Chapter 21 #7
Ella rose swiftly to her feet, fighting a wave of dizziness.
“No…”she breathed. She very rarely had visions, but when she did, they always came fierce and strong.
And always she saw something that was just about to happen, leaving her very little time to act.
She ran for the stables, feeling for her dirk.
It was there in the pocket of her gown. She looked around wildly, relieved to see a horse already saddled and tied in the back of the building.
Pulling the ties loose, she leapt onto its back and kicked it hard.
She was through the gate and gone before anyone had time to even react.
Luckily Ceann had taken his men over the moor, and the tall grass was crushed by the passage of so many horses, leaving an easy trail to follow. “Oh, God, please let me be in time!”
The ride seemed endless, how far could the border be?
But at last she heard what could only be the sounds of a battle.
She slowed, moving cautiously now, until she was close enough to see.
She searched frantically, scanning the sea of moving horses and flashing swords.
Finally she saw him, Fallon rearing as Ceann swung his claymore in an arc high above his head, before bringing it down on his enemy.
Two more came forward to replace the fallen man.
Her relief at seeing him alive was short-lived, as the man from her vision moved into an opening just behind Ceann.
Without conscious thought, she spurred her horse forward, reaching for her dirk.
She saw Ethan, out of the corner of her eye; he had seen the danger.
He yelled to Ceann, who looked up and saw her there.
His look of surprise was quickly turning to one of rage, but the man behind him was now raising his sword.
Ella threw her knife, just as Ethan and another MacKenzie moved in to take out the two other MacDonalds.
Ceann saw the knife leave her hand, and turned.
It slid neatly into the heart of a man who an instant later would have felled him.
He looked around, shaken. The battle was over now. The last of the MacDonalds had fled, though they would surely be back to fight another day. Ethan was by his side, breathing hard, his eyes wide. “She saved your life.”
“Aye.”
He looked to where Ella still sat her horse, her back straight and proud, though she too was trying to catch her breath, and her expression was one of uncertainty.
He didn’t know what to think, what to feel.
Should he be angry that she had disobeyed and followed him, putting herself in danger, or grateful that she had?
He rode slowly over to her, glancing back to see that his men had everything under control for the moment.
“Where did you learn to throw a knife like that?”
She shrugged. “You never know when such a skill could come in handy.” Malolm had taught her, years ago.
“Why did you follow us?” he asked softly, but she could hear the anger in his voice.
“I thought I could help… I thought you might be in trouble…”
He reached out and grabbed her arm, squeezing tightly. “You thought you could help? You defied me and rode out on your own because you thought you could help?”
She made a sound as his grip on her arm grew tighter, but then the pounding of hooves drew his attention away from her.
It was her guard. Of course they had followed after her.
She looked at Ceann. His lips were pressed together in a tight line.
She thought perhaps he was going to vent his rage at the men who had just belatedly caught up to her, but instead he turned to Ethan.
“You and Gregor can handle things here?”
Ethan nodded. “Aye, go ahead; there are only a few minor wounds. Luck was with us.” He shot a wonder-struck look at Ella.
Before she knew what was happening, Ceann lifted her from her horse and placed her none-too-gently in the saddle before him.
Apparently, she was going to be the one to suffer his rage.
He remained silent as they rode back towards Tulloch, as did she.
With the shock of all that had just happened, she didn’t know what to say.
After a few miles, he veered off the trail and into a copse of trees.
When they reached a large boulder, he stopped the horse and slid off, bringing her with him.
He held her by the arms and almost shook her, he was so angry.
And frightened. Seeing her appear in the midst of heated combat had terrified him.
“How could you risk your life like that, riding into a battle? Damn it Ella, you could have been killed!”
She stiffened in his grip, angry that he was angry. “You could have been killed! Don’t bother thanking me, you ungrateful, overgrown… boor!”
He searched her face, his fingers tightening further on her arms. “How did you know? How did you know? Are you a MacDonald?”
“I didn’t… I didn’t know. I just had a feeling.”
His rage had not yet cooled. To see her there, among his enemies… in danger… yet she almost certainly had saved his life. He could not have defended himself against three men on three different sides. He could have been killed, or at least gravely injured.
“You rode all this way because of a feeling? And you didn’t bother to bring anything but a knife?” He paused. “How did you get away from the guards?”
She struggled against his iron grip. “Let go, you’re hurting me!” She kicked ineffectually at his shin, but he didn’t seem to even notice. “I took the horse and rode out of the gate before they could stop me. There was no time…”
He didn’t let go. Ceann stared down at her, his breath coming short and fast. The rush of the battle accompanied by pent-up fear and anger was quickly translating itself into a physical need that would not be denied.
He almost groaned aloud as waves of desire washed over him thick and hot.
He needed her, had to have her… at all costs had to have her now…
He started moving forward, backing her inexorably toward the face of the rock.
A little breath was knocked from her chest as she hit the stone, and she looked up at him, eyes wild and questioning, even as they were heavy with passion.
For him. He pinned her to the rock with his weight, as his hand dipped down to lift her skirt, hitching it up around her waist. Moving his plaid out of the way, he entered her hard, pausing to lift her hands up over her head, holding them there as he drove into her.
She cried out once, then he knew nothing else as he pounded into her, trying to get beyond the fury and the pain and the unfairness of it all.
Trying to lose himself in her body, and in the waves of pure pleasure that soon overcame him, until with one last thrust he let out a triumphant roar.
All of his rage, all of the blood-lust still pounding in his veins from the battle left him then, extinguished in that final violent, pulsing moment of ecstasy.
When he released her hands, she sagged against him like a ragdoll, and for a moment he again thought he must have hurt her.
“Tha mi duilich” I’m sorry. Worried, he took her chin in his hand and turned her face up to his own. She smiled softly.
“Am I forgiven, then?” she asked.
He looked at her for a moment, once more at a loss where she was concerned.
“Aye. There was nothing to forgive.” She was so perfect for him.
When he needed her, she was there. When he could not control his passion, she took it all, and gave him back her own.
She was kind and good, beautiful and clever.
But most of all, she fit him, like no one else ever had or ever could.
When they reached the castle, the rest of Ceann’s men were already there.
Ella rushed into the keep to help tend the wounded, of which there were remarkably few, considering the intensity of the battle.
She carefully stitched the few gashes Maggie hadn’t gotten to yet, laughing and flirting a little with the men to take their minds off the pain as she worked.
Ceann stood at the end of the room, watching, and every time she looked up, his eyes were on her.
Later, when she went out to the garden for a breath of fresh air, Ceann followed her.
She heard his footsteps behind her in the dark and turned.
He took her hand and led her to the stone bench near the path, where they both sat down.
He sighed and looked up at the stars. “I wanted to say… I shouldn’t have…
I… I’m sorry lass, for the way I treated you today.
I was angry, because I was afraid for you…
and… well, thank you, for what you did.” He looked at her, eyes sparking. “But don’t ever do it again!”
She smiled at him. “You’re welcome, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again. In fact, I most certainly would do it again.”
“Aye, I know it. You have too much courage by half.” His lips quirked in a slight smile. “Did you follow us, when we left this morning?”
“No, I only followed later, I…”
“Then how did you know, Ella, do you have the Sight?” He was studying her intensely.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t… I… only once in a great while I see things that are about to happen. Only there isn’t usually time to do anything about it… this time… this time there was.”
“And you rode after us, when you saw the third man attack me from behind?”
“Aye. I couldn’t just let… I couldn’t.” She looked away, afraid he would see the tears that threatened to spill. Tears of fear and relief, and just too much strong emotion.
“I see.” He looked up at the stars again, then asked quietly, hesitantly, “Are you betrothed to someone Ella, where you came from? Is there someone waiting for you? I have the right to know at least that much, lass, with all we have shared.”
“No, I’m not betrothed. Why?”