Highland Barbarian Part 47

He was moved, as much by the intensity of her words as the words themselves. Though this serious little woman often made him laugh, there was now no hint of laughter in his words.

"And I love you, little one. I will love you for a lifetime and beyond."

Bathed in the glow of the fire, they lost themselves in the wonder of their love. Brice marveled at the depth of her pa.s.sion. Never before had she shown her love so intensely. Never had their love burned brighter, or ignited such fire between them.

Meredith looked down at the sleeping form of her love. It took all her willpower to keep from crying. She must not weep. She must be strong, not only for Brice, but for her sisters who needed her.

"Please understand," she whispered as she scrawled a message on a parchment scroll and set it on a table near the bed.

From his wardrobe she withdrew the things she had prepared earlier.

Shedding her delicately embroidered night s.h.i.+ft, she pulled on a pair of Brice's breeches, tucking them into tall boots. Over the saffron s.h.i.+rt, a symbol of the Highlander, and dark tunic, she secured a heavy cape. At her waist dangled a sword. Tucked into her waistband was a small, sharp dirk. She tucked her hair beneath a plumed hat and draped a fur throw over her arm. In a small pouch she had stuffed the remains of their supper.

She paused beside Brice's bed and cast a last loving glance at him as he slept. He had whispered love words to her all the while they had savored Mistress Snow's wonderful meal. And while they had sipped wine, he had smiled and hinted that he had important plans to share with her. Plans that would change both their lives.

How she loved him. How she would miss him in the days and weeks to come.

But her home beckoned her. Her clan needed her. She had no choice.

In the doorway to the sitting chamber she paused and peered through the dim light. No one stirred. Satisfied, she closed the door and strode quickly down the stairs.

She avoided the courtyard, choosing instead to leave by a rear door in the scullery. Crossing around to the stables, she chose a great black stallion. Ignoring the sidesaddles, she tossed a man's saddle over the animal's back and rolled and tied the fur behind it.

Because she knew Brice's men patrolled the paths leading to the castle, she led the horse through brambles and dense undergrowth.

When she was certain she was far enough away to ride undetected, she pulled herself into the saddle and spurred her mount on. By the time Brice awoke and alerted his men to what she had done, she promised herself, she would be miles away.

Brice drifted on a misty cloud, half awake, half asleep.

What a beautiful night he and Meredith had shared. What a wonderful surprise she was. That fiery, innocent la.s.s he had brought to Kinloch House was a constant delight. Each time he peeled away a layer he discovered an even more exciting creature beneath.

The child in her brought out all his fierce protective instincts. The imp in her made him laugh. The woman in her made him ache.

He rolled to his side and reached for her. He had been too distracted last night by her beauty, by her almost desperate lovemaking, to share his plans with her. Today he would officially ask for her hand in marriage. And then, when she accepted, he would tell her of his plans for their future.

The rest of the bed was empty.

From beneath half-closed lids he noted that the sun was already streaming through the windows. Why did she have to be up and about when he was feeling lazy, and more than a little eager to hold her, to love her as he had last night?

With a sigh he moved to her side of the bed and breathed in her fragrance. Within minutes she would return, mayhaps with a tray laden with Mistress Snow's warm biscuits. They would have a lazy morning of lovemaking, and then he would take her into his confidence.

The bed was cold where she had lain.

Suddenly alarmed, Brice sat up and looked around. The fire had long ago burned to ashes. No one had tended it. Few remains of their supper lay on a tray near the fireplace.

Meredith's night s.h.i.+ft lay on the floor. In the open wardrobe her gowns could be seen, hanging neatly on pegs beside his tunics. None of the gowns appeared to be missing.

Crossing the room Brice lifted her night s.h.i.+ft. It was unlike Meredith to leave it there. Draping it over his arm he turned and spotted the scroll. In quick strides he walked to the small table and read the message.

Dearest Brice, I go to my sisters who need me. You must not follow.

Gareth thinks you dead. Your secret is safe with me. Know always that I love you. M. A cry of anguish was torn from Brice's lips. Slumping on the edge of the bed he buried his face in Meredith's night s.h.i.+ft. It still bore her scent. Inhaling deeply he sat there for long minutes filling himself with her.

Then he stood and tossed the garment aside. There was no time to waste. She was somewhere deep in the Highland forests. There were many dangers out there. Not all of them wild animals.

He must find her before the wrong people did. Or she would be lost to him forever.

Chapter Sixteen

It had been raining steadily for hours. The raindrops filtered through the leaves of the trees, drenching horse and rider as they plodded through the forest.

Across a ridge of the mountain a mist rose up, eerie, ghost like

Almost hidden below the mist Meredith recognized a lake they had crossed on her journey to Brice's fortress. At least she was heading in the right direction, she consoled herself. But if the weather continued to work against her, the journey would take twice as long as she had antic.i.p.ated.

On a high rocky crag she brought her mount to a halt and turned to study the trail she had just taken. There was no sign that anyone was following her. Still, she felt a tingling sensation at the back of her neck, as though someone was watching. Brice? Though the day was shrouded in darkness, she guessed that Brice would have awakened less than an hour ago. It would be impossible for him to have come this far in so short a time. Also, she had implored him in her note to stay where he was safe. She prayed that he would listen to the voice of reason and remain in the safety of his Highland home.

If Brice was watching, he would show himself. She felt a tremor of fear and looked over her shoulder. If she was truly being watched, it was not Brice, but a stranger. The thought brought a quick, jolting rush of fear in the pit of her stomach.

She drew the hood of the cloak over her head and tried to shake off the feeling of gloom. She was merely lonely, she consoled herself.

She had never dreamed she would feel so lonely. All her life, growing up with loving parents, she and her sisters had known only love and security. And hard work. Growing up in a clan of warriors along the Border, she had been groomed in the art of battle. She knew what it was to take up a sword at a moment's notice when the English soldiers attacked.

Her gentle mother had encouraged all her daughters in the art of nurturing their people. And when they engaged in battle, the entire MacAlpin clan was taken into the manor house for safekeeping until the battle was over. The families, along with their animals, stayed within the compound until it was safe to return to their outlying homes.

Always they had stood together, a proud, strong family.

Now, with her parents gone and her sisters' lives in grave peril, the burden of responsibility lay with her alone. Though she felt equal to the task, she sorely missed her parents' quiet strength.

"If only Brice could share this burden with me." To stave off loneliness she talked to her horse.

Why was she torturing herself with such thoughts? Venting her frustration, she nudged her mount with more energy than necessary, sensing its reluctance to plod onward through the mist. But her mind would not give her any rest.

"How did it come to pa.s.s that one Highland warrior could mean so much to me? When did I stop thinking only of myself and begin thinking of the two of us as one? When did I begin to put his well-being ahead of my own?"

The horse whinnied in response. Despite her discomfort she smiled.

"It had happened long before we came together in love," she whispered.

During her earliest days of captivity she had discovered that the man who held her hostage was not the man she had thought him to be. The cruel barbarian was a myth, created by legend and the acts of those who would besmirch his good name.

Rain pelted her face and ran in little rivers from her eyelashes to her cheeks. She blinked as she thought of her own father, known throughout Scotland as a fair and honorable man. That thought brought a sense of pride to her. What if someone had blamed him for the acts of another, sullying his good name? Her hand tightened on the cold leather reins.

She would search to the ends of the earth for those responsible, and she would give her life if necessary to clear her father's name.

Though she detested war, she realized that Brice had that same right.

Gareth MacKenzie must be made to recant his lies and restore Brice's good name to him. Even if it took a war to force his hand. The thought caused her to tremble.