Authors: Eve Cameron
After instructing Catriona to wait in the corner of the kitchens, Iain drew his sword and carefully made his way to the doorway. The battle was taking place on the other side of the keep, and there was no one to block their way. Motioning for Catriona to join him, they quickly ran along the back of the castle to the horses Iain had left waiting with several of his men. As soon as they neared the mounts Iain grabbed Catriona about the waist, tossing her up into the saddle so hurriedly he knocked the wind from her lungs.
“No matter what happens, Catriona, you must ride as hard as you can until we are well clear of the castle. Do you understand me?” he demanded, his tone unflinching. Catriona nodded, grabbing the reins of her horse. “Keep yer head down, close to the horse, and do no’ look about you.”
As they began their race from Kilchurn, Catriona’s relief at having fled her captors was dampened by the knowledge that no matter what happened from that point forward, her heart would never be free of the prison that was of her husband’s own making.
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Lachlan pulled his sword free of the man whose life had ceased on the end of his blade, stepping back as the limp body fell gracelessly to the frozen ground. Many of Leslie’s followers had fallen in the short time since Lachlan and his men had stormed the castle, but even more had run from the inner bailey, unwilling to risk their lives for the few coins they had been offered by the faithless leader who had yet to make an appearance.
Rory fought to his right, deliberately wounding his opponent in his sword arm so that he would be unable to continue to fight that day, but would live to see others. Most of Leslie’s men who might have been skilled in battle were too besotted with drink to be effective. None of Lachlan’s warriors took any satisfaction in fighting men who were not prepared for battle, or who were in no condition to defend themselves.
Lachlan shook his head, frustrated at the senseless loss of the life as he watched the last of Leslie’s forces fall around him. If Catriona had escaped safely – and he was sure that she must have, under Iain’s care – then it had been worth the risk to his own men. But the idea that so many lives had been sacrificed for the crazy, selfish dreams of a man like Calum Leslie was a difficult one to swallow.
Waving Rory over to him, Lachlan quickly relayed instructions for dealing with those men who had surrendered. Lachlan wanted to see them transported to Tolquhon, where he could deal with them at his leisure. There had been no sign of Leslie during the battle, a fact that didn’t surprise Lachlan, given the man’s propensity for having others do his dirty work. Those warriors not needed to manage the prisoners were dispatched to search the holding for any sign of Leslie.
In the meantime, Lachlan wanted nothing more than to be reunited with his wife. Satisfied that his instructions would be followed, Lachlan retrieved Laeg from where he waited safely outside the fray. Waving off Rory’s offer of a guard, Lachlan shouted a few words of praise to his men, and then galloped out of the keep. Quickly he rode over the drawbridge and toward the small loch where he had arranged to meet Iain, and, most importantly, reclaim his wife.
As Lachlan neared the loch, he was struck with the unsettling awareness something was amiss. Instead of finding a small army of men, as had been their plan, he could see that there were only two horses in the clearing. One of the riders was a woman, he could see as he drew nearer. The second was Calum Leslie.
Lachlan struggled to control his fury as he rode recklessly into the clearing. He was desperate to embark on the battle that had been inevitable since the feud between the Ogilvy and Forbes clans had begun. As he pulled Laeg to a rearing halt, Lachlan watched as Leslie yanked Catriona from her horse, shoving her in front of him as a shield. The revolver he held in front of him left no doubt about his intentions.
“This need no’ involve the lass, Leslie,” Lachlan called as he carefully slid from Laeg’s back. He held his hands up, indicating he was unarmed. “This is between us, as you well ken. Let her go, and we can settle it once and for all.” Slowly, Lachlan stepped a few paces closer to the man, studying the scene before him in search of any opening. He forced himself to keep his gaze from settling on Catriona for long, knowing it would only distract him from his purpose.
His face a cruel, contemptuous sneer, Leslie pulled Catriona closer to him as he aimed the gun directly at Lachlan’s chest. Leslie’s elbow held Catriona’s neck in a death grip, and he could see she was having trouble breathing. Slowly, Lachlan continued to walk closer toward the pair, his movements slow and cautious.
“Stop there, Forbes, or I’ll put a bullet in yer bride’s head. She’s worth more to me alive than dead, but if you come any closer, I will no’ hesitate to make you a widower before I kill you myself.” Leslie’s arm shook as he pointed the revolver at Catriona, and Lachlan could see the man was near the breaking point. Having suffered the loss of the battle in Kilchurn, his desperation was all too clear. Despite the storm of emotions within him, Lachlan forced himself to school his features from betraying his fear.
Lachlan held his palms upward in a gesture of submission, anxious to avoid any actions that would enrage Leslie further. “We can settle this between us, Calum. If you let the lass go, I’ll agree to come with you as yer prisoner. Just let Catriona go.”
Leslie’s snort of contempt was chilling as it rang through the cool morning air. “Surely you canna be so daft as to think I would actually do that?” Unsteadily, Leslie walked closer to Lachlan, struggling with the weight of Catriona in his arms. “I was so close to having it all, you ken, but you and yer ignorant wife managed to ruin everything. Everything,” he repeated, a distant, distracted look clouding his cold eyes.
Throughout the exchange between the men, Catriona never took her eyes from her husband’s calm, untroubled features. How could she have been so fooled by him? From the way he handled himself, it was clear it mattered little to him whether she lived or died. After all, if she were dead, he would have one less thing to worry about. Fiona would be free to return to his bed, and his life would be as he wished it.
Despite the anger and hurt she felt toward Lachlan, she could not deny the feelings that had nearly overwhelmed her when he had ridden into the clearing. His hair gleamed blue-black in the day’s first rays of sun, and beneath his cloak his shirt clung tightly to his broad, muscular chest, betraying his power and his stamina. Even as he stood before her, cold and disinterested, she felt her heart warm at the sight of his strength and his dominant, compelling presence.
All the more fool me
, she chided herself, struggling to stem such ridiculous thoughts. She needed to focus on the man who held her life in his very hands. If she was to die, she would die with dignity, bringing no further shame to the Ogilvy name.
Catriona could feel the tension in Leslie’s body as he dragged her closer to her husband, the gun still clutched in his trembling, outstretched hand. The shock of losing all that he had worked for had clearly been too much for him, and he was hovering at the breaking point. Catriona knew that if she attempted to escape, he would shoot Lachlan first, and then end her life as well. Her mind raced frantically, searching for alternatives, but none emerged until she heard a crashing sound from the forest behind her.
Leslie also heard the noise, and quickly spun her around so he could face the new threat head on. Regaining his composure, he pointed the gun at Lachlan again, instructing him to move closer to the forest, but away from the noise.
Catriona watched in stunned silence as a large contingent of men emerged in the glen, swords drawn as if they were prepared to do battle. It was several moments before she realized that her father was at the head of the small army. “Do no’ do aught foolish, Calum,” the Earl of Seafield called, his voice booming across the glen as he drew closer to his daughter. “I have no weapons, and my men will no’ do you any harm as long as you release my daughter.” The elderly man slowly climbed down from his horse, and calmly walked toward the pair, his steps sure and unhurried.
Lachlan watched the scene from a distance, looking anxiously for any opportunity to free his wife. Help had come from a most unexpected source, and though he was grateful for the Earl’s arrival, he had no intention of placing Catriona’s life in the old man’s hands.
Leslie’s eyes darted frantically from Seafield to Lachlan, and swept over the well-armed Ogilvy men who were poised to slaughter him at a moment’s notice. Tossing back his head, he laughed loudly, a frantic note to his manic reaction. “I ne’er thought I’d see the day you’d ride to the lass’ defense, old man,” he chuckled. “You’ve ne’er troubled yerself with her before, and I do no’ ken why you’d start now.”
The Earl looked into the distance, but not before Catriona could see the pain and confusion in his eyes. “I’ve done many things I am not proud of, Calum, and my treatment of my own children is something I will regret to my grave.” Slowly, Seafield turned to face them again, his eyes beseeching as he met Catriona’s puzzled gaze. He offered her a gentle smile before he fixed Calum with a contemptuous glare. “If I had no’ listened to yer poisonous lies, I might still have the affection and respect of my daughter. You took the power you had over me and you twisted it until I became a man I hardly ken. I will ne’er forgive you for that, Leslie – ne’er. But it has naught to do with my daughter, nor her husband. Set them free. We can settle this between us.”
Calum swung his arm around to aim the gun directly at the older man. “You were easy enough to manipulate, as long as I told you what you wanted to hear. I was so close to having everything I wanted. I would have killed Forbes and married yer daughter in the next heartbeat, and there would have been naught you could do about it.” Calum laughed bitterly, the sound eerie as it echoed through the glen. “When I had her drink poisoned at Tolquhon, you didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. Yer a sorry excuse for a da, to be sure.”
The Earl flinched under the weight of the man’s words, but he struggled to hide his pain. “You could no’ carry on the deception forever, Calum. For a long while I may have been weak enough to believe you, but I will no’ listen any longer.” The Earl paused for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “If you had no’ been the son of my uncle, I would ne’er have given you the time of day. But you used that to blackmail me, to force me to do things I would no’ have done willingly. Before long, I could hardly tell what was the truth and what was a lie. You poisoned me, and you poisoned my family with yer greed. But it stops. Today.”
His eyes flashing furiously, Calum scoffed at Seafield’s words, his face contorted with contempt. “You call me greedy, yet you have enjoyed every bit of luxury and power that should have been mine? But for an accident of birth, I would have been Earl of Seafield, and you would have been naught more than an incidental merchant, of no consequence to anyone at all. You dare to condemn me for trying to reclaim what is mine by rights? I should have been yer heir, not yer son, and I would have been if no’ for the ridiculous meddling of this man.”
Calum whirled around, pointing the gun directly at Lachlan. “If I kill him now, we can forget this ever happened,” he cried desperately. “I’ll marry yer daughter, and claim the Forbes lands as my own. We will be two of the most powerful men in Scotland.”
A flicker of sadness passed over the Earl’s weathered, tired features before he calmly shook his head. “It’s too late, lad,” he said finally, his voice low and sad. “I’ll no’ stand by and watch you murder an innocent man just to gain land and power. Give me the gun, and yer word you’ll leave my family alone. If you have any honor left, you’ll do this,” the Earl pleaded, his hands outstretched beseechingly.
Catriona could feel the tension in Leslie’s body as he struggled to accept the inevitability of his defeat. Then he drew still and quiet, finally turning to face Seafield again. “I do no’ think so, my lord,” he replied, shifting his weight and turning the revolver on Lachlan while his cold eyes met the Earl’s. “I killed Elizabeth, you ken?” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I loved her, in my own way, but when she told me she would have my bairn, she left me no option. It almost worked,” he added brightly, “for you believed me when I put the blame on Catriona. But then she came back…” his voice trailed off as a look of sadness clouded his anguished features. After a brief spell, he collected himself, and his gaze turned mean. “I accept I will be going to hell, but I do no’ intend to make the journey alone.”
As Leslie cocked the lever on the pistol, the world around Catriona began to slow, almost to a halt. Vaguely she was aware of the sound of a scream in the distance, a scream she didn’t realize sprang from her own lips. Twisting in Leslie’s arms, she threw her weight against him, desperate to stop the bullet she knew would end her husband’s life. Stunned by the strength of her assault, Leslie fell to the side, Catriona still wrapped in his arm.
Terrified by Catriona’s reckless actions, Lachlan raced forward, desperate to wrestle the weapon from the crazed man, but Seafield was much closer. As Catriona grappled for the gun, the Earl threw himself between the pair, shoving his daughter free of Leslie’s grip as he reached for the revolver. Catriona fought to clear her head as the sound of gunfire ripped through her consciousness. She watched in horrified silence as Leslie threw her father’s limp, broken body to the side, clumsily pushing himself to his feet. The charge was spent, the weapon useless. Leslie tossed the gun to the ground as he stumbled to the spot where Catriona lay sprawled on the cold earth. As he reached down to grab her, his body lurched to a sudden halt. Leslie’s cold, frantic eyes held Catriona’s terrified gaze as he slumped to his knees, slowly falling to the ground beside her. Catriona was vaguely aware of men rushing toward her as she struggled to make sense of the dirk that protruded from Leslie’s back.
Within seconds, Catriona felt warm, strong arms grasping her and pulling her close. She heard the sound of a low, comforting voice in her ear, but it was as if she were in a dream. As exhaustion and shock claimed her, she knew with absolute clarity that it would have been easier to die at Calum’s hand than face what lay before her.