Текст книги "My wild Highlander"

Автор книги: Vonda Sinclair

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Fourteen

Angelique rushed across the great hall to greet her second cousin and childhood friend, Neilina Lockhart. "Thanks be to God you were not killed in Kormad's attack!"

Neilina's clothing was ripped, dirty and askew, her auburn hair falling and tangled about her shoulders. "Angelique." Her breathing harsh, Neilina pulled her into an embrace. "I was lucky, but poor Jerome was not. They killed him and rode away with his lifeless body. No doubt they threw him in the river." She pulled back, her face scrunched, and sobbed into a handkerchief.

"Mère de Dieu, you poor thing. You must rest. The men will deal with Kormad." An arm around Neilina's waist, Angelique ushered her up the stairs and toward a guest chamber, then directed the servants to bring in her trunks.

Neilina's two maids straightened her drooping hair and poured water in a basin. "You must change m'lady. Your clothing is torn."

Despite the dirt smudging her cheek, Neilina was a woman of great beauty. Angelique remembered she had been pretty as a child, when they had played together during clan gatherings.

"Nay, I will be fine." Neilina waved them away. "I wish to give Cousin Angelique her gift."

"You are too kind to think of me in a time like this."

"Nonsense." Once the servants set down Neilina's trunk, she opened it and lifted out a carved box. "I'm so glad they didn't steal the wedding gift I brought you and your new husband. Congratulations on your marriage." Neilina handed her the box and curtseyed.

"I thank you, but you should not have." Angelique didn't see how Neilina could maintain such self-possession, considering the violence she'd witnessed. She could've been raped or killed, for heaven's sake. But the women of her family were often considered strong.

Angelique opened the box lid to reveal a beautiful set of silver spoons displayed on red velvet. "Oh what an extravagant and lovely gift. I thank you." It truly was one of the finest things they had received.

"I'm so glad it pleases you."

"Indeed. Lachlan will love it, too." She closed the box. "I'm sure you would like to rest for a while and change. I shall see you at evening meal. And I do hope you will be staying with us for a while." Angelique said the words partly out of politeness, trying to be the perfect hostess, and partly because she truly would like to get to know her cousin again.

"Thank you. I would like that very much."

Angelique was certain she must have imagined the sly twinkle in her cousin's eye, for when she looked back it was gone.

***

At evening meal two days later, Lachlan glanced at those around high table in the great hall. Angelique's cousin's bold gaze met his and lingered. He had received such glances from enough women to know what it meant. He didn't want any woman interested in him except his wife who sat beside him. He lifted her hand and kissed it, hoping that said to Lady Neilina he was taken and interested in no one but his wife.

Angelique smiled at him.

He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "I cannot wait to get you into bed again." He kissed her ear. Their last few nights together had been amazing.

Her cheeks flushed and she gently pinched the inside of his bare knee beneath the tablecloth.

Och! It took no more than that to make him hard? He wished she'd run her hand up his leg, beneath the plaid and find out exactly how she affected him. The quick rush of arousal near made him dizzy.

He placed her palm flat against his thigh. Saints! He was stiff as a ram's horn. Why couldn't he get enough of her? At this rate, he'd lift her from her chair and cart her off to the bedchamber before the meal was over.

"M'laird," one of the servants said behind his left shoulder.

"Aye?" He turned.

"A missive arrived for you."

Lachlan took the small folded parchment and broke the red wax seal. The message was from Chief Robertson. He invited Lachlan to his holdings to inspect the white mares and, if they met with his approval, choose one for his wife. Another buyer was interested in them as well, so Lachlan was to relay his decision forthwith.

Lachlan quickly refolded the paper, before Angelique could read it, and stuffed it into his sporran. The white mare was to be a surprise wedding gift for her. He was certain she would love it, especially after she'd mentioned having to leave her white horse behind in France. The Robertson's holdings were no more than two or three hours' ride one way. He could be there and back in one day, before Angelique even knew he'd left.

"Is something amiss?" she asked.

"Nay. All is well." He hid a smile, wondering if he might buy two horses. Indeed, two would surely make her twice as happy.

Angelique eyed him, suspicion written in her expression. But he could not spoil this surprise. He kissed her cheek, then whispered, "Come upstairs with me, now."

Her face turned bright red and she glanced about. But he did not care what the others thought.

"We must beg your pardon," he said to the table at large as he arose, her hand in his, and tugged her from her chair. Snickers and ribald comments ensued as they rushed from the great hall. Clearly, she knew if she didn't follow peacefully, he'd toss her over his shoulder. Or maybe her carnal hunger matched his own. Aye, he hoped that was the case.

"Lachlan," Angelique chastised him in a loud whisper once they were on the steps. "You are most uncouth!"

"Indeed I am." He chuckled.

***

The next morn, as they were breaking their fast, Angelique noticed Cousin Neilina staring openly at Lachlan. At first, Angelique thought Neilina must want to say something, but quickly realized the woman's gaze held sensual interest. Had Lachlan noticed? He concentrated on eating, but did flick a heated look at Angelique and winked. Last night they had again shared an unforgettable and enthusiastic session of lovemaking. She was well and truly addicted to him now. Somehow, he had charmed his way into her heart and soul. He and his playful, seductive affection were the richest of ambrosia to her starved body and spirit. He filled her with expansive feelings of bliss such as she never knew existed.

Which was why Neilina's interested, furtive looks filled Angelique with a rage of concern so great she felt as if a battering ram slammed against her rib cage. There it was again—her cousin was devouring Lachlan with her eyes. Angelique hadn't expected such treachery from her own kin.

Mère de Dieu, Neilina was beautiful, more so even than Eleanor. What if Lachlan found Neilina attractive, irresistible? A cold fear arose within her.

Angelique tried to act normal as the meal ended and the people disbursed. But Neilina continued to peek briefly at Lachlan as he talked quietly with Rebbie.

The bitch. Angelique would strangle her.

Lachlan appeared not to notice her regard, but he had done that before. When he headed down a corridor, Neilina trailed behind. Angelique stiffened, then forced herself to follow silently and hid in the shadows.

"M'laird," Neilina said quietly.

After a few more steps, Lachlan paused and turned back halfway. "Aye?"

"'Haps I could meet you later in your chamber."

Poisonous hatred dripped into Angelique's blood, hatred for her vile cousin. Hatred that focused her attention and her vision. Her hands clenched in her skirts, craving a weapon.

Lachlan observed Neilina in silence for a long moment, but Angelique was so far away she could not see his expression. "The south tower room, just after sunset," he finally said.

Angelique froze, the blood pounding through her ears blocking out any other sounds. Her legs lost all strength. She slumped against the cold stone wall at her back, then slid down into a tiny ball. Nausea clutched at her. And a lance of despair smashed against her heart. The bastard! She'd known he would do this, yet she'd trusted him. Why had she let him through her barriers?

Neilina and Lachlan went their separate ways. Pushing herself up, Angelique forced her trembling legs to carry her to her bedchamber, where she blocked the door with two chests, crawled into bed and covered her head. Oh, Mère de Dieu, she could not breathe. Her corset compressed her lungs. Her throat felt as if a rope tightened around it. Slowly, she drew air in and the force of the devastation struck her. Lachlan. No. A sob tore from her body. No. Do not! You are mine. You do not touch her!

What was this horrid emotion devouring her from the inside out, like a vicious lion? Crushing her and sucking away her life like a great wave smashing upon her?

I do not love him. No!

But she did. Nothing else could be so painful.

"I am so stupid. Stupid, stupid!" She pounded fists against her pillow, hot tears gushing from her eyes.

She would kill Neilina…or confront her and send her away. But if she did that, Lachlan would only find another woman.

I will not go to the tower. I will not go there to witness his betrayal.

But she had to. She had to have proof. She had to confront him and tell him, see, you are not capable of fidelity, as I told you.

And her life would end in that moment.

***

Lachlan met Rebbie and Dirk in the solar and closed the door.

"I have problems and I need your help," Lachlan said in a low voice. "I'm riding out this morn to Robertson Clan holdings to purchase a couple of white mares for Angelique as a wedding gift. Chief Robertson has another buyer interested, so I need to make haste. 'Tis a surprise and I want her to know nothing about it ahead of time. I'll take six clansmen with me to ride as guard. I want both of you to stay here and keep Angelique from knowing where I've gone and protect her in the event there's an attack. Also, I'm suspicious of Lady Neilina. She's just offered herself to me."

"What's so unusual about that?" Rebbie lifted a brow.

"I don't trust her. I'm thinking she may be Kormad's spy."

"But Kormad attacked her party, did he not?" Dirk asked.

"Supposedly. Or it could be a grand cover story so we would welcome her more openly."

"Ah. You may be right," Rebbie said.

"In any case, I'm not interested in her. I intend to be faithful to Angelique." Besides, he simply didn't desire any other woman now. Angelique had captured his attention completely, and he took his marriage vows seriously. "Dirk, I have a job for you, which I'm thinking you'll enjoy."

His friend scowled. "What?"

"I want you to pretend to be me, put on one of my kilts and meet Lady Neilina in the south tower chamber just before sunset. Make sure the room is dark so she can't see your face. We are of about the same size, and since she doesn't know either of us well, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"Hmm, you're right. I could see myself enjoying that." Dirk grinned.

"Most importantly, find out what information you can from her," Lachlan said.

"Of course. 'Twill be my pleasure."

***

Hands shaking, Angelique slipped along the passage and up the narrow steps of the south tower. She hadn't seen Lachlan all day. Undoubtedly, he was avoiding her because he had in mind to bed another woman. Whoremonger! The man had no ability to feel guilt. Her stomach ached from hunger and disgust. She hadn't been able to eat all day. Her world was about to shatter yet again. She sensed the impending doom. Why had she dared to dream?

She had waited too long and sunset had come and gone.

Pausing outside the door, she listened. Rustling came from within. Then a male groan. The bastard. I will kill him and my whore of a cousin.

Covered with cold sweat, Angelique quietly pushed the door and inched it open. He had been so stupid as to not even lock it, likely too excited to remember. A thick cloth covered the narrow window in the round stone room, further dimming the twilight. Their silhouettes were clear—a tall kilted man with long hair stood behind a woman, bent over a table, her skirts hiked. Gripping her hips, he serviced her from the back, moaning. The woman gasped and whimpered. "Oh, Lachlan. Yes!"

Severe nausea tore through Angelique. She fled down the steps, tripped at the bottom and crashed to her knees. Though she knew not how she found the strength, she shoved herself up and ran to her room. Once inside, she again sank to her knees and retched. But nothing came up.

I will not feel. I will not feel! He is dead to me.

Once her stomach settled, she arose.

"I cannot stay here." Her whole body trembling, she flipped open a trunk lid and crammed clothing into it.

"What are you doing?"

Angelique jumped, turning to face Camille in the doorway. "Leaving."

"Why?"

"Lachlan is swiving my cousin as we speak. The bastard! I knew he could not change."

"What? You saw this?"

"Yes, with mine own eyes. This morn, I heard him tell her where to meet him. Then, they were there when I arrived."

"The swine. I did not think he would do such a thing. He seemed besotted with you, cousin."

"Oh, he is most charming and deceptive, more so than Girard." Even Girard had not hurt her as much as Lachlan now did.

"Where are we going?" Camille asked.

"You are willing to come with me?"

"Of course. I go with you everywhere. How could you think otherwise?"

She had one true friend—Camille—whom she believed would never betray her or let her down.

"We go to London. I will seek a divorce."

"On what grounds? Clearly, the marriage has been consummated. Not impotence."

"That is not amusing. Incest."

"What?

"He is having sex with my second cousin who is now also his second cousin by marriage. Therefore, incest by affinity. If that doesn't work, I'll use the impotence plea. I'd love to see him prove his virility before the court."

Ha. She would love nothing. She was dead inside and never wanted to see Lachlan again.

"Where will you go after that?" Camille asked.

"I have not yet decided. If he leaves here, I may come back. If not, then France. We will go to Uncle Louis in the south of France. My mother and I visited him once a few years ago."

"But what of your castle here? Your clan?"

"What do I care?" Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out. "I do not even want to live. My clan hates me. They love Lachlan. He is their leader as I will never be. I do not fit in here as I had hoped. And I cannot abide an unfaithful husband and his whores."

"At least talk to him first. Angelique, I know you love him."

"No! I will never speak to him again. Have the grooms ready the coach in the stables so no one will know it's us within when we leave. Send some servants up to carry our trunks. And have them keep their mouths shut. No one will know we have left for a great while."

A half hour later, they slipped out the side door and to the stables under the cover of darkness. The coach was waiting with their trunks already loaded.

"We go into Perth," she told the driver and her two armed bodyguards. They nodded and climbed on board. One guard sat up front with the driver, and the other on the back. They needed protection passing Kormad's estate, and she was not so stupid as to forgo that.

The driver whipped the horses into motion and they rumbled through the gate which he'd had the guards open moments ago.

Sitting beside Camille, Angelique gazed back through the blackness at the glow in the windows of Draughon and the torches lighting the bailey. Her gaze found the south tower. Inside it, Lachlan had broken her heart a thousand times over.

I am just like my mother. Running from a heartache she would never escape. Though other men had loved her mother, she had loved none of them back. Not the way she'd loved Angelique's father.

Her throat constricted. "I shall never love again," she whispered. "I swear it."

"Oh, Ange." Camille moved to the seat beside her and pulled her into a warm embrace. "I knew you loved him. You should have confronted him."

Angelique shook her head. "No. I might kill him or his whore if given the least opportunity."

The lane became rougher. The driver slowed but they bounced back and forth. Outside the window, the night grew darker as clouds hid the moon and stars.

Nearby, riders on horseback, the many hooves thudding against the ground, startled Angelique.

"Whoa!" someone yelled. The coach slowed.

"Where are we?" Angelique asked.

"The village?"

"No, we've not had time."

Angelique had forgotten to load her pistol. She drew a dagger instead.

***

Halfway home from the Robertson estate, Lachlan glanced back at the two white mares glowing in the twilight. Aye, indeed Angelique would love them. They were beauties, strong and spirited. Two of his clansmen led them. He had hoped to be home before dark, but the Robertson clan's hospitality knew no bounds. They had shared food, drink and lively talk too long.

A war cry sounded from the bushes. Horses galloped at Lachlan and his party of six.

"What the hell?" Lachlan drew his sword and charged them on horseback. Kormad again? The bastard!

His blade struck one of the attackers.

Pistol fire exploded, lighting the gloom for a second. A man cried out. Horses neighed and reared. In the melee and low light, it was hard to identify anyone. The men released the white mares and they galloped away.

"Don't kill him yet!" someone yelled. Kormad.

One man on foot grabbed Lachlan's horse's bridle, while two more came at him from the side. Before he could strike either, one latched onto his sword arm. A fist punched him in the stomach.

He struck out but could not free his arm from the clinging leech who near wrung his shoulder from its socket. Pain sliced through him. The bastards dragged him from the saddle. Once on the ground, Lachlan dropped the sword and closed his hand around the hilt of the dagger on his belt, better for close combat. Before he could withdraw it, something bashed into his head and blackness descended.

***

"If that is Kormad, why are my guards not shooting them?" Angelique whispered inside the coach.

"I don't know," Camille said. "What if it is Girard?"

Dread sank like a stone in Angelique's stomach.

"M'lady." One of her bodyguards opened the door. "Laird Rebbinglen is here. He must speak with you." He moved back and Rebbie, holding a torch, took his place.

"Lady Angelique, what are you doing so far from Draughon this late?" Frowning, he ran his midnight gaze over her and Camille.

Angelique's lips seemed sewn shut. How could she speak the words, the truth, of Lachlan's betrayal?

"Lachlan has been captured," Rebbie said. "Kormad took him on his way back from the Robertson's."

"Robertson's? What do you mean?"

"Lachlan took a few Drummagan men, including the steward, and went to the Robertson's holdings this morn. On the way back, Kormad and his men attacked their party, killing one man. They knocked Lachlan out, made off with him, and sent word by the other men that they would hold him hostage until they had what they wanted. If they didn't receive it within a day, they would kill him."

"Mère de Dieu." Angelique's thoughts were a jumble. How could Lachlan have been gone to the Robertson's? She had seen him with her own eyes in the tower. Was this some kind of trick to get her to come back?

"The stable lad told us you'd left. I don't know what you're doing out here, or how you slipped past us, but you must come back to Draughon with us."

"Yes. We go back." No matter what Lachlan had done, she would not abandon him to Kormad. If he was indeed captured, she would help him.

The driver turned the coach, though it took several minutes. A short time later, they arrived back at Draughon.

"Where were you going?" Rebbie asked, once they, along with Dirk, Camille and Fingall, were in the solar.

"I do not wish to speak of it. It is between Lachlan and me," Angelique said, her stomach feeling queasy when she remembered what she'd witnessed in the south tower.

The room was silent for a long, tense moment.

"Why was Lachlan supposedly gone to the Robertson's?" she asked.

Rebbie and Dirk exchanged a glance. The sort of silent communication men do when they don't wish a woman to know a secret.

"He went to buy you a white mare as a wedding gift," Rebbie finally said.

"Two white mares," Dirk added.

"Is that so?" How long had it taken them to think up that story? And they couldn't even get it straight. Lachlan's two friends would lie and cover for him no matter what. They were loyal unto death and she didn't trust them to tell the truth any more than she trusted Lachlan.

"Indeed."

"So, Kormad has him. How do we get him freed?" she asked, trying to stay focused on the task at hand and not her mangled emotions.

"Kormad does not work alone. I believe you ken who Girard is."

The sensation of a chilling wind blew over her. "Mon Dieu. Not Girard. He is there, helping Kormad?"

"Aye."

She stared into Camille's terrified eyes. "God help us all. He will kill him."

"We're going to make sure that doesn't happen," Rebbie said, his voice stern. "Girard wants something he believes you have. Some sort of diamond pendant."

The diamond now hung suspended from a chain around her neck, the large icy stone lying between her breasts. It was no comfort at all. The thing was more like a noose.

"Yes, I will give it to him…if he will release Lachlan unharmed." She tugged the necklace from beneath her bodice and slipped it over her head.

"Very good. He also demanded that you deliver it in person, but we cannot put your life in danger. We'll dress up one of the smaller clansmen as a woman and he'll stand in for you."

She shook her head. "That will not work. Girard will know the difference. He is not an imbecile."

"Lachlan would never forgive us if we put your life in danger. We cannot allow you to be involved in this part."

"I will. I make my own decisions about my life."

"You are to stay here…with all due respect, m'lady." Dirk's tone was commanding, his expression fierce. "Lachlan will have our heads if you're injured."

"Aye," Rebbie said. "That he will."

Feeling powerless, she struggled for an answer. "But…I must help."

"You are helping by giving up the pendant. If you would allow me…" Rebbie held out his hand, palm up. She clasped the large diamond to her chest for a moment. The precious stone now represented two people she'd loved most in the world—her mother who'd gifted her with it and Lachlan whom she must relinquish it for.

She dropped the diamond into Rebbie's hand. "Very well," she said. "Bring him back alive…to me. Please."

***

Lachlan has to live. "So I can strangle him myself," Angelique muttered to her cold, empty sitting room. He effectively knew how to rip out her heart.

She paced from one side of the room to the other, then stared out the window toward the River Tay. Burnglen was too distant to see because of the trees and the thick white mist that drifted like clouds fallen from the sky.

As a child, she had seen Burnglen Castle once and knew it was a hateful-looking ancient castle. Small as compared to Draughon, but gloomy and dark gray. She imagined Lachlan, in pain, perhaps unconscious deep in the bowels of the dungeon. Tears stung her scratchy eyes.

Mère de Dieu, protect him.

Rebbie carried her diamond in his pocket. He, along with Dirk and a dozen men, would make the exchange. What would happen when Girard and Kormad realized the young man dressed as a woman was not Angelique? She should have insisted on going.

When would they return with Lachlan? Two hours or more had passed.

Camille was asleep in her room. Angelique feared she would never eat or sleep again.

A thump sounded in the corridor and she approached the door. A man's groan. Metal clashed and more thumps. Someone had breached the gates and was taking out her guards? A chill slid through her. She ran into the bedchamber, threw on her thick cloak for protection, and armed herself with every weapon she possessed, hiding them in her secret pockets. She could not bar the door and the trunks were not heavy enough to block it shut.

The sounds of her sitting room door splintering reached her ears. "Mother Mary, save us," she prayed in French, crossed herself, and drew a loaded pistol.

She peered around the edge of the doorway.

"I've killed the intruders, m'lady!"

"Fingall? Is that you?" A bit of relief swept through her.

"Aye." Her steward's voice echoed from the corridor. "Two masked men broke in and killed your guards. But I took care of 'em good."

"Mère de Dieu! My guards are dead?" She crossed herself again. Though she rarely thought of them by name, they had been her constant shadows for the past weeks and had protected her well. She hated for them to come to such a horrific end.

"I shall protect you myself, m'lady." Fingall stepped through the ruined door and into the room, a bloody dagger at his side.

"Do you think more will come?" Angelique kept her pistol pointed, not at Fingall, but at the doorway beside him. She still didn't know if the steward had stolen from them or whether he was trustworthy.

"I cannot rightly say if there are more. I hope not." He glanced from her to the door and back again, seeming jittery.

"What of the guards manning the gates?"

"I've not been out there. Lay down the pistol, m'lady, afore you hurt yourself."

"I will not hurt myself. I am well-trained with a pistol."

Running footsteps sounded in the corridor. Fingall rushed toward her. "Go into the chamber, m'lady! You'll be safe there!"

"Non! Do not touch me." She would take care of this problem herself.

The footfalls pounded closer. Her finger teased the trigger. Fingall grasped her right arm, shoved the gun upward and plucked it from her hand. His other arm went around her, capturing her.

"Non!" She kicked back into his shins, tried to twist away and escape, but he was stronger.

A giant, dark-haired stranger wearing leather armor appeared in the doorway. Who was he? Not one of her staff.

"Search her for weapons!" the stranger ordered.

"Fingall, how could you do this? You traitor!"

Lying on her stomach on the floor where he'd lowered her, she struggled against him, but he pinned her legs between his and held her hands behind her back. Next, he removed the daggers from her cloak pockets.

"Bastard! Stop!"

The stranger threw a blanket over her head, making everything dark. No! She must free herself. When Fingall levered himself off her, she twisted, turned and kicked. But the men were quicker and stronger. They rolled her up in the blanket in only moments, black, tight and suffocating. She screamed, attempting to thrust her arms and legs out, but the wool blanket held tight.

She gasped for breath in the tight space. Calm. Breathe.Think!

One at her head and one at her feet, the two men picked her up and carried her, she knew not where. The only sounds were their footfalls and a closing door or screech of metal now and then. They transported her, head first, down steep steps, bumping her against stone walls. The blanket loosened a bit and she slipped her hand into the secret pocket in her skirts where she had hidden the dagger Rebbie had gifted her with. Grâce à Dieu. The jeweled hilt slid into her hand. Her one comfort.

Why did no one stop these bastards from carrying her out of the castle? Surely the guards at the gates would come to her rescue.

"Help me! It is me, Angelique!"

Her hip slammed into a wall and pain shot through her. The giant bastard had done that purposefully. A loud clang sounded. The gates?

"Guards! Help me!"

The two knaves dropped her on the ground, jarring all the bones in her body. Ignoring the pain, she rolled, trying to escape the blanket. Her head came out. The hulking stranger approached two horses, while Fingall relieved himself near the low bushes. Where am I? She glanced back to see a small iron gate…the exit of the secret passages. She jumped to her feet and ran.

"Grab her! She's getting away!"

A moment later, Fingall snagged her skirts and yanked her back. She fell, her hands sliding over rocks. One smooth river stone fit her hand perfectly. When she was close enough, she smashed it against Fingall's head. He yelped.

"Imbecile!" Kormad's man shoved Fingall away and yanked Angelique's arms up behind her back. He breathed against her ear and ground himself against her derriere. "If that damned Frenchman didn't want you so bad, I'd take you right here. So don't tempt me. I like a wench with some fight in her."

Frenchman? Mon Dieu, he meant Girard. The bastard would show her no mercy. If it came to that, she prayed her death would be swift and painless.

"Keep your mouth shut or I'll cram something in it you won't like so much." Her captor kicked a pile of horse dung to get his meaning across. She tried again to wrest herself away from him, but he was too strong. He bound her hands behind her back, tied her feet and threw her over the horse.

She forced herself to breathe normally, and think of a plan.

"Fingall, are you coming?" he yelled.

"Aye."

She still had her dagger. If they released her hands, she could use it. And if Rebbie and Dirk had failed in their mission to rescue Lachlan, she would rescue him herself.

***

"Good work, Fingall," said a man behind Angelique.

She turned. Kormad's full black beard and evil dark eyes froze her bones.

The men had removed her from the horse and untied her. She now stood before the unholy entrance to Burnglen. All was gray, the heavily overcast sky, the stones making up the castle and its courtyard.

"Where is my husband?" she asked, placing a strong bite in her tone.

Kormad laughed and swept his hand toward the door. "You shall see soon enough. Welcome to Burnglen."

Dare she walk into such an evil abode, one she might never escape? Inside the hidden pocket in the folds of her skirts, she fingered the jewels on the hilt of her dagger, instead of her rosary beads, and whispered a prayer for strength and protection. With the right grip and stab, she could kill a man, if she didn't hit a bone. Her distant male cousin in France had taught her well.

Her first instinct was to attack Kormad, but he wore leather armor studded all over with metal. She had not the strength to stab her blade through that. Besides, the bailey teamed with armed guards.

"Take her inside," Kormad ordered the tall man who'd brought her.

"No!" she yelled.

He picked her up, flung her over his shoulder and carried her up the steps. Her stomach ached from his hard shoulder slamming against it, and nausea. What tragedy awaited her within these walls?