Niall's Bride: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Fate Book 4) Page 15

  “What are ye saying?” Caitria asked, her body going rigid.

  “I’m saying that I love you, Caitria. And even if I’m captured tomorrow, I want you to have the life you’ve always wanted for yourself.”

  Tears gathered in her lovely eyes, but she shook her head fiercely.

  “Ye think I could leave ye behind?”

  “Caitria, please listen—”

  “No. Ye listen, Niall O’Kean. Ye traveled through time to keep me from danger—the least I can do is stand by yer side. I’ll not let ye be imprisoned, and I willnae let Ferghas win. Ye are the man I love, the man I want tae spend my days with—my years with. Never ask me tae leave ye behind. I’ll never leave ye.”

  He was speechless, an onslaught of love and pride sweeping over him as he gazed down at her; this fierce, brave woman he loved.

  “I love ye, Caitria MacGreghor,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her.

  Their kiss deepened, and she wound her fingers through his hair as he pressed her closer, walking her backward to the bed.

  He slipped off her traveling gown as they kissed, and she threw her head back with a cry as he dipped his finger into her moist center, stroking her.

  “Niall . . . ” she whispered.

  “Yes, my love,” he replied, laying her down on the bed, gently parting her thighs before dipping his tongue into her sweetness.

  She moaned, her back arching as he feasted upon her, keeping his eyes trained on her lovely face as her orgasm claimed her.

  It was only then that he disrobed, lifting his body up over hers as she came back down to earth, his eyes devouring her as he sank into her tight flesh.

  She let out a soft whimper as he moved within her, locking her arms and legs around him as if to hold him close to her forever, their movements quiet and unhurried, the only sounds in the room the pantings of their breath and their soft murmurings of love.

  When they both found their release, Niall silenced her cry by claiming her mouth with his own, praying that tomorrow’s plan succeeded. And then, if Caitria would have him, he planned to spend the rest of his days showing her just how much he loved her.

  Chapter 25

  It was still dark as they made their way through the silent countryside toward MacGreghor Castle, just before dawn. Niall looked around at his group of unlikely allies—his father, Caitria, Hendry, and Latharn, a rush of gratitude coursing through him. He didn't understand why he'd thought he could do this alone. He needed them—all of them.

  His gaze fell onto Caitria, who was staring determinedly ahead, and another surge of pride flowed through him, followed by fear. He didn't want to let her out of his sight once they got to the castle, but their plan of action was a three-pronged approach.

  She and Liusaidh would gather maids and any other witnesses willing to speak out against Ferghas. Latharn would work with the guards loyal to Hendry to make certain that Ferghas was imprisoned in his chamber. Niall and Hendry would go to Drostan's chamber to speak to him directly—and alone—while Ian would wait by the castle gates, ready to whisk Niall back to Tairseach in case the plan went awry. Ian had wanted to join them, but Niall refused—he didn’t want his father caught in the crosshairs in case the plan failed.

  Once alone with Drostan, Niall would make a personal appeal to him, followed by the accounts of witnesses Caitria would bring forward. They hoped that without Ferghas's interference, they could present a clear case to Drostan.

  It was then up to Drostan what would happen next. Caitria had told him she'd help him escape if their plan didn't work, and he'd agreed, though he knew there was no force on earth that could separate him from her.

  His heart picked up its pace as they approached the looming outline of the castle in the distance, and he swallowed hard. It was now or never. Either he failed and ended up with his head severed from his body, or he succeeded and removed Ferghas from Caitria's path forever.

  They rode to the forest just outside the castle, where they tied up their horses. Caitria hurried over to him, giving him a fierce embrace.

  "Promise me," she whispered. "If this fails—ye'll leave. Ye'll go back tae your own time, where ye'll be safe."

  Her voice broke as she looked at him with desperate, pleading eyes.

  I'm never leaving you, he thought, but he could tell that his agreement would give her peace, so he gave her a nod.

  She sagged against him in relief, and gave him a brief, searing kiss, before turning to head into the castle—they were heading inside in three separate waves to avoid detection.

  He watched her go, his heart hammering. Hendry had assured him that the guards loyal to him wouldn't let Ferghas come near her, but that didn't stop his fear for her.

  It was Latharn's turn to leave next. Latharn gave them a firm nod before turning to leave the clearing.

  "You can do this, son," Ian said gently, when it was Niall and Hendry’s turn to leave. "I'll be right outside if you need to flee. Aren’t you glad for all those horse-riding lessons I insisted you take? They come in handy when you’re a time traveler.”

  Niall smiled, though his stomach was in knots. Hendry gestured for him to follow, and with one last look at Ian, Niall pulled his cloak over his head and trailed Hendry to the rear of the castle.

  Hendry led Niall in through the rear gates, and Niall followed, his heart pummeling against his ribcage as if it were fighting to get out of his chest. If they were discovered by anyone loyal to Ferghas, Niall knew he was as good as dead.

  Hendry seemed well aware of the danger, walking close to him until they reached the back winding stairs that led to Drostan's chamber. Niall kept his head down, his hands shaking at his sides as they walked. Please let this work, he prayed.

  The metallic sound of someone unsheathing a sword made Niall look up, his heart leaping into his throat. A guard he didn't recognize stood at the top of the stairs, glowering at him.

  "What is the imposter doing back here?" he snarled.

  "He's with me," Hendry said, taking out his own sword. "He may not be Artair . . . but he's a good man and I trust him. He loves the laird's daughter and only wants tae protect her . . . and the laird. Ferghas needs tae answer for his crimes. As head guard of the castle, I order ye tae stand down."

  For a tense moment, Niall feared the man wouldn't obey, but he lowered his sword. Hendry stepped forward, placing his hand on the man's arm.

  "I thank ye. I ken ye're doing yer duty. Ye have my word that if anything happens tae Laird MacGreghor on my watch, ye may strike me down."

  "I could never—” the guard began, shaking his head, but Hendry gave him a firm look. The guard fell silent with a shaky nod.

  They continued toward the closed door of Drostan's chamber. Hendry stepped forward, rapping on the door.

  "Enter," Drostan replied, his usual jovial tone now sounding weary and drawn.

  Hendry gestured for him to enter. Niall took a deep breath . . . and stepped into Drostan's chamber.

  Drostan was standing by the window with his back to the door. He turned as the door opened, no doubt expecting a chambermaid, but froze at the sight of Niall.

  Astonishment—then rage—flickered across his features, and he reached for the sword at his side.

  Niall made no move to defend himself, holding up his hands in a gesture of submission and sinking to his knees. Drostan approached, his face taut with anger, pressing the blade of his sword to Niall’s throat.

  "I warned ye, imposter," he hissed.

  "I trust him, my laird!" Hendry shouted from behind Niall. "I'm the one who brought him back."

  Drostan looked up at Hendry, furious, but Niall spoke up, bringing Drostan's attention back to him.

  "You have every right to strike me down. You told me what would happen if I returned, and I returned anyway. I came here to say this: I love your daughter, and I swear on my life that I posed as Artair only to protect her. I know you love Ferghas like a son, but he's a monster—a murderer and a rapist. I think some part o
f you suspected there was something dark about Ferghas—otherwise, why not marry him off to Caitria? Instead, you chose to marry her off to a benign laird from the north. Because deep down, you don’t trust him.”

  Drostan's face remained tight with outrage, but hesitation flared in his eyes. Niall knew he was starting to reach him.

  "As we speak, your daughter is bringing maids and any other servants willing to speak out against him here. We didn't come forward before because we wanted to gather more proof. All I ask is that you listen to everyone's words before making your decision. Do with me what you will, but don't let that monster marry your daughter. Please."

  Drostan's face had gone white as he spoke, but he kept the blade pressed to Niall's throat.

  "Ye would let me take yer life?" Drostan growled.

  "You have every right to. I was an imposter; I betrayed your trust. But I love Caitria with every breath in my body. If you give me your word that you'll not marry her off to Ferghas, that you'll allow her to live the life she wants—I'll happily forfeit my life."

  He hoped he sounded braver than he felt. His pulse fluttered wildly at the base of his throat, as Drostan's blade was perilously close to his jugular. But he meant every word he said, holding Drostan's gaze, hoping he could see the sincerity in his eyes.

  Uncertainty filled Drostan's eyes, and Niall saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. And just as Drostan lowered his sword, Caitria entered with several maids and her mother.

  At the sight of Niall on his knees before her father, Caitria rushed to his side, helping him to his feet.

  "What—what is this?" Drostan asked.

  "Servants who will bear witness," Liusaidh said, stepping forward. "My love, they have just told me things I think ye should hear."

  Caitria gripped Niall's arm as Drostan gestured for each maid to come forward. Though the women looked fearful, they spoke in great detail of the abuse they'd suffered at Ferghas's hands and their fear of what Ferghas would do to them if they ever came forward. There was even a shaking kitchen maid who confessed to serving the poisoned stew meant for Niall on Ferghas’s orders—Ferghas had threatened to kill her if she didn’t comply.

  As each maid spoke, Drostan's features contorted with a range of emotions: fury, regret, sorrow.

  But it was the words of the final maid that changed everything. Her words even surprised Niall.

  "He drunkenly confessed tae me that he'd killed yer heir—that he would wed Caitria and what belonged tae ye would belong tae him. And that he would kill ye as well.”

  The young maid began to weep, pressing her hand to her mouth.

  "I'm sorry I didnae come forward, but I thought it was just drunken talk, and he threatened tae—”

  "No," Drostan rasped, shaking with rage. "'Tis I who should apologize tae ye. Tae all of ye. As yer laird, I am protector of this castle and all who work and live here. I have failed ye all."

  He met Caitria’s and Niall's eyes, his gaze lingering on Caitria's, before he turned to Hendry.

  "Take me tae Ferghas."

  Niall, Caitria, Liusaidh, and Hendry trailed Drostan to Ferghas's guest chamber, where Latharn and two other guards stood outside.

  At the sight of Drostan, they immediately stepped aside. Drostan turned, gesturing for his wife and daughter—and to Niall's surprise, him—to enter.

  They stepped inside. Ferghas was pacing the length of his chamber, a look of fury in his dark eyes. He stilled, his shoulders sinking in relief at the sight of Drostan, though his expression turned feral at the sight of Niall.

  "What is the imposter doing here? Why is he still alive?"

  Drostan ignored his question, taking out his sword and grabbing him by the collar of his tunic.

  "Did ye murder my son?!" he snarled. "Did ye?"

  "My—my laird—” Ferghas stammered, his face going pale, his eyes widening with panic.

  "For once, be honest with me, and I may spare yer life," Drostan hissed. "Did ye kill my Tadhg?"

  Ferghas swallowed, and Niall could tell that he was trying to think of a way out of this.

  "The imposter feeds ye lies—” Ferghas began.

  "Answer me!"

  "I'm the third son in my family; my father doesnae ken I exist. Ye've been a father tae me. I should've been born yer son, tae yer family. Tadhg never appreciated what he had—yer love, yer lands. And now ye care for this imposter over—”

  "I'll give ye one final chance tae answer or I'll throw ye in the dungeons!" Drostan roared. "Did ye murder my son?"

  "It wasnae my intention!" Ferghas cried, his face crumbling, and Niall saw the benign mask he wore fall away. “He—he was thrown from his horse. He—I believed he would’ve died anyway! As—as he lay there, I realized I could be the son ye deserved, I could—”

  Drostan let out a roar of grief and rage. Liusaidh dissolved into tears as Caitria comforted her, looking shaken herself.

  Drostan stumbled back, his sword clattering to the ground, swaying on his feet in grief. Ferghas took advantage of Drostan's unhinged state, unsheathing his own sword and lunging toward Drostan.

  Niall didn't think—he just reacted. He darted across the room, moving faster than he thought possible, and caught the edge of Ferghas's blade as he lunged toward Drostan.

  Niall shoved Drostan to the side, and Ferghas's blade pierced his abdomen. A tidal wave of pain swept over him as he stumbled to his knees, looking down at the front of his tunic that was rapidly becoming soaked with blood.

  Caitria screamed as chaos erupted around him. Caitria was at his side as Hendry and the other guards charged into the room and detained Ferghas.

  "Niall," Caitria wept, her eyes wild as she took in his blood soaked tunic, gathering him in her arms. "Stay with me. Niall, please, stay with me! I love ye . . . I love ye . . ."

  He kept his gaze trained on her face, whispering his love for her as the room around him dimmed to black.

  Chapter 26

  “Yer son is as stubborn as a mule,” Caitria muttered to Ian, scowling as she closed the door to Niall’s guest chamber.

  “He’s always been that way,” Ian said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “He hated being sick, even when he was a boy. I’d have to bribe him to stay in bed. I think he got his stubbornness from his mother.”

  Caitria warily returned his smile. A week had passed since the confrontation with Ferghas. In the aftermath of Ferghas’s attack, the guards had dragged Ferghas away and the castle healer had come to tend to Niall’s wound. Fear like she had never known had wound through her as the healer and several servants hurriedly soaked up his bleeding wound with a makeshift cloth tourniquet. After the healer had spent some time tending to Niall, he’d assured them that Niall would recover, as his bleeding had stopped, but he needed to spend a few days in bed resting to fully heal.

  The first couple of days after his injury he’d still looked pale, and Caitria insisted on tending to him herself, bringing him meals of bread, hot broth and stew to eat, cleansing his heated skin with a cool cloth, making certain he drank water. Ian had supplied Niall with the pills he’d brought with him from the future to stave off any possibility of infection.

  Niall’s color had gradually returned, and now he looked more like himself. He kept insisting that he was fine, trying to get out of bed to walk around, though she insisted he still needed to rest.

  Caitria met Ian’s eyes, rubbing her temples. She’d gotten to spend more time with Ian over the past few days and learned more about him, his travels, his life in the future, and about Niall’s childhood.

  During their chats, her parents would come to visit Niall; they visited him on a daily basis. When her father first came to visit, tears had shone in his eyes, and he’d thanked him profusely for saving his life and informing him about Ferghas.

  “I didnae want tae see who he was,” Drostan had whispered. “I miss my Tadhg. I think I just wanted a son in his stead.”

  “It’s all right,” Niall had rasped. “You did what you t
hought was right.”

  “I want ye tae ken that ye have mine and the clan’s forgiveness for posing as Artair. Word has spread about what ye’ve done, how ye’ve saved my life and exposed Ferghas. Ye are welcome here, Niall O’Kean.”

  Joy had spread throughout Caitria at his words, and by the looks her parents gave her before leaving the chamber, she knew they were giving their quiet consent for them to be together as well. Her parents had also welcomed Ian to the castle with open arms, giving him a guest chamber of his own, praising him for having such a brave son.

  Ferghas had been imprisoned and sentenced by the clan nobles for assaulting the castle maids, and for the murders of Tadhg and Muir, for which he would hang. They'd also discovered that he'd hired the mystery "intruder,” a local villager by the name of Martain, to follow Niall. Caitria had not gone to the sentencing, wanting to stay by Niall’s side—and to avoid ever laying eyes on Ferghas again. She’d heard that he’d cursed and railed at Drostan as he sentenced him to death.

  As for Artair, Latharn had left the castle to go search for him, and her father had sent out some of his men to scour the countryside. His servants hadn’t seen or heard from him since he’d ventured south to the castle—and Niall had inadvertently taken his place.

  Ian had told her that it was probable Artair was in the future—but that a stiuireadh would likely guide him back to the time in which he truly belonged. Caitria suspected that when he returned, he would only feel relief at no longer being betrothed to Caitria. Now that she knew what true love and passion felt like, she realized that her and Artair’s marriage would have been an unhappy one. I hope ye find the same love I have, Artair, she told him silently, wherever he was.

  “You should go back in there,” Ian said, pulling her from her thoughts as he gestured to Niall’s chamber. “My son told me earlier that he has something important to ask you.”