Angel of Skye (37 page)

“Who did you steal this from?” she sneered.

“It’s...it’s mine,” Fiona stammered in as timid a voice as she could effect.

“Yours?” Kathryn laughed scornfully. “This was made to adorn a great lady.”

“That’s true, m’lady.” Fiona’s chin quivered a bit as she stood with averted eyes.

“Then if it is truly yours, perhaps you’d like to present it to me as a gift.” Kathryn looked appraisingly at the piece. “It would look stunning on me, don’t you agree?”

“Well...aye. It would, m’lady,” the captive responded, panic evident in her voice. “But...my mother...well... Who are you, m’lady?”

The tall woman looked down suspiciously at the timid creature before her. Had she truly been unconscious while she and Neil had argued? At the sight of the woman shivering uncontrollably, Kathryn nearly laughed at the ridiculously unlikely match Alec and Fiona would have made. But no more. She would not let that happen.

“I am Kathryn Gray.”

“Kathryn Gr...Lady Kathryn!” Fiona’s whole frame seemed to energize at the name. “Lady Kathryn! My cousin! Lord Macpherson and the prioress, God bless her, they told me you’d be coming to meet me.”

Fiona stopped abruptly as if stunned by some revelation. She glanced down at her bound wrists and back up into the haughty expression on Kathryn’s face. Her cousin released the cross and turned imperiously on her heel.

“But why...where are we, m’lady?” Fiona asked, quickly feeling for the dagger in her skirts as soon as her captor turned her face. Yes, still there! she thought exultantly, instantly falling back into character.

“You said Alec told you that I would come for you?”

“He did, m’lady,” Fiona said, nodding repeatedly.

“Has he missed me? Did he ask—” the woman cut herself short. Kathryn wondered momentarily if Fiona had detected that note of vulnerability in her voice.

As Kathryn turned away and walked to the other side of the room, Fiona reached in her pocket again and tried to cut the rope on her wrists with the sharp end of the dagger.

“How is it possible?” Kathryn asked, turning to look distastefully at the jumping Fiona. “How is it possible that you are to marry Alec Macpherson?”

“Why...I really don’t know, m’lady. He said he would be ‘willing to have me.’ But I don’t...m’lady...I don’t...” Fiona put her hands in the pouch-like pocket, lowering her face as she started to cry. Her tears coursed down her cheeks, and her body was wracked with sobs.

Kathryn looked on, surprised by the outbreak and disgusted with the pitiful creature. As Fiona continued to weep loudly, Kathryn’s expression of aversion swiftly hardened into one of overt loathing for her weakling of a cousin.

“Pull yourself together,” she commanded sharply. “I don’t want to remain in this rat hole all day. You really are pathetic.”

Fiona gulped for air and wiped her tear-stained face on her sleeve. Still sobbing quietly, she looked past the hard-faced woman toward the closed door.

“Do you really think you could be the lady of such a great place as Benmore Castle? Of course, that’s after the old witch, his mother, is put away.”

Fiona looked at her, wide-eyed and speechless. She had just undone the ropes. Her hands, resting in the deep front pocket, were free.

“And don’t begin that disgusting exhibition again,” she added.

“Nay, Lady Kathryn,” Fiona snuffled. “I’m only suited to be a nun. Just the thought of a man touching me...” She shuddered visibly.

Her cousin’s mouth twisted into a mocking smirk as the tears began to run down Fiona’s face again.

“I just want to go back to the Priory at Skye,” the captive wailed. “I just want to go home.”

Kathryn turned her back on Fiona in frustration. Those were supposed to be her words. This was supposed to be her demand. She wanted Fiona to object. And then she envisioned herself ordering her, forcing her to comply. The little bitch was spoiling all her fun.

“How is it possible we have the same blood in our veins?” she said, turning back to her captive.

“I don’t believe you have blood in your veins, Kathryn Gray.” Fiona’s voice was cool and controlled. The point of the dirk was pressed into the hollow of her cousin’s throat.

Then Anger came in with quarrel and strife:

His hand was ever upon his knife...

—William Dunbar “
Fasternis Evin in Hell
”

It took Fiona only one swift shove to pin Kathryn against the wall. The taller woman didn’t make so much as a murmur in protest. Fiona’s left hand gripped her cousin’s windpipe as the right one held the knife to her flawless face.

“It’s God’s will, not my courage, that is about to cut your throat,” Fiona said in a soft whisper. “Would you like to take back what you just said?”

Kathryn whimpered helplessly in response.

Fiona increased the pressure on the woman’s throat, causing her eyes to widen and her complexion to blanch as white as new-fallen snow.

“Now, I want you to listen, and listen very carefully, to all that I have to say.” Fiona waved the knife back and forth in front of Kathryn’s eyes, then slowly laid it against the blond woman’s cheek. “What you did by bringing me here against my will was very wrong. What you did to a good, old man was a mortal sin. For that, more than anything, you will pay. And you will pay with your blood.”

Kathryn shook her head desperately, causing the sharp knife to nick her own skin. She cried out sharply as a thin red line coursed down her cheek and dripped off her chin. She was quaking with fear when Fiona raised the dagger and she saw her own blood on the knife.

“You are doomed to hell, Kathryn Gray. But not yet, cousin and you had better do as you are told, or your bloody face will look like a Macpherson plaid. But, you know, perhaps that might be a better fate for you. Perhaps when you are hideously scarred, Alec may take mercy on you and not imprison you at Dunvegan.”

Fiona whispered grimly as the woman’s horrified gaze never left the dagger. “And hear this: Alec and I love each other. And knowing how much he hates you, and knowing how his blood will boil when he learns what you tried to do here, we both know he’ll never rest until he gets to you. And then, if I could possibly talk him out of killing you, you can look forward a lifelong stay in Dunvegan’s dungeons. Do you know what those dungeons are like, Kathryn?”

Fiona paused, waiting for the woman to close her eyes in a silent nod. “They are heavily infested with rats, presently. But I’m sure those rodents would love your company.” She hesitated a moment. “You are a loathsome creature, Kathryn, but how could they possibly object to such a delectable companion?”

Fiona put on a grim smile of satisfaction, knowing she had her cousin’s full attention. “Now, I have a deal for you. You will answer all my questions. And you will do exactly as you are told. Then, when this ordeal is over, I will let you take off for sweet courts abroad. But listen to me, Kathryn. That’s with the condition that you never come back again. Now, what do you say about that?”

Fiona let up on her hold only long enough for Kathryn to gulp down air and nod.

“Very well! Who killed my mother?” she demanded.

Fiona let the knife scrape her cheek when Kathryn was slow in answering. The taller woman shook with terror as she stammered out the response.

“Tor—Torquil MacLeod’s men.”

“I’ve found that much in my own. Who else was there?”

“I honestly don’t know. Please...please believe me. Neil had told me. He’s the one to ask. He knows what happened. He was there. But he would never say who was behind it all.”

“You are lying.”

“I’m not! I swear it!” Kathryn began to weep. “Please believe me. He wouldn’t tell me. Please! I’m sorry for what happened here. For bringing you here. It wasn’t my idea.”

Her eyes looked wildly into Fiona’s. “It was Neil’s. I know he’s still paid by someone else. Perhaps the same man. His orders are to kill you. He means to do it. But—”

Fiona clamped her hand on the woman’s mouth at the sound of someone moving outside the door. Thinking fast for a way to escape, she gripped the woman’s tartan and pulled her closer to the door.

“How far are we from Benmore?”

Fiona let the woman catch her breath again.

“It’s only a little more than an hour from here.”

“Which way is it? How do I get back there?” Fiona demanded.

“This...this stream runs into the Spey River down past the next bend. The castle is just upriver. It’s very close! You won’t kill me, will you? I beg you, Fiona. Please don’t cut me again. I’ll help you. On St. Andrew’s bones, I swear I’ll—”

Fiona’s cold glare, coupled with the tighter press of the blade against the skin of her neck, made Kathryn cease her frantic pleading. Pushing Kathryn against the wall behind the door, Fiona took the torch from the wall and threw it into the pile of old straw across the room. Instantly, the flames leaped up, and clouds of smoke began to fill the ceiling spaces between the rafters. She took hold of the quaking woman beside her and put her lips close to her ear.

“You will come after me willingly,” Fiona threatened in harsh tones. “Or you will pay for your crimes the Druid way.”

While Kathryn was still nodding vigorously at her wild-eyed cousin, Fiona commanded, “I want you to call for help, Kathryn. I want you to yell ‘Fire!’ now.”

“Neil!” Kathryn screamed without hesitation. “Help, Neil! Fire!”

Fiona crouched and pulled her cousin down beside her. The smoke was getting thick under the rafters, and she could see the flames licking the wooden walls above the stone foundation. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the oncoming showdown.

It only took Neil a moment to burst through the door. He hesitated for only the briefest of moments at the opening, covering his mouth and nose with the cloth of his tartan. “Where are you?” he cried. “Where the hell are you? Kathryn!”

As Neil moved through the smoke to where his captive had been dumped earlier, Fiona pulled Kathryn around the door and out into the yard. A semicircle of men stood close, gaping as Fiona pulled the plank door shut and barred it.

She whirled on them as the men moved closer.

“Tell them to back away, Kathryn,” Fiona ordered coolly, prodding her in the back with the dagger.

“You heard her,” Kathryn croaked. “Get away from us.”

“No! Open this!” came Neil’s screams from the burning mill. Fiona listened for a moment to the cold-blooded killer. She hesitated, then steeled herself to his cries. Behind them, Neil began to pound at the door. This was the man who had a hand in killing her mother, and this day, he’d planned to kill her for money. But she was not about to give him the opportunity.

The pounding continued as Fiona pushed Kathryn wordlessly along the wall of the mill, the dirk still pressed into her back. The men moved away from the wall, making room, and the two women angled their way across the small clearing toward the cluster of horses tied at the edge of the woods. Fiona could hear Neil still calling from inside the burning building and throwing himself against the door. She looked about her for a path to the river. She couldn’t see the stream, but she knew it had to be to their right and beyond the bristly hem of encroaching pines.

Suddenly Fiona heard the cracking of wood and, turning, saw the door split at the upper hinge as Neil kicked the pieces into the yard.

Halfway across the opening, Fiona watched her enemy crawl coughing through the smoke-filled doorway. None of Kathryn’s men, nor any of his own paid henchmen, made a move to help him as he stood hunched over, spewing smoke from his lungs. Fiona tried to move the sobbing Kathryn faster, but her cousin stumbled and fell unceremoniously on the grass, her legs splayed in front of her. Recovering, Neil pushed past the dozen or so men and halted at the sight of the bloodied Kathryn sprawled on the grass with a kneeling Fiona behind her, a knife at her throat.

Fiona cringed inwardly at the look of hate in the renegade warrior’s face.

“You tried to kill me,” he rasped accusingly, taking a step closer.

“Stop!” she commanded, looking steadily at her foe. “You deserve to die, you butcher...woman killer. Tell me, how many times have you tried to kill me? You expect me to wait for you to succeed? Do you propose having me lie down like some sacrificial lamb and have my throat slit by you? Stand, Kathryn.”

As the two women rose from the ground, Neil took another step forward. The men standing between the smoking blaze of the fiery mill and the three adversaries watched helplessly, unsure of what to do.

“Stop, you fool!” Kathryn spat at Neil. “Don’t you see? We shouldn’t have done this. We must let her go. It’s our only way out of this!”

“Nay, Kathryn.” He slowly shook his head. “You were right the first time. This is your only way out of this. But it certainly is not mine.”

“What are you talking about, you idiot? She’ll kill me, I tell you.”

Neil moved in again as Fiona and Kathryn backed away a step. Fiona could feel the heat of the blazing inferno on her face. Flashing the fiercest expression she could muster at her foe, she lifted Kathryn’s chin with her blade.

“One more step and she dies, Neil MacLeod.”

“Do it!” he cried.

“Neil!” Kathryn cried. “It is I! Don’t let this happen! By all the love we share—”

The warrior stepped in again, drawing his sword.

“Neil!” Kathryn screamed, looking wildly past him at her own entourage. “Stop him! I’ll reward you! My father... Neil, I’ll marry you! My father will give you a dowry, Neil...land and wealth, Neil. Stop, Neil!”

“Go ahead. Kill her.” His voice had the edge of cold steel biting into flesh and bone. “If you don’t, I will. I am sick of you, Kathryn. You and all your kind. I am sick and tired of the dirty, ‘noble’ blood that runs in your veins. And you are next, Angel. Our little princess. Ha! You wench! You’re next one to die. No woman fools me. Do you hear? No one. Go ahead and kill her...if you can.”

Fiona felt her skin crawl in fear at his words. He was calling her bluff. She was finished.

The discontented protest that erupted among Kathryn’s men caused Neil to turn back toward the contentious warriors. With a quick look at his own men, he raised his sword, gesturing for silence.