Chapter 22
Ronan stood at the edge of the river, his eyes fixed on the bridge, scarcely blinking for fear he might miss the first glimpse of Elodie. The Campbell guards remained where they had been, motionless silhouettes against the lowering sun.
She had disappeared into Bryce’s camp what felt like an age ago and as soon as he’d realized what she’d done, every instinct in him screamed to go after her. They still did. Only Faye’s hand on one arm and Eamon’s on the other stopped him from going after her.
What was Bryce doing? Questioning her? Threatening her? Would he try and use her to force his hand?
His fists clenched. If his brother harmed so much as a hair on her head...
Skye suddenly barked and Ronan turned as a lone figure stepped onto the far end of the bridge. Elodie. Relief struck him so powerfully his knees almost gave way.
Without thinking, he broke into a run and met her halfway along the span. She looked up at him with something like despair in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Then she threw herself into his arms. She clung to him tightly, her face buried against his shoulder. He felt her shaking.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice muffled. “I was so sure...but I failed.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “It doesnae matter,” he said, not sure what she was talking about and not caring one jot. “All that matters is that ye are safe.”
By the time they stepped down off the bridge, half the Steading had gathered. Elodie pulled back just enough to wipe hurriedly at her eyes. Ronan ignored the crowd and took Elodie’s hand.
“This way.”
He led her to one of the canvas shelters that had been hastily erected beside the wagons and they ducked inside. Within, it was quiet with only the most distant murmur of the camp reaching them through the canvas.
With a sigh, Elodie sank to the ground. Ronan crouched before her.
“What in God’s name did ye think ye were doing?” Worry made his voice harsher than he intended. “Why would ye go to Bryce’s camp without even telling me?”
She stared at her hands. “I went to try and get through to him. I was so convinced I could fix all this. And I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d stop me.”
“Damn right I would,” he growled. “Do ye have any idea of what could have happened?” A vision filled his head of Bryce taking her prisoner, using her as a hostage.
Did she not understand the power that would have given Bryce?
Did she not realize that he would do anything, anything Bryce asked in order to keep her safe?
He took a deep breath to steady the pounding of his heart. “None of that matters now,” he said in a softer voice. “What matters is that ye are safe.”
“But for how long?” she asked, looking up at him. “How long will any of us remain safe? Once the Murdochs get here...”
“Dinna think about that now.”
“How can I not? I tried to save everyone and I failed!”
The despair and self-recrimination in her voice cut Ronan to the quick. He longed to reach out and pull her into his embrace. He longed to tell her that everything would be all right. But that would be a lie and she deserved better than that.
Instead, he asked her a question. “What did ye say to my brother?”
She shrugged. “I asked him questions. I did exactly what I’d have done in a difficult meeting.
I tried to work out what he was really afraid of and what he really wants.
” She met his gaze. “He doesn’t hate you.
He’s just frightened for his people. I thought I could negotiate a middle ground, find a satisfactory solution that would give you both what you want. I was wrong.”
In halting, stuttering words, she explained the charter she’d proposed. As she spoke, Ronan felt an ache growing in his chest. It was exactly the kind of solution his father would once have praised, one where everyone could keep their honor.
But his eldest brother had left honor behind a long time ago when he’d tried to grab everything for himself.
When Elodie had finished, Ronan said, “And let me guess: he said no.”
She nodded. “I thought maybe this was the reason why Irene brought me here. I thought this was what I was meant to fix. I thought you and Bryce and all the people of the Steading were who I’m meant to save. But I’ve failed all of you.” She covered her face with her hands.
Ronan gently drew her hands away. “Look at me, Elodie. Look at me.” She raised her chin and gazed at him with tear-filled eyes.
“Dinna ye get it yet? Ye have already saved me. Ye saved me the moment ye stepped into my life and I fell in love with ye.” He rested his forehead against hers.
“And as for my people—our people—ye gave them hope. Ye taught them to work together. Ye made them stronger. Ye made me stronger.”
He leaned forward and kissed her gently. It was the only way he knew how to tell her everything that was in his heart. She returned the kiss with quiet tenderness.
“I love ye,” he murmured.
Her answering smile was small but real. “I love you too.”
Outside, the sounds of the camp carried on around them—voices, the crackle of fires, the distant bark of Bran and Skye. But beyond that, Ronan gradually became aware of something else. A distant clamor getting steadily louder. Then a horn call sounded in the distance.
Ronan leapt to his feet.
“What is it?” Elodie cried, scrambling up after him. “Are they here?”
Ronan nodded grimly, feeling something cold clench around his heart. “Aye. The Murdochs are here. And we are under attack.”
WE ARE UNDER ATTACK.
How could Ronan say those words so calmly? Elodie had known it was coming, of course, but knowing it and feeling it were two very different things. Terror shot through her and she moved instinctively closer to Ronan.
But he was already moving towards the tent’s entrance. His expression had become the calm, focused mask she’d seen only a handful of times before. Not the gentle blacksmith but the man who had kept an impossible community alive against all odds.
Without a word, he took her arm and guided her outside then turned to gaze towards the tree line where the sound had come from.
What if this was the last time she ever saw him? The thought struck with such force that she struggled to breathe.
Ronan stepped closer, his hands finding her shoulders. “Elodie.”
She looked up at him. His blue eyes were utterly steady.
“Ye know what to do.”
She swallowed. “I...”
“We’ve prepared for this.” His voice was quiet, but it cut cleanly through the panic threatening to overwhelm her. He squeezed her shoulders gently. “What is that phrase I’ve heard ye say? We’ve got this.”
She drew a shaky breath and then forced a weak smile. Weeks of planning, training, thinking through every possibility. She would not lose her head now.
She nodded once. “I know what to do.”
Around them the camp had burst into motion. Eamon was already shouting orders. The trained men and women grabbed their staffs, spears, and the few pistols they had. Bran and Skye were barking furiously, racing back and forth.
Ronan started to turn away but Elodie caught his arm and pulled him back. She grabbed the front of his plaid, went up on tiptoes, and kissed him. It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. As her lips moved against his, she poured everything she couldn’t put into words into that kiss.
When they finally broke apart, she fixed him with her fiercest stare. “I’ll see you on the other side of this, do you hear? I will see you on the other side.”
His hand brushed her cheek. “Ye will.” Then he turned away and was gone, striding towards the gathering defenders, bellowing orders. “Form up! Perimeter positions!”
Watching them, Elodie felt an unexpected surge of pride. These people weren’t soldiers. In fact, only a few weeks ago most had been a group of homeless, frightened refugees. Now they moved together with purpose, like one organism.
“My turn,” she whispered.
Raising her chin, she clapped her hands loudly and called, “Everyone who’s not fighting, with me!”
A crowd began to gather around her. Everyone looked worried. Terrified, even, but nobody was panicking. This too, was what they’d practiced.
“Remember the plan,” Elodie called. “Everyone to their positions!”
People moved to obey. Some of the women shepherded half a dozen little ones towards the defensive circle they’d built from wagons lashed wheel to wheel. Others hurried to reinforce the shallow ditches dug around the encampment over the afternoon.
Elodie moved amongst them, directing, encouraging, adjusting.
“You two, help Mrs MacGregor.”
“Keep the little ones together.”
“More water over there.”
A frightened little girl began crying and Elodie crouched beside her. “You’re doing brilliantly.”
The little girl wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “I dinna want to die.”
The words nearly broke Elodie. Instead, she smiled, forcing every ounce of confidence she could muster into her voice. “You won’t. I promise. Come with me.”
She held out her hand. The little girl took it and Elodie led her into the protective circle of wagons and gave her into the care of the women there.
Turning, Elodie looked out over the camp, eyes searching.
She found Ronan moving along the defensive line.
He stopped to clasp Eamon’s shoulder, then spoke quietly to David who had insisted on taking his position despite his half-healed injury.
Ronan reached Sarah who’d taken up a defensive position right next to her husband.
The young woman held a staff in one hand and wore a scrounged sword at her belt.
She looked frightened but determined. Ronan said something that made her nod firmly. Then he moved on.
Elodie smiled despite herself. Sarah caught sight of her and gave a tiny wave. Elodie returned it.
A shout came from one of the forward lookouts. “There!”
Elodie turned to look where he was pointing and saw movement flickering amongst the trees. A mounted rider burst briefly from the woodland before wheeling away again. Moments later three more appeared from another direction.