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Chapter Ten – Freya

I was swimming, kicking, thrashing, arms and legs wheeling. Yet no matter how hard I struggled, I seemed unable to reach the top of the water, unable to break through to the surface. Arms flailing, I kept getting close. I would poke my fingers up, so tantalizingly near to the world above, and a breeze would hit them with a promise of escape, the promise of air, but then I would be dragged back under.

The first time, it was my da who pulled me below. Gripping me steady, a strong hand wrapped round my ankle. I fought him with all I had in me. I was kicking and screaming, incomprehensible words bursting from my mouth, coming out as bubbles and glugs that rose to the surface through the depths of the warm loch waters. I went up again. Kicking furiously, I shot upwards, my lungs pressing against my chest, my breath short but not yet urgent, not yet dire. This time, with a desperate shove, my entire hand broke above the surface. I couldn’t see under the murky water, but a hand clamped around my leg again and wrenched me back down.

I came face to face with Donald. I pummeled his chest, frantic, but it was useless. He dragged me down, down, down. The water grew cold and dark, darker still, and the pressure in my lungs increased. My feet touched ground at the bottom of the vast loch, and mud squished between my toes, gritty and thick, like it would trap me forever. Donald slid his hand around the back of my neck, gripping hard until pain throbbed there, as he’d done so often in the bedchamber when guiding me , as he’d called, it to please him. And then he disappeared as suddenly as he’d come.

The pressure in my lungs increased, hurting me and scaring me, and causing my heart to pound. I didn’t want to die here, trapped underneath the surface of the loch water. I kicked hard, clawing to the top, breaking the surface, seeing the distant shore, but it was a brief moment, before hands circled my waist and back under I went to find myself staring at my second husband. Laird Sinclair gripped my hair and yanked my head back, making my scalp sting and burn. His teeth sank into my shoulder breaking the surface of my skin. He liked to leave his love mark, he said. That was no love I wanted any part of. He too disappeared, but he slowly faded away.

My lungs screamed at me now and the need to breathe drove me up toward the surface once more. I sliced my hands through the water as quick as my arms would allow and kicked as if demons themselves were behind me nipping at my heels. As I neared the surface, Laird Buchanan appeared, reaching toward me and terror caused me to scream, kick, and flail my arms attempting to back away from him before he could reach me. He grasped my neck, drew me toward him, and set his mouth over mine, sucking the little life left in me. My limbs grew heavy, my mind groggy, and my heart slowed to the thudding beat of the dead. I had no more fight. What I needed was someone to battle for me long enough for me to regain my strength.

Freya.

The one word came from above me.

I looked up toward the surface, suddenly so near once more. Above, Laird MacDonald battled with Laird Buchanan. How had they gotten there? They swung their swords, the clank of metal hitting metal reverberating sound below the surface of the water to me. A dagger appeared in Laird Buchanan’s hand, and he threw it, hitting Laird MacDonald in the shoulder, but the man didn’t even blink his eyes. He plunged his own sword deep into Laird Buchanan’s belly, then he looked straight at me, as if he could see I needed help, as if he would help me.

Swim to me , he said, reaching out his hand. I’ll pull ye up. I’ll nae let ye slip back under .

“Freya!”

The urgency in my sister’s tone, startled me so that I blinked, and there she was, standing over me, hair lying in soft curls around her face, dark smudges under her eyes gone, and a pretty pink healthy flush.

“Yer awake!” she said, grinning. She leaned down to hug me and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

The kiss certainly felt real. Was I awake? I looked around the room. I didn’t know this place. Beyond the bed I lay in there was one wardrobe, a table that appeared to hold a wash pot, and a wash tub that looked to have seen better days. There were no tapestries on the walls to make the room inviting, no rushes on the floors to help keep the warmth from the fire that was burning in the grate in the room, and the bed was lumpy. No, this was not my bedchamber at home.

“Freya?” Vanora leaned close, concern dancing in her eyes. She set her hand upon my forehead, and her warmth immediately seeped into my skin. I was indeed awake, but not at home, and my mouth felt full of cinder.

“Wine,” I croaked, barely getting the one word out.

A woman came forward, holding a goblet in her hand. I frowned, unsure if she was a vision or real? Had I lost my mind? She stopped beside Vanora, and I stared, because something in her eyes was so familiar. They were the blue of the loch after a storm came through and the sun finally graced the sky again. They were bright, bold, and mesmerizing, and I could have sworn I’d seen them before, or a pair of them that looked just like hers.

She reached behind my neck, sliding a gentle hand there to cradle my head as one would a bairn’s, and then ever so slowly, she brought the goblet to my lips. “Drink,” she said.

I didn’t normally care to be ordered about, but this was one order to which I gladly capitulated. As the wine filled my mouth and cooled the burn in my throat, I felt instant relief. When I was finished, I pushed the goblet away, looking between the stranger and my sister, and I attempted to sit. My arms trembled with the effort, and both the stranger and my sister made a move to aid me, but I said, “I’ve got it.” My voice sounded ancient like a door that had gone ages without being opened. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Three days off and on,” Vanora said, sitting on the bed beside me. “I was worried, but Katherine said yer body and mind were simply taking time to heal.”

“Are ye Katherine?” I asked, looking to the woman with the eyes that seemed familiar.

“Aye.” She offered a kind smile that reached her eyes. “I’m Colin’s sister.”

“Colin?”

“Laird MacDonald,” Vanora supplied, sounding pleased enough to do so. Her tone eased a bit of the trepidation building within me for waking up in a strange place. If Vanora had been ill-treated, I’d hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes .

“Ye lied about my stepbrother,” I said to Katherine.

“Nay,” she replied. Her lips pressed into a hard thin line. “I did nae lie. Bran and yer da attacked Dunscaith.”

“They would nae have broken the treaty,” I insisted. My da is honorable.” He had done things I’d hated, but he’d done it to protect the clan. “Yer brother broke the treaty!”

Katherine’s brows dipped into a deep frown, and she gave a little shake of her head. “Ye confuse me.”

“I dunnae doubt it’s hard, given ye are a MacDonald.” I was not feeling charitable at the moment.

Her nostrils flared, but she took a long breath before speaking. “Ye have survived four unwanted husbands—”

“Three,” I corrected her. “My marriage to Buchanan was nae consummated.” Thanks to her brother, but I was in no mood to give the man any credit. Aye, he’d rescued me, but he’d done so to wed me himself. To use me. I had no doubts about this.

Katherine nodded. “I believe ye are cunning, but I can nae equate cunningness to yer willingness to believe lies. My brother had to take Eilean Donnan before yer da and stepbrother cut off the trade route to our clan. And he came for me. To save me. Once he knew the manner of man yer stepbrother was, he would nae leave me with him.”

I snorted at that. “Yer brother took Eilean Donnan to control the trade route.”

“My brother does nae have a wish to control the trade route,” she snapped, frowning at me. “He simply wishes to live in peace and have equal access to the route and nae have it used to control our clan.”

“Oh, aye?” I said, letting all the sarcasm I felt come through in my tone. “Then I suppose yer brother will be returning me to my clan.”

“I can nae do that,” came a velvet-edged deep voice .

“Exactly as I suspected,” I muttered, looking immediately to the door where the response had come from. In the threshold, consuming much of the space with his powerful arms above his hands to clasp the top of the doorframe, stood the man Laird MacDonald. My mind flashed for a second to our first meeting on the stairs when I was holding the looking glass. I’d seen him and his brother when I was trying to ascertain who my future husband might be. I inhaled a sharp breath. Was it Laird MacDonald? Unease rippled through me. I did nae want another husband at all, but especially nae other one who wanted me for my sight.

But another memory hit me. His tackling Donald when Donald had slapped me. And Laird MacDonald saving me in the forest when Laird Buchannan tried to ravish me. I recalled the vision I’d seen of him saving his sister. “Ye saved yer sister,” I said, feeling immediately foolish. Of course he had. But it was still strange to me, my visions. I hated them for what they’d done to me, but here, here was something good that had come from them.

“Aye,” he said, nodding.

I thought about my vision. Katherine had been captured and blinded in one eye. Her dog had been blinded in one eye as well. And her servant. I looked to her, curious just how correct my sight was. “Do ye have a dog and a servant who is close to ye who would lay down his life for ye?”

“Aye. Dyamant is my dog. Jon is the stablemaster who had known me since I was born. He’d lay his life down for me.”

“Why do ye ask?” Laird MacDonald inquired, lowering his arms. I could not help but stare at him. He wore only braies, no tunic, and his body was the most powerful I’d ever seen. He was crafted of sinewy muscle and broad shoulders, as if he’d spent every moment of every day swinging a sword. His abdomen looked to be hard planks fastened together. And he moved with the easy grace of a man in expert control of every muscle of his body. “Lass?”

Heat singed my cheeks when I realized I’d been staring. I swallowed my embarrassment. “They are things I saw in my vision of the future if ye did nae rescue Katherine.”

“That sounds like something yer stepbrother would do,” Katherine said. “He’s a violent man.”

I wanted to deny it, but I had no great love for Bran. He’d been the sort of boy who was mean to the hounds and stray cats at our stronghold, and who had mercilessly teased other boys who were not as strong as he was, so my vision had not shocked me. I knew why Da had put Bran at Eilean Donnan. Bran was ruthless, but surely Da would not look the other way if he knew Bran had ill-treated Katherine. “My da would have stopped yer ill treatment had he known of it,” I said to Katherine, wanting to defend Da.

Vanora nodded but Katherine snorted. Laird MacDonald took a step into the bedchamber. I pulled the bedcovers underneath my chin. I was aware they were no protection against a man, still, I could not help myself.

“What makes ye think that?” Laird MacDonald asked. “Yer Da did nae stop the ill-treatment against ye? In fact, he wed ye to Donald after he saw the man hit ye.”

I could not deny that last sentence, and it shamed me and angered me. “My da told Donald if he ever laid a hand on me again, he’d attack his castle and gain me back.”

Laird MacDonald’s disbelieving snort increased my anger. “Yer da chose power over yer safety. Was his plan to attack the castle and rescue ye after ye were harmed again?”

I glared at the man, not liking the doubt his question raised in me for my own da. “Ye do nae ken my da!”

“I ken him enough,” Laird MacDonald said. I didn’t like the quiet surety in his tone. “He fought my family for years for the stronghold because he craves power.”

“That is nae true. My da craved peace.”

Laird MacDonald cocked his eyebrows. “Is that what ye tell yerself, so ye do nae have to face that he keeps choosing power over ye?”

“Colin,” Katherine said, and I heard the warning in her voice to her brother, as if I was some fragile flower she needed to protect.

“I do nae need ye to protect me,” I snapped at her, then turned the full force of my ire on her brother. “Ye think yerself better than my da?”

His stare was unblinking, unapologetically arrogant. “I think I’d nae ever allow my sister to wed a man that hit her.”

I felt my nostrils flare at the subtle blow he’d delivered me. “Ye allowed her to handfast with my stepbrother.” I made a guess that Bran had hit her, given her earlier comment.

A dark cloud settled on his face. “I did nae ken yer stepbrother’s temperament when I did nae protest the handfast. And when I did come to know his true nature, when Katherine finally revealed it, I came for her.”

I made a derisive sound from my chest. “Ye came for Eilean Donnan.”

“Aye,” he nodded, surprising me with his honesty. “Because yer da and stepbrother attacked Dunscaith and broke the treaty between our clans.” I scowled. So much for honestly. “But I would have come simply for my sister.”

I forced myself to unclench my jaw to speak. “My da did nae order such an attack. He would nae ever break a treaty he agreed to. He has honor.”

“Then Bran broke the treaty, and yer da needs to ken it. ”

“Lies,” I muttered. “Bran follows my da’s orders.”

“As I said,” Laird MacDonald replied, sounding smug, “yer da broke the treaty.”

I tensed all over and looked to the stand beside me for something to throw at the insufferable man. Vanora squeezed my hand and that drew my attention back to her. “Tis a gift from the gods that Laird MacDonald was in the Dark Woods when we were and stumbled upon ye and aided ye.”

I laughed at that, which set an injured look upon Vanora’s face. “I’m sorry, sister. Ye are young. And sweet.” Refreshingly open to seeing the good in others. And still naive, despite how she had changed and become less afraid, stronger. “Laird MacDonald being in the woods was nae a gift from the gods.” I speared him with what I hoped was a glacial look. He stared back, unblinking and looking unaffected, be damned the man. “I do nae ken what lies they have fed ye while I slept, but Laird MacDonald was only in the woods to hunt me, so he could capture me, and use me to keep control of Eilean Donnan and defeat Da. Is that nae correct, Laird MacDonald?”

“Vanora,” Katherine said, rushing toward Vanora and I to take her hand. “Why do we nae go gather some refreshments for yer sister from the kitchen and let her and my brother speak?”

“Nay!” I protested, alarmed by the thought of being alone with any man.

Katherine cocked questioning eyebrows at her brother, and I understood then that she would do as he bid. Did she do it out of fear or out of earned loyalty?

“Would ye wish for yer sister to be subject to all we may say to each other?” Laird MacDonald asked.

I hated him. Or the anger coursing through me certainly felt like hate. Of course, I did not want to be the cause of Vanora thinking every man was evil like I did. But that wasn’t the only reason I wanted her to stay. I did not want to be alone with him. My gaze fell to the edge of his braies. I knew what lie under there. He hadn’t attempted to wed me yet, but maybe he cared not for doing so first? I could feel the furrow of my brow, the way my breath had increased, and the coverlet now under my chin. I blinked, only realizing I had pulled it all the way up to cover me, as if that would offer any protection if he wanted to take me.

His hard expression softened, and it felt like I was suddenly stripped bare, all my shame and fear on display. I despised the weakness and him for revealing it and seeing it.

“I’ll stand by the door,” he offered to me, “but I would speak with ye alone.”

I begrudgingly nodded, as I saw no other good choice. Vanora exited the room with Lady Katherine, and when Laird MacDonald immediately took a step toward me, I scrambled backward to press my back against the headboard of the bed while my heart threatened to thump out of my chest. “Ye promised!” I hissed.

“Aye. And I intend to keep it. I wanted to give ye this,” he said, reaching down toward his thigh, grasping the dagger sheathed there, and extending it to me by the hilt. I stared at it; sure it was some sort of trickery. He smiled slowly. “’Tis nae trickery.”

Did the man read minds?

“Nay,” he said, chuckling. “I did nae read yer mind.” I gasped. “Ye’re the only one with the power to see into the future here,” he said.

I took the dagger and wrapped my fingers around the cool metal of the hilt. “I’m surprised ye would give me a weapon. Are ye nae fearful I’ll plant it in yer black heart?” I asked, allowing a smile, I hope conveyed the unfriendliness I felt, to curl my lips upward.

His gaze did not become hard at my display of anger but surprisingly softened a bit. “I would earn yer trust. And I’m a watchful man.”

I snorted. “It will take more than a dagger to earn my trust. Let me go. Better yet, give me an escort back to my home.”

“I can nae do that, Freya,” he said, taking a step toward me.

I motioned at him, alarmed but also surprised by the remorse I thought I heard in his voice. My alarm won out, though. “Back up as ye said ye would, please.”

To his credit, he did so without question. Though he probably did so because he had considered that it would be harder for me to hit him with the weapon he’d given me.

“If ye will nae send me home, then I presume I was correct that ye were in the woods hunting me.” He did not reply, only stood and stared with a closed expression, which stoked my ire. “To use me for my sight.”

Interest flickered across his features. “Do ye have control of yer sight?”

That these words were the ones that conjured the first real interest I’d seen, infuriated me more. It was always about my sight. I could tell him I was gaining more every day. That would be somewhat true. I could not always force the visions to come. Nor could I always get them to come when I wanted them too, but I was getting better at it. The one thing that I could not do at all was conjure any visions of my own future. When I tried I still saw black. But instead of saying any of that to my enemy, I said, “Wouldn’t ye like to ken.”

“I would,” he said, surprising me yet again with the honest answer. He started to step forward, then drew his foot back as if remembering his promise. I would not soften. He did not deserve gratefulness. “Freya, I do nae want to use ye, but if I must I will.”

I glared at him until my eyes burned. I did not care that he sounded as if he truly meant what he said. How he sounded did me no good. Actions spoke much louder than words. My heart drew into a tight ball of anger inside of me for all I had endured at the hands of men. “Ye can nae make me do yer bidding, Laird MacDonald.” I knew the words rang hollow, but I flung them anyway. I refused to just march willingly into another marriage.

He looked down for a moment, his hand shoving through his hair as if he were contemplating a distasteful task. When his gaze rose to meet mine, I could see regret there. It did not comfort me. It set ice in my veins. “I’m sorry to say, lass.” His words were gentler than they had been, and that made me tense. Something bad was coming. I knew it in my gut. “I am truly sorry to say I do believe there are ways to get you to do as I wish.”

Vanora. He would threaten Vanora . He was just like the others.