Highland Captive Page 11

  Ewan let out an exuberant whoop as he jumped up and down in his white linen shirt, his bare feet dancing and his blond hair flopping over his brow. A smile split his face, making those blue-green eyes sparkle like the afternoon sunlight shining on the sea. Deirdre would remember him looking like this forever.

  “Is Mama coming too?” he asked.

  “Nay,” Gavin’s deeper voice intoned from the doorway.

  Deirdre gasped in surprise as Gavin pushed her bedroom door open wide. She pulled the covers up to her chin and couldn’t help searching his face—for what, she didn’t know. For some sign of compassion and pity, perhaps? Or regret?

  But he gave nothing away.

  “Just Aunt Isobel and Uncle Kerr. And Annag, of course,” he continued as he stepped inside. “And I wouldnae be surprised if some of the lads from the village will be there on a lovely day like today.”

  Ewan looked at Gavin, then over to her, then back to Gavin, trying to decide what to do. She could see his conflict—he really wanted to go, but he also wanted to stay with Deirdre—and she hated that he’d been put in this position. Finally, he walked around to Deirdre’s side of the bed. “What will you do when I’m gone?” he asked.

  She reached under his arms and lifted him into her lap, using her hair to screen them in again. “I doona know. But I want you to promise me that you’ll do your very best to have fun today. And you must promise me one other thing. Can you guess what it is?”

  “Nay.”

  “Promise that you’ll always remember how much I love you. No matter what happens or what anyone else says, you are loved. By me, by your da, by Annag, Aunt Isobel, and Uncle Kerr. By all the people who knew you before you came to our wee keep and by all the people there who knew you, me most of all. You are a bright, shining star, Ewan. A gift to me and everyone else who’s ever known you.”

  She held him tight, her voice muffled in his hair. “You bring love and laughter wherever you go, dearling. Thank you for that.”

  “I like it when you laugh,” he said.

  “I like it when you laugh too.” She pressed her face to his hair, trying to wipe away her tears, then lifted him off her lap and guided him toward the door. “Go now. Have a fun day playing in the water. Just doona go in too far, and doona forget to tell the adults you’re going in.”

  “Aye, Mama.” He walked toward Gavin, then stopped halfway and turned around. His bottom lip trembled. “Mama, can I get a dog?”

  A laugh puffed out from her lips despite the pain that threatened to break her in two. Her son had been asking her for a dog every week for the last year. She’d always said maybe, knowing the housekeeper would quite possibly lose her mind if a dog came to live with them in the keep. Now she looked him straight in the eye and said, “Yes, Ewan, you can have a dog. Your da will get a puppy for you from the first available litter.” She raised her chin and looked Gavin straight in the eye. “Isn’t that right, Laird MacKinnon? You will give your son a puppy as soon as possible. The pup will bring Ewan great comfort and distraction in the days to come.”

  He stared back at her, looking so grim she almost shivered. The shadows around his eyes had grown even darker, as if he hadn’t slept at all last night, and the planes of his face were hard and unforgiving. And yet he was still a braw man. She’d been rendered breathless by it at times when she’d seen him laugh—like yesterday when he’d raced into the bailey on his horse.

  Aye, she could imagine that he’d once been as braw as Isobel was bonnie—before his marriage and before he was filled with disillusionment. Before Ewan was taken and before he was ravaged by despair.

  “Aye, Deirdre,” he said, then looked at Ewan. “My son will have a pup as soon as the litter at the miller’s is ready to be sold. Two males, I think, to keep you safe.”

  Ewan whooped again. Louder this time and with even more exuberance. “Can I really? You’re not just saying that, like when Mama always says ‘maybe’?”

  “Aye. You have my word.”

  “Not two males,” she said forcefully. “A male and a female. Boys need a woman’s love to feel safe too.”

  Gavin swung his eyes back to Deirdre. She didn’t dare blink, refused to blink, and for the first time, he dropped his eyes from hers. As he should. As much as he was hurting her by taking her son away, in taking Ewan’s mother away, he was damaging his son for years to come.

  Shame on you.

  He looked up, almost as if he’d heard her words, and she finally saw the guilt etched on his face. So that was it then. He was taking her away.

  “Go,” she said, knowing she couldn’t hold in her despair for much longer, and the last thing she wanted was a traumatic scene in front of Ewan. If she thought giving in to her emotions in front of him would do any good—for him and for her—she would yell and scream despite what had been drilled into her when she was growing up.

  But she could see Gavin’s mind was made up. Her leaving, her separation from her son, was inevitable, and she needed to make the transition as easy as possible for him.

  Annag grasped Ewan’s hand and led him toward the door. He stopped at the doorway and looked back at her, an adoring smile on his face. “I love you, Mama.”

  She smiled back tremulously. “I love you too, Ewan. I’ll see you again as soon as I can.” He left with a skip and a hop, no doubt thinking about puppies and fun times at the loch.

  Gavin stood just inside her room, his arms hanging stiffly by his side. “I realize this must come as a shock to y—”

  Deirdre threw back the covers and marched toward him, no longer hiding her agony or concerned about her state of undress.

  His eyes widened as she planted her hands on his chest. She shoved him backward until he stepped across the threshold to her room into the passageway. “You’re a monster,” she said, then closed the door in his face and slid the bar across.

  * * *

  The sun was warm on Deirdre’s bent head. She’d been back on the saddle in front of Gavin now for about three hours and surrounded by fifteen of his men, including Tomaidh, a stable hand from her keep, and the three other warriors that she’d traveled with before—Clyde, Lorne, and Sheamais. She didn’t know exactly where they were going, but they’d met up with the warriors near a creek, and Tomaidh told her they were on their way to meet Lewis—a half-day’s ride away on Campbell land.

  She’d only been able to nod in response and give him a forced smile, her cheeks wet and eyes red. Tomaidh had reached up and squeezed her hand in comfort, but Gavin had urged Thor forward, breaking the connection between them.

  He canna even allow me that small bit of solace.

  She’d held herself stiffly in the saddle the entire way, refusing to lean back against the man who had taken her son without any apology or thought of compromise. He didn’t want to accept that things had changed, and he refused to consider how to make things work among the three of them, to find a way to keep Deirdre in Ewan’s life.

  He wanted to go back to the way things were, not how it was now. He was set on doing what was best for him, not Ewan—and in doing so, he was hurting his son.

  And killing her.

  “Deirdre,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

  She couldn’t answer. Her throat was too tight, her sorrow too thick.

  “I know you probably doona want to talk to me—”

  She emphatically shook her head.

  “If there was some way—”

  “Doona lie to yourself,” she croaked. “If you wanted what was best for your son, you would have tried to find a way.”

  “He needs to look to me. It’s confusing for him to have us both there.”

  “You had two fathers. You doona seem confused by it.”

  “It’s different, he’s younger, and you’re a laird’s daughter.”

  “I’m his mother.”

 
“Nay, you’re not. Deirdre, I think—”

  “I doona care what you think. Stop talking to me.”

  Gavin’s arms stiffened around her. Well, what had he expected? Did he want her forgiveness or understanding? She wouldn’t give it to him.

  He was a selfish blackheart, the newest addition to the list of too many people who had hurt her.

  She didn’t care what he felt. Nay, she didn’t care about anything at all anymore. A black cloud had descended upon her, leaving her feeling empty and almost numb to the pain that had eviscerated her earlier. She knew she cried, because her cheeks were wet, but the agony of loss no longer sliced through her.

  When she’d lost Ewan, she’d lost hope. She’d lost feeling. She’d lost the will to live.

  Her survival no longer concerned her nor did appeasing Gavin, because she was dead inside.

  Time passed in a blur. Seconds became minutes; minutes became hours.

  “Laird MacKinnon,” she heard Tomaidh say, and she glanced up slowly to see the lad had moved his horse closer. “Is there a reason we’re going so slow? If it’s because of my mare, I assure you the rest yesterday did her a world of good, and she can go faster. At this rate, we willna arrive to meet Lewis until after dark. Not that it matters to him, he’ll wait, but you’ll end up returning in the night.”

  The fog cutting Deirdre off from reality lifted a little, and she realized they were moving slowly. Not nearly as fast as when they’d left. Maybe Thor was injured? Nay, he didn’t seem to be limping, and he tossed his head a few times as if in protest to being restrained.

  It must be Gavin then. She looked down and saw the muscles in his arms bulging and the reins held taut.

  “’Tis not because of your mare, Tomaidh,” he said, his voice rough. He brought Thor to a stop, and everyone fell into defensive positions.

  Deirdre slowly glanced around the glade, wondering if…if… Were they turning back? She whipped her head around and looked at Gavin over her shoulder, hope bursting like a shard of light through the darkness that had enshrouded her.

  Gavin’s face was stony, his jaw rock hard. A tiny muscle twitched above his eye. “’Tis only a rest,” he said.

  Disappointment crashed through her, and a sob broke from her lips. She had to get down. To get away. She wouldn’t travel one step farther from Ewan.

  She threw herself off Thor, and Gavin barely grabbed her arm in time to stop her from falling. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she yanked her arm free of his grasp.

  “Deirdre, wait,” he commanded, but she didn’t turn around. She just put one foot in front of the other. She couldn’t quite see where she was going through the haze of tears and the curtain of her hair swooping forward across her cheeks, but she had a general sense of direction. Anywhere away from him. She blinked, clearing her vision for a moment, and followed a trail leading into the tree line.

  A whistle sounded, but she paid little attention to it—her concentration was fixed on steadying her legs and not falling down. The ground veered sharply upward once she was in the trees, and she kept going, her breath wheezing in and out of her tight lungs and throat.

  She grew light-headed from lack of air, and black dots danced in front of her eyes, but she kept pushing herself forward.

  Her foot caught in a root, and she tumbled to the ground, her hand landing on a sharp rock and cutting her palm. The pain, real physical pain, felt good, and she smashed her hand down on the rock again just to feel more.

  A loud sob burst from her throat. She stood, lifted her skirts—her old skirts from her old home—and ran.

  She’d made up her mind that morning. If she couldn’t keep Ewan, she wouldn’t keep anything to remind her of Clan MacKinnon. Nothing but the toy horse Ewan had given to her when she went to the gathering, so she wouldn’t be so lonely.

  How many days ago was that? It seemed like a hundred. But it had been only a week at the most.

  Just when she thought she might drop to the ground, her legs trembling and knees weak, the path became level once more. She found herself in another small clearing, a cliff rising on her right and curving around in front of her, and a rocky drop-off on her left. She crept toward the edge, her breath still laboring in her chest, her face wet, and blood trickling down her fingers.

  She stopped and looked down into a deep, sheer gorge. The only way to go from there was back along the trail she’d just climbed up.

  Nay, she wouldn’t return that way. Back to Gavin and the looming despair and emptiness he’d brought upon her? Back to being unloved, alone, and childless?

  She placed her toes right on the very edge, her skirts blowing in the breeze that swept up the cliff. Pebbles loosed from where she stood and fell silently down to the bottom. She waited to hear the tiny pings as the pebbles hit, but the sound never came.

  She needed something bigger and heavier to throw over the edge. Something that would crash and break loud enough that she could feel it. She thought of the sharp rock she’d fallen on during her climb—how good the physical pain had felt to her aching soul.

  How good it might feel right now.

  She leaned forward and curled her toes over the edge.

  * * *

  Gavin dropped Thor’s reins at the edge of the clearing and stepped into the trees. He needed privacy. His head and heart were chaotic, confused messes, and there was no way he could lead his men right now. His hands shook, his breath whooshed noisily in and out of his lungs, and that muscle twitched over his left eye again.

  What was wrong with him? He’d kept it together better than this after his son had been kidnapped. And now that he had Ewan back and Deirdre leaving his life, he was coming apart—the last five years crashing in on him all at once.

  Every fiber of his being was yelling at him to turn around, to return Deirdre to Ewan, to keep her safe—for the sake of his son, but in some confusing way, for him too.

  He’d stopped the ride because he couldn’t continue forward. To see Lewis…to see her husband. He didn’t want to give her up. But he also didn’t want to keep her.

  Did he?

  He shuddered, and a wave of longing mixed with confusion surged from his chest, making him gasp—long and pain filled. Mindlessly, he slammed his fist against a tree. Once. And again. The skin on his knuckles tore open, but the sting was minimal compared to the discomfort of the teeth-breaking clench of his jaw and the tightening pressure in his head. He slumped against the scratchy bark, breathed deeply, regularly, forced his heart to slow and his muscles to relax.

  Kerr was right. I am broken.

  Instead of focusing on the joy of getting Ewan back, of moving into the future with his son, he’d refused to let go of the past—and the anger and pain were tearing him apart. He felt like he was suffocating from the inside out.

  A monster, Deirdre had called him, and she was also right. She’d saved Ewan, and now Gavin was taking him away. Taking her from his son.

  Cristel wasn’t Ewan’s mother. She’d given birth to him and then shown no interest in him thereafter. He’d thought at first it had to do with the sadness some women felt after giving birth, but she’d been happy and relieved. She’d done her duty, she’d said. He had an heir. She would not abide him in her bed, nor Ewan at her breast. Whereas Deirdre was devastated by the separation. She was losing her son. A child of her heart.

  Aye, no matter who gave birth to him, Deirdre was Ewan’s mother.

  Finally, Ewan had a ma.

  An involuntary sigh—one of acceptance and relief—released from his chest, and the pressure eased. He peered in the direction he’d seen her and her guards disappear into the woods.

  Urgency struck him like a fist. Find her. Tell her.

  Beg for her forgiveness.

  He strode forward quickly, parallel to the edge of the clearing. The ground began to rise about the time he came across hi
s man Lorne.

  “Laird,” the warrior said, acknowledging him.

  “Tell Clyde to pick two men to continue on with Tomaidh,” Gavin said. “The rest of us are heading back.” He searched the woods but didn’t see Deirdre. “Where is Lady MacIntyre?”

  “She followed the trail up. Sheamais is farther ahead. He knows this land well. He says the trail leads to a cliff, and there is no other way for her to come down. We gave her some privacy to calm herself. She’s…upset.”

  Dread began as a whisper in Gavin’s gut, then rapidly escalated. He found himself sprinting up the trail, his heart racing even faster than before, his ears straining for any sound—sobs, a scream, or, God forbid, a sickening thud.

  Her name pulsed on his tongue like a living thing. He wanted to yell out—Deirdre!—but what if he startled her and she panicked and she…

  God…please…let her still be there.

  Sheamais must have heard him coming and had raised his weapon just in case. He lowered it as Gavin tore past. “Laird?”

  “Stay here!” Gavin yelled as he crested the rise. Moments later, he burst into the clearing. He scanned the top of the cliff, but it was empty. No one was there. He raced forward. “Deirdre! Oh, dear God. Nay!”

  He reached the edge, dropped to his knees, and peered into the gorge, looking for her broken body. Despair burned his guts and scraped at his chest like a poison inside of him. “Deir-dre!”

  He’d done this. He’d as good as pushed her over—cut out her heart and left her with nothing to live for.

  Then, from across the clearing, “Gavin.”

  He whipped his head around so fast that his hand slipped off the edge of the cliff. Pebbles dropped down and pinged on the rocks below. He righted himself as Deirdre gasped and raced toward him.

  Pushing up, he tried to stand, but his knees wobbled, and he stumbled.

  “Get back from the edge!” She grabbed his arm and tugged him away from the precipice.

  She’s afraid. For me. After all I’ve done.

  When she stopped and finally looked at him, he stared at her face. Her eyes were dark pools of anguish, so ravaged by her despair and grief. Pain he’d caused…yet she was afraid he’d be hurt. This woman, whom he’d just eviscerated, had wanted to save him.