“Let me out.” Bolted from the outside, the door wouldn’t budge. Seething with resentment, Laurie slammed her fists against the hard barrier. “Dammit. Let me out.”
She slid down the wood to her knees. “Sometimes, Patrick MacLachlan, you are not a nice man,” she whispered, her forehead pressed against the rough oak.
The clamor of activity coming from the courtyard below gave her the energy to rise to her feet. Her chest tight, she ran to the window and flung open the shutters. Several men readied themselves for travel. Patrick joined them, and she glared at his back as the group strode through the gate and made their way to the water’s edge.
As she feared, Patrick really planned to leave her behind.
* * *
The men hunched in silence, pulling their plaides tight against early winter winds. The only sound the gentle lapping of oars on water. Patrick sat on a bench at the aft of the boat, his jaw tight. His last moments with Laurie weighed heavily on his mind.
Earlier in the day, Jamie rushed into his private chamber with the news Maclay had been seen near the Fir-wood. Patrick ordered his men to prepare, and after the screaming argument with his wife, he and his lads left the castle.
She’d been enraged, angry he planned to leave her behind. His anger fed on hers. The argument that ensued became vicious. They said things neither truly meant. The inhabitants of the castle had sadly gotten an earful. No matter how much Laurie argued though, he ultimately refused to allow her to accompany him. A raid was no place for a woman. Too much risk.
They’d been married several weeks. With time, she’d learn to trust his decisions. He shot his stare at Jamie. “How many ride with Maclay? How many on foot?”
“Ten in total, all on horseback.” Jamie sat forward on his bench.
Patrick rubbed his whiskered jaw and scrutinized the other lads. He selected fewer than his usual tail. Only four well-seasoned fighters joined him. On this raid, stealth would be more important than force. In order to flush out Maclay, the warriors would need to blend into the woods and catch him unawares.
The boat beached on the mainland shore where a pair of young lads waited with saddled horses. The warriors swiftly mounted, guiding their steeds northeast along the shore of Loch Fyne.
Refusing to allow himself the weakness of looking back to see if Laurie watched from their bedchamber window, Patrick galloped away. Hardening his heart, he thought only of the confrontation he’d soon face.
The time had come for Maclay to pay for his sins.
* * *
Laurie lunged onto the bed and slammed her fists into a pillow, sending feathers flying. After the fit of temper, she swung her legs over the side and sat on the edge of the bed.
Nausea gurgled in her stomach. With a hand pressed to her belly, she rushed across the room to the basin and vomited. Shit, she’d made herself sick.
She grasped a cloth, wet it, and held it to her mouth. She slid down to her knees and leaned back on her heels. Shivers replaced the queasy flush.
With winter spreading its frosty blanket over the land, the weather turned blustery. Brisk raw winds raced along the loch, slamming against the castle’s old gray stones, howling through the battlements. The castle held a constant chill, the chambers breezy.
The only time she felt warm was at night when she lay in bed with Patrick. Sleeping with him was like cuddling with a large red-hot coal. He produced more than enough heat to keep them both warm through the bitter nights.
A tear escaped, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. She wouldn’t cry. She pushed up from the floor and sat in a chair near the hearth, wrapping one of Patrick’s plaids around her shoulders for added warmth. The fabric still held his pine forest scent.
Her heart clenched. She couldn’t really blame Patrick for refusing to allow her to join in the hunt for Maclay. It wasn’t as if she could protect him. Now, when she thought about it. He was right. Having to worry about her safety would put him at risk.
Laurie jumped when a cup fell from the mantle to crash on the stone floor. “What the…” She picked up a broken piece and a chill slid down her spine.
“Munn?” Where was the jealous little man? He’d been at the root of most of her recent troubles.
Although Caitrina had gotten her into the mess in the beginning, loving Patrick as she did, Laurie no longer faulted Caitrina for her trickery. If Caitrina hadn’t pushed her through the time-gate, Laurie would never have joined with her true soul mate. She never would have learned the true meaning of belonging.
She believed the old woman at the caves had been Caitrina in some sort of magical disguise. Caitrina hadn’t made an appearance since, and Laurie wondered why.
Munn, on the other hand, had been the one who gave her the cursed goblet of wine to drink at the wedding banquet. Token of friendship? Surely not. She only drank one goblet, yet she’d been incredibly drunk. Something must have been in the oh-too-sweet wine, something that confused her, caused her to believe Archibald was Patrick.
It almost cost her...her love.
She should’ve realized sooner Munn worked against her. When she thought of the many odd occurrences, she should have had cause to question his loyalty to his chief. Whenever Patrick took her into his arms, there had been something not quite right. Each time, something unnatural occurred, stopped their loving.
The wet cloth that landed on Patrick’s back while they kissed. The horn in the tower that mysteriously sounded on its own. And the evening in Patrick’s study when Munn appeared out of thin air, ranting and raving about doom and gloom, blaming every imaginable misfortune on her.
The only explanation for the insanity was Munn. He was a menace.
Spiraling into another fine rage, she leapt from the chair and marched to the door. She tugged, never expecting to find it unlocked, but this time, the door opened. Hurrying along the passageway, she passed two guardsmen deep in discussion. Although they glanced up and nodded when she passed, they didn’t bother to block her way. Confident no one else would attempt to stop her, she quickly made her way down the circular stair, across the courtyard, and through the castle gate. She ran along the path to the garden, blind to everything save her destination.
She found Elspeth sitting in the midst of the frost-dead plants with Alexander.
“Where is that miserable brownie?” Laurie asked. “How do you call a brownie to you?”
Elspeth and Alexander, as one, flipped wide eyes up from the book they read.
“You dinnae,” Elspeth said after a moment. “They appear only when they wish.”
Laurie glared at the horizon, raised her arm and made a fist. “Damn you, little man. I’ll find a way to keep Patrick close to my heart. You’ll not force us apart.”
Queasiness once again rumbled in Laurie’s stomach. Her vision blurred. She clutched her belly and swayed. Was this magic too? Had Munn put a hex on her?
“Laurie!” Elspeth jumped to her feet “What is it? What has befallen you?”
Laurie didn’t have the breath to answer. She stumbled over the gravel path and threw out an arm, reaching for the wall, but it was too far away and she was too weak. She slid to the ground and lost consciousness.