Ruth Langan - Highland Sword

Closing her eyes, she took deep, calming breaths while tracing her thumbs in gentle circles around and around her temple until the swelling disappeared, leaving only a small bruise. That effort cost her, and she was so exhausted she was forced to lie very still, until her strength gradually returned.

Feeling the warmth of sunlight on her closed lids, she opened her eyes. A short distance away the horse, drained from the exertion to stay afloat, had staggered about before stumbling to its knees. It struggled in the grass, eyes wide with fear, powerful chest heaving. The poor creature was confused, disoriented and absolutely terrified.

Overcome with tenderness, Allegra forced herself from her lethargy and crawled to the animal, laying her hands on its head. Almost at once the horse’s breathing slowed, and its eyes seemed to focus on her with something akin to understanding.

Minutes later the horse scrambled to its feet and walked a short distance away, nibbling grass as though nothing had happened.

Merrick lay where he’d dropped on shore, watching all this through narrowed eyes. It was as he’d heard. This woman did indeed possess the power to heal. If he’d had any doubts before, they were now wiped away.

When she turned from the horse, Merrick was already on his feet facing her, pointing the tip of his sword at her heart. “Don’t move, woman.”

She looked up at him and saw again the darkness in his eyes. It was impossible to see into this man’s soul. It was as though he’d closed a door, allowing no light in, allowing nothing of himself to escape.

Desperate, she turned her full gaze on the jewels winking in the sword’s hilt. Within moments they glowed with a blinding fire that equaled the sun.

Merrick let out a hiss of pain as the fire burned into his palm, and he was forced to drop his weapon.

Allegra used that moment of distraction to turn and run. As she raced through the brush, her wet gown clung to her legs, slowing her progress. Tree branches snagged at her hair and arms, but she ignored the sting of pain and continued running until the breath burned her lungs.

From behind strong fingers clawed at her shoulders and she was yanked off her feet. She landed on the floor of the forest and looked up to find the giant standing over her, breathing heavily.

She struggled to keep the fear from her tone. “What is it you want of me? Why did you risk your life to come to the Mystical Kingdom?”

His fingers closed around her upper arms, dragging her to her feet. When she dug in her heels he simply tossed her over his shoulder and continued walking as though she weighed no more than a feather.

When they reached his waiting horse he pulled himself onto his steed’s back and settled her in front of him. “You’ll accompany me to my fortress.”

“For what reason?”

With his arms firmly around her, he took the reins and nudged his horse into a gallop. As he ducked a low-hanging branch he brought his mouth close to her ear. “You will save my son, who is gravely ill.”

She looked over her shoulder in alarm. “I can try. But many things are beyond my power.”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “Hold your tongue, woman. I’ll not listen to your feeble protestations of weakness, for I’ve had a taste of your strength. Know this. Whatever fate the lad suffers, so shall you. If he lives, I give you my word, I will return you to your people unharmed. If he dies, you will never see your home again, for you will join him in death. You’d be wise to heed this warning. My justice will be swift and sure.”

Allegra shivered as the wind whipped her hair and stung her eyes. She could feel the darkness closing around her, chilling her blood. Could almost taste the bitterness that lay like a festering wound around this man’s heart.

She was in the clutches of a madman. And she feared that regardless of the fate of this man’s son, she was already doomed.

Merrick looked down at the woman in his arms. Now that sleep had finally claimed her, he was free to study her without her knowledge.

The bruise that had marred her temple was already fading, though just hours ago she’d had a lump the size of a hen’s egg.

She didn’t look like a witch. In fact, if he didn’t know about her, he would think her a high-born woman. She was a rare beauty, with that unblemished skin lightly bronzed by sunlight, and hair the color of flame. When first he’d seen her working in her garden, her hair had been neatly plaited in a fat braid that fell below her waist. Now her encounter with the stormy loch had tossed her hair into wild disarray. It spilled around her like a veil, skimming the backs of his hands like wisps of finest silk.

Her gown was still damp, clinging to her body like a second skin. It was woven of exotic cloth that seemed more suitable for royalty. His gaze was drawn to the opening at her neckline, and the darkened cleft between high, firm breasts. The rush of heat to his loins caught him by surprise. Since Catherine, no woman had caused him even the slightest interest. But then, he told himself, this wasn’t a woman. She was a witch. It was only natural that she would try to ensnare him in one of her spells.

His fingers tightened on the reins and he nudged his horse into a run. Let the witch sleep if she chose. As for him, he was driven by but one desire. To get her to his fortress as quickly as possible.

As the horse’s hooves beat a steady tattoo along the rock-strewn forest trail, he whispered one thought like a litany.

Please. Let me be in time to save Hamish.

The loss of Catherine had been painful enough. Without his son, he would prefer death to the life of unending pain he knew would be his.

Allegra awoke to the sound of shouting. She glanced around in confusion, trying to make sense of the many strange sights. The Highland meadow looked much like the one in her Mystical Kingdom. Fields of heather waving in the breeze. To one side a waterfall spilling down hundreds of feet into a rushing stream. In the distance, tidy little cottages, and in the fields, flocks of sheep grazing on hillsides. But here were so many people. Men on horseback, others driving teams pulling wagons filled with hay and grain. Women staring down from upper windows, or glancing up from their chores as they wielded buckets and brooms, often with chubby infants at their hips. Children chasing each other around in fields, many of them pausing to stare at the man and woman as they passed.

“What is this place?”

“The village is called Berkshire. My home is Berkshire Castle.” He pointed, and Allegra could see the turrets in the distance.

“A castle. Are you a lord?”

“I am.” He spoke the words abruptly, as though they were distasteful to him. “Lord Merrick MacAndrew.”

As they made their way through the village Allegra could see the people watching. But though they seemed respectful enough, they held their silence. No one called or waved. There were no greetings exchanged between the lord and his people.

Was their silence due to the fact that they shared his fear for the life of his son? Or was there more going on here?

She sensed one emotion stronger than the others among these strangers. Fear. Of her? Or of their lord?

Puzzled, Allegra sat up straighter as they approached the place Merrick MacAndrew called home. Berkshire Castle was a natural fortification, built high on a hilly piece of land, making a secret approach impossible. With its back to the mountain, there was but a single way to enter the portals.

As they drew closer, Allegra thought it an imposing structure, with its high towers and guards posted at the gates. Once they were inside the courtyard, a pack of dogs set up a ferocious barking. As Merrick stepped down from his steed they circled his feet, tails wagging, tongues lolling. He reached up and lifted Allegra from the back of the horse. Seeing the way she shrank from them, he issued a sharp command and they fell silent.