Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I n the privacy of his chamber, Arne was swearing and calling himself an idiot under his breath as he paced from door to window, wall to wall. His mind and body were still reeling from the kiss.

Part of him was reliving the heady ecstasy of having her in his arms once again. The feel of her body, so familiar yet so strange, was so warm and inviting, and brought back so many memories. The way her soft, warm lips had opened so willingly beneath his, her tongue entwining with his with a passion that matched his own, had inflamed his ardor even more.

His body had responded at once, a throbbing erection springing to life in his trews almost instantly. Once again, it was that which had finally made him stop and step away from her, afraid of what might happen if he did not.

He paced on, searching for honesty within himself, forcing himself to admit that he had not wanted to let Raven go. He remembered the argument they had been having, but far more vivid was the moment when it had dawned on him for sure that Raven was jealous of Muriel not only over Thorsten but also because she thought he had feelings for the nursemaid. She thought he and Muriel were lovers!

He had been astonished, and he still could not account for the burst of elation that had exploded in his chest and blinded him to all but Raven. His body had moved by instinct alone when he had seized her, held her tight, and crushed her lips with his own.

Following his own edict to be honest with himself, in order to better protect himself from the profusion of conflicting feelings Raven was invoking in him, he accepted he had been thinking about kissing for her most of the afternoon. Her allure was strong, and he chided himself for allowing her to influence him like that.

I shouldnae be thinkin' about her like that at all. She's married tae another man and I ken all too well she's nae tae be trusted.

He paced for a long time before he went to bed and then tossed and turned for most of the night. The next, feeling weary and tired, day he kept busy training and catching up with things he had left unfinished before his last travel.

His work was interrupted by the arrival of a servant, who told him that Haldor was asking to see him at once in his study, on a matter of urgency.

Arne thanked the man and dismissed him, saying he would go down right away, which he did, wondering what the matter was that was so urgent. Had some communication arrived perhaps, maybe from the MacNeil's? Or maybe from Laird Struan MacDonald, the man he was starting to hate.

"What is it, Braither?" he asked as soon as he entered the study. Haldor got up from his chair behind the vast desk and came to meet him halfway, a parchment letter with a red wax seal dangling from it in his hand.

"'Tis from Laird MacNeil," Haldor said, "and what he says confirms Raven's story."

"Oh?" Arne said, curious to read what Raven's brother had written, but also a little disappointed to hear she had been telling the truth. He took the parchment his brother handed him and began reading it.

…with great surprise and joy that I received yer letter. I write now on behalf of meself and me younger brother Maxwell. We are overjoyed to hear that our sister Raven is alive and well and under yer protection. Please accept our deepest gratitude fer letting us ken the situation and fer the hospitality and kindness ye have shown her. We havenae seen our sister fer six years, so ye'll understand our joy when I tell ye we had feared her dead, murdered by her husband. We long since stopped believing his claim that she was still alive and that he was searchin' fer her…

Arne broke off reading for a moment to exchange a look with Haldor. "Christ! They thought MacDonald had killed her?" he said, aghast.

Haldor nodded gravely, "Aye, it seems she was right tae be so afraid of him."

Tendrils of guilt began to wind themselves into knots in Arne's belly. "If her own braithers think MacDonald enough of a bastard tae have secretly murdered her and then lied tae hide the fact, what was it like bein' married tae him?"

"Hell, I should think," Haldor said.

"Aye, nay wonder she ran." Unaccustomed sympathy for Raven washed over him, confusing him even further. He read on.

…me and Maxwell recall very well the time of our sister's weddin' tae Laird Struan MacDonald. We kent she didnae want tae be wed tae him, fer he had a reputation fer cruelty even then. We felt sorry fer her. But our faither could be cruel himself. Raven begged him to release her from the betrothal. He told her she only had value as the price of an alliance with MacDonald and locked her in her chambers until the wedding, under guard. Maxwell and I could dae naethin' but try tae comfort her.

At first, she wrote us regularly from Barra. But then, after about a year of her bein' wed and livin' on Barra, the letters stopped. A short while later, our faither told us she had run away from her husband. He was furious and swore tae help MacDonald hunt her down and get her back.

He got her back eventually, and she began sending letters again, sayin' all was well between her and Struan, that he had forgiven her fer runnin' away. We didnae necessarily believe it, but we had nay good reason tae challenge Struan about it either. Then, four months ago, Faither died, and I took over as laird …

Arne paused once more. "So, her faither's dead?!"

"Aye, 'tis Raven's elder braither Everard who's Laird MacNeil now," Haldor replied. "I'm glad we're dealin' with him. The faither sounds as much of a brute as MacDonald."

"Aye, he does," Arne agreed, reading the rest of the letter, quite amazed at the turn the situation seemed to be taking.

…A couple of days ago, Struan and a small army arrived at our door. He claimed tae be unaware of Faither's death, though I'd written tae him about it. It turned out Raven had escaped again, and he and his men had been out fer for her all over but hadnae found her. He cited his alliance with faither and demanded we help him find her.

We refused, sayin' we didnae believe she was still alive, and that the alliance he had with our faither died with him…

"So, they as good as told him they thought him a murderer."

"And now they're locked in a dispute with MacDonald over it all, and they're askin' fer our help in resolvin' it. They want tae make an alliance with us instead."

"Jaysus! I didnae expect anythin' like this," Arne admitted, openly admitting his shock.

"Me neither. What d'ye think?"

Arne handed him back the parchment and said, "'Tis more about what ye think, Haldor. I ken ye've welcomed Raven as family fer Thorsten's sake, but are ye really prepared tae join forces with her braithers against a powerful man like Struan MacDonald of Barra if he decides tae wage war against them? That could cost many lives."

"Aye, that's true, but 'tis nae just about that, Arne. On a political level, an alliance with the MacNeils would bring many benefits fer both our clans. On another more personal level, we have tae consider Raven's position as MacDonald's runaway wife and Thorsten's maither. And then, there's her relationship with ye." Haldor looked at him piercingly.

"We dinnae have a relationship," Arne said with an irritable shrug. "She's me son's maither, that's all."

Haldor smiled skeptically. "Is that what ye're tellin' yersel'? Look, Arne, I ken ye still have doubts about her because she broke yer heart. Ye're scared of gettin' hurt again. But now ye ken her reasons fer leavin' ye and the bairn three years ago. She must have really believed her presence was puttin' Thorsten and ye in danger. She made the hardest sacrifice a maither can make, and ye're still punishin' her fer it."

"That's what Sofia said," Arne replied, his thoughts and emotions in turmoil once more as the war within him raged on.

"And I agree with her," his brother told him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "But tell me, Arne, are ye nae feelin' a wee bit bad fer all those times ye doubted her and called her a liar?" he asked.

Arne shrugged him off. "Are ye tryin' tae provoke me?" he asked, hoping to deflect the way Haldor was putting the focus on him, but in vain.

"I'm tryin' tae provoke ye intae thinkin' straight and nae bein' so stubborn about Raven. Ye need tae be honest with yersel' about how ye really feel about her and what kind of a future ye see ahead fer the three of ye."

Arne felt the room closing in on him. He rubbed a hand over his face in distraction, as if to dispel the chaos in his head. Finally, he said, "D'ye nae think we'd better get her down here and show her the letter from her braither afore ye try tae push me intae any decisions?"

"All right. Fair enough. Let's dae that." Haldor went to the door and opened it. He exchanged a few brief words with someone outside and then closed it again, returning to Arne's side. Then, they waited for Raven to arrive.

Raven had cried herself to sleep the night before and had awoken not feeling much better. She was plagued by her feelings for Arne and her pain at how he was treating her and mistrustful of her.

She was sitting by the fire with an unread book in her hands, when she was interrupted by Laurel.

"The laird and Arne are askin' fer ye down in the study, melady, and they say 'tis urgent they speak with ye," the maid said, looking at her red-rimmed eyes sympathetically. "Are ye all right? Ye look upset. Is there anythin' I can dae fer ye?"

"Nay, thank ye, Laurel. I had a wee headache, but 'tis gone now. I'll just splash some water on me face and then I'll go down and see them." She crossed to the wash stand and looking at her red cheeks in the mirror before sighing and dashing her puffy face with cold water from the jug. A feeling of dread settled in her belly, wondering if the MacDonald men had returned in search of her, and if they had, what it might mean for her future.

Raven ran a comb quicky through her hair. "Right, I must go."

A few minutes later, Raven was knocking at the door of Haldor's study. Arne opened the door. As soon as she laid eyes on him, she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, vividly remembering their kiss and the pain she had felt at the cold way he had dismissed it. She raised her chin proudly and declined to look at him as she entered the study, keeping her eyes on Haldor, while hearing Arne shut the door behind her.

Haldor smiled at her kindly. "We have some news fer ye, Raven. I didnae tell ye this at the time because I didnae want tae alarm ye, but when ye arrived here I sent scouts out tae find out in secret what the position was with yer faither and Struan MacDonald."

A shockwave of fear passed through Raven then, and the lump of dread lodged in her belly turned icy cold. "And what did they find out?" she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

"That yer faither's been dead these past four months," Arne put in, coming to stand next to her.

"Dead? He's really dead?" she asked, feeling like she had been kicked by a horse.

"Aye, and yer braither Everard is now Laird MacNeil," Haldor told her, watching her intently.

Raven tottered with the shock. Suddenly, she felt Arne's hand upon her arm, guiding her to a chair and gently pushing her into it. "Give her a dram," he said to Haldor. Haldor went and poured her a shot of whisky and brought it back to her.

"Thank ye," she murmured absently, taking the goblet and sipping at it, grateful for the warmth that spread throughout her body, partially melting the cold lump in her stomach. But it did not entirely disappear. "So, Everard is laird now," she murmured, her fingers clutching the goblet tightly. On the one hand, she was eager for news of the brothers she had not seen for six years. But on the other, they were practically strangers now. What if Everard wants tae send me back tae Struan just like Faither?