CHAPTER 30
Malcolm followed Callum up the steep incline. Darkness pressed all around them. An earthy pungent scent permeated his nose. All he worried about was if Chloe was safe and if MacDonald had harmed her. If he had, then he would have him to deal with.
Ahead, there was a glimmer of pale light, indicating they were getting closer to the postern gate.
When they arrived, Callum peered through the gate.
Sniffing, he said, “Do ye smell that?”
Malcolm inhaled. There was the acrid odor of smoke on the air. “Smoke?”
“Aye.” Callum looked back at him, concern lingering in his blue eyes. “Fire?”
“Let’s go.” He nudged him.
Callum shoved open the gate and ran through it. He wielded his claymore the moment he stepped through. Malcolm followed. Black and gray smoke billowed into the night sky. The keep was on fire.
“God’s teeth,” Callum bellowed.
He bolted through the narrow passageway leading from the gate. Malcolm followed on his heels. They rounded a corner and halted, facing the bailey. Standing there at the end of Rory MacDonald’s great axe was Chloe. Evie cowered behind her.
Malcolm roared, unsheathed his sword, and charged.
“Wait!” Callum called.
But he refused to listen. Blinded by his fury, the war cry ripped from his throat. MacDonald spun to face him, surprise on his face. He recovered quickly when he saw him and charged toward him.
Great axe clashed against claymore. MacDonald swung.
Malcolm swerved. He fought with all the pent-up rage he’d held in the moment he learned Chloe was taken from him.
The older man had difficulty keeping up with every swing of his sword.
He beat him back, making him stumble over his own feet until at last he collapsed on the ground.
Malcolm pointed his sword inches from his face. His breath seesawed in and out of him. MacDonald still had his grip on his great axe as he lay on the ground, peering up at him with harsh eyes.
“Move and ye die,” Malcolm warned.
“Ye cannae kill me,” he said.
“I can and I will.”
“Release him, MacLeod!” his son shouted from behind him.
Malcolm cut a glance over his shoulder to see Callum standing like a human shield in front of the two lassies. Behind him, Rufus had his bow pulled back taut, an arrow pointed at his back.
They were trapped within the bailey of the MacDonald stronghold while the keep was on fire. Indecision flashed through him as he tried to figure out his next move. With his gaze on Rufus, and his sword point on Rory, he had to decide if he was going to yield or continue to fight their way out.
The ground started to shake. A low rumble rippled through the bailey, making the stone walls shudder and quake.
His gaze flew to the women who had moved to stand in front of Callum. Chloe held one of Evie’s hands. In the other, her piece of the keystone pressed against Evie’s stone. The power burst from the two pieces put together and a bright, white light exploded from it.
“We bind the past, the present, the soul. By blood, by will, by magic whole,” Chloe and Evie chanted together.
But their voices sounded strange—as though they were controlled by the Triple Goddess herself. And their eyes—both of their eyes glowed with an ominous light.
Callum shouted his name and gave a frantic wave for him to hurry toward them. He cut a glance to Rufus, whose wide-eyed gaze was on the women. Then to Rory who remained prone on the ground, glaring up at him.
“Across the veil, our home draws near. To Dundale’s keep, the way is clear.”
“Malcolm, now!”
He broke into a run, his legs pumping hard, as a strange light split the air in two, much like the light he saw when Chloe fell through time.
“Stop them! Stop them! Stop them!” Rory shouted.
But Malcolm didn’t look back. Clutching his claymore in his sweating palm as he made a mad dash for them, he watched the light engulf Chloe, Evie, and Callum. Cursing, he leapt into the light as it closed around him and winked out.
***
Chloe felt as though she were in someone else’s skin as she watched the events unfold around her. Evie urged Callum to use the tip of his dagger to slice open their hands once more. Then they smeared blood over the stones, clasped hands, and pushed the two pieces together.
As soon as they did, the magic of the Triple Goddess sparked deep inside her. In that moment, she was Bridget. She knew the words to speak as if they had always been inside her. As did Evie. Together, they used the stone to rip open time and space to send them back to Dundale.
Together, they stepped through to Dundale’s bailey, followed by Callum. She watched as Malcolm ran toward them. He jumped through the light as the light shrank and then disappeared into nothing more than a pinprick. Then it was gone and she was back in her own skin.
When he landed on his feet, he crouched low to the ground, his sword still in his hand. His chest pumped hard as he tried to catch his breath. Chloe released Evie’s hand and charged toward him, launching herself at him, relieved he had made it through the light.
When she landed against him, he grunted and fell to the ground. She perched on top of him, gazing down at those delicious sea-green eyes.
“Thank God you made it!”
Then she pressed her face against his neck and inhaled his scent. The scent of leather and musk and horse and sweat. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. But his hand grazed her wounded shoulder and she winced. When he drew his hand away, his fingers were smeared with blood.
“Och, lass, yer injured.”
“I’m fine,” she said, ignoring the pain that flared through her. “Are you?”
“I dinnae ken what happened, but I’m glad yer all right.”
“You came for me,” she whispered.
“Was there any doubt?”
The shame of doubt pounded through her. Of course, he and Callum had come for them. She flushed, her cheeks warming. “I—”
“I will always come for ye. I will always protect ye with my body and sword. Until my dying breath.”
“I will never doubt you again.”
She breathed the words against his lips and then she kissed him. It was a fierce kiss. A deep kiss. A kiss of passion and need and want and desire. A kiss that conveyed all the emotions pounding through her.
When he pulled away, he said, “It’s best ye stop that now, lass, or I cannae be held responsible for my actions.”
Then he glanced down and saw the blood smudged on his tunic. She tried to hide her cut hand, but he grabbed her wrist and turned over her palm.
“Yer hand, too,” he said. “And yer wrists. God’s teeth, lass, what did ye do to yerself?”
She flushed hot. Her wrists were red and raw from her determination to get out of her bonds. She tried to pull away, but he held onto her with a gentle tug as he examined the wounds.
“It was the only way to get back to Dundale,” she said. “It was the only way to save you.” Then she thought of Jamie and bit her lower lip, the guilt slashing through her. “We couldn’t save Jamie, though.”
Worry flickered through his eyes. “The keep was on fire.”
Another slash of guilt. The fire was her fault. If Jamie died in that fire, she would never forgive herself.
“Maybe he got out.” It was her dearest hope.
But Jamie was in enemy hands. She didn’t know how he would find his way out.
“We shouldn’t have left him.” Her voice wobbled with emotion as she clutched his tunic.
“It’s all right, lass. Dinnae flash yerself about it. Jamie is resourceful. I’ve no doubt he will find his way home, but we can send men to look for him. Let’s get ye bandaged.”
But his face was pinched with concern. He shifted her off him as he got to his feet, helping her to hers, too. Evie huddled next to Callum. When they got to their feet, Evie broke from him and rushed toward her.
“Your shoulder—” she started.
“I’ll be all right,” Chloe said through gritted teeth.
“But you were hit with an arrow.”
“An arrow?” Malcolm asked, giving her a pointed look.
Chloe shot her a look that begged her to be quiet.
“Evie pulled it out. I’m fine.”
“You need stitches,” Evie said.
Chloe wobbled, lightheaded. From the blood loss or the use of the keystone, she didn’t know which. She leaned heavily into Malcolm, who wrapped his arms around her to steady her on her feet as she groaned. Without a word, Malcolm swept her into his arms and carried her toward the keep.
“Malcolm, put me down,” she protested, but she knew it was a weak one.
Truthfully, she liked being in his arms. She liked when he took charge and took care of her.
“Evie, fetch Dougal. Have him meet us in my bedchamber at once.” Then his heated gaze landed on her. “And I’ll have no arguments from ye, lass.”
“No argument from me,” she said. “Tell him to bring whiskey and a lot it.”