by the time her lady's maid was done, she felt more awake, more alert. She wore a crisp, dry dress, her hair towel-dried, and Gracie made her take a bite to eat and a drink of water before she would allow her to head down to the hall, despite Deirdre's protestations.

As Gracie and Liam led her through the corridors toward the grand hall where her family now waited, Deirdre was dimly aware of the uproar surrounding her. People openly gawked as she was led past, and there were loud whispers and guesses as to where she'd been. She couldn't focus on them or even care. Her heart pounded wildly, her focus only on how close she was to seeing her family once more.

They reached the grand hall and, with shaking hands, Deirdre reached out to open the door and stepped inside.

A dead silence fell.

Five people waited inside the room. There was James, in his lairdly glory, and Lachlan at his side. And there, oh, there, were Deirdre's sisters—brave, steadfast Blair, gazing at her with wide eyes, brilliant, wise Jocelyn, her hands over her own mouth, and?—

"Deirdre!" Aoife cried, and it broke the spell. All three of Deirdre's sisters raced across the room to her, and Deirdre was lost in their joint embrace. Aoife sobbed, holding her close, and Blair and Jocelyn were a tangle of words, half scolding her for vanishing, half praising God for her safe return.

"Where have ye been ?" Aoife demanded as she squeezed Deirdre so tightly that it hurt. "What happened tae ye? We thought—we thought ye were?—"

Deirdre hugged her back just as fiercely, almost afraid that if she let go she'd lose them again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated over and over.

After a few minutes of this, the sisters were all able to regain their composure a little more and backed off enough to give Deirdre some air. Her brothers-in-law both swept forward to give her their own quick embraces, then they all sat together at one of the tables. Deirdre felt all of their eyes on her, staring at her with such intensity she felt they'd never seen her before this moment. The whole time, Aoife clung to her hand as if she would never let go.

"Where have ye been, Deirdre?" Blair asked her again softly once the clamor had at last settled down. "Did someone do somethin' tae ye?"

"Was it a man?" Jocelyn asked, peering at her through her reading spectacles. She'd started wearing those more often these days. "Did he…are ye…are ye hurt?"

"No, no," Deirdre said quickly. "Not like that, not—no, that isn't what happened."

"Then it was Bram." Aoife's voice was still tearful, but now there was fury in it too. "He took ye from under our noses. We should slay him where he stands, we should?—"

"How did ye escape?" Lachlan asked, leaning forward.

James held up a hand. "Let her speak," he insisted. "Deirdre? Was it Bram?"

Deirdre felt tears springing to her eyes as she answered. All she wanted to do was sink into her pillows and cry. "It wasn't Bram," she whispered. She looked up, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "It was…it was Clan Brennan."

"What?!" they all demanded in unison.

"Laird Brennan captured me," she explained, her throat raw as she forced the words out. She could not, would not think about Ciaran now. "He locked me up. He threatened to wed me, or to sell me to Bram as a wife or worse. He told me there was a plan in place—and he told me that, when it comes to war, the Brennans have already chosen a side."

Silence fell, and then James said, "We should have listened tae ye. Forgive us."

"There's nothing tae forgive," Deirdre said tiredly. None of it seemed to matter anymore. "But, James—this isn't over yet."