To Steal a Highlander's Heart(50)

Even though it was painful to look at, she turned to eye the still burning remnants of the castle. Dust and smoke swirled about it, obscuring most of the ugly remains, the jagged beams and crumbling stone. How unfair it was that he’d been taken from her. Especially when she’d only just found him. A steady pain throbbed in her chest and exhaustion threatened to overcome her. Only the determination to see Margot held responsible for all she had done kept her standing.

She paused as she went to turn away and scowled as the smoke seemed to part. Her stomach flipped and she stumbled back a few paces, eyes wide. Nay, it couldn’t be…

“Morgann!”

Alana sprinted toward him as he staggered from the ruins. His plaid was torn and smoke-stained, his face haggard, but he was definitely alive. She slammed into him and flung her arms around his torso as he reeled back under her weight.

“Yer alive!” she exclaimed as she buried her face into his chest. The stench of smoke filled her nostrils but she didn’t care. Her tears seeped through the material as she burrowed her face closer, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart.

Strong arms came about her as he eased her away from the burning wreckage. He kissed the top of her head before pulling her back and resting his forehead against hers. Dirty thumbs rubbed away her tears as he drew in long breaths.

“Yer alive,” she repeated quietly, unable to quite believe it. She clung tightly to him, fearful it was all some torturous dream.

“Aye.”

“But how?”

Morgann kept hold of her face, his hands shaky as he recovered his breath. “I dinnae know.” He shrugged and shook his head in disbelief. “I dinnae know.”

They both glanced at the castle ruins. Most of the walls still stood but the insides had almost completely gone, smoke still pouring into the sky. Morgann turned to her and took her mouth in a desperate kiss. He tasted of charred wood and hope and love and she savoured it, knowing she would never let him go again.

A whinny from Caraid drew her attention and she let out a frustrated cry as she spied Margot righting herself in the saddle, hands still tied. She gave them a smug smile as she dug her heels into the horse’s side.

“Margot,” Morgann warned, his voice hoarse, “dinnae do it. Caraid willnae—” He cursed and released Alana as the mare bolted. He gave chase but it was too late. Margot spurred the horse on.

And then the mount veered toward the burning hulk of the castle as if led by an unknown guide. Margot fought to change course but Caraid was determined to take her into the inferno. Morgann stopped and gathered his breath as the mount and his struggling stepmother vanished into the smoke. Alana came up behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist as he chucked one over her shoulders and they waited.

Alana wasn’t surprised when the horse trotted out of the mists riderless and unharmed but she still shook her head. “I dinnae know what we’ve done to deserve it, Morgann, but the spirits are with us.”

Morgann twisted her into his hold as Caraid ambled over and began chewing on some grass as if nothing had happened. “Aye, it seems they are.” He dipped his head and swept his lips over hers.

“I thought ye’d left me,” she murmured against his lips as her heart swelled with relief and happiness. It was truly over and the gorgeous warrior was hers. She brushed her hands over his arms, tracing the indent of his muscles.

She felt him grin against her cheek as he squeezed her. “I told ye I’d not. Yer mine now, mo ghràidh.”

“Morgann MacRae,” she raised her head and grinned back. “I’ve been yers since ye captured me.”

***

Morgann pressed his sweaty palms against his plaid and glanced at Alana who gave him an encouraging smile as she stood next to her father. He noticed her squeeze a placating hand on his shoulder as Dougall flexed his fists.

He inhaled slowly as he moved past the other Campbells, who turned from their meals as he approached the main table. Shoulders straight, he kept his gaze fixed on Dougall even as he heard the faint scrape of knives as hands clenched around them. Ach, but he felt as though he were about to be thrown to the wolves. Still he was determined to do this properly.

Dougall remained sitting and Morgann stopped in front of the table and dipped his head. “My laird.”

“MacRae,” the older man greeted tersely.

“I have come to beg a truce on behalf of my clan.” Morgann found he had to force the words out and resist the urge to snarl. Only Alana’s soothing presence kept him focused on why he was here. Today he would gain Alana’s hand.

“Indeed.”

He gritted his teeth. The old man wasn’t going to make it easy on him. “Now that the woman who instigated the problems between the clans has been killed, there is no reason for us to continue hostilities. It would be beneficial for both sides if we joined forces.” He flicked his gaze to Alana and had to stop himself from grinning. “And I’ll like to join the clans permanently by taking yer daughter in marriage.”