Page 29 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T he silence in the chamber stretched taut as they all stared at the deadly mechanism protruding from what should have been a harmless wedding gift.

Ruaridh felt something cold and final settle in his chest—the knowledge that no amount of vigilance would ever be enough, that Murray's reach extended even into their most private moments.

Gordon was the first to break the silence, carefully setting the weaponized box on the table and stepping back. "Well," he said, his usual humor notably absent, "that certainly changes the tenor of the morning."

"Aye," Ruaridh replied grimly, his mind already cataloguing the security failures that had allowed this threat to reach their chamber. "It daes."

Gordon studied his friend's face for a long moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "Ruaridh, I think it's time fer me tae return tae me own clan."

"What?" Iona looked up sharply. "But ye just arrived?—"

"Aye, and now I've seen enough tae ken that this isn't just a Highland feud anymore. This is war." Gordon's expression was serious in a way Ruaridh rarely remembered from their childhood. "Which means it's time fer allies tae stand together."

Ruaridh felt a stirring of something that might have been hope. "What are ye saying?"

"I'm saying the Mackintoshes have nae forgotten our friendship, even if politics have kept us apart these past years.

" Gordon moved to the window, looking out at the courtyard below.

"And I'm saying that when I return home, I'll be bringing word of what I've seen here.

Word of treachery that reaches beyond clan borders. "

"Gordon, I cannae ask ye tae risk yer clan fer our troubles?—"

"Ye're nae asking. I'm offering." Gordon turned back to face them both. "This is exactly the kind of moment when allies prove their worth. When friends stand together instead of letting politics and old grudges keep them apart."

Ruaridh felt his throat tighten with an emotion he couldn't name. After months of feeling isolated, of facing threats with only his own clan's resources, the promise of support felt like a lifeline.

"How many men could ye bring?" he asked quietly.

"Fifty, maybe seventy-five if me faither agrees tae commit our full strength.

Seasoned fighters, all of them." Gordon's smile returned, though it held a harder edge than before.

"And maybe, if we're lucky, word of our alliance will encourage other clans to remember where their loyalties should lie. "

"It would mean everything," Ruaridh said simply.

"Aye, well, that's what friends are fer." Gordon's expression softened as he looked between Ruaridh and Iona. "Besides, I can see ye've got something worth fighting fer."

"What dae ye mean?"

Gordon gestured vaguely toward them both.

"This. The way ye look at her, the way she looks at ye.

" His smile became more genuine. "I'm starting tae see a part of ye that I thought ye had lost during the war, Ruaridh.

The part that remembers how tae care about something other than duty and survival. "

Ruaridh, but he didn't deny it. "Iona has... she's helped me remember who I used tae be."

"And who ye still are, underneath all that Highland stoicism." Gordon moved toward the door, then paused. "Hold onto that, braither. Whatever comes next, dinnae let this war turn ye back into the cold bastard ye were becoming. She's good fer ye."

"I ken."

"Dae ye? Because the man who married her is a far better leader than the one who came back from war. The clan needs that man, nae just the warrior." Gordon's expression grew serious again.

The words hit deeper than Ruaridh had expected. "How long will it take ye tae return with reinforcements?"

"A week, maybe ten days if the weather holds. Can ye keep things quiet that long?"

"We'll have tae."

Gordon nodded, then moved to embrace first Iona, then Ruaridh in the Highland way. "Watch yer backs. Both of ye. And dinnae open any more mysterious gifts without me here tae spring the traps."

"We willnae," Iona promised, though her smile was shaky

After Gordon left, the chamber felt larger and emptier. Ruaridh looked at the remaining unopened gifts, then at his wife, and made a decision.

"I’ll have the guards open the rest of the gifts," he said.

Iona nodded slowly, then moved to help him gather the packages. "And then we write that letter tae the king?"

"Aye. Taeday." He paused in his collection of potentially deadly presents. "Gordon's right, ye ken. About what ye've done fer me."

"What have I done?"

"Made me remember that some things are worth more than survival. Worth fighting fer instead of just enduring." He met her eyes. "Made me remember that I want tae live, nae just exist."

She stepped closer, her hand finding his. "Then let's make sure we both get that chance."

He turned from the fire to find her glancing toward the window with longing. "I've been thinking about what ye said yesterday. About nae being able tae live trapped in these walls."

"Aye." She didn't deny it, and he was grateful for her honesty. "I ken ye're trying tae protect me, but?—"

"But ye need tae feel free, even if it's just fer a few hours." He moved to stand beside her at the window, following her gaze to the forest beyond the castle walls. "I might have a solution fer that."

Her eyes brightened with interest. "What kind of solution?"

"There's a path. An old hunting trail that leads through the woods tae a small lodge me faither built years ago. It's well hidden, far from any main roads, and I'd bet me sword that half me men dinnae ken it exists, nae tae talk of Murray."

"Ye'd take me there?"

"If ye want tae leave these walls fer a while, it's the safest way I can think of." He studied her face, seeing hope war with caution. "It's nae much—just a small shelter fer hunters caught in bad weather. But it's outside the castle, and it's ours."

The smile that spread across her face was brighter than any he'd seen since their wedding. "When can we go?"

"Now, if ye like. The path starts near the old oak grove, and the walk isn't difficult."

Within the hour, they were making their way through the castle's rear gates, Ruaridh leading the way along a trail so faint it was barely visible among the heather and bracken. The morning air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and the promise of approaching autumn.

"How did ye find this path?" Iona asked as they walked, her voice lighter than it had been in days.

"Me faither showed it tae me when I was a lad. Said every laird needed tae ken ways in and out of his lands that others couldnae follow." He pushed aside a low-hanging branch, holding it fer her to pass. "I used tae come here when I needed tae think."

"It was me sanctuary. I would come here often. It became somewhere I could be just Ruaridh instead of the heir tae Clan MacDuff."

They walked in comfortable silence fer a while, following the winding trail deeper into the forest. Ancient oaks rose around them like cathedral pillars, their branches forming a canopy that filtered the light into dancing patterns on the forest floor.

It was when they were perhaps halfway to the hunting lodge that the first drops began to fall.

"Is that rain?" Iona asked, looking up at the sky through the trees.

As if her words had summoned it, the heavens opened. What had been a light sprinkle became a steady downpour within minutes, soaking through their clothes and turning the path treacherous with mud.

"The lodge is just ahead," Ruaridh called over the sound of rain drumming against the leaves. "We can shelter there until it passes."

They ran the last quarter mile, their boots squelching in the muddy trail as the rain intensified. By the time they reached the small stone building nestled in a clearing, they were both thoroughly drenched.

"Thank God," Iona gasped, stumbling through the door Ruaridh held open fer her.

The hunting lodge was simple but well-maintained—a single room with a stone fireplace, a few pieces of rough furniture, and shuttered windows that kept out the worst of the weather. Ruaridh moved immediately to the fireplace, where dry wood waited fer just such an emergency.

"There should be blankets in the chest by the wall," he said, coaxing flames from the kindling. "And some basic provisions if ye're hungry."

Iona found the blankets and wrapped one around her shoulders, shivering as she moved closer to the growing fire. "How long dae ye think the rain will last?"

"Hard tae say. Highland weather can be unpredictable." He settled beside her on the rough wooden bench, close enough to share warmth. "But we're safe here. Warm and dry, at least."

"It's peaceful," she said, looking around the simple space. "I can see why ye came here as a lad and then later."

"It was different when I was a lad. Everything was.

" The words came out more thoughtfully than he'd intended, and when she looked at him with those perceptive hazel eyes, he found himself continuing.

"I used tae think the world was essentially good, ye ken.

That honor mattered, that right would always triumph over wrong in the end. "

"And now?"

"Now I ken better." He stared into the fire, watching the flames dance. "The war taught me what men are truly capable of when they think no one's watching. What they'll dae tae each other in the name of politics or revenge or simple cruelty."

"What happened tae ye, Ruaridh?" Her voice was soft, careful. "During yer captivity?"

He was quiet fer so long she probably thought he wouldn't answer. But sitting there in that place that had once been his refuge, with rain drumming on the roof and her presence beside him like an anchor, the words came easier than they ever had before.