Highlander Unchained Read online

  She was his. She’d belonged to him from the first moment he’d seen her. And not because of his devil’s bargain with her cousin Argyll that would ensure his brother’s safety and his clan’s future. No, the truth was far more elemental than that.

  The fierce pounding in his chest did not lie. Gilly had been right. He did care for her. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t deny an emotional attachment to a woman—he’d thought himself dedicated to his family and clan alone. He was wrong.

  Finally, he’d reached the top of the path and his horse. Beyond exhausted, he was moving mechanically, instinct, forged by years of pushing himself to the limit of endurance, taking over. He needed every last ounce of it right now. After laying her across his saddle, he mounted behind her and nestled her in his arms again, then rode hard for the keep.

  He didn’t take the time to explain to the men he passed along the way but simply ordered them to spread the word that he’d found her and to return to the castle.

  No longer able to feel her breath against his skin with the wind of his ride, he held his hand against her chest, needing the surety of her beating heart, but terrified by how soft and faint it was—and how dangerously slow.

  He entered the gate to a flurry of activity. Activity that stopped as soon as he came galloping inside, soaking wet with his precious bundle limp against him.

  Gilly and Mary must have been watching by the door, because they appeared beside him before his feet hit the ground. Some of his men, appraising his condition, moved to help him, but he held them back, his whole body shaking with effort. No one else would touch her. She was his.

  “You found her, thank God,” Gilly said. Drawing nearer, she gasped and voiced the fear that had made the courtyard as quiet as a tomb from the moment he entered. “What happened? What’s wrong with her?” Her voice broke into a sob. “Is she dead?”

  “No!” he said savagely. “She still breathes. But I need to get her inside and warm.” He plowed up the forestairs, savoring the blast of heat as he entered the keep. Not hesitating, he headed straight for the stairs.

  “Where are you taking her?” Mary asked, hustling along beside him.

  His face was grim as he gave his sister a fierce stare. “To my bed.”

  Chapter 10

  Lachlan didn’t think about the symbolism or the propriety of having Flora in his bed. All he knew was that it was warmer in his chamber. The fire would still be burning. And he knew exactly what had to be done.

  Mary’s eyes widened, but she didn’t argue, though clearly it worried her. Not because she feared that he would do something untoward—she knew him better than that—but because she knew what it said. Taking Flora to his room, rather than any other, amounted to a public declaration of his intentions. She was his, and he was saying as much.

  Lachlan didn’t give a damn what anyone thought, he wanted her with him. It was as simple as that.

  Though in the back of his mind, he realized that when it came to Flora, nothing was simple. It hadn’t been since the first day he’d laid eyes on her.

  Taking two steps at a time, he quickly reached the second floor. Since the moment he’d entered the castle, he’d been focused on one thing: getting her warm and dry as soon as possible. Moving from the stairwell into the corridor outside his chamber, he turned back to his sister. “Bring me blankets, fresh clothes, anything to make her warm.”

  Mary nodded, keeping step with him. “Oh, Lachlan, why did she do this? Was she so unhappy here?”

  He felt a sharp pang in his chest. Yes. But seeing the guilt on his sister’s face, he said, “I don’t know, lass.”

  “I thought she liked us.”

  “She does.” He glanced down at Flora’s face, cold realization shuddering through him. “It has nothing to do with you or Gilly,” he said firmly. “She left because of me.”

  Mary gave him a long, tormented look before hurrying to do his bidding.

  It seemed half the castle had followed him up the stairs, including Gilly and Morag. Shifting Flora’s weight to one arm, he opened the door with the other, immediately feeling the welcome blast of heat.

  Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how cold he was himself. So attuned was he to Flora’s needs, he hadn’t noticed his own shivering. Dread engulfed him, knowing that he hadn’t been in the frigid water nearly as long as Flora.

  He had to move fast.

  Forcing himself to relinquish her, if only momentarily, he carefully laid her down on his bed. And for the first time, he examined her in the light.

  He felt a stab of fear so acute, it gave him a vicious jolt. If he hadn’t just felt her heart beating against his hand, he would have thought she no longer lived. Not a touch of color warmed her pale skin. Her long, thick lashes lay in tiny icy spikes against her pallid cheeks, her normally red lips were a deathly shade of blue, and her golden hair seemed frozen, plastered in long sheets to her head.

  He gazed at her with his heart in his throat. She looked so small and fragile. And so horribly still. Like a wax doll he’d once seen.

  To leave him, she’d risked her life. That she would take such a risk to be rid of him hit like a lead ball in his chest.

  He checked her still, damp cheek with his hand. God, she was cold. If he didn’t do something drastic, she was going to die.

  After unfastening the wool cloak from around her neck, he quickly started working the ties and hooks of her gown.

  Hearing a noise behind him, he turned to see Morag adding another block of peat to the fire. But a roaring fire wouldn’t be enough. He needed a way to bring her body temperature up fast. Very fast.

  Lachlan exchanged a meaningful look with his old nursemaid. Morag moved to help him, but he shook her off. They both knew what had to be done, but he would do it himself.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Gilly asked.

  His gaze flicked to his sister standing hesitantly in the doorway, a few of his men—including Alasdair and Allan—behind her.

  He shook his head, forcing himself to stay calm, though panic welled in his chest. “Not right now, lass.”

  Mary bustled in, setting down the extra plaids and clothing at the foot of the bed. Seeing what he was about to do, she blushed with understanding.

  “Come,” Morag said to Gilly and Mary, “there is nothing we can do for her now. The laird will do what needs to be done.”

  “But what—” Gilly broke off as Morag shuffled her out of the room, her question and Morag’s response lost behind the firmly shut door. Though bold and adventuresome, in many ways his youngest sister was still an utter innocent.

  Cursing his large, cumbersome fingers and the intricacy of even a simple gown, he started tearing off her clothes, doing his best to preserve her modesty. Though he knew there was no other choice, he also realized she would be embarrassed at best and furious at worst. Perhaps he should have let Morag help, but he couldn’t stand aside. She was his.

  He paused, catching sight of the amulet hidden under the layers of clothing. Though part of him wished it had fallen to the bottom of the sea—taking the curse with it—the other part of him was happy for Flora because he knew how much she treasured it. He removed it from her neck, attributing the tingling in his fingers to the cold. He made quick work of the rest of her wet garments, removing them piece by piece until she wore only her shift. And then he took that off, too.

  He drew in his breath, unable to completely ignore the exquisite details of the naked beauty he’d revealed. Details that would be stored for later. Her honor would be preserved this night, but he wasn’t blind. He’d yearned to strip off her clothes and to see her naked in his bed for a long time. But not like this. Right now she needed his body not for pleasure, but for survival. And he would give it to her gladly. With no conditions.

  But hell, she took his breath away.

  The next time he took off her clothes, he swore he would savor every gorgeous inch of her.

  With one last glance that warmed his blood mo