Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (41 page)

"More important than coins?" Liam asked, quickly stripping off the first man's plaid and grimacing at the sight of his staring eyes.

"Listen, Irish," Dugald said. "If you let Shona get hurt because of your own greed, I swear I will —''

"Hey!" someone yelled. But just at that moment an arrow whirred from the blackness to bury itself in the intruder's throat. The guard fell in silence, but now four others lurched onto the bridge.

Too many of them, Liam thought, and reached for his knife. Another arrow whirred, then another. Dugald lunged, darted, struck. His hands were empty, and yet when he stepped back, there was not a guard standing.

The night went silent. Liam blinked, turning his attention to Dugald.

"If I have said anything to offend ye, tell me now. I feel a sharp need to apologize."

Shona rushed up, bow in hand. "I killed them," she whispered.

"Shona!"

Liam watched Dugald reach for her, watched him pull her into his arms.

"I killed them," she whispered again.

"Shh," he crooned. "Shh. Tis what you had to do, lass. Tis what was right. Do not think on it now." He kissed her forehead with ultimate tenderness. So even the dragon turned to a pup when Shona was near. "Quickly now," Dugald whispered. "Take a plaid and a helmet."

Shona turned from him, her eyes wide in the darkness. "But—"

"Think of the child," Dugald murmured.

She nodded and stepped away.

In a moment the three were dressed in Munro garb and the bodies were gone, tossed into the roiling water below.

Stepping inside, they closed the portcullis as quietly as possible and stood huddled together as they stared into the bailey.

"You must not let them know that the guards are gone," Dugald said.

"Call me the Munro," Liam said, and pinned the chained brooch to his plaid.

"Be careful," Shoria told him.

"Rest assured."

"I will check the towers," she said. "Dugald, ye search for a dungeon."

His eyes were steady and hard in the glow of the lantern. "I go with you."

"We have no time to waste on arguments."

"Nay, we do not," he said. "I go with you."

She ground her teeth, but she could delay no longer. "God be with ye, Liam," she whispered, and turned away.

Their luck held as they strode through the bailey, for the rain had driven the soldiers to cover.

In the encroaching darkness, it was nearly impossible to see, but they searched blindly for a door.

"There," Shona said, keeping her voice low as she pointed.

Dugald nodded, stepped to the door, and listened for a moment. When no sound came from the opposite side, he pulled it open. It creaked crankily on rusty hinges. Shona held her breath, but not a soul stood in their way.

While waiting for darkness, they had planned carefully, hunkered in the bracken as they guessed where Kelvin might be held. It had been decided then that they would check the dungeon first. But where would the dungeon be?

Finding a flight of stairs, they made their best guess and followed a stone passageway along the north side of the castle.

The silence was enough to make Shona want to scream, the darkness so intense that she could not see the floor beneath her feet. But they kept going. If Kirkwood had a dungeon, it would probably be near the front of the castle. Searching in the dark seemed futile beyond hope. Still, what else could they do?

A door appeared before them. Dugald opened it. Light streamed out, seeming unearthly bright after the darkness. On the floor, a trio of soldiers lay on pallets. The nearest one sat up with a curse.

"What the devil do ye think ye're doing?"

Dugald staggered in the doorway, his helmet slightly askew. "Got to take a piss."

"Well, don't go leaking on me. The garderobe's down the way."

"My thanks," Dugald mumbled, and closed the door behind him.

Shona's heart hammered in her chest as they hurried silently away. The halls here were lit by flickering wall sconces, making their search easier, but their danger greater.

Where could Kelvin be? she wondered. But suddenly her thoughts were interrupted.

"Guards!" she hissed, and pulled Dugald into an alcove.

They waited there, pressed together, holding their breath and each other. Footfalls approached, echoed closer, and thumped on by.

Shona shuddered as she exhaled, but she did not loosen her grip on Dugald's sleeve. Beneath his stolen helmet, only his eyes looked familiar.

"If I dunna live—" she began, but he hushed her with his fingers on her lips.

"You will."

She grasped his wrist, and kissing his fingers, pulled his hand away. “If I dunna, take the child back to Blackburn. Promise me ye will."

"You will," he repeated, his tone raspy.

"And if I dunna?"

"Then I will be beside you."

"Nay!" Terror and desperation tore at her. "Dunna say that. Ye must not. Ye must promise to take Kelvin back to Blackburn. Ye must vow."

"Shona—"

"Promise."

A muscle jumped in his jaw, but despite himself, he could not refuse her. "I promise," he said.

She let her eyes fall closed, but opened them in a moment. "I would have ye know one thing,"

she whispered. "I love ye. Never in all my years have I loved another so."

She felt the muscles in his arm tighten and tremble.

"You will survive," he said. "If every man here must die to make it so, you will survive. That I vow."

Tilting her head back, she kissed him gently. Soft fire burned her lips, making her forget everything except the strength of his arms, but in a moment he drew away.

"Stay here and remain hidden."

She tried to form a question, but he shushed her.

"You must stay here now. Do not move from this spot. I will return shortly," he said, and stepped away.

She clutched his sleeve harder. "Where are ye going?"

"I am going to ask where I might find the lad."

"Dugald!" she said desperately. He pulled her fingers from his sleeve. Gone was the lover with the gentle touch.

"They will be happy to tell me," he added, and stepped into the hall.

"Nay," she gasped, trying to snatch him back, but he turned and quickly pushed her back into hiding.

"Do you not want to find the child?"

"Aye, but—"

"Then stay put," he ordered, and pivoting away, disappeared down the hall.

Shona stood alone, her heart hammering in her chest, her fingers grasping nothing.

He was going to take a prisoner, to ask questions, to risk his life.

And he was going in the wrong directions. Somehow, though she didn't know how, she suddenly knew she was right, as if an extra sense had just awakened. It seemed to dull all else.

"Dugald," she whispered, and lurched into the hallway to find him. But already he was out of sight. She could hear footfalls up ahead and turned the corner, desperate to stop him.

She struck the soldier head on and bounced off, hitting the floor with considerable force.

"Hey!" Munro's clansman was bearded and gruff. "Watch where you're putting your feet there, laddie," he said, and reached to help her up. But suddenly he stopped and his eyes went wide.

"You're not a laddie," he exclaimed, and with horrible clarity, Shona suddenly realized she had lost her helmet.

"Who the devil are ye?'' growled the soldier. His fingers closed like a vise over her wrist and she was yanked from the floor. His gaze, hot and lurid, skimmed over her. "Who are ye, and where were ye off to in such a rush?" he asked. "Tis a Munro plaid. Who was the lucky lad who lost it to ye?"

Shona tried to find her voice. But it would not come, for already he was tugging her down the hall.

"A bonny wee bit of fluff ye be. I dunna know how ye came here, but neither am I the type to ask questions when my willie is up." He chuckled.

She yanked at her arm, trying to break free. But he turned on her suddenly.

"Hey, now, lass, ye dunna want to make me angry. I can be gentle as a lambkin when I want to, but if ye make me mad, I'll have to get rough. And ye wouldn't like that. That I guarantee."

Panic welled up like a dark tide. "Let me go!"

"Go?" He chuckled. "Go where?"

"I have...I must go to Ian."

"Ian? Ian of Woodsward?"

Shona felt a rush of relief. She knew no Ian, twas just a common name, a shot in the dark.

"Aye," she said, trying to think, to hold onto her sanity. "Twas he who sent for me."

“Well, then, for certain ye will want a real man, for Ian's pecker is no bigger than my thumb.

Come—"

"Wait!" She hauled backward, trying to quell her panic, to find her sense. "Wait!"

He turned again to stare at her. She slowed her breathing and forced herself to look up through her lashes at him. "I'm a thinking a braw lad like ye will want more than just me. I'm a thinking ye'll want the others."

His jaw fell slightly. "There be more like ye?"

She chuckled, hoping the noise sounded seductive instead of mindlessly panicked. "Oh, aye,"

she said. “They be but waiting for my word. Just up ahead in the spare room they are."

He turned to stare down the hall then glanced back at her with a lascivious grin.

"Well, I wouldna wish to disappoint them."

"Indeed not," she managed, and tugging on his hand, pulled him in the direction she hoped Dugald had taken. But the hall was empty.

"Which room are they in then?" asked the soldier. He sounded suspicious.

"Just in here," she said, and turning to her right, pulled the door open and urged him inside.

"Tis dark," he said, but just then, she slammed her knee into his groin.

He grunted like a wounded boar and clutched his crotch. Shona lurched for the door. He came at her with a roar, one hand outstretched.

She lunged away, clawing her knife from its sheath, but he snatched her arm.

The blade snapped from her hand and spun into the darkness as she was yanked forward. But even as she careened toward him, she groped with her free hand. Her fingers brushed across something. Without thought, she grasped it and swung.

A wooden keg toppled to the floor, but its cover came free. She whacked it across the soldier's head. He crashed against the wall.

Shona's every instinct screamed for her to run, but he would surely overtake her, so she sprang at him like a tigress and swung the lid again.

His head slammed against the wall. Then he slid to the floor in oblivion.

Panting, her chest tight with fear, Shona spun from the room.

"Hey!" Meaty arms enfolded her. "What's going on here, Missy?"

She swallowed a scream and struggled against this newcomer, but he only chuckled.

"Where ye going in such a rush?"

"Who's this, then?" A second soldier appeared in the dimly lit hall.

"She's mine, is who she is," said the first. "Munro property, if ye can't tell from the plaid."

"Seems to me we're all in this together, and since I'm Lord William's man, she should be mine."

Still holding her by the wrist, her captor stepped in front of her and pushed out his chest in an age old sign of male aggression. "The hell she should."

"The hell she shouldn't!"

"To hell with both of ye!" snarled Dugald. Stepping from the shadows, he clasped each of them by the hair and thumped their heads together. They smacked forehead to forehead, bounced back in stunned silence, and sank to the floor.

"Can't I leave you alone for one moment?" rasped Dugald, and grasping her hand, pulled her along the hall.

But Shona skidded to a halt, dragging her heels. "It wasn't my fault, and you're going the wrong way."

"What?" he asked, pivoting toward her. "Did they tell ye where the lad is?"

"Nay. I just know."

"How?"

"Never mind," she whispered, and yanking her arm from his grasp, spun away.

Her footfalls were silent, the stone floor cool beneath her bare feet.

A door appeared in front of her. She put her hand to the latch, dredged up her nerve, and yanked it open. Stairs ran upward. She lurched toward them, but Dugald was beside her now, his hand on her wrist.

"Where the devil are ye going?"

"To Kelvin."

"Where is he?"

She rushed up the stairs, not thinking, only feeling. "Up," she gasped.

"Up? The tower."

Her breath came in pants now as she ran up the stone steps. "Nay. I dunna think so. A chamber...with a trunk."

"That narrows it down to a hundred or so rooms."

"And I see a bed."

"Would you think me a coward if I admitted you're scaring me?"

"He's by a window."

She had reached the top of the stairs and stood panting as she glanced right and left.

"That way," she whispered, and took off again.

The passageways were dark here, but the floor was smooth, the going easy. Up ahead, the faint glow of a lantern could be seen.

Dugald grabbed her hand. She slowed to a walk and moved closer to the wall. Her heart hammered a hard tattoo against her ribs, and her breath came in a rush.

Kelvin was here. He was close. She knew it, could feel it in her soul, in the warm weight of Dragonheart. But the boy would be guarded. That she knew, too.

She slowed her steps even more, until, silent as a cat she crept along the wall toward the corner. Dugald pulled her to a halt, and she obliged, leaning her head against the wall for a moment as she steadied her breathing.

Dugald dropped her hand and lifted a finger to his lips for silence, then spread his hand in a sign for her to wait.

But she could not. Taking a single step forward, she leaned to the side and peeked around the corner.

Two men were stationed beside an arched wooden door. One was tall and gangly. He leaned against the stone wall while the other sat slumped on the floor. His eyes were closed, his face bearded, his spear beside him. Neither wore a Munro plaid. They were obviously William's personal soldiers, but none Shona had met.

Pulling silently back into the passageway, she glanced at Dugald. He glared back then pulled his knife from its sheath.