Page 16 of Only a Highlander Will Do

He was up and off the rock on which they sat before she finished speaking. With swift movements, he doused the fire in the sand before turning back to her and taking her hand. “Come with me. Quickly.”

Silently, he pulled her with him back down the trail he had cut until she was once again seated in the boat. He shoved into the water and leapt inside, rowing back towards shore faster than seemed humanly possible.

The lapping of the oars was the only sound Fiona could hear. “What’s wrong?”

His gaze was filled with intense concentration and at first she thought he wouldn’t answer when he finally whispered, “There are seven boats approaching. MacDonalds, no doubt.” His brows rolled up. “But how could they know so quickly that you were here? We still have all four of their guardsmen in the dungeon.”

Fiona’s stomach tightened. She glanced behind her, seeing nothing in the darkness, but Tormod’s tension was far too real to be any kind of ploy. “There were five guardsmen.”

“Five? God’s teeth! We must hurry.” Two strokes later they grounded on the shoreline below Dunvegan. He lifted her out of the boat and nearly carried her across the rocky beach, back to the sea gate.

Fiona’s heart pounded in her ears. Were the MacDonalds here to retrieve her? Did she want them to? Or was she safer with the MacLeods? It would be easy enough to pull out of Tormod’s grip and run back towards the water. She could be free of his threat to force her into marriage.

And find herself married to Alex MacDonald instead.

As she considered what to do, she heard the scraping of boats on the shore below. In that moment, the lock to the sea gate sprang open and the portal opened wide.

She looked from Tormod to the dark figures she could now see leaping from the boats. The decision about her future lay in her own hands.

Should she stay or should she go?

Chapter Six

Fiona turned back to Tormod and saw a flash of what she thought was fear in his eyes. Against her better judgement, she stepped forward, onto the grounds of Dunvegan. Instantly, the gate slammed shut behind her, then locked.

“Forgive me for this,” he said as he swept her up in his arms and started running back up the passageway, towards the keep. He held her tightly and she could feel the warmth of his body against her own. She struggled, and his arms tightened around her. He was strong, stronger than anyone she’d ever known.

“Please don’t fight me,” he said looking down at her face with true concern. “I need to hurry and alert the guards. While this castle is mostly impenetrable, we’ve had trouble lately with the MacDonalds gaining access when they should not. I need to make certain all are on high alert.”

They reached the back door of the keep and he swung it open with one hand, continuing to carry her inside. At the base of the stairs he stopped and released her slowly, sliding her down the length of his body until her feet touched the ground, yet one of his arms kept her pinned to his side.

She felt the hard muscles of his lean frame, the heat of his skin, and for a brief second, Fiona felt dizzy. Mustering all her strength, she stepped away from him and the strange effect he was having on her with his nearness.

“Will you promise to go abovestairs to your chamber? I want to know you are safe.”

She nodded. In the next moment he turned and was running. “A call to arms!” he shouted, the words echoing in the hallway until the sound of feet stomping on the floorboards came from abovestairs and below. All around her men armed with swords and pistols, bows and axes, surged into action.

Fiona stood amongst the chaos, wondering what had possessed her to return to Dunvegan with Tormod. Had the thought of possible friendship for the first time in her life wiped all plans of leaving here for Fraserburgh from her mind? Or had it been his kiss earlier in the day? When he’d touched his lips to hers, her desperation to leave had become something else—a flare of hope for a different future than the one she had foreseen that morning with the MacDonald heir.

She moved up the stairs to her bedchamber. Not because Tormod had asked her to wait there, but because she had nowhere else to go. If she left and found her way to Fraserburgh, there was no guarantee her clan would take her in. In her chamber she moved to the window and opened the shutters, peering below. By the light of the moon, she could make out close to forty darker shapes that resembled men along the shores of the loch. With grappling hooks they secured ropes over the rear courtyard wall and started to climb in an effort to breach the castle.

But what the MacDonalds did not know was that nearly a hundred heavily armed MacLeod warriors waited on the courtyard lawn, anticipating their attack. Tormod stood at the front of the line of men, his arm raised, his fist closed, as though telling his men to hold their positions until the perfect opportunity to attack presented itself.

With her heart in her throat, Fiona watched as the first men reached the top of the wall. In that moment, Tormod’s hand dropped. “Attack!”

There is no need to worry. My son knows what he is doing. The words filled Fiona’s mind. Fiona froze, her heart racing, then turned to find a floating spectre behind her. In the candlelight of the chamber, the Grey Lady appeared both translucent and solid as a grey mist churned at the ghost’s feet.

“Oh, my heavens.” Fiona’s voice, a mere whisper of sound, sat heavy in the stillness between them. The ghost floated towards her.

Do not be afraid. I will not harm thee.

“’Tis curiosity that fills me.” She took a step closer, studying the vaporous image before her. “Can you appear wherever and whenever you want to?”

I can materialise when I desire, and I can disappear when I grow weak from holding my image together.

“Where do you go when you are not here?”

I do not know. It feels like a space in time where I can still feel when my children are in trouble. I can hear their voices and sometimes their thoughts as well.