Page 93 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
Her mother didn’t have any more information for him, just the location where Ciara’s handkerchief had been found by their patrolling guards. He headed there first and hoped that he would find carriage or horse tracks to follow.
He desperately tried not to think about what this all might mean for his wife, about who might have her and what state he would find her in. Ciara needed him alert and at his best. There was no time for what-ifs. He could find her and go from there. Just as he couldn’t give in fully to his anger, he couldn’t let the fear overwhelm him either.
Down the road, around where the handkerchief had been spotted, he came across her father and brother first. When he caught sight of them, he scanned the surrounding area, searching for his wife or a threat. When he saw neither, he considered bypassing them entirely, but what he did see required him to stop.
He quickly pulled his horse to a stop, cursing yet another delay in his race to rescue Ciara.
Laird Gunn was lying on the forest floor, a brutal, near-fatal wound in his stomach. His son was desperately staunching the bleeding with a scrap of fabric, but his eyes flicked up when he heard Magnus’s horse approach.
“Thank God,” he breathed in relief.
“Is he all right?” Magnus asked.
“For now,” Alexander said warily. “I think I’ve slowed the bleedin’, but he keeps driftin’ in and out of consciousness.”
Laird Gunn groaned, but when he saw Magnus, he rasped out, “Ye need to keep goin’ and get Ciara.”
Magnus took another look at the sight in front of him. Ciara would never forgive him if something happened to her father. But there was little else he could do for him right now. And if he didn’t get her back, then there would be no one to forgive him anyway.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We caught up to them, but he was stabbed in the fight.” Alexander looked down at his father as he spoke. “She was unharmed, but I had to choose,” he said quietly.
“It should have been her,” Laird Gunn croaked.
Magnus tried not to condemn his brother-in-law for the choice he had made. His father had been bleeding in front of him, and he had chosen to save him at that moment.
But Magnus made a different choice. He chose his wife. He would always choose his wife. The whole world could burn around them, as long as she was safe. And if she hated him for his choice later… well, at least she would be all right. He could live with her ire, but he could not live in a world without her.
“More of yer guards are comin’ on foot and a few on horseback, they’ll be able to help ye,” he said, hoping that would be enough to save his father-in-law.
“Thank God. Their carriage took off that way.” Alexander pointed towards the tracks that Magnus had already spotted.
“How many?” Magnus asked, his tone darker.
“Just one,” Alexander said, matching his tone.
“Good.”
“Be careful, he’s unhinged,” Alexnder added.
Magnus just nodded. He would be ready for anything. After one failed rescue mission, he was his wife’s best chance, and he did not plan to let her down.
That was all he needed to know. There was only one person between him and his wife. Truthfully, no number would have stopped him on this course of action, but even unhinged, he liked those odds.
Magnus didn’t stick around after that, there was no time to waste. He rode off in the direction her brother pointed, praying he would find his wife and that she would forgive him for every choice he’d made so far, and for every choice he would make to get her back.
* * *
“Help!” Ciara’s scream tore through the night like a beacon, calling Magnus forward.
He had thought he would never reach them, but he caught sight of the carriage in the distance, right before he heard her scream. He nearly wept in relief. She was there, and she was still fighting, still calling out for help. He hoped the sounds of his horse brought her comfort and she knew that he was coming for her.
Pushing his horse a little harder, he rode until he was beside the carriage. The weight of the vehicle slowed them down, so he was able to catch up to them swiftly.
Peering into the small window, he found his wife huddled up in the corner.
“I’m here now, Ciara,” he called to her.
