Sleepless in Scotland (34 page)

An ear-splintering crack of thunder blasted through the air. Bluebell shied violently, yanking the reins from the shrub. Triona made a desperate grab for them but Bluebell was mad with terror, her hooves pawing at the air near Triona’s head.

Triona ducked and stepped back toward the edge of the trail. It gave way beneath her boots and, with a gasp of terror, she went tumbling down the side of the ravine, landing on the flat rock.

All was silent, except for the sound of Bluebell’s hooves as she ran back to her stable.

And the rain beat down on Triona’s unconscious form, a rivulet of blood washing silently into the stream below.

“Home at last.” Hugh swung down from his horse and reached for Devon. She slipped into his arms, quaking with cold and exhaustion. “You’re lucky Uncle Dougal thought to search every outbuilding.”

“I-I-I know,” she chattered back.

Dougal tossed his reins to Ferguson and dismounted from his horse. “What a day! I’m famished. I hope Mrs. Wallis has something hot prepared.”

“Me, too.” Hugh hugged Devon tighter. “After you take the horses to the stables, Ferguson, come and eat.”

Dripping water, Hugh carried Devon into the house, then set her down in the foyer and removed his wet cloak from her shoulders.

Nora was the first to arrive. “Ye found her!”

Mrs. Wallis ran into the foyer. “Praise be!”

“She needs a hot bath and some food,” Hugh said.

“Especially some food,” Dougal added.

“Right away!” Mrs. Wallis turned to Angus. “I’ve hot soup ready. Fetch some towels and bring a hot bath to the nursery right away.”

Angus ran off and she turned back to Hugh. “Where was the lass?”

“Waiting out the storm in my brother’s barn.”

“I’m glad she had the sense to get out of the rain.”

Devon’s face crumpled. “I-I didn’t m-m-mean to be so m-m-much tr-trouble. I-I-I am just sorry ab-bout—”

“Shh.” Hugh kissed her cheek. “I’m just glad we found you. If something had happened to you—” His voice broke and he hugged her fiercely.

“Devon!”
Christina and Aggie ran down the stairs, and Hugh released her so she could hug her sisters. They threw themselves at her, jumping up and down. “We were so worried!” Christina said, hugging her sister hard. “Where was she?” she asked Hugh.

“At your uncle’s house.”

“That’s where I thought she’d be! I’m so glad Caitriona found you.”

“Caitriona?”

Christina’s smile faltered. “Didn’t she…”

Nora stepped forward. “Caitriona went to find ye at MacFarlane Manor, to tell ye about the girls’ hiding places there.”

For the second time that day, Hugh’s heart stopped.

The front door flew open and Ferguson ran in. “M’lord! Bluebell just returned without a rider!”

The floor tilted below Hugh’s feet.

Dougal frowned. “Caitriona couldn’t have gone to my house; we would have seen her.”

“She wouldn’t have taken the main road,” Christina said.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“She saw Devon and me take the old trail—the one through the valley.”

“I told you two never to take that trail! It’s treacherous,” Hugh said.

“We only use it when we’re late or”—she glanced at Dougal—“in trouble.”

“Damn it, if Caitriona took that trail—” Hugh turned toward the door.

“Wait!” Dougal grabbed his arm. “Eat first. It’s already been a long day and we can’t—“

Hugh jerked his arm free. “I have to find her.”

After a moment, Dougal nodded. “We will find her. I only hope the storm lets up a little.”

Nora glanced out the window. “It’s a big one, I can feel it in me bones.” Then her gaze narrowed. “It’s no’ of yer makin’, is it?”

“No,” Hugh said shortly. “Though I wish it were.”

“Why?”

“When I fight the storms made by my brothers, I know they’ve stopped developing them. This one”—he glanced out at the swirling black clouds overhead, the lightning that was cracking ever closer—“is getting worse.”

Dougal frowned. “What do you mean ‘fight the storms’?”

Nora snorted. “’Tis wha’ he did when yer brother Callum died.”

“When we found Hugh collapsed upon the parapets?”

“Aye. He’d given his all to stop the storms. “Her whizzened face puckered. “We almost lost him tha’ night, we did. There’s a cost fer such power.”

Dougal turned to his brother, but Hugh was already gone, head bent against the storm.

Muttering a curse, Dougal pulled his coat closer about his throat, bent his head, and went after his brother.

The rain was falling harder now, lightning crashing overhead, a fierce wind blowing rain directly into their eyes. The horses were forced to walk slowly, picking their way along the treacherous trail, stepping over fallen rocks and slick muddy gullies. In two places the rain had freshly washed away the entire path, and they’d been forced to jump the horses.

Hugh’s heart thudded sickly in his chest.
Caitriona, where are you? I have to find you.
Not to do so was a pain he couldn’t describe, a thought he couldn’t complete. He loved her.

And I never told her. I never told her how she’s made my life better. Never told her that there’s no better way to wake up than to have her beside me.

“There!” Dougal pointed ahead.

To one side of the trail was Devon’s hat. Had Caitriona seen it, too? Had she stopped here and—

“Let’s look down there!” Dougal pointed into the ravine below.

Hugh jumped off his horse, his boots sinking into the mud as he stepped to the edge and peered down.

At first he didn’t see anything; then something caught his gaze. Squinting through the hard rain, he finally saw Caitriona on a flat outcropping, her skirts twisted around her, her hair streaming over the rock as the water washed through it.

His chest threatened to explode. He tossed the reins to Dougal.

“Hugh, let me get a rope. You can’t just—”

But he was already scrambling down the steep hill. It was a miracle that the wet plants he grabbed didn’t pull out by their roots, and the mud-soft hill didn’t give way, but soon he was on the outcropping beside her.

She lay cheek down, muddy water giving her a brownish halo. The rain had filled an indentation of the rock, the puddle threatening to overtake her. He bent over her, shielding her from the rain. “Caitriona!”

She didn’t move.

He touched her, searching for wounds. She seemed intact, but one arm was pinned beneath her in a crevice. Try as he would, he couldn’t free her. The rain was pounding, the puddle growing deeper every moment.
She could drown!

“How is she?” Dougal called.

“She’s trapped! The rain is filling the indentation and—” He stared at his gloved hand, where he’d brushed her hair from her forehead. It wasn’t mud that encircled her head, but blood.
Oh, God, no.
He ripped off his gloves and searched, finding a deep gash over her ear.

So much blood—and so much water. She is going to drown while I watch! Oh, God, help me!

The world seemed to stop. Though the wind roared about him and the rain poured down, he could neither hear nor see. All he could do was feel the wild, painful beating of his own heart. And somewhere, deep inside, he could feel hers, too.

In that moment, calm reigned and he knew what he had to do. He could not free her from this ledge with the rain beating so fiercely. To save her, he had to force the weather to his will.

He stood over her, arms outstretched as he lifted his face to the skies and fought the storm with every fiber of his being.

“Hugh, no!”
Dougal took a step forward, halting as a huge chunk of the path crumbled and fell heavily below, skittering down the ravine and narrowly missing the rock where Hugh and Caitriona were.

Dimly aware of his brother, Hugh focused on the blackness above, on the torrents of water, on the crackling heat of the lightning. He pushed. He pushed with every ounce of his soul. With every drop of his blood. With every beat of his heart. He pushed and pushed, and the storm fought back with all its strength. It was young and angry, and wanted to expend itself now. But he could not allow that.
Would
not allow it.

Pain lanced through Hugh’s shoulders but he forced his arms to stay lifted toward the skies, taking in the power of the storm and fighting back, wrestling with the black, swirling mass with everything he had.

Lightning struck nearby, but he didn’t waver.
Die!
he screamed at the storm.
Die and leave us alone!

From the ledge above, heart pounding against his throat, Dougal watched as his brother fought the storm. Rain pounded on Hugh’s upturned face, and lightning cracked so close that it made the hair on Dougal’s neck rise.

Yet slowly, ever so slowly, the wind shifted. Then the rain began to abate. The lightning flashed less frequently, and the thunder rumbled farther away.

Hugh was winning. As soon as the rain had lightened enough for Dougal to get down the slope he did so, slipping and sliding, bruising his legs and hands.

He reached the ledge just as Hugh’s arms dropped to his sides and, like a limp rag, he sank to his knees. His face was paler than Dougal had ever seen it, the white streak over his brow glowing silver and wider now than before, but he managed to smile. “Help me free Caitriona,” he rasped. “Her arm is trapped.”

Dougal bent to her side, seeing the mounting water around her head for the first time. “She almost—” He couldn’t say it.

“She almost drowned.” Hugh came to kneel beside her. “But she didn’t.” He lifted her shoulder. “Smear some mud on her arm. Maybe that will help it slide out.”

Working gently, it took them quite a while, but they finally freed Caitriona. Dougal offered to carry her, but Hugh silenced him with a blazing look. As if she were made of the finest china, Hugh carefully lifted her and began the long, arduous climb to the road.

Epilogue

“Love doesna always mean burning flashes o’ passion. Sometimes, it’s jus’ the warmth o’ yer hearts as they beat yer day together.”

O
LD
W
OMAN
N
ORA TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ON A COLD WINTER’S NIGHT

Y
e can see him now,” Mam told Triona.

“It’s about time!” She started to rise from the settee where she’d been ensconced, then winced and pressed a hand to her bandaged head. “I know, I know. You warned me.”

“And as usual, ye dinna pay me the least heed.”

“It’s just that it’s been
days
—”

“Two.”

“—since I’ve seen Hugh.”

“He was no’ awake. Besides, ye needed the rest yerself. Now ye’re both on the mend.” Mam gave Triona her arm and they made their way out of the sitting room. Weak-kneed, her head aching, she walked slowly.

“Caitriona?”

Christina, Devon, and Aggie were coming down the stairs.

Triona smiled. “Have you seen your father?”

They nodded.

“He’s pale,” Christina said. “But other than that, he looks well.”

“He’s fine,” Devon said, smiling shyly at Triona. “Papa asked for you, too.”

Christina chuckled. “Actually, he threatened to burn down the house if Grandmama didn’t bring you right away.”

Triona sent Mam a startled look. When had she become “Grandmama”?

Mam beamed at the girls. “Ye were good sickroom visitors, ye were. Ye didna hang upon him nor wear him down wit’ nonsense.”

“We took him presents,” Aggie said. “Christina embroidered his old slippers so they look new, and Devon sewed him a sachet for the wardrobe, and I drew him a picture.”

“I’m sure he loved all of them,” Triona said.

Mam told the girls, “I know ye’ve lots to say to Triona, but she canna stand fer long yet. Let me get her settled wit’ yer da’ and then ye can come see them both.”

Aggie’s face lit up. “Now?”

“Soon. Give them a half hour together, first.”

The girls smiled and turned to leave, then Devon hesitated. “Grandmama wouldn’t let me see you, but…thank you for looking for me.”

Triona leaned on Mam and took another step. “I did what any parent would do—you were lost and I went to find you.”

Devon’s eyes filled. “I’d hug you, but Grandmama would yell.”

“So I would,” Mam agreed. “There’s enough time fer such maudlin going’s on later. Now, off wit’ ye or I’ll change me mind about lettin’ ye eat lunch wit’ yer parents.”

Devon gave a blinding smile and the girls left, talking happily.

Mam helped Triona up the rest of the steps. They reached the landing and, knees shaking, Triona leaned against the wall outside the door. “My hair must be a mess.”

“Och, ye look like ye’ve been in a sickroom, which ye have.”

Triona sighed. “I wish I had a comb—”

Mam opened the door and led her in. “Yer husband willna care if ye’re a mess or not.”

“No, he won’t,” came a deep voice from the settee by the fireplace.

Triona looked into Hugh’s green eyes, drowning in a blaze of familiar warmth.

He grinned and patted the cushion beside him. “My nurse has suggested we are running her ragged by making her keep two sickrooms.”

“Aye,” Mam said. “’Tis weary I am from traipsin’ up and down the stairs over and over.” Mam helped her to sit down.

Caitriona was immediately enveloped in Hugh’s warm embrace.

“There,” Mam said with evident satisfaction. “Now, if ye’ll excuse me, I’ve porridge to make fer lunch.”

Hugh groaned. “No more porridge!”

“That’s all ye’re gettin’ till ye’ve lost tha’ last bit o’ fever.” Mam collected a small glass from the table. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes wit’ yer lunch. The bairns will be joinin’ ye, I think.” She paused by the door. “And try no’ to fight, as ’tis bad fer a man wit’ a fever to get excited.”