Page 1 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)

“ Y e cannae get away from us, lassie!”

Olivia snorted through her nose, wanting nothing more than to spit a retort back.

A ragged gasp clawed cold air against her chest, and she bit back her temper to focus on navigating the overgrown path ahead.

Weaving between the trees was hard enough; she didn’t need to distract herself further with formulating witty barbs to hurl at her pursuers.

Everything she had was dedicated to avoiding the skeletal grasp of low-hanging branches, of twisted and gnarled roots determined to snag her feet and bring their chase to a grinding halt. And then, of course, there was her mother to worry about.

She felt her arm jerk backwards and Olivia bit back a curse, forcefully spun around to watch her mother stumble once more to the ground. It was like being chained to a fallen oak, the once-proud wife of Laird MacCulloh now deadweight as she knelt over on the ground, gasping wildly.

“Nay, Maither–!” Olivia dropped to her knees as well, grasping her mother’s hands as she begged desperately. “Please, we cannae stop yet!”

Her mother squeezed her hand weakly, still unable to speak between greedy gulps of air.

For a moment, Olivia couldn’t help but stare at her, taking in the heavy lines of her face, the strands of familiar, fiery hair, streaked with white and falling free from its updo.

It was like looking into a mirror, staring at a future with eyes a far more crystalline blue than her own.

For a moment, all Olivia could see was her own fatigue, reflected in her mother’s age.

The flickering heads of torchlight broke through the veil of night, and Olivia shook free from her stupor. She allowed herself a proper swear this time and began to tug on her mother’s arm, desperate to get her back upright.

“Ye have to leave me, a sheòid,” her mother finally managed to hiss out. “Yer quicker than me; ye can outrun ‘em.”

“Dinnae make me choose that, Maither. We can do this, just–just hold on a little longer.” Olivia urged whatever strength she had to well forth and fill her mother’s being.

Miraculously, the pair managed to get back onto their feet, and she turned to try and break into a run once more.

Only, this time, her mother’s grasp didn’t hold her back, but caught her from crashing to the ground.

Again, Olivia swore, her legs trembling beneath her and heavier than lead.

Again, the thought entered her mind–of surrender, of simply stopping and letting fate run its course–and her fatigue crept up the length of her spine, pressing against her in a nefarious bid to keep her sprawled out across the ground.

“Olivia,” Her mother helped her back up this time, pulling the pair deeper into the dense brush. “My brave bairn, mo laochain –they’re nae lookin’ for an old woman to take back with them.”

Olivia shook her head furiously. “Dinnae start with me. I willnae leave ye–!” Her voice caught in the back of her throat at the sound of crashing leaves, and she pulled her mother farther into the overgrowth.

Torchlight quickly broke through into their grove, the shouts of their pursuers deafening now as they drew close.

“Listen to me, Olivia” her mother’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Run far, far ahead, then meet me at the convent in two days’ time.”

“M-Maither…”

“Dinnae argue with me,” Her mother hissed, desperately fighting to keep her voice low. “I–I cannae go on if I dinnae ken ye’re safe. Now, ye remember the way? From yer rides with yer faither?”

Olivia hesitated, unable to speak past the growing lump in her throat.

“I ken it looks different atop horseback, but–but ye must be safe.” Her mother’s tone was on the edge of begging. “Please, love, I need you to listen–”

“–Get out here, ye wee MacCulloh!” One of their pursuers called out. “Yer faither’s sins still have to be paid fer!”

“How ye like being hunted, lass?” Another cackled. “Nae any fun, aye?”

“Least it’s nae a Laird,” someone growled close by. “Ol’ MacDonnell’s ruthless in a fight.”

Olivia’s hands trembled in her mother’s grasp, biting her lip furiously as the torches drew closer. It was all a nightmare, some terrible figment of her overreactive imagination.

“Well, we can be just as frightening, cannae we?” The first man sneered. “After all, MacDonnell only kills ye; we’re nae lettin’ that pretty wee thing off so easily.”

“Lot to pay fer, after all,” the second agreed.

“An’ pay fer, an’ pay fer, till our beds split in two!” the third howled with laughter.

Yes, a nightmare; Olivia would soon wake up back in her own bed, back behind the thick, sturdy walls of MacCulloh’s keep.

She’d hear her father and brother’s spirited debating from downstairs, their laughter followed by the mouthwatering smell of square sausages cooking over the hearth.

Instead, the acrid burn of animal fat stuck to the back of her throat, and it took all she had not to scream as a torch waved above the women' s heads.

Her mother suddenly lunged forward, tackling into the closest man. They both hit the ground with a hard thud, a crunch of bone chorusing with the thick plop of the now-snuffed torch sinking into mud. Darkness briefly obscured the area, and instinct quickly overtook Olivia.

She scrambled beneath the brush and slipped behind the wide base of a tree, using its trunk to pull back upright before taking off into the forest once more. Behind her, an orange glow filled the grove she once stood at, the air filled with shouts of outrage.

“We’ll meet again,” Olivia promised, though it was less for her mother’s sake and more for her own. She had to believe they’d reunite in two days’ time; for now, all her efforts had to be on putting as much distance as possible between herself and her pursuers.

While it was a relief to no longer see an orange glow trailing behind her, Olivia had to admit that such a light source would be incredibly handy right now. The night only grew darker with each passing minute, the moon obscured by the forest’s canopy.

Whatever pallid beams managed to slip through its dense foliage were of little use; nothing more than mere slivers to alert Olivia that the ground, in fact, was still overgrown.

More than once, her foot had caught against uneven ground, and the temptation to kick her slippers into the brush grew with each stub of her toe.

“Aw, ye gowkin’ eejit, Olivia!” She slowed her pace, propping her body against a sturdy oak as she pulled the shoes free.

They were of simple make, holes torn through the sides from an endless night of running.

In fairness, they hadn’t been made to traverse across the wilds–in fairness, Olivia hadn’t exactly planned to flee into the night.

There had only been so much time when she’d entered through the castle’s window, and she’d barely had enough to find her mother and grab them a pair of arisaids for travel.

Her own hung heavily against her shoulders, soaked with sweat that attracted the cool, nighttime air.

For a moment, she considered dropping the shawl where she stood; it was only slowing her down, at this point, and if the men from MacCulloh stumbled across it, maybe they’d assume she’d met her fate out in this wooded hell.

Her thumb brushed across the somewhat clumsy stitching, remembering needle-pricked fingers and a toothy smile as her younger self held the freshly-sewn piece up for her mother to see.

Shaking her head, Olivia draped the arisaid around her head, utilizing it as a hooded cloak before setting off into a jog once more.

A brief jog. One that came to an unceremonious end as her foot caught against the most despicable of all tree roots. She immediately lurched forward, crashing down the side of a ravine in a disastrous display.

Her arms tucked tightly against her head as stones and upturned ground smacked against her body, finally ending with a dull splash and the unpleasant sensation of true, bitter cold.

Flailing, Olivia managed to smash her hands through the water’s surface, her head following soon after as she gasped breathlessly.

“Of all the bloody–!”

It looked to be a tarn she’d tumbled into, the side of the ravine stretching out beneath the moonlight into the steep base of a mountain.

Olivia spluttered, body quickly numbing against the water’s icy grip.

She forced her arms and legs to move in a clumsy attempt at swimming, catching sight of the shoreline a mere stone’s throw away.

Now more than ever, her arisaid weighed against her, completely water-soaked and growing heavier with each stroke she took. Again, the thought crossed her mind to abandon it, only for her head to jerk underwater.

Limbs flailing, it became increasingly obvious that some part of her had been snagged.

The harder she thrashed, the more entangled she grew, the water’s murk leaving her zero chance to find what had grabbed her, where she had been grabbed.

A stream of bubbles escaped her tightened jaw, the cold now turning to a dull, aching burn.

Even if she wanted to abandon her arisaid now, it had completely wrapped itself around her body. In some horrifically dark part of her mind, Olivia was glad some spiritual part of her mother would be with her while she drowned.

Drowned…was she really going to allow herself to go like this?

Her body relaxed, arms drifting above her head as a few more bubbles escaped.

What was she going to do after she surfaced?

If she made it to the shoreline at all? She was soaking wet, unable to start even a basic fire to tend to the cold that seeped well into her bones. And then what?

A slow, painful wait for death as she froze.

And even if–God-giving–she managed a fire at all–it would only attract the very men who hunted her.

Who had likely taken her mother back to the keep, made an example of her to the others who’d hesitated to rebel against their once-Laird’s family.

And if someow– someow –Olivia somehow evaded those very men…

who was waiting for her, after all of this?

Her lungs pushed out the remainder of air, a stream of bubbles racing to the surface as her hair drifted like dead seaweed. This…really was her only option.

Her lungs pushed out the remainder of air, a stream of bubbles racing to the surface as her hair drifted like dead seaweed. This…really was her only option.

Weakly, Olivia’s arms pulled the arisaid tightly around her, the burning ache of her body slowly fading away alongside her consciousness. It would be alright; her mother was here for her, and soon, her father and brother would greet her with smiling faces and spirited banter.

At least, until something ripped her back through the water’s surface.