Page 12 of Her Highland Destiny

She’d always had a connection to the earth. That, and her entire body burned with mortification that he had read her thoughts in that intimate embrace. She didn’t like that she didn’t know his name.

“I’m Fergus the Undefeated,” he offered. “I would offer to stymie my ability to read yer thoughts if I thought the stone was safe from ye. Cassandra.” He found the name in her mind and let it grace his tongue.

The flush to her cheeks reddened further still. He made her feel exposed.

“Verra well,” he acquiesced. “I willna search yer mind, but know I will sense any attack ye plan, aye?”

Her shoulders relaxed and a cool sense of relief washed toward him.

“I need the stone, but I do not want to fight you,” she said. “You have to understand that in keeping it in your care, you will destroy Scotland.”

Unease gripped Fergus. Was that why King Edgar wanted the stone? To see Scotland destroyed? But why would any king want his country left in ruin?

“I need it,” Fergus said at last.

“Your need is greater than the good of Scotland?” Her brows lifted.

This lass had a feistiness to her for being such a wee bit of a thing.

“I need it to save my son,” he replied earnestly.

Her brows drew together. He didn’t need to read minds to know she was unsure if she ought to trust him or not. In truth, she should not. But he needed her to accompany him and would tell her anything necessary to ensure her compliance.

“He’s unwell. The stone will aid him and then ye may have it when I’m done.” The lie sat sourly in Fergus’ mouth. He had to have her with him. Damn it, he had to have his son back.

“Why not give it to me now?” She held out her hand, as though she anticipated he might actually drop it into the softness of her slender palm.

“I know how badly ye want the stone and I canna trust that ye willna run off with it.”

Her hand folded closed. “Very well, but you must allow me to travel with you.”

He nodded slowly, as though he were conceding to her request. As though he didn’t have to have her at his side. “Ye may travel with me. I go to Edinburgh where my son is.” Guilt squeezed at him even as the darkness within him crowded at the barriers he’d erected long ago. He ought to let it in, to embrace the cold detachment it would provide. Part of him was afraid of how much it would control him, and part of him could not allow all his mother’s hard work to be destroyed.

Cassandra nodded firmly, clearly assuming the matter was settled, assuming herself the victor in the discussion. Only she had no idea how terribly she had lost.

She unfurled her own bedroll across from his, on the other side of the fire. Outside the cave, lightning flickered and the roar of a fresh rainstorm sounded.

Despite their exhaustion, the night dragged on in restlessness, more in wakeful wariness than sleep, each not fully trusting the other. For his part, Fergus could rely on his heightened awareness. She would never sneak an attack upon him. However, her presence left him unnerved.

It had been years since he craved a woman at his side, over a decade. Not since Allisandre.

Mayhap it was Cassandra’s incredible beauty, or the fascination of her being a Protector. Certainly it had something to do with the sweetness of her scent and how badly she made him long for her. Even as he lay opposite, his arms ached to hold her. His eyes refused to close, instead wandering repeatedly toward her smooth face, relaxed in slumber beneath the flickering light of the fire’s embers.

At long last, the effects of weariness won out over his thoughts and he gave in to the quiet lull of sleep.

They came in the night, the cowardly bastards, and pulled Allisandre from his arms. The stink of magic hung thick in the air. It clogged in his throat and rendered him frozen in place. The soldiers were quick, sent with purpose, their deeds executed with precision. They clearly had been imbued with a darkness that left their movements unnatural and sent Fergus’ heart pumping like a dog on a hunt. Only when they’d jerked her from him did the magical binding break and Fergus was freed to snatch the dagger from beneath the mattress.

Allisandre screamed, a terrified cry that cut him to his soul. She writhed in their shadowy grips, her body swollen with Fergus’ child, her bright red hair streaming about her like fire.

There were too many of them and Fergus’ body would not obey as quickly as was necessary. It was as though he moved through a bog. Even the sharpness of his senses were dulled, save for the acute agony of loss.

There hadn’t been a damn thing Fergus could do to protect his pregnant wife. Nay, they had dragged her from him as he watched, helplessly. He had lost everything.

The air shifted, and the scent of magic prickled his nostrils like an impending rainstorm. The intent of movement drew his awareness with the beginnings of an attack. Fergus grasped the dagger from under his pillow and threw it with all his might at whoever planned to attack him. His actions were so fast, his target would never have been able to dodge the lethal blow.

He did not open his eyes, not wanting to see Allisandre being dragged away in the moonlight again. Then another scent appeared beneath the foulness of magic and made his eyes fly open. Apples. Sweet and fresh.

Cassandra.