Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The waterfall announced itself long before Donaldina saw it.
At first, it was no more than a distant murmur beneath the sound of hooves and wind through the trees.
The farther they rode from Dun Ard, the stronger it became, deepening from whisper to steady thunder until the woodland seemed to breathe around it.
Roy left the road without warning.
Donaldina guided her mare after him between two stone outcrops half concealed by bracken.
The path narrowed immediately, descending through pines and pale birches whose branches knitted together overhead.
Fallen leaves softened the horses’ steps.
Ferns brushed Donaldina’s boots, wet from the earlier rain, while the scent of moss, earth and crushed pine rose beneath them.
“Where are ye taking me?” she asked.
Roy looked back over his shoulder. “Somewhere without councilors.”
“Such places exist?”
“I have heard rumors.”
The trees opened. Donaldina drew her reins tight.
Water fell in a bright silver sheet from the rocks above, striking a deep pool surrounded by dark stone.
Mist rose from the impact and drifted through the clearing, catching the late sunlight in pale fragments.
Rowan trees leaned over the far bank, their red berries vivid among the green, while moss softened every rock not polished smooth by water.
The place seemed removed from the rest of the Highlands. No road reached it. No watchtower overlooked it. The cliffs and thick woodland closed around the pool, concealing it from anyone who did not already know the path.
Donaldina dismounted slowly.
“I have lived upon MacNicol lands all me life.”
“And yet ye look surprised.”
“I didnae say I had seen all of them.”
Roy tied the horses beneath a sheltered ledge. “Lachlan brought me here once.”
The mention of her brother no longer struck like a blade. It still hurt, but the pain softened around the edges, allowing memory to exist beside it.
“When?”
“During the first winter after the accord was signed. We rode the boundaries together.”
“And he never brought me?”
“He said ye would complain the water was too cold.”
Donaldina looked toward the pool. “I would nae.”
Roy removed his cloak and laid it across a dry stone. “Then prove him wrong.”
Before she could ask what he intended, he walked down the sloping bank and stepped directly into the water still wearing his boots.
Donaldina stared. The water reached his ankles, then his knees as he continued without hesitation.
“Roy.”
He turned. “Donaldina.”
“Ye are clothed.”
“So are ye.”
“That is generally advisable outdoors.”
His mouth shifted. Then, he walked deeper. The water climbed to his waist, darkening his shirt and trousers. He drew a sharp breath as the cold reached him, though pride prevented any further reaction.
Donaldina folded her arms with a smirk. “Enjoying yerself?”
“Immensely.”
“Yer face suggests otherwise.”
“I possess a solemn manner of pleasure.”
She remembered using those words against him at the festival.
Roy extended one hand toward her. The gesture was absurd, reckless even. It was also entirely unlike the grim man who had spent the morning arranging patrols and worrying himself toward madness over dangers no map could contain.
Donaldina removed her cloak. She placed it beside his, kicked off her shoes, and lifted the hem of her skirts before stepping into the pool.
Cold seized her feet. She gasped.
Roy’s satisfaction was immediate. “Lachlan was correct.”
“He was frequently mistaken.”
Donaldina took another step. Icy water rushed around her calves.
“He specifically mentioned complaining,” Roy said.
“I am nae complaining. I am observing that this water has recently been snow.”
“It hasnae.”
“Then it has ambitions.”
Roy laughed. The sound moved through the clearing, startling a bird from the branches. Donaldina had heard him laugh before, but never without someone nearby to witness it and make him regret it.
Here, there was no one, only her.
She waded farther. Her skirts grew heavy as the water climbed, pulling against her legs. By the time she reached Roy, the cold had stolen her breath and soaked her gown nearly to the waist.
“This was a foolish idea,” she informed him.
“Aye.”
“I am pleased ye recognize it.”
He moved suddenly, sweeping one hand through the surface. Water struck her chest. Donaldina stared at him.
Roy’s expression was innocent.
“A current,” he explained.
She threw water into his face. What began as retaliation became war with remarkable speed.
Donaldina splashed him again and attempted to retreat toward the shallows, but her sodden skirts tangled around her legs.
Roy caught her hand before she fell, though he used the opportunity to send another sheet of water over her shoulder.
She shrieked. “Coward!”
“An unusual charge from the woman retreating.”
“Me gown weighs more than yer horse!”
“Remove it.”
Donaldina stopped. Roy seemed to hear the words only after they had left his mouth. His gaze dropped briefly to the dark wool clinging to her body before returning to her face.
The laughter faded between them.
Mist drifted from the waterfall. Water moved around their waists, cold and ceaseless.
Donaldina lifted her chin. “Turn around.”
Roy obeyed at once. She watched his broad back for a moment, strangely moved by the ease with which he granted what she asked. There was no teasing and no attempt to look.
She loosened the wet outer gown and stepped free of it with considerable difficulty, leaving herself in her linen shift and stockings. She carried the gown toward the bank and spread it across a sun-warmed rock.
Roy remained facing the falls.
“Ye may turn.”
He did. His eyes found her and became very still. The wet linen clung more closely than the gown had done. She felt heat rise through her despite the cold air.
Roy removed his boots and outer shirt with practical efficiency, though the movements seemed less assured beneath her attention. Scars crossed his chest and shoulders, pale against skin browned by wind and years outdoors.
She had seen them before. She touched them in the infirmary and kissed the one beneath his collar in her chamber.
Yet here, in the open light, they seemed part of him rather than injuries requiring care. Each marked some moment he had survived, some loss his body carried even when his silence refused it.
Roy stepped back into the pool. Donaldina went deeper before courage could fail.
The bottom fell away abruptly. Cold water closed over her shoulders, and she pushed forward, swimming toward the center.
Her braid floated behind her like a dark rope before loosening entirely beneath the weight of the water.
He followed. They circled each other at first, separated by several yards of rippling silver. She had not swum since childhood, when Lachlan taught her in a smaller pool near Dun Ard and promised not to tell anyone how loudly she screamed upon first touching the bottom.
She had forgotten the freedom of it. Water bore her weight without asking what duties she carried. It did not know of Cormac, royal decrees or clan boundaries. It did not care that men watched her for signs of fear or weakness.
She turned onto her back. Above her, the sky appeared between the trees, blue-gray and endless.
A splash sounded near her head. Donaldina righted herself to find Roy within reach.
“Ye swim very quietly,” she said.
“I had hoped tae frighten ye.”
“Ye should practice.”
He disappeared beneath the surface. Donaldina waited. And then, a hand closed around her ankle. She cried out and kicked free, sending water into Roy’s face as he rose.
“Ye barbarian!”
His laughter broke fully then. Donaldina struck his shoulder. Roy caught her wrist, but she twisted away and swam toward the rocks beneath the waterfall. He followed. She reached the ledge first, pulling herself onto the slick stone as water streamed from her hair and shift.
Roy surfaced beside her.
“Ye cheated,” he said.
“I was faster.”
“Ye kicked me.”
“War rarely rewards courtesy.”
He braced one arm upon the rock and climbed beside her.
For several minutes, neither spoke. They sat with their feet in the pool while the waterfall thundered behind them. Cold water ran over Donaldina’s skin, yet sunlight touched the stone beneath her hands. Her breathing slowed.
Roy leaned back upon his palms. The strain had left his face.
For the first time since her abduction, she did not wonder where Cormac hid or whether guards stood where they had been ordered. She did not picture the lodge or feel rope cutting into her wrists.
She looked only at Roy beside her, wet-haired and bare-chested, appearing younger without his sword, cloak and burden of command.
“Ye should look like this more often,” she mused.
He turned his head. “Half drowned?”
“Untroubled.”
Something changed in his expression. The waterfall continued behind them, but the lightness of the moment receded.
Roy looked toward the far bank. “It doesnae last.”
“Naething does.”
“That is the difficulty.”
Donaldina waited. He drew one knee upward and rested his arm across it. Water traced the scars upon his skin.
“Everything I have allowed myself tae keep has been taken eventually,” he spoke in words that were nearly lost beneath the fall.
Donaldina shifted closer.
“Me mother. Men I considered brothers. Lachlan.” His jaw tightened around the name. “Every time I believed something might remain, the world corrected me.”
“That wasnae yer doing.”
“It begins tae feel like it.”
Roy looked at his hands. “I learned tae hold things at a distance. A man can survive loss more easily if he never permits himself tae believe something belongs beside him.”
Donaldina’s chest ached. “Is that what ye have been doing with me?”
“I tried.”
She almost smiled. “Poorly.”
“Aye.”
His gaze rose to hers. There was no guard left within it. The openness frightened her because she understood what it cost him.
“Ye are the first thing I have wanted tae keep close,” he admitted. “Even kenning what wanting ye may cost.”
Donaldina could scarcely breathe.
Roy turned away, as though the confession had stripped him too bare.
“I thought distance might protect ye. If Cormac believed the accord meant naething tae me—”
“He would still want Dun Ard.”
“Aye.”
“If ye left, he would still want control of me.”
“Aye.”
“And if ye treated me coldly enough, I would merely be wounded while remaining in danger.”
Roy closed his eyes. “That wasnae me intention.”
“Nae. But it would have been the result.”
Donaldina placed her hand over his. He looked down at their joined fingers.
“I am nae something ye can protect by pushing me away,” she whispered. “Nor am I another possession fate may steal because ye dared tae value it.”
“Donaldina—”
“I choose where I stand.”
His fingers tightened beneath hers.
“And I choose tae be here.”
“Ye dinnae ken what may follow.”
“Neither dae ye.”
“Cormac—”
“Isnae here.”
The answer carried more force than she intended. Donaldina softened her voice.
“He has taken enough moments from us. Dinnae invite him intae this one.”
Roy looked toward the waterfall, the woods and the quiet pool surrounding them, then back at her.
“Ye choose this?” he asked.
He was not asking about the place.
Donaldina moved closer until her knee touched his.
“Aye.”
“Kenning me fear may make me difficult?”
“Ye were difficult before I kent of it.”
His mouth curved despite himself. “And kenning I may fail tae protect ye?”
“Ye still dinnae understand.”
She lifted her hand to his face, tracing the scar along his jaw.
“I dinnae choose tae be here because ye can promise naething will ever hurt me. I choose ye because when I am hurt, ye sit beside me upon the floor and refuse tae leave.”
Emotion moved through his eyes.
Donaldina leaned nearer. “I choose the man who crossed a forest because I left him scraps of cloth. The man who turned away from his enemy because I called his name. The man who offered me freedom when a King’s decree placed obedience within his reach.”
Roy’s breathing had grown uneven.
“And I choose tae stay,” she whispered.
His hand settled against the back of her neck.
“Say it again.”
“I choose ye.”
Roy kissed her. There was nothing tentative about it. His mouth claimed hers with all the longing he had held back, yet his hand remained gentle as it cradled her neck. Donaldina turned into him, pressing one palm to his chest and feeling his heart beat hard beneath it.
He drew her closer. Her wet shift clung between them, cold at first, then warmed by the heat of his body. Roy’s other arm closed around her waist, lifting her against him until the stone, water, and daylight seemed to vanish beneath the force of the kiss.
She threaded her fingers into his damp hair. He kissed her as though weeks of silence had become unbearable. She answered with equal hunger.
Roy’s mouth moved from hers to her cheek and the curve beneath her ear. Donaldina tilted her head, allowing him closer. His breath warmed her cold skin while his lips traced the line of her throat.
“Donaldina,” he murmured. There was wonder in her name.
She drew him back to her mouth. They lost all measure of time.
The waterfall continued its endless descent. Mist settled upon their skin. Somewhere among the trees, birds called and branches shifted beneath the wind, but the world beyond the rocks held no power over them.
There was only the strength of Roy’s arms, the warmth of his mouth and the extraordinary relief of being wanted without being possessed.
At last, their kiss slowed. Donaldina remained against him, her forehead resting beneath his chin. Roy’s hand moved along her back, holding her with none of the hesitation that had defined every earlier touch.
“Ye will regret this when we must put on wet clothing,” he said.
She laughed softly against his chest. “There is the solemn man I recognized.”
Cormac still lived. The clans remained divided in ways no shared patrol could immediately mend. Danger waited beyond the hidden path, patient and unseen. But Donaldina did not permit those truths to diminish this one.
She had chosen him.
And when he kissed her again beneath the falling water, she felt him finally believe it.