Page 84 of Wicked Highland Wishes
Driving the horses forward at a breakneck pace, he rode beside Bridgette. Much later, when the horses were panting with the need to stop, and he felt they could do so safely for a short spell, he pulled back on the reins and slowed them, allowing the horses to cool before completely halting. Once they slowed to a stop, he immediately climbed off his destrier. Before he could help Bridgette, though, she scrambled off and faced him with a measure of space between them.
Marion and Neil quickly dismounted their horses, and without looking at them, Lachlan said, “Find water for the horses. We’ll nae stop again until we reach the outer edges of the MacLean’s land.” Alex was not there, as he was with Iain and Cameron at the MacDonald holding—or possibly even back at Dunvegan now—but any MacLean would die to protect Bridgette as she was one of their own. As allies of the MacLeods, the MacLeans would give their lives to defend Marion, as well.
Lachlan was grateful for the privacy and the few short minutes to try to talk to Bridgette.“M’eudail,”he breathed the word out, his body aching to touch her.
“Nay!” Terror filled the sharp word. She pressed her hands to her ears and shook her head. “Dunnae call me yer darling. I’m n-n—” Her voice broke on a sob, and he watched as she brought her hands to her sides and clenched the fabric of her dress. Every part of him burned to soothe her, but he forced himself to abide by her wishes and not move.
The knowledge that his touch struck fear in her sunk into him and wrapped around his insides like a vine that was squeezing the life from him. Suddenly, he recalled when his brother had been readying to sail to England to rescue Marion. Lachlan had asked Iain if he’d considered that Marion might have been ravaged and could be with another man’s bairn. Lachlan questioned if Iain could live with that, and Iain assured him he could. Lachlan had not understood then, but he did now.
He had nary a doubt that Bridgette had been abused. He did not need the words from her lips. Her every action spoke louder than any words. Rage sprang forth like a loch overflowing inside him, filling him until his temples pounded and his heart raced. He gritted his teeth and then unclenched them, swallowing hard past the anger lodged in his throat. He started to reach for Bridgette out of habit, saw her bite down hard on her lip, and rapidly drew his hand back.
His gaze locked with hers, and the pain that dwelled in the depths of her eyes nearly drove him to his knees. “I dunnae care what has been done to ye.” His voice came out hoarse, cracked.
Her eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply. “Lachlan—”
The heavy note of sadness in the way she said his name sliced at his heart. He rushed to say more before she did. “Let me finish,” he pleaded. “I love ye.”
“Dunnae, Lachlan,” she whimpered. Tears sprang to her eyes once more and rolled down her cheeks—those cheeks he wanted to cup, kiss, and run the pads of his thumbs over but could not.
“I love ye,” he said again. “Nae a thing could ever make me cease loving ye. Nae even if ye carry another man’s bairn. Ye are mine.”
“But I’m nae yers,” she choked out in a ragged whisper. She jerked the sleeve of her gown up, flipped over her arm, and pointed.
When he looked down and beheld the initials cauterized in her beautiful skin, he could not contain his rage any longer. “I’ll kill him if he’s nae already dead,” he snarled.
He jerked a hand through his hair, fighting against the desire to go back right now, find his brother, and kill Colin. He had to get Bridgette and Marion far enough away that he felt sure Neil could get them back to Dunvegan before they were overcome. He inclined his head toward her raw wound, and a tremor coursed through him for the agony it must have caused her. “That does nae make ye his. Nothing he could do will ever make ye his.”
Her green gaze locked on him, the light that had always brightened them gone. Flat, lifeless eyes stared at him now. “If he still lives, I am his by law,” she said, enunciating each word as if he were a child who could not understand.
He’d known it was possible—likely even—but the confirmation of it stole his breath in shock, then filled his body with fury that left him shaking. “I will kill him,” he said again, his voice humming with anger.
She released the material of her dress and wrapped her arms around her waist, making her appear like a wounded animal. She swallowed hard and spoke. “I am sorry,” she said, her voice breaking once more on a sob. “I had to save Marion.”
Her voice was quiet, as if the strength that made her who she was had been stolen. He ground his teeth until pain strummed from his jaw to his ears. He prayed to God that Colin lived so he could find him and kill him with his bare hands. He knew the wish was a sin, but there was not the smallest part of him that cared.
“Dunnae be sorry,” he said. “Ye did what ye had to. Ye are still mine. Nae his. I dunnae care about laws. All I care about is ye. I will take ye to safety, and then I will go back to find Graham and Lena and to kill Colin if he still lives. Dunnae fash yerself. Ye will nae be his wife for long.”
She opened her mouth as if to say more but then closed it and stared at him for a long spell as if she were trying to decide something. Finally, she spoke. “We kinnae linger.”
“Nay. We must away so they dunnae overcome us.”
Bridgette nodded, and when they all were mounted once again, Lachlan set them at a fast pace. He kept his attention divided between his surroundings and Bridgette, so he was acutely aware that she took pains not to look at him. He vowed to himself to help her heal, to make her see that his love was unwavering, to never fail to protect her again. And to bring vengeance upon Colin, Jamie, and the Campbells for what they had done.
