Highlander Unchained Read online

  Chapter 16

  He loves me. Flora thought her heart would burst each time she thought about it—which in the hours since the attack near the Faerie Pool was constantly.

  With Gilly and Mary safely ensconced in the castle, Allan had returned with reinforcements—interrupting their kiss. And while he gathered the bodies of their fallen, Flora had tended to the wound on Lachlan’s arm. The blade had cut a deep gash in his shoulder that needed stitching, but she cleaned it and wrapped it with a swatch of linen from his ruined shirt until it could be tended to. Although he claimed it did not pain him, Flora had the distinct feeling that he was enjoying her fussing over him. Always grateful for an excuse to touch him, she made good use of the opportunity to do so.

  Indeed, after the terror of the attack, she didn’t want to let go of him. Perhaps he sensed her need for the strength of his presence beside her, because he offered to have her ride with him on the return journey to the castle. An offer she willingly accepted. As she basked in the glow of her newly discovered feelings and the comforting embrace of the man she loved, the horror of the attack faded under the healing power of joy.

  It seemed a sin to be so happy.

  Even now, as she stood in her tower room preparing for bed, it didn’t seem possible that such fortune had found her. That which had eluded her mother for a lifetime, Flora had found in the most unexpected place—in the arms of a Highland chief who’d abducted her. It was ironic how things turned out. The thought that right now were it not for Lachlan she could be married to Lord Murray was nearly inconceivable. To think what she might never have known. The wonder, the magic of knowing that she loved and that love was returned.

  She would have settled for a loveless marriage because she never thought she’d be able to find a man who could look beyond the prize and want her for herself. She’d been fighting for so long to protect herself from her mother’s unhappiness that she’d erected barriers around her heart, barriers that had taken a formidable man like Lachlan to topple. But now that she’d let go of her fears, she gave herself to him completely.

  Flora never did anything by half, and in this it was no different.

  Taking one last glance in the looking glass, she adjusted the tie of her silk dressing gown and blew out the candle.

  Lachlan stood before the smoldering fire in his bedchamber, strangely restless. He took a long drink of cuirm, hoping to ease the burning in his shoulder and the burgeoning sense of unease stirring inside him. Unease that had started the moment they’d returned to the castle and he’d been forced to release her. Only when he held her in the protective enclosure of his embrace did he feel that nothing could come between them.

  Damn. He paced across the room, trying to burn off some of this restless energy. Like the calm before the storm, his entire body felt on edge. He usually felt like this after battle, as though he needed a woman. He did, but it had nothing to do with the fighting earlier and everything to do with Flora.

  All he could think about was taking her in his arms and making love to her. The only thing that kept him from going to her tonight was the knowledge that she needed to rest after the shock of witnessing her first battle—he could see by her reaction to the killing that it was so. He had to remind himself that in a few days she would be his forever.

  The kiss today had left him wanting. A mere morsel for a man who was starving. Part of him just wanted to take her, to lay claim, and to seal the promise of their love in the most basic way. But another part of him, the honorable part, knew that he should wait until she knew the whole story.

  The realization that their newly discovered love would soon be tested only contributed to his unease. Would knowing about the bargain he’d made with her cousin Argyll crush their love before it had a chance to bloom, or would it be strong enough to weather the storm? He did not delude himself: There was a storm brewing, and it would be a torrential one.

  Now that he’d recognized his own feelings for what they were, he knew exactly what he had to lose—everything.

  That realization had prompted him to take a dangerous gamble. In return for marrying Flora, Argyll had promised to help restore his castle and secure the release of his brother, John, from Blackness Prison. With Rory’s fighting men, he might not need Argyll for the former, and if he could find another way to get John out of Blackness, he wouldn’t need him for the latter. Without the bargain, an ulterior motive for marrying Flora would no longer exist.

  Upon returning to the castle earlier, he’d convened a meeting of his most trusted luchd-taighe guardsmen to discuss not the attack by Hector, but an attempt to free his brother from Blackness Castle—the impenetrable royal stronghold that served as the king’s prison. A possibility that had seemed untenable until he’d received an interesting piece of information.

  John was being held in the sea tower—aptly named, as it was built on the edge of the Firth of Forth. Although his brother was being held in the tower apartments—a privilege afforded prisoners of noble blood—the doors were steel and the staircases so narrow as to be virtually inaccessible.

  The windows, however, were not.

  If they could smuggle in some rope, John might be able to scale the tower wall and drop to a waiting birlinn. The problem had been how to get him the rope. Although they had a man positioned inside the castle, as a mere stable hand he would never make it past the tower guards.

  His plan had been at a standstill until the last report, when a small but significant piece of information caught his attention. The prisoners were sometimes visited by a local minister.

  It was just what he needed.

  He had the final piece of his plan. A handful of men would detain the minister and “borrow” his vestments. One of the men would then pose as the minister and smuggle in the rope hidden under his robe. When night fell, John could make his escape.

  They had surprise working in their favor. Sir James Sandilands, the keeper of the castle, wouldn’t be expecting a rescue attempt. For good reason, not many would be so bold—or foolhardy.

  The most difficult part was deciding who should go. Lachlan had initially planned to go himself, but his guardsmen had argued against it. And as much as he hated it, he knew they were right. As chief, he could not risk capture—his clan would be left unprotected and ripe for pillage by Hector. Allan would go in his stead, and Hugh, one of Lachlan’s older warriors, would pose as the minister.

  If something went wrong and he needed to rely on Argyll’s influence with the king to secure his brother’s release, Lachlan figured the news of the attempt would not reach either Argyll or the king in time for either to change his mind.

  But now that his plan was in motion, it weighed on him. Though it was relatively straightforward, it was fraught with risk. Risk he would not take if he weren’t looking for any way out of his bargain with Argyll.

  The alternative had become untenable.

  The knock barely registered. His back was to the door as he was still gazing out the window to the darkened sea. Knowing that it would be Morag checking to make sure he had what he needed, he bade her enter.

  “Bring me another flagon of cuirm, and then that will be all for the evening.”

  “Not yet married and already you are ordering me about? I hope this is not a harbinger of things to come.”

  At the sound of her voice, he tensed, his already frayed nerves flared.

  He turned, fists clenched at his side, steeling himself against the shock of seeing the object of his desire materialize as if out of a dream. But no fantasy could have prepared him for seeing the woman he loved clad only in an ivory silk dressing gown, her long golden hair tumbling in heavy waves around her shoulders, her tiny feet bare. Bloody hell, what was she trying to do, torture him?

  “What are you doing here?” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended. “You should be abed.”

  She moved toward him, the fire illuminating her lush figure so that he could see…

  His heart stopped, and everyt