“But why?” Lachlan asked,continuing Rory Mac’s line of questioning. “Why come here at all?”
Iain’s gaze locked on Angus. Theold man had bent down to pick something up, and when he rose, he clutched ahair comb in his large hand. Iain stared at it as the image of Marion enteringthe great hall flashed in mind. Her hair had been pulled up at one side, andthis comb… This comb had been Catriona’s.
“Marion!” Iain roared, reasonfleeing him as he charged into the icy black water. Before he could dive under,hands grabbed onto him and tugged him back.
Lachlan clasped his shoulders.“Ye’ll nae rescue her that way.”
Coldness seeped through Iain, butit had nothing to do with the freezing temperature of the water. Fear ebbed inthe back of his mind, but he shoved it away. There was no time for fear. Notime for hesitation. No time for anything but to rescue Marion. He could notlose her. And when he reached Froste, or whoever of Froste’s or de Lacy’sknights had dared to take his wife, he was going to kill every last one of themen.
Marion awoke with the left side of her face pressedagainst the cold wet sand and rough grass. She attempted to sit up, but astrong wave of nausea overcame her. Somewhere in the distance, she thought sheheard voices, but she was afraid it might be Froste’s men still, so she darednot call for help. With a grunt, she rolled onto her back and breathed in long,measured breaths to calm her roiling stomach.
Her head pounded viciously, andwhen she raised a shaking hand to her temple, she touched something crusty,likely dried blood, on her forehead. She slowly pushed herself up to herelbows, the nausea still there but not quite as strong. From there, she managedto crouch, her stomach dipping with her movements. She parted the grass justenough so that she could see but hopefully not be seen. Her vision was slightlyblurry, but shadows of men with torches swept along the shoreline.
Her breath seized in her chest asshe remembered what Froste’s men had said they were going to do to Iain. If itwasn’t already too late, she had to get back to the castle and warn him ofFroste’s plan. If she could stay low to the ground, she felt confident shecould make it to the seagate stairs and up to the courtyard without being seenby Froste’s men.
Infused with determination to helpIain, she began crawling through the grass and over the rocks. The boulderswere like a hundred small knives making precise slices across her hands andknees, but she bit back the pain that threatened to defeat her. When she cameto the edge of the grassy area, she drew slowly to her feet, teetering whereshe stood as nausea washed over her wave after wave. She took a step, and herworld tilted to the right.
Behind her, she thought she heardyelling, and panic caught in her chest. They’d seen her! Forcing her shakinglegs to move was torturous. She tried to run, but her body was heavy and slow.The shouting behind her grew louder, and she pushed herself harder, her legsfinally understanding her silent, desperate command. Dirt flew out to the sidesas she ran, and when she reached the stairs, she scrambled up them frantically.
Two stairs. Four. Six. Twelve.Twenty. How many more? Thirty. Forty. Fifty.
She lifted her head to check, andeverything around her dipped and spun. She tried to gain the next step, but herfoot slipped. As she fell backward, a gut-wrenching scream ripped from herlungs.
At first Iain thought he was imagining Marion whenhe glanced toward the seagate stairs and saw her racing up them, her pale hairglowing in the moonlight and blowing behind her in the wind. But when Angusstarted shouting her name, Iain knew a moment of such sweet relief that a shudderran through his body. He blinked and the respite ended as she swayedprecariously. His heart lurched with the knowledge of what was to come, what hecould not stop. She flailed her arms wildly about her, and he darted his gazedownward, counting the steep steps to the unforgiving ground.Fifty steps.
The world around him abruptly fellaway. All sound faded. His vision tunneled onto her, only her. Tumbling.Falling. Hitting the bottom step and lying still. His guttural cry pierced thehum in his ears as he charged toward her, the rough terrain slowing hisprogress in a torment worse than any he’d experienced in his life. He fell hardto his knees, the stone steps cutting into his skin, but it did not matter.Nothing mattered but her. He’d trade his life to make certain she kept hers.
He gathered her limp, wind-chilledbody in his arms. “Marion,” he cried out.
She did not move. Did not respond.
“Marion, open yer eyes,” hedemanded, his throat aching with each syllable he choked out. “Ye will naedie!” he ordered, even as his mind shouted that she might.
Dried blood had caked on herforehead while fresh blood seeped from her blue-tinged upper lip. His handshook violently as he lifted his finger to her lips and wiped away the blood,so warm against her icy skin. “Please, Marion,” he whispered, burying his headin the curve of her neck and holding her tightly. “I need ye,” he admittedbrokenly in her ear.
“I need you, too,” she whispered.
He jerked upward and gaped at her.“Ye’re nae dead!”
She offered a faint smile. “Notyet, but if you keep holding me so tightly, I may still succumb.”
He pulled her closer and held heragainst his chest with care, relishing in the faint beat of her heart againsthis. After his trembling subsided, he held her far enough away that he couldsee her eyes. A crowd had gathered around them, but he didn’t care. He caughther glorious gaze. “I’m sorry. For how I responded in the great hall and formaking ye feel there was no place for ye in my life.”
The smile she gave him lifted him allthe way out of the darkness he’d dwelled in for far too long. She pressed hercold hand to his cheek. “I forgive you.”
Nineteen
When Marion awoke, the first thing she saw was Iainslumped in a chair beside the bed. She moved her hand to his and brushed herfingertips over his skin.
His eyes popped opened, and hejerked upright. “Ye’re awake.”
She swallowed, her throat dry. “Howlong have I been asleep?”
“A full day. How do ye feel?”
“Stiff,” she said as she looked towhere the trunk had been. She wanted to know what he had done with it, but shepreferred he offer the information. She did not wish to ask. When she pulledher gaze back to his, he was staring at her.
He took her hand in his, brought itto his lips, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “I’m verra sorry for mypart in yer injuries.”
