Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A s heavy as his heart felt, Edan had much to attend to when he returned to the MacLachlan clan lands. There was great excitement at his and Darach's return, but he could hardly think or acknowledge the cheers of joy from those around him. Instead, upon entering the castle, he immediately sent for the council, instructing them to meet him in his study.

"Dae ye nae want tae rest a little first?" Darach asked, as the brothers entered Edan's study in preparation for the council's arrival. "Ye've had a tiring few days."

"Nay," Edan said firmly. "It is best tae get this over and done with. There will be time fer wallowing in self-pity later."

"Nay one said anythin' about wallowing in self-pity, Edan," Darach said carefully. "But ye're laden with a heavy burden."

"And I will be laden with the same burden tomorrow, and the day after that," Edan replied abruptly. "Resting now will nae make an ounce o' difference."

Darach fell silent, and Edan felt guilty at the harshness of his words. "I'm sorry, braither. I shouldnae?—"

"Dinnae apologize." Darach shook his head. "Ye have naething tae be sorry about. Ye are still the strong and resilient man ye've always been. Even when yer heart has been smashed tae pieces, ye are still thinking o' yer clan."

"It is me duty tae dae so."

"Ye are only a man, Edan. A man with feelings. A man who feels pain and anguish. It is allowed fer ye tae look after yer own sanity at a time like this."

"It is also me responsibility tae ensure the well-being o' the clan. They need tae ken that their laird is safe and well, fer I am certain, they have been worried after hearing about my imprisonment. They need reassurance, Darach, and that is what I must give them."

As hard as it was, Edan had to focus on those he governed. Perhaps, in a way, having something other than his broken heart to occupy his mind would serve him, at any rate.

The council members arrived in ones and twos, all seemingly delighted to see the return of their laird. As they entered, they greeted him warmly, offering praise that he had made it back to them safely. When everyone was settled at the long table across the room, Edan stood and addressed them all.

"Much has happened since I left ye, and thus, this meeting might take a little longer than other's we have had. I ask fer yer patience as we get through this."

"Me laird," Samuel, one of the oldest men in the room said. "How are ye now? We heard ye sustained dreadful injuries. Are ye healed?"

There were so many ways Edan could answer that question, but he curbed his bitter heart ache, and gave Samuel the information he explicitly sought.

"Me wounds are healed, Samuel. It is true, MacTavish did torture me fer days." Gasps and angry murmurs left the men's lips, but Edan continued. "But with plenty o' rest, and attention from the healer at Laird MacMillan's castle, I am back tae me former self."

Absently, Edan rubbed his shoulder.

Samuel nodded at his shoulder. "Ye are in pain, me laird?"

Edan shook his head. "This injury was sustained after me capture, but I will tell ye all that has occurred as I go."

Edan began with the capture, given it was the catalyst of everything else. But the more he relayed what had happened, the harder it was for him to speak. Darach was right. He was only human. And as such, he had endured more in the last few weeks than many men endure in a lifetime.

MacTavish and his cruel tactics had been bad enough, but Edan had sustained much more than physical wounds. Having spent most of his life loving a woman he could never have, he had been given an opportunity he could never have imagined would occur. A ray of hope. A light after years of darkness. A happy future had been within his grasp.

But like the morning mist, it had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. He loved Caitlyn with every fiber of his being, and would never, in this world or the next, wish he had not had spent with her the precious time they had shared. But in a strange twist of fate, a cruel master if ever there was one, he now felt more devastated than he ever would have if they had remained on the paths they were walking before the kidnapping.

"Me laird?" James said.

Edan looked up at the men across the table, all of whom were looking at him with concerned frowns. For a moment, he felt confused, until he realized, he had stopped speaking mid-sentence.

"Me braither has experienced a great deal over these past few weeks," Darach said, stepping up beside Edan. "We are returned now, with further news that there will be nae union between us and the MacMillan Clan. There will be nay wedding."

Again, gasps and murmurs left the older men's lips. But Darach did not give them time to question his words further.

"The decision has been made, and Laird MacMillan has been informed."

"But what o' the union?" William asked.

"There will be nay union now," Darach said plainly. He raised his hands to stop anymore inquiries. "We will address this further over the coming days. We have dealt with far too much already, and frankly, I could dae with the rest."

This statement elicited nods of agreement.

"We will convene again in a few days tae discuss the steps needed going forward. Me braither and I thank ye all fer meeting with us on such short notice."

One by one, the men stood, nodded respectfully toward Edan and slowly left the room. Darach left with them, no doubt, to organize a meal and a bath for them both.

Edan followed the last few to the door, so he could close it behind them, when Samuel, who walked a little way ahead of him, slowed his pace, purposefully waited for the others to leave, and then turned to Edan.

Samuel had served Edan's father before him, and was close to his seventieth year. His face was like a map, thin lines trenched into smooth, thin skin that sat taught across his cheek bones. He had always been kind to Edan, and had been a huge comforting presence when his father had been killed.

"I cannae help but notice that ye are weighed down, me laird," Samuel said knowingly.

Edan was not surprised that Samuel had picked up his mood more than the others. Their relationship had always been more intimate, given that Samuel had tried to fill the gap his father had left.

"I'm worried about ye, son. I feel like ye are carrying something more that ye havenae yet disclosed."

Edan sighed heavily. He did not really want to talk about it, but then, nor could he lie to Samuel. The man deserved the truth.

"There is more tae tell, Samuel. Darach told ye that the union willnae longer take place, but he didnae tell ye why. As ye ken, I was betrothed to the eldest o' the MacMillan daughters. Effie."

Samuel nodded, listening intently.

"The truth is, from a boy, I have been in love with Caitlyn, the youngest daughter."

Samuel's eyes widened a little. "Was she nae the one who was captured with ye?"

"She was. That's where all this mess began. The more time we spent as prisoners, the closer we became. By the time we escaped, it was evident we both felt something deeply for each other. Me plan was tae break off the betrothal with Effie and still unify the clans by marrying Caitlyn."

"A difficult decision, I'm sure."

"It was. And in nay way did I ever want tae hurt Effie. But even if Caitlyn didnae agree tae marrying me, I still had tae call of the betrothal. I just couldnae dae it."

"Ye're as wise and kind as yer faither ever was," Samuel said knowingly.

"Aye, well," Edan sighed, "that's nae how I feel in this moment. I'm afraid the pain was too much, and thus, Caitlyn couldnae agree tae marry. She just couldnae hurt her sister. And so, we are?—"

Darach suddenly arrived in the doorway looking utterly distraught. "Ye need tae come now, Edan!" he barked, before turning on his heels and leaving in the same abrupt way he had arrived.

Edan turned to look at Samuel, who jerked his head toward the door. "Ye should hurry."

Edan nodded, and rushed from the room, hurrying down the corridor in an attempt to catch up with Darach. But his brother was too far ahead. Assuming that he had gone downstairs, Edan took the stone steps on the wide staircase two at a time.

His head jerked from side to side as he strode down the corridor, glancing into each room he passed, until eventually, he stopped dead in his tracks at the drawing room. His jaw fell open at the sight, for once he entered it, he came face to face with two very worried looking people.

Laird MacMillan was pacing, but as usual, Kieran stood perfectly still, stoically waiting for whatever was to occur.

"What the devil is going on?" Edan blurted, looking from one to the other.

His mind worked at seeing them there, and before Conor could even open his mouth, Edan had worked out what was wrong.

"Caitlyn," he gasped.

"Is she here?" Conor pressed.

Edan frowned. "Nae. At least, I dinnae think so." Edan turned to Darach. "There has been nae word o' her arrival, has there?"

Darach shook his head solemnly.

"When did she leave?" Edan pressed. "Perhaps she is still on her way. Perhaps she stopped at a tavern tae rest."

"She had a half day start on us," Conor said. "Even with a rest, she would have arrived by now."

"But we have only been back a few hours. How is it ye managed tae get here so quickly?"

"We rode through the night," Conor said wearily.

"Why did Caitlyn leave the castle in the first place," Edan pressed. "Did something happen?"

"We dinnae have time tae go intae all that," Kieran said, clearly biting down the frustration in his voice. "What's important is the fact that Caitlyn isnae here. We need tae find her."

Edan caught himself, and realized immediately that Kieran was right. "O' course." And then, a wave of horror washed over him. "MacTavish," he breathed.

Edan glanced at Kieran and then Conor, both of whom had the same knowing expressions on their faces. Caitlyn could have come off her horse. She might be injured. She might be stranded somewhere and awaiting help. He would truly like to believe that version of events. But deep down, he knew he wasn't going to be that fortunate.

"We ken he and his men have been watching the castle," Kieran said. "Yer injury from the arrow is evidence o' that. I strongly believe, though it pains me tae dae so, that MacTavish has taken her. There might be another explanation, but it's the likeliest one."

"Damn it all tae hell," Edan bellowed, fuming with frustration. But there was no time for anger, or for fear of what that bastard might do to her.

Spinning toward Darach, he barked out orders. "Get the war chief. I want all the troops Alastair can muster in the next fifteen minutes. Tell him tae meet us at the front gate fully armed and ready for battle."

Darach nodded, and hurriedly left the room.

Kieran looked at Edan. "Dae ye have any ideas?"

Edan had a strange feeling in his gut, and thus, he followed it. "While I think it is a foolish move, I believe he'll take her back tae that safe house. It would be stupid, because I ken where it is."

"Maybe that's the very reason he's doing it," Kieran countered. "He kens we'll come after her. Maybe it's a trap."

"I dinnae care—" Edan began.

"Nor dae I. Nor dae any o' us," Kieran cut across him. "If it's a fight he wants, it's a fight he'll get."

A horrible sensation washed over Edan, and as the anger raged within him, he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room. All those dreadful nightmares Caitlyn had suffered. All her terror and fear. He had told her he would protect her. He had told her he would keep her safe. Now, her worst fears might actually come into fruition, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.