My Wild Highlander (38 page)

***

"He's acting all 'happy' again," Rebbie
muttered to Dirk as they strode across the snow-covered barmkin the
next morn. "So, all is forgiven?"

"What do you speak of?" Lachlan asked, taking
a moment to enjoy the clean icy air and heated memories of last
night.

"Don't pretend to be daft. You're smiling
like a lunatic."

"Am I?" Lachlan wanted to laugh but held it
in. "Well…indeed, she believes me now—that I wasn't with
Neilina."

"Why?"

"Came to her senses?" Lachlan opened the door
to the dungeon, unsure exactly how or why Angelique had warmed to
him. All that mattered was that she had. "And she accepted Orin and
Kean." When she had held wee Kean on her lap, showing his
motherless son affection, Lachlan's chest had tightened. Angelique
had the softest of hearts, which she kept hidden behind thick steel
armor.

Rebbie snorted. "You're the luckiest bastard
I've ever seen."

"Nay, just canny."

"Pah!"

They entered the low-ceilinged underground
room where his brother and a few other men waited, including his
cousins, Fergus and Angus. Several candles and a torch lit the
room.

Alasdair motioned for Lachlan to join him at
the table in the center of the room. "Bring them in," he told one
of his guards.

Moments later, the guard returned, leading a
bound man, one of the Drummagans Lachlan had never grown close to.
A quiet man with steely, suspicious eyes.

"What can you tell us about the false
documents Kormad had drawn up?" Lachlan asked.

"I ken naught of it." He set his determined
jaw. This was likely a man who would not even crack under
torture.

"Do you know where the papers are now?"

The man shook his head. This was a waste of
time.

After they'd questioned two more men, both
with lips sealed tight, Lachlan said, "Bring in Bryson."

The guard nodded and shoved the uncooperative
man out the door.

That his sword bearer had turned against him
surprised Lachlan most and sickened him. He had truly thought
Bryson loyal above all others, except maybe Heckie. And he had no
inkling where Heckie was at the moment. Safe, he hoped.

Moments later, the guard pushed Bryson into
the room. He stood before them, his hands tied behind his back.

"Bryson, I am most disappointed to find you
riding with Kormad," Lachlan said.

The stocky, dark-haired man glanced at the
closed door. "I'm not with him," Bryson whispered. "I'm still loyal
to you, chief."

Lachlan studied the man's dark eyes, unable
to read the sincerity. He didn't know the man well enough.
Damnation, he was an idiot for trusting so easily. And now, what if
this was a lie? "You sure as the devil fought hard against us last
night. Why should I believe you?"

"I've come to help you defeat Kormad and that
Frenchman, but I don't want them to know. They'll kill my family if
they find out."

"They have threatened your family?"

"Aye!"

"Do you know where the false papers are? We
searched Kormad and they were not on his person. Nor were they on
his horse."

"They're back at Burnglen, hidden. But I
don't know where exactly."

"How many men did he leave there to
guard?"

"Three that I know of. He left more to guard
Draughon."

The bastard. "How many Drummagans turned
traitor?"

"About twenty men. They locked the others up
in the dungeon."

Lachlan was glad to know Kormad hadn't killed
the rest. Still, they might be injured. He needed to see them
released and safe as soon as possible. "I thank you, Bryson. Are
you willing to travel back to Kormad's estate with us and help find
the papers?"

"Aye." Bryson knelt on one knee much as he
had done when he pledged his loyalty the first time. His gaze was
dark but respectful.

A bit of the pressure lifted from Lachlan's
chest when another Drummagan vowed his loyalty, agreed to help and
was released. Alasdair set guards on the two men and didn't allow
them any weapons. Lachlan's plan was that three dozen of them,
mostly MacGraths, would leave early the next morning for Kormad's
estate. Lachlan would lead them while Alasdair would remain behind
to guard Angelique and the others. Once Lachlan had the false
papers, they would reclaim Draughon. Now, he but had to tell
Angelique his plans and hope she didn't fight him on it.

***

Kormad ground his teeth and cursed. He hated
this despicable, dark and cold dungeon. Pike and several of his men
waited in this cell with him. What was taking Bryson so damned
long? Kormad had told him what to do two nights ago, pretend
loyalty to Lachlan MacGrath and get them out of this hellhole. He
had chosen Bryson for this task for three reasons. One, since he
was MacGrath's sword bearer, MacGrath would be more likely to trust
him. Two, Bryson was highly skilled. And, three, he had a family.
If Bryson didn't obey orders, the man's wife and son would die.
Kormad would make sure of it. He had them detained in the dungeon
back at Draughon with orders to one of his guards, if he didn't
return by a specified date, to kill them.

Kormad had always heard Highlanders were
ruthless, but he was starting to doubt it. This MacGrath chief
hadn't even tortured any of them for information. He was so soft
and lenient, Kormad was sure he posed no threat if only they could
get these cells unlocked.

A door in the distance opened and closed,
then running footsteps sounded.

"I think he's coming," Kormad said.

His men stood, breaths held. A lantern
appeared.

The cell lock clicked and the door opened.
"Hurry, 'tis almost dawn." Bryson waved them forward.

"Ah, Bryson!" Kormad said. "I kenned you
could do it. Release the rest of my men." He motioned to the other
cells.

One of the other Drummagans, a friend of
Bryson's, helped him, no doubt for the same cause, to save Bryson's
family. Kormad might even let them live.

"Where shall we find weapons?" Girard asked,
exiting one of the other cells. "I need at least two loaded pistols
and a knife."

"Wait in line," Kormad growled. This
Frenchman was trying his patience, and if he wasn't careful he
would find himself downed by a stray lead ball.

"I have five of the guards' weapons hidden.
They were heavily armed," Bryson said.

"How did you kill them?" Kormad loved stories
of triumph, as well as pushing a man to do desperate things.

"During the night, when most were asleep and
no one was looking, we silently took out our personal guards and
hid the bodies, then we removed the dungeon guards, one by one, by
jumping them when they least expected it and slitting their
throats."

"You impress me with your skills of war,
Bryson. You'll have a high position once we return to Draughon.
Now, I have just one more job for you. I need you to go in and
fetch that little Angelique witch. Don't kill her, but feel free to
kill anyone who gets in your way."

"I can hardly wait to have her in my grasp
again," Girard said, grinning like a maniac.

***

A knock sounded at Angelique's bedchamber
door. Lachlan had insisted she bar it when he arose before
dawn.

"Who is it?" she asked near the door.

"'Tis me, Lachlan," he said in a low
tone.

Good, she must see him before his departure
to Draughon. She could hardly bear that he was going to fight a
battle, and with her so far away. She prayed he would not be
injured.

She opened the door but Lachlan did not wait
outside. Girard and Bryson stared back at her. Sharp chills
paralyzed her a moment. She shoved the door to close it, but the
two men forced their way inside.

"No!" She screamed. "Help!"

Girard shut the door. "Hold her. Cover her
mouth," he told Bryson and the man obeyed. "You will not escape me
this time, whore."

She screamed behind Bryson's dirty, bloody
hand. How could the man who'd been her own father's sword bearer
turn traitor? She kicked and twisted, dislodging his hand, then
screamed again.

Girard slapped her hard across the cheek.
Everything went black and numb for a few seconds, then she found
herself face down on the floor beneath one of them. Pains shot from
her elbow and knees where she had fallen on them. The side of her
face burned and ached.

"Bastard!" If only she could reach her
dagger, strapped to her calf, but Bryson was too strong. Despite
twisting and kicking, she could not escape his iron-like grasp.

"Gag her with this," Girard commanded.

Bryson shoved a thick piece of material into
her mouth and tied it behind her head.

"No, damn you!" she tried to shout, but it
sounded like a moan.

"Bind her hands."

"You said you wouldn't hurt her," Bryson
said.

"I said I wouldn't kill her. At least not
now. But Kormad will kill your wife and son if you do not obey me.
Besides that, you have just murdered five MacGrath guards. What do
you think the rest of the MacGraths will do to you if we turn you
over to them?"

Angelique emitted muffled shouts as Bryson
tied her hands so tightly the thin rope bit into her wrists. Why
had she not thought to take out her knife before opening the
door
?

Lachlan, where are you?

One of the men yanked her to her feet and
threw a cloak around her shoulders. Dizziness overwhelmed her and
she swayed.
Sacrebleu!
She had no chance of reaching her
knife now. What would they do to her?

Girard poked his head into the corridor, then
motioned them forward. Bryson guided Angelique out and along the
passage to what must have been the back servants' stairwell. Very
narrow. Glancing around, she saw no one about. She tried to scream
or yell for help, but the sound only sounded like a loud moan.

"Quiet," Girard growled and shoved her toward
the stairwell. Her feet tangling in her skirts, Angelique fell into
Bryson, in front of her. He turned, catching her, and hauled her to
her feet again, wrenching her shoulder.
Mère de Dieu
! She
was going to die. Girard was finally going to get his revenge.

Stop crying, damn you. Think!
But she
could hardly see for the tears burning her eyes. She only stayed on
her feet in the stairwell because of Bryson holding her up. How
would she get out of this? She'd been in worse fixes. Or maybe
not.

When they reached the kitchen, Girard waved a
pistol before him. The women servants screamed and backed away.
Bryson dragged Angelique, stumbling, outside into the snow of the
kitchen garden, then around the side of the castle toward the
barmkin and stables. The shock of an icy wind buffeting her
snatched her breath. A shiver convulsed her body and stiffened her
muscles. Bryson shoved her forward, keeping hold of her upper
arm.

Where was everyone? She glanced wildly about
for a familiar face, for someone who might help her.

They approached Kormad and the rest of the
traitorous Drummagans, waiting in a protected corner, their clothes
blood-spattered.
No!
It appeared they'd fought a battle
already. How had they escaped? Two MacGrath guards lay on the
ground nearby, their blood melting the snow. Nausea arose and icy
tears burned her eyes.
Mère de Dieu, where is Lachlan?

Kormad's gaze lit on her and he laughed.

Bastard. I will kill you.

"Now we go," Girard said.

Her legs were so stiff she could scarce walk.
She stumbled and slipped on the icy cobblestones but Bryson kept
her upright. The wind flung her cloak back, chilling her despite
the wool dress. Through the blur of tears, she watched a few older
MacGrath clansmen and lads scurry back wide-eyed as the force of
Drummagans moved toward them.

"MacGrath!" Kormad yelled from behind
her.

She twisted, tried to jerk away. A strong
hand tightened on her arm, securing her in place as a shield in
front of them. The cowards.

Lachlan and his brother appeared in the
castle's portal.

No! Go back, away from danger,
she
wanted to shout. Then she wished Lachlan would kill both Kormad and
Girard.

Kormad chuckled. "He looks very
surprised."

"You damned bastards, release her now!"
Lachlan demanded and drew his sword.

"Why would we be doing that?" Kormad's tone
was unnaturally cheerful.

"If you hurt one hair on her head…." Lachlan
spoke through clenched teeth. His face was dark and his gaze as
sharp as the blade he gripped in his fist. He eased forward.

"Stop there," Girard said. With his only
hand, he pressed a cold pistol barrel against her ear.

Shivers shot through her, making her teeth
chatter. She clenched them together so hard her jaw ached.
Mother Mary, I pray you….

"What do you want?" Lachlan growled.

"I think you ken," Kormad said.

"Release her and take me instead," Lachlan
said.

Angelique shook her head.
No, no!
They
would kill Lachlan sooner than they would her.

"I like that plan." Kormad snickered. "All of
you MacGraths, lay down your weapons."

Lachlan murmured something to his brother,
just behind him, then lay down his sword.

"Any daggers, dirks and pistols, too," Kormad
commanded. "Tell your brother to back away and call off the
men."

Non, Lachlan, imbecile!

She would rather die than lose him now.

Lachlan held up his hands in surrender and
eased a few steps forward. "Release her." A blast of harsh wind
carried his sharp words away and flung his hair back from his
face.

"Not until you're over here."

When Lachlan drew closer, one of Kormad's men
rushed out and grabbed Lachlan. He didn't fight, his eyes riveted
on Angelique. "Release her!"

Something in Lachlan's face turned wild, the
untamed warrior, and he broke away from the man holding his arms.
He launched himself toward Angelique. A blade materialized in his
hand, aimed at Girard. The quick movement knocked Girard's pistol
aside. It fired in a deafening explosion by her ear. Lachlan landed
on top of her on the ground. His hand cushioned her head, and his
weight covered her so completely she gasped for breath.