A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) (22 page)

They paused to watch as Athe appeared to excuse himself and
head across the Great Hall.

"When we leave tonight, ye can take yet mule and head back
home," Dar said then, turning back to Goraidh. "Whatever ye
thought the Lord had in mind for me, I believe all has nearly
been fulfilled. And, just as soon as we depart and Caitlin's left
safely behind, there's naught more that needs doing."

"Do ye really think so?" Goraidh quirked a brow. "Och, lad,
lad. Ye've got such a limited view of the Lord's far grander scheme
for ye, and for the lass!"

Dar shrugged. "I deal best with what I can see and touch. In
what I do, rather than on waiting for some invisible spirit-if
He even exists in the first place-to bring about."

The hermit's gaze locked with his. "Ye know as well as I that
God exists, lad. Ye don't fool me with all yer protestations and
denials."

Irritation filled Dar. "Well, what I do know doesn't inspire
me to love or follow."

"Yet ye're inspired to live with compassion and honor. With
love."

"Love?" Dar's incredulous laugh was raw and harsh. "Now
there ye're truly mistaken. Save for Kenneth and Feandan, I've
lived without love for a long while now. And, if the truth were
told, I've come to prefer it that way."

"It's safer, to be sure. No chance of betrayal, no pain of rejection or loss, no hopes dashed." Goraidh smiled sadly. "It's why
ye've repeatedly pushed Caitlin away, isn't it?" He shook his head.
"It's a wonder the lass keeps coming back for more of yer selfish,
cowardly treatment."

"Selfish? Cowardly?" Dar nearly choked on his outrage. "I turn
her away because to do aught else would be selfish and cowardly.
She deserves far better than me. Yet a lesser man would lack the
strength, the courage, to refuse her."

"But not ye." Goraidh shrugged. "Well, mayhap that's for the
best. Ye making all the decisions for the two of ye, I mean. Caitlin
is, after all, a wee, weak, indecisive lass. She's never been one to
know her own mind, has she?"

The twinkle in the hermit's eye belied his serious demeanor.
Dar's mouth twitched at one corner. Caitlin ... weak, indecisive,
and not one to know her own mind. That was the most ludicrous
thing he had ever heard. And Goraidh knew it.

"Mayhap I'm being unfair in making the decision for the both
of us," Dar said. "But I also know the tragedy that can arise when
two people's emotions are high, when passion dictates the course
rather than reason. And I tell ye true, I fear my own emotions
even more than I fear Caitlin's. Once before, I went against everything safe and sane, defied the strictures of others, and have a
dead woman to show for it. What kind of love is that, to destroy
the object of one's love?"

"But ye didn't destroy her, lad." His companion laid a hand
on his arm. "All ye did was love her and seek to make her happy.
And ye would've, if others hadn't intervened for their own selfish,
uncaring reasons."

Dar sighed. "I wish I knew what had truly happened to Nara.
Mayhap then I could finally avenge her."

"Vengeance is for the Lord. What ye need is to move on with
yer life, and not let the past destroy yer future." He smiled. "In
the end, that's the true victory and the only one that really matters-that the killer doesn't destroy ye as well."

"So, ye think whoever killed Nara meant to harm me too?"
Dar moved closer. "Leastwise, as punishment, if not also in reputation?"

"It's verra possible. It depends on who did the killing."

Just then, a shout came from the gathering by the fire. Dar
and Goraidh glanced in that direction. Two of their clansmen
had challenged each other to a wrestling match. Amidst much laughter and jovial encouragement, their friends made a circle
around the now battling men.

For a time, the two combatants seemed equally matched, each
succeeding in throwing the other without either successfully managing the final, definitive pin. The quicker of the two wrestlers,
however, was also apparently the more fit. After several more
minutes, he caught his companion in a fatigue-induced error.
He seized his opportunity, twising about to slam his opponent's
shoulder to the floor.

"I've always wondered if it weren't Athe," Dar muttered, turning
back to the hermit as the fireside gathering broke up, and men
ambled off to seek some corner to sleep in or hunkered down to
talk in small groups. Even the mention of his brother's possible
involvement in Nara's death caused a sharp pain to slice through
him, but the wrestling match had stirred old memories of their
own, nearly lifelong rivalry. "He was so enraged when he heard
that Nara wanted to break their betrothal and wed me instead. And
then, when atop that he learned I'd gotten Nara with child. . ."

At the memory, Dar shuddered. If it hadn't been for their
uncle's timely intervention, Athe's unexpected attack would've
succeeded in severing Dar's head from his shoulders. Feandan
MacNaghten had thought it best to send Dar riding that very
day for his own tower house, twenty miles away.

"Well, ye won't be getting any confession from that lad, if he
did do it." Goraidh paused and glanced around. "Speaking of
Athe, I wonder where he has gone? I don't know about ye, but
until we're well and far from Dundarave, I won't feel good not
keeping him in my sight."

Dar looked around the Great Hall. Save for the men who
had left to relieve the guards on the parapets, the numbers in
the room hadn't changed. And, considering the foul turn the
weather had taken, he couldn't blame any who chose to remain
in the vicinity of the fire.

The day had been overcast, with thick gray clouds lowering
over the mountains. Soon after they had returned from the
meeting with the Campbell, the skies had opened. Heavy torrents pelted the shake-shingled tower house. Thunder boomed
periodically overhead. Indeed, if the rain didn't cease before
they made their escape, it would make for a miserable journey this night. The only possible consolation was that the
noise of the downpour would cover their departure-and their
tracks.

Still, the fact that Athe had been gone from the Great Hall
for so long disturbed Dar as well. His brother had plans of his
own, ones he wasn't about to share. All they needed was for him
to make matters with the Campbells even worse. As if anything
could get any-

"Caitlin!"

Even as her name left his lips, Dar was already sprinting across
the Great Hall toward the entry area and stairs. There was nothing
he could imagine that could make things worse. Nothing but
Athe doing something to harm Caitlin.

As he took the stairs two at a time, the weariness of the already
long day melted away. The dull ache in his side was of little consequence. All that mattered was Caitlin, her safety.

His brother's hooded looks at Caitlin in the library earlier had
set Dar's instincts immediately on edge. But had Athe truly chosen
to act on his unsettling if indecipherable plans this quickly? And
what exactly were those plans?

Outside, thunder clapped, and the rain only seemed to fall the
harder. Water sleeted against the shuttered windows, clattering
against the old, rotted wood until the slatted boards shuddered
beneath the onslaught. At various spots in the roof, water dripped
through. In others, the effect was closer to a steady stream.

As he reached the top of the stairs and raced down the long
corridor to the library, he heard the sound of voices and hurried footsteps in the entry. Good. IfAthe was up to some nefarious act,
Dar might need assistance in overcoming his powerful brother.

A scream, faint but most definitely feminine, suddenly rent
the air. Clutching his now fiercely throbbing side, Dar sped down
the hallway. He reached the library door and nearly fell against
it, gasping for air.

Steady, he told himself. Just open the door quietly, see what's
going on inside, and buy yerself a bit of time to get back yer breath.
A the doesn't know ye've been injured, and ye may well need all the
appearance ofstrengthyepossess. Iffortune's indeed with ye, it won't
be as bad as ye fear.

Fortune, however, wasn't to be with him. Dar opened the door
to a scene that sent ice, then fire, shooting through his veins.

There, on the floor near the hearth, Athe fought with one
hand to pin down a bound and struggling Caitlin. With the other
hand, he laboriously tugged the skirt up her legs.

She kicked. She threw herself about. She railed at him to let her
go, interspersed with casting various other choice if unflattering
aspersions on his character. Nonetheless, he doggedly kept on,
as if what he intended on doing was more a task to be performed
than a pleasure.

"Athe," Dar snarled in between great gulps of air, "get off her.
Get off her now!"

For what seemed ploddingly long seconds, Athe didn't appear
as if he heard him, or was even aware of another's presence in
the room. Then, he glanced indolently back at Dar. He smiled
before returning his attention and efforts to Caitlin.

"Get out of here," Athe said, his tone casual, almost bored.
"Ye had yet chance at her and didn't take it. Now, it's my turn."

At the utter lack of regard for him and his demand, a familiar
trait harking back to their boyhood days, the last of Dar's control
shredded. With a growl of sheer, animalistic fury, he launched
himself across the room. A few steps and he was at his brother's back, his fingers digging into the thick folds of his plaid to jerk
him off and away from Caitlin.

Her eyes wide in surprise, she immediately rolled aside and
struggled to her knees, where she flipped her hair from her face
to stare up at them. Dar shot her a quick look as he dragged
the flailing Athe across the room toward the door. She looked
unscathed, save for a slight bruise on one cheekbone and a torn
bodice that exposed just the top of her chemise.

His intent was to haul his brother from the library, shove him
out the door, and lock it behind him. He knew he couldn't long
endure an actual fight before he would weaken and even break
open his wound anew. Dar's plan, he soon discovered, wasn't to
be.

With an enraged cry, Athe dug in his heels and twisted in
Dar's grip, breaking his hold. He scrambled to his feet, his face
purpling in anger, a murderous gleam in his eyes.

"Ye d-dare lay hands on yer ch-chief?" he stammered in his
infuriated ire. "Banishment wasn't enough for ye, was it? Mayhap
a taste of the whip might be more to yer liking? And that's if I'm
feeling particularly merciful!"

"Cease with the threats, Athe. They lost their effect a long while
ago. But I'll tell ye true. Chief or no, ye'll not harm the lass."

His brother looked him up and down. "And ye think ye're
finally man enough to take me on, do ye, little brother?"

"That's a verra good likelihood I am."

As he replied, Dar felt something warm trickle down his right
side. Curse it all, he must have broken open his wound in the act
of dragging that lumbering ox across the room. So much for all
of Caitlin and Goraidh's careful tending of the past few days.

Nothing was served, though, by worrying over what couldn't
be helped. All that mattered was protecting Caitlin and backing
down his brother-if that would ever be possible with such a
hot-tempered, arrogant man.

In the past, Dar had sometimes been able to ease Athe's propensity to solve all issues with battle by reason and, if that didn't
succeed, by an abject apology. But he was weary of always being
the one to accept the humiliation, if not the beating, without
standing up to Athe.

It had never mattered if Dar was right or wrong. Always backing down had won him nothing in the end. Neither his brother's
respect nor his father's love.

"Ye've always been spoiling to fight me, haven't ye? Well,"
Athe said, pulling out his dagger, "let's see how good ye really
are, little brother."

Behind Dar, Caitlin gasped as he slowly eased back, withdrawing his own knife. Though he didn't want to hurt his brother,
Dar also knew he couldn't endure a prolonged battle of parries
and thrusts. There seemed no other options, however. It was
evident Athe was determined, at all costs, to maintain his longheld supremacy.

Dagger in hand, Dar circled his brother, his muscles taut with
readiness, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet. Athe was
the first to strike, and strike he did with lightning swiftness.
Only the quickest of reflexes kept Dar from being slashed across
the middle. Even so, the passing trail of Athe's knife left a rent
in his shoulder plaid.

Dar's eyes narrowed. Evidently, his brother meant not only to
draw first blood but to do even worse.

His grip on his own knife tightened. This fight might not
end well for one-or both-of them. It might even result in
someone's death.

Then there were shouts and footsteps pounding down the
corridor. In the next instant, Feandan, Goraidh, Kenneth, and
several other men rushed into the room. At sight of the two
men, daggers in hand, Feandan, in the forefront, skidded to
a stop.

"What is this?" the older man demanded. "Are ye both daft?"

"Athe seems to think he can have whatever he wants, when he
wants it," Dar replied calmly, never taking his eyes off his brother.
"And he's decided he wants Caitlin."

"Are ye daft, man?" their uncle cried. "Ye ravish the lass, and
we're all as good as dead. And I don't mean weeks or months
from now!"

"It's also not verra honorable, Cousin," Kenneth offered, moving to his father's side.

"And what's it to any of ye what I choose to do?" Athe snarled,
continuing to circle Dar. "After what he's done to me, Campbell
deserves whatever humiliation I choose to serve him. And we'll
be long gone before he discovers I left his wee sister in a slightly
more soiled condition than when she first came to us."

"Ye'll have to first get past me," Dar said. "If ye can."