Angel of Skye (36 page)

“I haven’t accused him by name. You are the one who has brought his name into this. But that is exactly why I have to go now. I can’t bring these good people into this. I can’t involve Alec until I know for sure.”

“First of all, Fiona, I don’t know what good going to Drummond Castle would do. Whatever it is that you remember—or think you might remember once you’re there—has probably disappeared. Your uncle and your cousin have been using that place as their own for the past three years, and they may not even let you step across their threshold. No one but the queen herself can recognize you as the true heir to those lands.” David pulled her closer to his side as the old cart rumbled onto the bridge. The fierce-looking old tinker driving the emaciated old ox glared at them through bushy red eyebrows that crossed his forehead uninterrupted. David glared back at him and the drover lashed his beast in a nominal effort at giving the two a bit of room at the edge of the bridge.

“I only asked you to help me get my horse, David. But I’m going to Drummond Castle if I have to walk.”

“Lass, at dinner last night, I heard you agree to be married in six days. Are you just going to leave Lady Elizabeth now and run off? You’ve always been impulsive, but you’re not one to be irresponsible.”

“I’ll talk to Alec’s mother before I go—”
David’s hand came down sharply on Fiona’s arm as the cart behind them creaked to a sudden halt. She turned in time to see the driver’s heavy club graze David’s skull as her friend ducked nimbly in an attempt to evade the crushing blow. With a sharp cry, Fiona reached out in horror as David dropped like a stone onto the low wall before toppling over the edge into the rushing waters below.

“Dav—” A coarse hand clamped over her mouth as she found herself being lifted roughly from behind. Struggling against the one holding her, Fiona saw come into her vision another man, who drew back his fist, smashing her viciously in the midriff. Fiona folded in pain, sagging in her assailant’s arms.

Unable to draw a breath of air into her lungs, Fiona looked up helplessly as the next blow landed brutally against the side of her head. Yellow lights flashed momentarily in her head before darkness descended like a shroud around her.

The two men looked about them nervously as they dumped the young woman unceremoniously into the back of the cart. From his perch above, the driver peered over the edge of the bridge into the waters below, looking for some sign of the old man. Seeing nothing, he quickly gestured the two into the back of the wagon and whipped the ancient beast into motion. With a lurch, the wagon continued on across the bridge into the village as the men in back pulled down the skin that covered the rear opening. A few moments later, they were rumbling toward the grove of woods in the foothills beyond the village.

“That bastard left me standing at the altar, and now you’re telling me he wants to marry this church mouse?”

Fiona kept her eyes shut tightly. The woman speaking was leaning directly over her. Inspecting her.

The ground beneath her was hard and damp, but Fiona had forced herself to remain still even after the spinning sensation went away and the muffled voices became clear. Now she continued her pretense of unconsciousness while the woman stood above her. Altar? Alec left this woman at the altar? Fiona thought confusedly. Who is she?

“That’s a good-sized lump on the side of her head.”

“Aye, but she made out a fair sight better than the old bull who was with her.”

It took not a moment until the full import of the man’s words sank in, and a rush of sorrow ran like a lance into Fiona’s heart. David. Oh God, David.

“Look at her! Look at her clothes!” the woman railed. “She’s a mess. Why can’t you follow my orders? I told you to bring her here safe and sound. I told you I just wanted to scare her back to the same dung heap she came from. I don’t want to kill her, for God’s sake. Look at her! She looks like hell!”

“I have to disagree. The lass looks quite bonny, if you ask me.”

Fiona could feel the two pairs of eyes burning into her. “Perhaps you’re becoming partial to red-haired country wenches,” the woman snapped. The razor edge of jealousy in her voice was unmistakable.

“She is a beautiful woman...whatever you call her. A nun, a princess, a wench. But frankly, I do like the sound of ‘wench’ the best.”

The man’s voice was familiar to Fiona, but she dared not peek at the speaker. She knew he was an islander by his accent, but she couldn’t quite place him.

“Neil MacLeod, you’re a pig.” The woman laughed shrilly. “Just like every other man in this godforsaken wasteland. You’d probably take her as she is, if I weren’t here to stop you.”

“Nay, Kathryn. She is not worth it. Now, taking you...that’s a different story. Ah, my love, her beauty is nothing compared to yours.”

The woman’s long silence nearly induced Fiona to sneak a quick look at the pair, but then she heard the woman move away.

“Of course, you’re right,” Kathryn asserted with an arrogant laugh. “But you’re still a pig, Neil.”

“That’s why you like me around, isn’t it, my sweet-tongued sow?” Neil responded, moving after the retreating woman.

Fiona partially opened her eyes and peered at the two across the room. By the door, under a smoky torch, Neil was standing with his back to Fiona, holding the other woman in his arms. Fiona looked about the small room desperately. She could hear the sound of water running and the regular clunking sound that she recognized as a mill wheel turning. She appeared to be in the ground floor of some mill. But where the mill was, she had no clue. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, or how far they’d taken her.

She had to get out. But how? There was only one small slit of a window near the ceiling, and the path to the door on the far side was blocked by the two. Her hands were tied tightly in front of her with a leather cord. She tried to flex her hands and fingers, but they were numb.

“Ha! Sweet tongue. As I recall, the only reason you still are around is because of my ‘sweet tongue.’” The woman sneered before stepping away from him. “In fact, I believe you’d be nothing more than a carcass if I hadn’t used my charm on Alec Macpherson that god-awful night at Drummond Castle. I believe he would have gone right out that window after you, when he found us together. What was the name he shouted as you scampered across the greensward? ‘Cowardly knave,’ wasn’t it?”

Fiona shut her eyes quickly as the other woman turned in her direction. So this was her loving cousin, Kathryn Gray. Is this what Alec had tried to tell her before? That he’d been destined at one time to marry this woman? Could Alec have truly loved this wench? She strained to hear the man’s response, but the silence was long and unbroken until Fiona heard Kathryn continue, her tone gloating and nasty.

“What a sight you were, clutching your clothes in your arms as you ran away! Tell me, did you ever mention to him how well that ‘crippled’ arm really worked climbing down that wall?” Her laugh was low and humorless. “It must have been quite demeaning having to take orders from Alec out there on that barren rock of yours, hanging as it is over the edge of the world. And all along knowing that he’d slept with me as you had. That he’d given me pleasures...pleasures far greater than any you could ever dream of giving me. Did I ever tell you that I always enjoyed comparing you two in bed? Aye. You two were always competing. Always. You knew, but he didn’t. Even that last night. The night you ran. Ran for your miserable life.”

Fiona cringed at the woman’s words. Oh, Alec! she thought. What a fool she must have made you feel.

“You told me that he should never know about us,” Neil said angrily. “You begged me to keep silent. And as for that night, I jumped out that window to save your precious plans! Have you forgotten? I did that for you.”

“You did nothing for me. You were just trying to save your own miserable ass.”

“Say what you like. You used me as you use everyone to get your own selfish way. You knew that I loved you and that I would never deny anything you asked. But Kathryn, you and I both know I acted as a man of honor. And if you’d kept your own tongue, your reputation could’ve withstood—”

“Man of honor?” she responded, her laughter high and shrill. “Spare me the ‘honor’ talk. You know nothing about it. But as far as the rest, don’t make me laugh. Compared to Alec, you hardly deserve to be called a man. You lost, Neil. You ran away. You were too afraid to face him. Accept it: You are just a loser.”

“You’re a whore, Kathryn Drummond,” he growled.

“Aye, Neil MacLeod. A whore...like you,” she answered brazenly, pausing to drive her point viciously home. “But I serve no master—unlike you—who has served many and betrayed them all. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you didn’t bring this wench here to just please me, to win back my affection. Someone is paying you. You are still serving others, Neil. Others and yourself. Look at her. Don’t avert your eyes. Look at her. I know what lies buried in your blackened soul. I know whose screams haunt you in the dark of night.”

“Shut your filthy mouth.”

“And I know why you want this wench dead,” Kathryn snapped. “After all, lackey, she saw you kill her mother.”

“She saw nothing, you bitch!” he shouted. “She was long gone when Torquil and...” Neil checked himself mid-sentence. He turned away from Kathryn. No, he was not going to give away his golden goose. Not after so many years.

Fiona’s cry caught and swelled in her throat. Her mother...her mother. This lowlife, this animal! Anger, hatred, beginning as a cold, white spot deep in the base of her brain, spread like freezing fire, hardening the skin of her face, her neck, quickening its pace and then racing through her. Hatred. For this evil man and for the ones with him. Torquil. Torquil MacLeod. After all these years. After living under the fearsome shadow of the man for so many years. Now she knew his identity. And she knew that justice had been served. But what about Neil? And who was the other he’d almost named? Neil knew. This criminal, Neil. And in her mind’s eye, she could now see his face, his hand, hard on her mother’s wrist, wrestling her dagger away.

Fiona’s fingers clenched involuntarily into a fist, but she gasped in pain as the bonds cut into her sore wrists. As the two whirled around to face her, Fiona’s eyes fluttered open slowly and focused on them. She tried to give the impression of one just becoming conscious. One unaware of the time, the place, or the people.

“Well, it appears the fairy princess has awakened.” Neil looked intently into her face from across the room. “Aye, a bright face at last in this drab hut.”

“Get out of our faces.” Fiona watched as the woman spat the words. “Now! Get out, Neil.”

Fiona struggled to sit, but an ache in on the side of her head started the room spinning again as she pushed herself up. Her fingers were stinging, but she turned a fiery face toward the oncoming pair.

“Well,” Kathryn drawled, turning to the Highlander, “didn’t you hear me?”

“You want me to cut her hands loose before I go?”

“Nay, not yet.” The woman stood a step away, still appraising the vulnerable looking thing before her. “She has to earn her freedom. Now leave us alone.”

Fiona pushed herself with difficulty to her feet. Her red hair tumbled over one shoulder as she stood, and she raised her bound hands to her face to clear the loose tendrils away from her eyes. Neil looked hard from Kathryn’s face to Fiona’s. Neither acknowledged he was still in the room. The two women simply stood, facing each other, scrutinizing each other, lost in an eternal glare. Finally, Kathryn looked away, putting a hand to her hair and lethargically patting golden threads that were woven into her flowing locks.

“You’re not letting this wee thing best you, are you, Kathryn?” Neil’s amused expression turned sour as Fiona directed a chilling look at him. He started for the door. “I’ll be outside when you want me.”

As Neil pulled the plank door shut behind him, silence filled the small room like a deadening presence.

Fiona looked searchingly at her captor. Her cousin. She was tall, voluptuous, and blond, with eyes the blue of the sun-faded cornflower. Her charcoal dress was trimmed with silk, and the plaid that crossed her breast covered a deeply rounded neckline. Yes, the woman was beautiful. But her beauty was cold, like the skim of ice on a winter loch. Her movements were slow, indolent, languorous even. But Fiona sensed that Kathryn had resources that she held in reserve, hidden.

Fiona cast about quickly for a way to escape. She wasn’t sure exactly what Kathryn and Neil had planned for her, but she didn’t trust them. She knew now that these were people capable of any crime. Fiona’s eyes quickly appraised Kathryn’s strength. She thought she could overpower the taller woman, physically defeat her and try to get out of the millworks. But then Neil—and whoever else was waiting outside—would still create an impassable barrier. She knew she couldn’t possibly fight her way out of this, even if she was a fighter. But she had to try. That was her only chance. Fiona couldn’t quite tell whether the dirk Alec had given her was still sheathed deep in the pocket of her skirts, but it wasn’t much good to her with her hands tied, anyway. Looking at her cousin, waiting for her to speak, Fiona knew she had to use every resource she had. She made up her mind. If they were going to kill her, she was not about to submit passively.

Or will I? she thought.

Kathryn moved impatiently toward the younger woman.

Fiona’s erect posture began to slip as she, almost imperceptibly, began to transform herself. Her chin dropped a bit, and she seemed to curl inward, her eyes darting apprehensively around the room. Gnawing on her lip, she reached up and began to twist her hair into a thick rope. Shifting from one foot to the other, she glanced nervously at her cousin.

She wants a churchmouse...I’ll give her a churchmouse.

Kathryn reached out and took hold of the golden chain that encircled Fiona’s neck. Drawing out the jewel-encrusted cross, her eyes lit with desire at the beauty of the ornament. Fiona stood quietly as her cousin looked covetously at the exquisite workmanship and the sparkling gems. A gleam came into Kathryn’s eye as she turned a contemptuous gaze on Fiona’s face.