The Ranger (45 page)

Lorn—still protected by his henchman—was racing the fifty feet or so to the castle gate.

Not this time
.

Arthur drew the attention of a few of MacRuairi’s men, telling them what he wanted them to do. He fought his way toward Lorn, the men following behind him. They created a hole in the protective circle around Lorn, cutting him and his henchman off from the group. Once Arthur was through, MacRuairi’s men spread out to form a barrier behind him.

If Lorn wasn’t a few dozen feet from the safety of the castle walls, Arthur would have enjoyed this particular death more. But as it was, he was forced to dispatch the henchman quickly. For all the man’s skill at torture, he was no match for Arthur—even one-handed.

At last he turned to Lorn, catching up with him not ten feet from the gate. Lorn’s men were so busy defending themselves that no one was able to come to his aid.

Arthur could see the rage in his eyes as Lorn lifted his sword to his. “How did you escape?” he demanded incredulously.

“Surprised to see me?”

Lorn’s eyes flashed murderously. “I should have killed you.”

“Aye, you should have.”

“You are the reason for this disaster. You betrayed my plans to the murdering whoreson.”

“King Robert,” Arthur prodded, circling him like prey. “I would say you should get used to saying it, but you won’t be around long enough.”

And with that he swung.

Lorn was prepared for the blow and managed to deflect it—albeit barely, his entire body shaking with the effort. John of Lorn, once one of the most feared warriors in the Highlands, was no longer a threat. Age and illness had taken their toll. It wasn’t cowardice but illness that had kept him on the loch and at the back of the battlefield. Lorn’s damned pride prevented him from admitting just how sick he was.

Arthur’s second blow brought him to his knees. He held the tip of his sword to Lorn’s neck, the mail coif no match for the sharp steel of Arthur’s sword.

The sun flashed off the older man’s helm—just as it had that day fourteen years ago when Arthur had watched from afar as his father held the blade to this same man’s neck and offered him mercy.

It was the moment he’d been waiting for. Anticipation should be surging through his veins. The taste of victory should be sweet. His muscles should be clenched, ready to drive the blade forward.

But he felt none of those things.

All he could think about was Anna.

If he did this, he would forever be to her the man that Lorn had been to him: the man who killed her father.

Perhaps her forgiveness was more than he had a right to hope for, but if he killed Lorn he’d destroy whatever chance remained.

What honor was there in killing a man too sick to fight? His father had his justice. Lorn was finished. His defeat at Brander had crushed whatever hope he’d had of stopping Bruce.

Anna was right. Killing him now would be nothing more than revenge, and he wanted her more than he wanted whatever fleeting moment of satisfaction killing Lorn would give him.

Well, maybe more than fleeting, but he wanted her more all the same.

From beneath the steel visor of his helm, Lorn’s gaze burned into his. “What are you waiting for? Just do it!”

Mercy. His father’s last lesson; though he’d forgotten it until now.

“Submit to the king, and I will let you live.”

Lorn’s face contorted in rage. “I’d rather die.”

“And what of your family? What of your clan? Would you have them die, too?”

His eyes blazed with raw hatred. “Better than to submit to a murderer.”

“You’d see your daughters die for your damned pride?” Arthur could feel his temper rising. He knew Anna. She would never go against her father. Family was everything to her. “Give Anna your blessing. I’ll keep her safe. You know as well as I do that you are done. But your clan can live on in our children—in your grandchildren.”

Lorn’s rage had turned frenzied. Veins bulged at his temples, his eyes were glazed with madness, and his face was beet red. He let go a string of vile oaths, spittle foaming at the edge of his mouth. “You will never have her. I’d rather see her dead!”

“Father!”

Arthur heard the anguished cry behind him. Anna. He turned instinctively.

Giving Lorn his back. Just as his father had done before him.

Anna reached the courtyard just as Arthur brought her father to his knees.

Oh God, she was too late!

She ran faster.

Ewen and the other men were attempting to defend the castle with carefully aimed arrows through the slits in the curtain wall, ready to lower the gate just as soon as her father and his men retreated inside.

The guardsmen at the gate were so focused on watching what was in front of them, they didn’t see her slip past them.

“My lady!” one of the men called after her. “You can’t—”

She wasn’t listening. She darted a few feet beyond the gate, but didn’t make it far. The enemy soldiers had formed a line, separating Arthur and her father from the rest of the fight. When she attempted to run past them, one of the men caught her.

“God’s blood!” he said, lifting her feet off the ground. “Where do you think you’re going, lass?”

She opened her mouth to scream at the terrifying-looking ruffian to let her go, but then she heard Arthur speak and stilled in the soldier’s arms.

She couldn’t believe what she heard.

Arthur held a sword at her father’s neck, at the very point of achieving the vengeance and atonement that had driven him, and offered him mercy. Offered her father a chance to save them all. A chance that after what he’d probably done to him, her father didn’t deserve. A chance for a future.

He loves me
, she realized.
He loves me enough to put aside his quest for vengeance
.

But if Arthur’s words had filled her heart, her father’s eviscerated her.

I’d rather see her dead
.

She recoiled, wrenching out of her captor’s hold. Shock and horror made her cry out.

He didn’t mean it
.

But she knew he did. He would rather see her dead than married to the enemy, even if she loved him. His harsh refusal of Arthur’s offer shattered what was left of her illusions.

But her cry was a mistake. A mistake more horrible than she could have imagined.

Her voice should have been lost in the heavy din of battle. No one should have heard her. But Arthur did. He turned at the sound of her voice, and the world seemed to stop.

Dear God in Heaven
. Beneath the shadow of his helm the sight of his beaten, ravaged face made her stomach clench and bile rise to the back of her throat.

But the worse horror was yet to come. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her father’s sword flash.

“No!” She took a step forward, but the man caught her before she could advance. “Watch out!” she screamed.

Blind spot
. She was his blind spot. But she couldn’t let him die for it.

Arthur spun, swinging his sword around to deflect her father’s death blow with enough force to rip her father’s sword from his hand and send it flying through the air.

Arthur raised his sword over his head.

Anna turned away, shielding her eyes from the horror of what was to come. He was going to kill her father, and after what he’d just done she couldn’t blame him.

She waited for the sickening thud of death.

But the silence seemed endless. It was so quiet that she realized the battle around them had stilled as well.

“Go,” she heard Arthur say. “You have five minutes to take your men and daughter from this castle.”

Her gaze shot back to her father—her father who was still alive. Arthur had lowered his sword and moved away from him. Her father had gotten to his feet, his face a mask of rage and defiance. “You’re a fool.”

“And you’re lucky that your daughter means more to me than your foul life. But I assure you, the king will not feel the same. Leave on your own or leave in chains. It matters not to me, but leave you will.”

As if to bolster his words, a cry came from above. “Ships, my lord. A half dozen of them, headed this way.”

Bruce
.

Her father didn’t hesitate. Gathering his men, he ordered Ewen to evacuate the castle and bring whatever weapons he could carry.

The man holding her released her. She ran forward, but Arthur was already walking away.

He and the other Bruce warriors—she recognized her uncle among the group—moved to the side to let the MacDougalls pass.

Her uncle didn’t look too pleased with the arrangement, but after a quick but harsh exchange of words, he and Arthur stood silent.

Arthur wouldn’t look at her.

Why wouldn’t he look at her? She wanted to go to him, but he looked so remote. So distant.

Her heart squeezed with doubt.

She’d always thought he would be the one to leave her. But he stood like a sentinel: solid, stalwart, and true. A man to count on. A man who would stand down dragons and crawl through the fires of hell.

“Come, Anna. It’s time to go.” Ewen had come up behind her, attempting to steer her away by her elbow.

“I ...” She hesitated, her eyes flickering to Arthur as if expecting—hoping—he would say something.

Ewen gave her an uncertain look as he moved off with his men.

Her father must have caught the exchange. “Don’t do it, daughter. Don’t even think about it.”

Her gaze fell on her father. The man she’d loved her entire life. A man who was far more complex than she’d realized. It was hard to reconcile the loving father with the man she’d seen here today, though she knew they were one and the same.

For a moment, she wanted to go back to being that little girl who’d sat on her father’s knee and looked at him as if he were a god. To go back to when things were simple.

If she’d ever doubted Arthur’s love, she could no longer. Not after what he’d just done for her.

“I love him, Father. Please.”

She saw the flash of hurt before her father’s gaze hardened. “I’ll hear no more of this. Make your choice. But do not be mistaken. Go to him, and I will never see you again. You will be dead to me.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, burning her throat. “You don’t mean that.”

But he did. “Choose,” he demanded angrily.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Anna started to walk to the boat where her brother waited for her.

Arthur turned away, unable to watch her leave.

He’d listened to every painful word of her conversation with her father. Damn Lorn for doing this to her! For making her choose between them. It didn’t have to be this way. Arthur had tried to give him a way out, but the bastard wouldn’t take it.

He almost wished he’d killed him. Almost. But when he’d heard Anna say that she loved him, he knew he’d done the right thing. Even if it meant he had to let her go.

Unfortunately, the pain of parting wasn’t any easier the second time around. His chest burned. Every muscle in his body felt teased on a razor’s edge, reverberating with tension and restraint.

He wanted to stop her from getting on that damned boat. To tell her she belonged with him. To tell her he loved her.

To ask her to choose him.

But he wouldn’t make it harder on her than it already was. He wouldn’t tear her apart even further. One look at her stricken face when her father had given her his ultimatum was enough to see the terrible toll it was taking on her.

“I’m sorry, Ewen. Tell Mother—” Her voice broke. “Tell her I’m sorry. But I belong with him.”

He jolted still, clearing his ears, refusing to believe he’d heard her right. Slowly, he turned and saw her hugging her brother.

Hugging him goodbye.

Arthur couldn’t breathe.

Stepping away from her brother’s embrace, she turned and ventured a look in his direction. The uncertainty in her gaze sent a hard twinge through his chest that broke every last thread of his restraint.

He was at her side in a few long strides. His voice rumbled with the effort to constrain the emotion surging in his chest. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this. I’ll protect you and your family as best I can, even if you go.”

She smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes. “The fact that you would do that is exactly why I am sure. I love you. If you still want me, I’m yours.”

Oh God, did he want her. Forgetting the dirt and grime that clung to him—not to mention the stench of the battlefield—Arthur pulled her in his arms with a sigh of relief that tore from the deepest part of him. From the place he’d never thought to open again. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, absorbed the golden, silky warmth and fragrance of her hair, and held her tightly against him, too moved to speak.

But he didn’t need to say anything. The way she slid her arms around him and rested her cheek against his
cotun
said it all.

She’d chosen him. He couldn’t believe it. He’d never thought to feel like this. Never thought that this kind of happiness was meant for him.

But his joy was tempered by the knowledge of how difficult this must be for her.

Reluctantly, he released her. She gazed up at him, the sunlight caressing her beautiful features in a soft, golden light. Light that spread through him like a warm embrace. He felt a fierce tightening inside him. He was a lucky man.

Realizing he still hadn’t answered, he lifted one corner of his mouth. “If you didn’t guess, that was a yes.”

Her smile made his heart catch.

He’d thought he was meant to be alone, but now he knew he’d only been waiting for her. Together they would face whatever challenges and obstacles life threw at them.

Including her father. Arthur held her against his side as Lorn strode down to the jetty to take his place among his men.

He could feel Anna wobble as her father walked past where they stood without giving her another glance.

Arthur squeezed her to him tighter, wanting to protect her from this. The bastard was breaking her heart.

“Father,” she cried softly.

Lorn turned to look at her with an icy glare. But he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted to be. There was real pain in the older man’s eyes. “There is nothing more to be said. You made your choice.”