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Authors: Suzan Tisdale

Forever Her Champion (14 page)

BOOK: Forever Her Champion
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Stunned, Lachlan stared long and hard at the ring before glancing at Aiden. “Ye love him.” ’Twas a statement, not a question.

Tears stung at her eyes. “Aye, with all my heart I do.”

“And he loves ye.”

Rianna looked lovingly at Aiden. “He gave up his life for me.”

“Nay, he is still with us, lass. Ye must believe with all yer heart he will wake.”

A long moment of time stretched out before she turned back to face her father. “Why does the ring glow? Is it magik?”

Lachlan smiled adoringly at her. “Aye lass, ’tis indeed.”

* * *

T
hey sat together
for another hour, while Lachlan told her the legend behind the ring. “So ye see, lass, it only glows so brightly when ye have found yer true love. Ye shall pass it on to yer first born daughter someday.”

Fervently, she wanted to believe him, but if Aiden did not survive, she knew there would be neither daughters nor sons for her.

“What did ye do to Melvin?” she finally asked.

He and Jean Luc exchanged yet another guarded glance. “I killed him. ’Twas he, nae my brother Daniel, who had poisoned me. Melvin had been searching for ye for years, Valeriana. He wanted to see ye dead. He knew that if ye e’er returned, he would ne’er have a chance at inheriting the chiefdom or lands. He coveted those things above all else. But for years, I was convinced ’twas Daniel’s doing. I did nae ken until we found the doll and learned he had sent ye away, that ’twas truly him behind all of it.”

“I wish I could have seen him die,” Rianna blurted out. “It is because of him that Aiden lies here dying before my eyes!”

Lachlan stood, pulled her to her feet and into a long overdue embrace. “Wheest, lass. Ye must
believe
with all yer heart that he will recover. I ne’er gave up hope of someday finding ye. Please do nae give up hope of Aiden soon waking.”

More than a decade’s worth of tears spilled out then. Lachlan held her tightly, allowing her to cry until she had no more tears left. When her sobbing finally quieted, he patted her head. “Now will ye please wash away his blood, change yer clothes and rest? Ye dunnae want to look a sight when he finally opens his eyes, do ye?”

Reluctantly, she agreed.

“I shall send in someone to help ye bathe and get ye settled in. I leave ye in Jean Luc’s good care, lass, but I promise to return in a week.”

“Where are ye goin’?” she asked, suddenly worried she might never see him again.

“To bring my brother Daniel home.”

Epilogue

W
hether ’twas
the power of prayer, love, or her father’s fervent belief, Aiden finally woke on the fourth day. Or, more likely than not, ’twas the stubborn Scottish blood that coursed through his veins. Either way, he was awake with no idea of where he was or how he came to be in a soft, warm bed. 

Every muscle in his body ached and screamed in protest when he tried to raise his head to get his bearings. He tried moving his arm, but one of them burned and ached. Slowly, he moved his head to see if the bloody thing was still attached.

Rianna.

The sight of her stole his breath away. She was beside him, fast asleep, and she was using his arm as a pillow. One slender hand rested on his chest, one leg was draped over his. Her dark locks were tousled, spreading out in all directions. Even as she slept, he could see the dark circles under her eyes. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever set eyes upon. 

“Wheest,” came a harsh whisper. “Do nae wake her.”

Aiden turned to see the source of the warning. A slender man with dark hair and green eyes was staring at him. He was standing near the door, arms crossed over his chest.

“She finally succumbed to exhaustion late last night. ’Tis the first time she has slept in days.”

Aiden’s eyes darted about the room, looking for his sword or any weapon with which he might need to defend himself. The man laughed softly.

“Your sword be against the wall next to you, but you will have no need of it. You are safe. My name is Jean Luc, second in command to Lachlan MacAllistair, laird and chief of clan MacAllistair, and father to the lass sleeping beside you.” He bowed low, but never took his gaze away from Aiden. 

Aiden tried to get his eyes and ears to focus more clearly, but his head felt foggy, filled with cobwebs and shattered flashes of memory.

“You will feel better soon enough, young man. But if you wake her up, I shall run a dirk through your heart, do you understand?”

’Twas not nearly as menacing a threat as Aiden supposed he meant it to be. 

“Where am I?” He asked, his throat scratchy and dry. 

Jean Luc smiled before taking the chair next to the bed. “Ye are in Allistair Castle.”

Allistair Castle. 
“Her father,” he scratched out. “He has accepted her?” His chest began to feel heavy, dreading the answer.

“Yes, he has.” 

Aiden looked away, unwilling to share his pain with anyone. If Lachlan was indeed Rianna’s father, then what need did she have of him? A former assassin with no means to support her. Now she had the home she had always dreamt of.

Jean Luc leaned in, his voice low, firm. “She loves ye. Only once has she left your side, and that was last night, and only long enough to bathe.”

What did it matter? There was nothing he could offer her, other than his undying love. Love was not enough to stave off the pangs of hunger or keep out the harsh winter winds. 

“Lachlan will give you a home here as well. Of this, there is no doubt,” Jean Luc informed him. 

Aiden refused to look at the man. Aye, she loved him and he her. While the offer of a home was tempting, in his heart, he knew he did not belong here. If his former masters were ever to discover where he was, they would unleash a reign of terror and hell unlike any the MacAllistairs had ever seen. Nay, he could not stay here, could not put any of them at risk. Especially not Rianna.

Jean Luc studied him for a long moment. Aiden could feel his hard glare almost boring into his skull. 

“Her father knows of your past and he cares not of it. Neither do I. We offer you the same protection we offer Valeriana.”

Valeriana? 
Aiden turned his head slowly, confusion knitted in his brow. 

“Allow me to tell you a story …

* * *

T
he midnight hour
had come and gone before Rianna woke. She had slept so soundly and for such a great length of time that Aiden began to worry she had become ill.

He lay on his side facing her, taking great pleasure in simply watching her sleep. Dark locks lay this way and that, her creamy skin tinged gold from the light the fire, looking like an angel sent down from the heavens. Though the healer who had visited him earlier assured him she was well, simply exhausted from her own worry over him, he still fretted over her wellbeing. 

Whilst she slept, he thought about everything Jean Luc had told him. He felt certain the man had not left out a single detail about Rianna’s birthright, her past, or his own thoughts on her future. What surprised him most, however, was the message he’d relayed on Lachlan MacAllistair’s behalf. 

So relieved was he that when she finally opened her eyes, he nearly wept. 

“So ye’re back amongst the livin’,” he asked playfully, unwilling to allow her to see the depths of his own despair or relief at seeing her bright green eyes once again.

Rianna was not afraid to allow her own feelings to show. She shot up in the bed, her eyes wide with astonished relief. “Ye’re awake,” she said as if she were unable yet to quite believe it.

“Aye, I am,” he said as he rolled to his back, grinning from ear to ear. Unable to contain her joy, she flung herself against his chest, her head buried in the pillow. “Och! Aiden!” she exclaimed. “I was so worried ye’d ne’er wake.”

Pain shot from his injured side and arm. He sucked in a deep breath and groaned. 

Realizing her error, she sat up. “I’ve hurt ye,” she said, filled with guilt. 

“Do nae fash over it, lass,” he said with a wince. “’Tis naught but a scratch. And I’d be willin’ to walk through the fires of hell to feel ye against me once again.”

Uncertain, she sat still as she carefully studied his face. 

“Please, rest with me, let me hold ye close,” he said.

Carefully, as if he might break or fall back into a deep sleep, she settled herself in beside him. He wrapped his uninjured arm around her and held her close.

“We have much to talk about lass,” he whispered softly against her silky hair. 

He felt her stiffen, but she moved naught a muscle.

“Much has transpired betwixt us these past many days,” he said softly. “Some of it I would prefer ne’er to repeat again.”

He could feel she was holding her breath. Most likely in dread, afraid of what he was about to say. Were the circumstances different, had he not very nearly died, he might have toyed with her for a moment, allowing her to fret and think the worst. Nay, the moment was to important to spend on jests and sarcasm.

“With all that I am, Rianna MacAllistair, I love ye. When I am with ye, I feel whole again. Ye somehow have the power to cast out all my demons. Just bein’ in yer presence, I get this overwhelmin’ sense of bein’ 
home.

He resisted the urge to chuckle at the sound of her expelling the breath she’d been holding. Gently, he caressed her arm with his fingertips, in featherlight circles. “I can only hope that ye could some day feel the same about me.”

Slowly, she sat up, her expression questioning his soundness of mind. “Are ye daft? I have nae left yer side fer days. I prayed o’er ye, cleaned yer wounds, changed yer bandages, and worried myself sick o’er ye! How can ye —”

Smiling devilishly, he did not give her time to finish her tirade. Wrapping a hand around her neck, he pulled her in and kissed her soundly. He imagined he could live to be five hundred years old and never tire of hearing her indrawn breath when he kissed her. Would never grow weary of how warm and sweet her lips tasted.

Before things could get out of hand, he pulled away slightly to look into her eyes. “Yer father left a message for me. An order, really. One I fear I cannae ignore.”

Confused, she could only stare at him mutely.

“If I refuse, he has promised to have me drawn and quartered, my head set on a pike, and the rest of me set afire and burned to ashes so that he might trample through them on horseback.”

Stunned and terrified, Rianna said, “We must away this place at once then!”

Aiden chuckled softly as he played with a long tendril of her hair. “Would ye nae like to hear what the order is first, before ye go plannin’ our escape?”

From her fearful expression he knew her imagination was running rampant. “What?” she asked breathlessly.

“I am to marry ye.”

Confusion turned to astonishment before turning to relief. “Ye are?”

“Aye,” he said with a nod. “I am. Jean Luc had the banns posted earlier, while ye were sleepin’.”

Slowly, she backed away from him, her lips pursed into a thin line. “’Twas kind of ye to ask me first,” she said sharply. “Why do men think they can simply order a woman to do their biddin’ without any regard for their opinion on the matter? And ye? Ye are wantin’ to marry me only because ye fear for yer life?”

 “Aye, I do. But nae because I fear what yer father will do to me,” he said in a soft yet serious tone. “Rianna MacAllistair, I love ye and want to spend  the rest of my life with ye. I fear that if ye say nay, I shall be forever doomed to walk this earth alone, with a broken heart, my soul left barren, ne’er to feel a moment of peace or joy e’er again.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes.  “Aye,” she whispered. “I shall marry ye.”

Afterword

Dear Reader,

 

If you want to read more titles in the
Ever My Love
collection, please do! You can follow the ring as it makes its way through the centuries!

 

Of Love and Legend
by Kathryn Le Veque: Medieval England - The ring finds its way into a notorious outlaw's possession only to curse the woman he loves.

 

Forever Her Champion
by Suzan Tisdale: The Scottish Highlands - The ring escapes with a little girl... and the curse follows.

 

Breath from the Sea
by Eliza Knight: Tudor England - The ring once again becomes the prize for the lawless when an infamous female pirate tries to steal it from a Queen’s Naval Captain.

 

Only You
by Cheryl Bolen: Georgian Era - Twin sisters vie for the ring - and for the Duke of Axminster.

 

Call of the Wild Wind
by Sabrina York: Regency England - The ring enters the proud and proper Regency set where the curse finds new life.

 

The Guardian Mist
by Susan Stoker: Modern Times - Mistaken identity, soul mates, and the last chance for the ring to fulfill its destiny.

BOOK: Forever Her Champion
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