Leith admitted her, looking frantic. “Wha’ is it, Rhian? Wha’s happening? I could feel, well—” His gray-blue eyes widened. “I could feel that ye were afraid.”
“Could ye?” She moved into the circle of his arm, craving that closeness. A moment’s shelter only before she went out to face the unendurable.
“MacLeod musters for an attack.”
“Rory?”
“He maun be at their head, aye? They would no’ move wi’out him.”
“They would no’.”
“He maun ha’ recovered from his injury. Moira and Alasdair decided we should march out to meet him, only—only Alasdair will no’ allow Moira and Farlan to go. I am afraid we will lose him.”
Leith said nothing.
“Saerla has Seen somewhat so dire she will no’ share it wi’ anyone. She speaks only of partings.”
“Rhian, listen to me.” He tipped her face up and gazed into her eyes. “We can ne’er truly part. Understand me? No’ even though distance comes between us. There is some magic in it.”
“Magic?”
“Aye. Only look at this.”
He lifted his hand, which was no great feat.
Only, it was his right hand.
“Leith!” she gasped. “How long—”
“It has been coming along slowly since the wound closed over. A twitch at first. I could scarce believe it, so I did no’ say. But Rhian, beautiful angel, I believe ’twas loving ye that has healed me. Touching ye. Being inside ye.”
Quite possibly so. But this meant he might someday hold a sword again. And wield it against those she loved.
He’d gone from being the man she adored to being a threat.
“I maun go. We keep watch from the walls in case the fight comes back upon us. I will try to keep ye abreast o’ it.”
“Be careful, my love.” He kissed her sweetly, and she felt the pull deep inside. “Be careful, for ye carry my heart.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Hell might wellconsist of standing helplessly and watching a battle from afar, or so Rhian decided sometime later. She had climbed to the wall above the gate as soon as she left Leith, and joined Moira and Farlan, who held a place there.
Farlan stood quietly, his big hands resting on the stone, but Moira could not keep still and paced the walkway like a lioness.
It did not help that the distance was great and they could not see all of what transpired. What happened out at the loch side did not seem real, though Rhian understood all too well that it was.
Alasdair had set up a defense on their side of the loch—a wise tactic, since it meant the MacLeod forces must launch boats and row across, and might be attacked as they came ashore. So it was, and the MacLeods came in ferociously.
“Is that Rory at the head o’ them?” Moira demanded of Farlan. “The man in the foremost boat? Can ye tell?”
Farlan narrowed his gaze. “Aye. He moves like Rory.”
“Curse him! He was supposed to be dead or dying.”
Rhian, striving to follow the distant forms and to pick out Saerla’s, could clearly feel Moira’s tension. Everyone there on the walls could, and it made their men restless and edgy.
“Ha’ faith,” Farlan said. “The MacBeith forces ha’ taken up a strong position.”
