Page 58 of Wicked Highland Wishes
Fourteen
He found her standing alone in the dark where the garden met the trees. Moonlight shone down upon her fiery hair like light to flame. Hope swelled within him. All was not lost to them.
He scanned the area and judged it safe. “Bridgette!” he called.
She whirled around to face him. He quickly closed the distance between them, took her face in his hands, and brushed a kiss across her soft lips. A muffled cry of anguish escaped her, and he shuddered as he stared down into her upturned face. For a moment, so much emotion filled him that his throat tightened and he could not talk. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she clung to him.
Around them, the wind rustled the leaves. Their bodies swayed as one, her heart pounding against his chest. She pulled away a bit and looked up at him. “Kiss me again,” she whispered, her words coming out in a white puff in the frigid night air. “It dunnae matter how wicked it may be. I wish ye to kiss me. I fear we will nae share another, and I’d rather die a sinner than live a saint.”
“Bridgette, listen to me—”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “Nay! Kiss me first.”
He didn’t hesitate. He gripped her by the neck and crushed his mouth to hers. His tongue slipped inside her warmness, and he slid it along hers, savoring the feel of her. There was not guilt. There was not tomorrow. There was only this moment. He kissed her as if she were the only thing between him and death—frenzied and fueled with a need to make her his in the only way he could at the time.
When they parted, they were both panting. They stood wordlessly staring into each other’s eyes. For how long, he was uncertain. She took his hand and pressed his palm to hers, and he took her other and did the same. Her fingers came right under the last crease of his fingers. They intertwined them, still silent, and he could feel her heart beating through the thin skin of her fingertips.
“Do I have yer trust?” he asked, feeling certain she would say yes, but needing to hear it.
“Completely,” she replied. “Ye have my trust and my heart.”
Her candor shook him to his core. One of the things that had captivated him about Bridgette was her utter lack of guile. To hear her confirm without hesitation that her heart belonged to him humbled him. He slid his hands to her back and pressed her close to bury his face in her hair. He took a long, deep breath and opened his mouth to tell her what he could of the plan, but she spoke first.
“Graham kens now that he will nae ever possess my heart. But he will fight anyway, and if he wins, he will marry me. I dunnae ken how to say farewell to ye.”
He felt her tears on his neck. He pulled back and gently brushed them away. “Dunnae fash yerself, Bridgette. Ye will nae have to marry Colin, nor Graham. All will be well. Our timewillcome.”
Her brow furrowed. “What are ye saying?”
He cupped her beautiful face. “Hold tight to yer hope for us,” he said, his vehemence making his voice shake.
“Lachlan!” Helena’s voice cut through the night and made his muscles twitch with annoyance. She appeared, as if she had been close already, and his suspicions rose immediately.
“There ye are,” she said, overly sweet, as she strode toward them and stopped right in front of them. “I’ve been looking for ye. Colin wishes to speak with ye about us. I have assured him we both wish to continue to a future together, but he wishes to hear it from ye.” Helena narrowed her eyes at Bridgette. “Ye dunnae mind releasing him do ye? I’m sure Colin would love to speak with ye, as well, since ye will soon be his wife.”
“I need to dress for supper,” Bridgette said stonily. She turned and left without glancing back.
Helena slipped an arm through Lachlan’s and tugged. “Tonight, we shall join, Lachlan,” she said as they walked. “I vow I will make ye want me. Ye will want me as yer wife forever.”
Her words baffled him. She sounded almost as if she thought their pledge to marry was meant to become a lasting union. How could she think she could betray his clan and have him still want her? Did she think she could bewitch him? He was already bewitched by Bridgette and had been for a very long time. No other woman would ever compare.
The next morning, a large group of clansmen and women gathered on the flat grassland where the men trained. The king sat at the dais with the rest of his party, Marion, Iain, Cameron, and the entire council, except Atholl—who Bridgette supposed must be unwell or have some great reason for not attending the fight. Lachlan and Helena were also missing, their spaces empty.
Bridgette tried to catch Marion’s gaze to mouth a question, but Marion was looking toward the castle. She could not imagine what Marion might be looking for, unless perchance it was Lachlan.
Iain motioned for Bridgette to turn around, and as she did, Graham approached her. She bit her lip as he stopped in front of her, and she offered him a piece of one of her arrows as a favor. Lachlan had vowed she’d not have to marry Graham or Colin, but Lachlan was nowhere to be found and apprehension swelled within her. Where was he? And where was Helena?
There was no time to ponder it as the king raised his hands for silence and a hush immediately fell over the crowd. “Let the match begin!”
Bridgette’s gut clenched as the horn sounded, and Graham surged toward Colin. The quickness with which he moved shocked her. It was as if his injury were suddenly healed. Perchance it was the rush of the fight or perchance he was simply bearing the pain. Whichever it was she felt he now had a true chance to beat Colin.
Colin did not appear quick on his feet, but his sword arm moved in a blur. He was coming at Graham from the right before she realized what was occurring. She bit her lip on crying out a warning, afraid it would distract him. Graham deflected the blow, but before Bridgette could blink, Colin was at Graham’s other side. He jumped out of the way when Colin lunged forward, and Bridgette heard the gathered crowd murmur behind her as her heart raced.
Colin drew up his sword once more to attempt another strike. Graham moved in and sliced him down the length of his sword arm. Bridgette’s heart roared in her ears as crimson showed on Colin’s arm, and the gathered MacLeods roared their approval.
Grinning, she turned around to share her relief with Marion and saw that Marion and Iain had risen and were moving off the dais. At first she thought they were making their way down to congratulate Graham, as was the rest of the clan, but they turned toward the castle. That was when she saw Lachlan striding toward them with his hand clutched around Helena’s arm. Bridgette frowned as the king went out to meet Lachlan, Helena, Marion, and Iain who were already speaking. The king faced Helena and Bridgette could see the woman speaking.
As Bridgette took an involuntary step closer, Alex appeared by her side.
