To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull series) (6 page)

He was so powerful. If only she had half his strength, she would not hide from the world; instead, she would confront the chieftain himself and challenge him for the rights to her land. She released a sigh. Daydreams only made one’s soul long for the impossible. Her future stretched out before her as fixed and predictable as the cycle of the moon. She would always be feared and loathed, and if ever valued for her wisdom and gifts, it would only be in secret. She must learn to accept her fate.

They reached the shoreline and Ronan pulled himself behind her. With a quick flick of the reins, they were galloping through the waves. The surf splashed against the horse’s legs, spraying the icy water across Shoney and wetting her skirts. The sun was beginning to set, and the wind that whipped her hair about her face and cut through her tunic held the crispness of nightfall, causing her to shiver.

“Hold tight to the mane,” he said as his hands withdrew from her waist.

The absence of his embrace allowed the chill to nip at her back and shoulders. She scooted backward in her seat, seeking the hot comfort of his body.

“Hold on, lass”, he chuckled.

He reached around her waist, spreading his fingers wide across her stomach and pressed her against his rigid chest. She felt his warm breath on her neck as he encircled them both within the thick folds of his plaid. Warmth penetrated her core. She nestled deeper and inhaled the scent of his skin. Everything about him was undeniably male including the rich musky aroma invading her senses. Too long had she been denied the comfort of another’s touch. Her mother used to rock her to sleep as a child. And when Shoney grew too large to cradle, her mother stroked her hair as Shoney rested her head in her lap. She did not need protection. She could take care of herself, but it felt so good not to be alone.

She shook her head, remembering with whom she rode. She could not lose sight of her goal to be rid of him. He was capable of harm and could not be trusted. Besides, if he knew who she really was, he would fling her into the water and ride away. She scowled as she imagined his daft priest burning his plaid because of its proximity to her pagan flesh.

Her resolve restored, she straightened her back to support her own seat rather than resting against his broad chest. Her body protested the loss of warmth with a shiver, but she refused to surrender her strength of purpose. She had to escape, a task that demanded she remain clear headed, but doubt invaded her thoughts as she considered how she might evade the steel bars he disguised as arms.

Ronan gave a short but firm yank on the reins, bringing his horse to a swift halt. Then he tenderly scratched the steed’s ear, earning a whinny in response.

“Look, Bridget.”

At first, Shoney did not know to whom he spoke and then remembered her choice of alias. She wondered at that moment what her real name would sound like from his lips. She followed the direction of his gaze. Two jutting cliffs soared above their heads with surfaces so sheer as to deny anyone access, and centered amid the two bluffs, high above the waves was the opening of a cave.

“What a peculiar place,” she exclaimed. “I doubt that even you could make that climb.”

“Look closer,” he whispered, his mouth grazing her earlobe, making her body quiver. Damn his soft lips.

She tried to ignore her body’s response to his touch as she studied the wall before her and finally saw a thick rope hanging from the cave opening. Its color, dark with age, blended well into the cliff face.

“It was no small feat to secure the rope initially, but it is strong and will bring us safely inside.”

“You intend to stick me in that cave”, she snapped, his soft lips forgotten, “to imprison me?”

“Do not think of it as a prison, lass. ‘Tis merely a safe refuge,” He replied.

“But I haven’t the strength to climb up or to descend back down. I will be trapped.”

“I know. You will be safe from every trouble, including that which you might make yourself.” His smug smile made her want to scream.

“Do not think for a moment that I will go willing, you conceited son of a….”

He placed his hand over her mouth. “You will kindly stop there and not insult my mother or my father.” He pulled his hand away as he stared at her. “Another tantrum? And here I thought
I
had a problem controlling my temper.” His voice softened, “You are a strange girl, Bridget. I offer you protection from harm and respite from your unpleasant, albeit forthcoming, nuptials. I expected gratitude not arguments.”

He had every reason to be confused by her behavior. If wedded misery loomed in her immediate future, then mayhap she would embrace his plan, but an unwanted betrothal was not one of her problems. She ached for home, and the prospect of the cave destroyed all hope of return. He sought to provide her a sanctuary, but he unknowingly threatened her with a prison that required no bars or doors—the drop to certain death was lock and key.

How could she explain this to him without revealing her secret? Then fear engulfed her thoughts. The cave would be as dark as a grave. She shivered as she imagined the darkness closing in around her, choking the very breath from her body. She would not live to see the dawn. Either her heart would seize, terror claiming her life, or she would go insane and throw herself from the black mouth of the cave to the murky waters below. Even now, her body trembled as she imagined the worst.

“You are shaking, Bridget. No more protests. I must get you out of the cold”, Ronan said as he dismounted. Then he began to reach for her, but she kicked him away.

“Did you not hear me?” she shouted. “I am not an animal for you to trap. And if you are concerned about my health, ‘tis colder in that dank place than anywhere else on the island.”

He ignored her, but she kept on fighting. Her swinging fists connected with his powerful physique, likely afflicting more pain to her knuckles than to his unyielding hardness, but she did not care. She refused to surrender even as he placed his hands at her waist and lifted her from the stallion’s back.

“You will be quite comfortable. I assure you”, he said

He pulled her through the briskly moving seas. The waves lapped at her thighs before colliding with the unforgiving cliff wall. She finally conceded she was no match against his brawn. Instead, she tried to think of another reason why they should not ascend the rope.

“What about the horse?” she gasped, breathless from her struggles.

“The tide will not come in for some time. The horse is quite safe.” He replied.

He began to wrap the top folds of his plaid around her, securing her body to his. She was trapped and unable to fight. Not that it would have made a difference. At any moment, he would climb the sheer wall to the great height above where she would be swallowed by a dark hole in the rock. Terror gripped her mind, poisoning her heart and causing a layer of perspiration to blanket her brow despite the chill in the air. Once again, her body betrayed her as tremors surged down her limbs and a knot gathered in her throat.

“No, Ronan”, she whispered as wet tears filled her eyes. “Please, do not put me in there.” Shame settled over her as the pleading tones left her lips, but there was naught else to be done. She could not face the darkness.

“Hush, lass”, he crooned as his arms encircled her. “Are you so afraid of the height?”

“No”, she cried.

“’Tis a very deep cave. You will not fall, if that is what worries you.”

“That is not why I am afraid.”

“Then why?” he asked.

“’Tis the dark”, she whispered. Her head hung heavy with disgrace.

She felt the pressure of his finger under her chin as he forced her to meet his gaze. She expected him to scorn her, but instead his eyes glowed with amber warmth.

“You are a rare lass”, he breathed, “so strong and yet so vulnerable.”

He stroked her cheek, and she felt herself succumb to the gentle caress. “You will find yourself quite at home up there, Bridget. You must trust me.”

“But, I have no reason to trust you.”

He said nothing in reply. A slow, sensual smile pulled at one side of his lips, and she could not help but admire his easy confidence. She made no further protest as he finished tying the folds of his plaid. Then grasping the rope firmly in his hands, he proceeded to scale the daunting precipice.

Shoney turned away at last and looked out to sea. The water reflected the dusky shades of sunset. Pinks and oranges imbued each wave’s approach, but the colors were cut away by the shadow of the massive cliff. Each wave that struck the rock face was as grey and stark as the stone itself.

“You must hurry. Dusk is upon us,” she said.

“I am sorry if my pace displeases you,” he chuckled as he crossed one hand over the other, pulling them ever higher, “but if you care to muscle the two of us up this rope, then by all means, you may take over.”

Mother of all, he was maddening.

“I have a different purpose for this rope in mind”, she began. “It involves a strong branch and you dangling beneath.”

“Hmmm, it would seem that my warrior has vanquished the vulnerable maid. I think I prefer when you are frightened.”

Shoney intended to give him a tongue lashing meant to wipe the smug smile off his face for good, but one of his hands released the rope and covered her mouth. He lowered his head, and she felt his warm breath on her ear. Her mind spiraled back to the moment when his kiss first grazed her neck as her wet, naked body pressed against his hard, muscled physique. She shivered but this time not from the cold or fear of the dark.

“Be silent for once woman”, he whispered, “or the light will be gone, and I will be forced to sleep in the cave with you.”

Shoney’s eyes opened wide, and she pressed her lips together. His eyes mocked her, daring her to speak, but she kept her silence.

Ronan continued to climb the rope with seemingly little effort, occasionally catching a foothold in the wall. She dare not look down; instead she clung to his frame and focused on the feel of his back muscles shifting beneath her hands and the smell of his skin. Finally, they reached the mouth of the cave. As he pulled their bodies inside, he twisted to avoid pinning her beneath him.

Her worst nightmare realized, she was frozen, drenched, and famished, cowering at the entrance of a perilous cave, surrounded by darkness. Which would truly be the worst fate—being left alone to freeze or starve to death in a desolate cave or confessing her true identity and putting her fate in the hands of the MacKinnons?

He walked deep inside the cave into the dark unknown, and she wondered with fear if he expected her to follow. She started to ask what he was doing but then remembered his threat if she were to speak again and decided to remain silent.

She sighed with relief when he emerged from the deep and knelt at the edge of the cave entrance. He began making a familiar tapping noise, and just moments later, there was a steady fire building. She did not try to conceal her joy as the small fire grew, illuminating the cave. The firelight revealed a deep, dry space, which was twice the length of her home and about half its width. In the back, she could just make out a stack of peat for fuel. She stood up and began to walk about.

“There is plenty of fuel to keep this fire going for days.” His voice was soft as he took her hand and showed her the amenities the cave offered.

“There is a pallet for sleeping and some plaids to keep you warm. You will of course have to wear the MacKinnon colors.” He smiled at her. She sensed he was proud of the cave’s secret comfort.

“You will also find dried meat and ale”, he said, pointing to a plain wooden chest. She had to admit that for a cave it was rather cozy.

“’Tis wonderful, Ronan, but why is this all here?” she asked.

He removed his sword and stood it against the wall. “I first started coming here as a lad when my older brother, Nachlan, died. I was eleven, and I came here thinking I could escape the sadness.”

Shoney stared at the large and powerful man before her and could not believe that he was ever so small.

“I am sorry, Ronan.”

“It was long ago, Bridget. I keep this place well supplied for when I need a little peace and quiet. Solitude is rarely granted a chieftain’s son.”

Ronan’s confession had Shoney’s mind reeling. Their lives were so different. His life was a tapestry of friends and family, custom and duty, which sometimes drove him to this place of isolation; whereas, destiny demanded she walk through life alone. How often had she prayed for the Mother of all to bring her solace from loneliness? It never occurred to her that someone else might seek it out.

She sat beside the fire, warming her hands above the flame. “You have my thanks, Ronan. I’m sure I will be very comfortable here.”

“I am glad you are pleased, but with comfort in mind, Bridget, you must change out of your wet tunic or else catch your death.”

He handed her one of the dry plaids before he turned away. For a moment, Shoney was confused. Surely he did not intend for her to wear a plaid folded as he did with just a sash across her chest. As she contemplated how best to dress herself, her teeth began to chatter from the cold. She shrugged off her drenched cloak and yanked her tunic and kirtle over her head. Then she set about wrapping herself in one of the large tartan blankets. In the end, she swept it around her shoulders, holding it in place with her hands.

“You may turn. I am decent…barely,” she muttered under her breath.

Ronan started to laugh the moment he turned around. “You truly are the most unusual lass I have ever known.” He closed the distance between them and reached for the plaid, but she ducked under his arm to avoid his touch.

“You have naught to fear, lass. My intention is to assist you into your clothing not to remove it, although you hide nothing that I have not already had the pleasure of viewing.”

 Mortified by his blunt reminder, her embarrassment soon gave way to rage. She lashed out, slapping the smile from his face and in the process losing her grip on the tartan all together. She stood before him as naked as the day she came into the world. Though, her hands rushed to cover the more intimate areas of her body, she stood straight and proud, refusing to acknowledge her disgrace.