The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

here whilst ye go fetch water. Dinna even think about it.” The thought of sitting in the dark, waiting for his return, made her heart pound so hard it rendered her dizzy.

“I wouldna be gone for long,” he said softly, but his tone was laced with the iron of his stubbornness. The man had already made up his mind. She could see it in his eyes.

“Dinna ask this of me,” she pleaded. “I beg ye.”

“We have to survive. For Keigan.”

He would say that. She closed her eyes and sagged forward, holding her head in her hands. Every decision they made affected Keigan, even though her dear lad had remained behind at Tor Ruadh. They had promised to fetch him. Reunite with him as soon as they could. If they didn’t fight to survive, how could they keep the word they had given to her precious lad?

“I didna see any weapons here.” Magnus spared another glance around the carnage. “But ye have yer dagger and yer stones, aye?”

“Aye,” she said, without lifting her head. “One dagger and seven throwing stones. I can fend off everything but the darkness and my fears.”

The warmth of his hand on her back did little to ease her fretting. What if something happened to him? What if the treacherous trail bested him? She feared she would never feel his warmth again. “There has to be another way,” she whispered, but for the life of her, she didn’t know what. “How far is the next cache?”

“Too far to try without food, water, or more pitch and fresh torches.”

“Let me come with ye.” She straightened and looked him in the eyes.

“Nay, m’dearest love. That I canna do.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll not risk losing ye to the treachery of the caves. That route isna for those unused to traveling the bowels of Ben Nevis.”

“But ye would leave me here wondering if I’m a wife or widow?”

“I will return. I have done it before. Many times.”

She threw herself into his arms, clutching him as tightly as Keigan had held to her. “I canna bear it if ye dinna return,” she confessed as she pressed her face against the sweet warmth of his neck. “Please dinna leave me. I would rather return to the keep and fight a thousand Sassenachs than wonder if ye’re dying in the bottom of a dark pit somewhere.”

He cradled her close, gently swaying to and fro, as if she were a colicky bairn. With every stroke of his fingers through her hair, she knew she had lost him. He had made up his mind.

“Please,” she whispered again.

“I must go, mo ghràdh.” He brushed a kiss across her temple. “Trust me, my dearest one. I promise I will return.” Sliding a finger under her chin, he lifted her face to his. “Wait here and think of names for our bairns, aye? We canna have Keigan lonely, ye ken?”

“If ye dinna come back to me, I’ll hunt ye down and haunt ye through all eternity,” she threatened, meaning every word. “Ye’ve made me love ye. Need ye. Worry after ye. I’ll be damned if ye escape me now.” She reached up and touched his face. “I love ye, m’eudail, more than I ever thought possible. Dinna make me regret opening my heart.”

He answered her threat with a hard kiss of stubborn determination. “Two days,” he said. “In two days, I’ll return to ye with enough water to get us to the next cache. I swear it.”

“I give ye two days.” She grudgingly pushed herself free and put an arm’s length of space between them. “Dinna make me regret placing my trust in ye.” If she didn’t escape his touch, she would surely be reduced to weeping as though he had already been lowered into the grave.

“Never, my love.” He slowly stood and reached for her. She weakly resisted then gave in, allowing him to gather her close once again. “Never will I make ye regret trusting me,” he promised, then sealed his oath with a kiss.

Chapter Fifteen

“Dammit to Hell and back.”

Magnus gritted his teeth as he cast the torchlight up and down the heap of jagged rubble blocking his way. All that remained of the narrow passage was an opening at the top of the pile, barely large enough for a man to shimmy through—and it would have to be a small man at that. He contemplated attempting it, but common sense stopped him. It would be deadly to try such a thing with no one to help should aught go awry.

He and the MacCoinnichs had explored and mapped out most of these caves. While the maze served as a layer of extra protection for the clan, the hidden hallways of the mighty Ben Nevis were a dangerous place. They deserved the same respect and wariness given to a fearsome beast, a beast that a man never battled alone.

He lifted the light again, scanning where the jagged rocks had broken free from the wall. Landslides inside the mountain weren’t all that common. New fissures often cracked across the cave floor, but the passage walls rarely collapsed. Then he spotted it. A shining mark scraped across the rock—a mark made by a chisel. An evildoer had brought on this collapse.

After one last hard look at the barrier, he decided. There was naught to do but backtrack almost eight furlongs or so and head down the only other trail that opened out close to the same area on the mountainside he hoped to access. Whoever fouled this passage might have closed off the other way, too, but he doubted it. Experience and pure gut instinct warned him this treachery held all the makings of a crude trap. Thank goodness Brenna was back at the supply cache, where it was safer. At least, he hoped she was safe. An uneasy urgency increased the speed of his stride.

He had two fresh torches ready and shoved in the back