Unwilling (Highland Historical #2)

fight
together?” she asked.  “Or would you end up trying to kill each other, as
well?”
    Roderick smiled, his dimples
identical to his brothers, made her miss Connor all the more.  “Nay, in fact,
Berserkers recognize each other, and were bred to fight alongside one another
in battle.  It is very difficult for us to slay another of our kind.”
    Evelyn had reached out and caressed
her husband then, gratitude shining from her golden eyes. 
    “In fact,” Roderick continued,
after kissing his wife’s hand.  “It’s unlikely for a berserker to kill those of
his own clan, who he’s sworn to protect, unless they provoke him.”
    “Provoke?”
    “Aye, kind of like beating a
hound.  He’ll be loyal until he rips out yer throat.”
    Lindsay nodded with a relieved
smile.  “I’d wondered about that, fearing for every child about the keep who’d
skin a knee.”
    “Actually, once a berserker is
mated, he has more control over his change, and his magic.  I’ve heard tell
that he could even learn to will the change regardless of blood, though I’ve
not had chance to test the theory.”  Roderick shrugged, as though completely
comfortable that the time would come. 
    Lindsay had looked for Connor’s
return that night, readying herself with a fragrant bath and brushing her hair
until it shone a glossy black and crackled beneath the comb.  Her body warmed
with anticipation of his touch, of his possession.  Sitting on the edge of her
casement, her ears had strained to hear the sounds of his stallion’s hooves
carrying him back to her arms.
    The night had been long and darker
than any other in Lindsay’s entire life.
    ***
    “He’s been late before,” Roderick
soothed her at breakfast the next morning.  “We both have.  Besides, he’ll skin
my corpse and wear it if I leave the two of ye unprotected.”
    “Castle Lachlan is a sound keep.  You
have the men-at-arms,” Lindsay had argued.  “And the added hands of the men at
the market, should something happen.”
    “Tell that to Connor if he returns
and finds me missing,” he’d said wryly.  “Doona worry lass, if he’s no’ home by
tomorrow morning, I’ll go after him.”
    Lindsay had remained perched upon
the library table for untold hours watching the slow progress of the morning
sun through the sky. 
    Something was wrong.  She felt it
in her blood.  In her very bones.  Her stomach churned with dread and something
akin to pain.  She wasn’t merely worrying.  A sick and terrible knowledge tingled
at the base of her skull causing her head to ache and her heart to pound.
    “You have to go to him.”  Stunned
by Evelyn’s voice, she looked up to see the woman framed in the grand archway,
a frown lining her forehead. 
    “What?”
    “Connor.  He’s in danger.  If you
don’t go to him tonight, he’s going to die.”
    “Have you word of him?”  Lindsay
launched off the table and hurried to Evelyn, looking for a missive.  “What has
happened?” 
    “I can’t be sure.”  Evelyn worried
her lower lip.  “I know this is going to sound unorthodox, but ever since I was
a girl I’ve been able to foresee the deaths of others.”   She grasped Lindsay’s
hands in a desperate grip, her earnest gaze burning with veracity.  “He’s
trapped at Dun Keep almost a day’s ride from here.”
    Lindsay looked at the sun as it
rode high in the noon sky and her heart plummeted.  “You said he would die
tonight?  It’s already too late for me to make it.”
    “You might have a chance if you
ride like a demon.  Leave now.  Take one of the Arabians.”  Evelyn turned and
they sprinted through the hall in a frantic dash for the stables.
    “We should get Roderick,” Lindsay
called.
    “ No ,” Evelyn cried.  “If
Roderick goes, the same fate awaits him.  It must be you.  In fact—” Her
soft brown eyes lowered to the floor.  “I didn’t tell him.”
    “I understand.”  Lindsay blindly
followed Evelyn as she was pulled down hallways barely familiar to her.  “What
do I do to save him?”  Frantically, she considered her aspects.  She knew
nothing of combat.  She’d never been attributed with an abundance of intellect
or a head for stratagems.  She was neither strong nor particularly courageous. 
In fact, her arsenal had only ever been a pretty face, a self-serving wit, and
a sharp tongue. 
    “That, I cannot say.”  Evelyn led
them through the stone square that separated the keep from the armory