Highland Conquest Read online

  She started with her knives, hiding them in her socks, her dress, and even in the braid she plaited at the back of her hair. Then she went through her medicines, deciding how she could use each vial. By the end of it, she decided it was useless—unless she could hold Murray down and pour the entire contents into his mouth and down his gullet. And she was afraid to dip the knives in the poison lest they nick her skin.

  When the gloaming came, she squared her shoulders and left her room. Earc and Hamish waited outside. Malcolm was at the top of the stairs leading to the great hall.

  “I’m going upstairs,” she said. “I want to go through Murray’s belongings in his room. Maybe Niall missed something when he looked through. He’s getting a wee bit senile.”

  Earc and Hamish looked at each other, and she could read in their eyes they thought it was a useless task, but that it would keep her occupied until Lachlan came back with Adaira.

  “Aye, lass,” Hamish said. “We’ll take you up.”

  She tried not to show any impatience as she mounted the stairs with them to the fourth floor. It hadn’t occurred to her they would check the room, but with all the secret tunnels they’d unearthed, they would do so, for sure. She panicked a moment before saying, “Ian’s inside. I asked him to help. Doona spook him. He’s verra upset about Adaira.”

  “Aye, lass,” Earc said this time, his voice thick with worry. “We all are.”

  Amber squeezed his arm. “We’ll get her back, Earc. I promise.”

  Hamish knocked, and the door opened a second later from the inside. Amber peeked around her guard and saw Ian looking scared. “Come here, love,” she said. “Let Hamish have a look, so they know Murray’s not hiding under the bed.”

  He scurried to her side, and she squeezed his arm to calm him. Hamish reappeared a moment later. “All clear. We’ll let you know when we’ve heard anything from the lairds.”

  “Thank you, both of you. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  She entered the room with Ian and closed the door. The quilts were mussed up, like he’d been lying on them. She hoped he’d gotten some sleep. By the look of him earlier, he hadn’t slept at all the night before, worried sick about Adaira and not being able to reach Amber.

  “Did he say what we should look for?” she asked softly.

  “Aye. Under the mattress.”

  “But they would have looked there for any tunnels.”

  “Nay, not a tunnel. A rope.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “But…but… Are we to go out the window?”

  “I expect so.” He flipped the mattress onto the floor, and she saw a strong, thick rope tied to the bed’s heavy, wooden frame.

  Her stomach turned, and she felt like she might throw up. They were four stories up. She’d fallen and hurt herself just going over the edge of the castle wall on a rope. She would kill herself if she fell this time.

  It made sense now that Murray had chosen this room as his sanctuary. Not only was the bar for the door extra thick and the bolts and brackets extra strong, but this side of the keep was flush to the curtain wall, so Murray would be able to climb all the way down to the outside of the castle.

  She sat on the hearth and dropped her head in her hands. “I canna do it. I doona have the strength.”

  “It’s not that hard, Amber, once you know how.” He sat on the edge of the bed frame, unspooled the heavy rope, then placed it beside his leg. “Look, you loop the rope under one foot and over the other foot to stand on it. The tighter your feet are together, the slower you’ll go down. To go faster, push your legs apart.” He widened his legs to show her, the rope still looped around his feet.

  “Who told you that? That’s crazy.”

  He smiled, the first one she’d seen from him today. “Your laird and husband. And he showed me how too. He’s incredible at it. Verily, as fast as a rabbit, and he can climb up the rope too.” He stood and motioned her forward. “Here, sit down.” She did, and he looped the rope under her left foot, then over her right foot. “Feet in to stand on it. Feet out to slide down.” He hefted the rope over to the window. “Look, I’ll go first, then I’ll try to catch you if you fall.”

  “Nay, you’ll stay back,” she said, alarmed. “I doona want to crush you.”

  He scrunched up his face, thinking, and she looked at the door. Whom could she get to help them? Earc, maybe. He loved Adaira and would want to see her safe. But how could she let him in and get him to listen without alerting Hamish?

  Closing her eyes, she shook her head. She couldn’t. Instead, she moved to the door and very quietly, so as not to alert her guards, slid the bar across. Now they were locked in.

  “I’ll go first,” she said, moving to the window and staring out into the black night. The moon was a tiny sliver, and she couldn’t see the ground. “You can hold on to me at the top until I get my feet right.”

  Ian had fed the rope through, and she realized she needed to go out feetfirst on her belly. “Help me up.”

  He did, awkwardly, and by the time her legs were dangling out the other side, her skirts had pushed to her ears, and her bare arse was waving to the wind. She would have laughed at the absurdity of it, but she might possibly be seconds away from her death. And if she did make it down, then she would probably die by Murray’s hand within the hour.

  She looked at Ian, for the first time not begrudging the tears that flooded her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “If I doona make it, tell Lachlan how much I love him, and how happy he’s made me these last few weeks.”

  “You willna die, Amber. I’ve got you. Just loop your feet how I showed you—under the left, over the right—and find your footing.”

  She did, and discovered she had some stability when she tested it. Ian let her out the window a wee bit more, and she had to hold back a frightened wail.

  “I have an idea,” he said, and let go with one hand as she gripped the rope. A moment later, he pushed her skirts out the window, so her arse was covered, his cheeks heating in embarrassment, then slipped his long length of plaid behind her back, under her arms, and tied it. “All right, I’ll have you from up here for at least halfway. Now just widen your feet a wee bit and lower yourself down. ’Tis not that long a fall after that.”

  “Long enough to break my neck.” But she felt better knowing Ian held her from the top, and she carefully lowered herself over the edge…and kept going. The hardest part was holding on to the rope with her hands. Halfway down, Ian’s plaid fell away, and she knew she was on her own. Well, if her husband could do it, so could she. She widened her legs a wee bit farther, then yelped as she flew down.

  In a terrifying moment, she lost her grip and fell backward into the black abyss. Only to land a half second later on her backside on the ground. Ian landed moments after her.

  “’Twas not so bad, was it?” he asked.

  “Nay, not at all,” she said weakly. “Let’s go get Adaira.”

  Twenty-one

  The roar of the falls deafened Lachlan. He stood apart from his brothers and Gregor, staring into the darkness. His stomach roiled, and a feeling of foreboding plagued him. They’d arrived at the falls just as dusk fell and hadn’t seen any sign of Adaira or Murray. They’d called out to let him know they were here, of course, but received no response—not even a poisoned arrow or a falling tree from one of his traps.

  He squinted in the darkness, trying to see more of the lay of the land, bringing it up in his mind’s eye. Why would Murray choose this place? It was familiar land to them, and if Murray was behind the falls with Adaira, he had to know Lachlan and his men would storm the caves—which didn’t lead anywhere. He’d had several men, who were trained in caving, search every inch. There was no safe way out.

  So why? Murray was smarter than that. Way smarter. And he’d have to know Lachlan wouldn’t leave Amber and the castle unprotected. He wouldn’t be able to sneak in an
d abduct her when Lachlan was gone. But maybe he thought someone might be able to get her out?

  Did he have a traitor in his clan?

  He thought back to Ian and his odd behavior in the great hall earlier. Those wounds on his face and arm were definitely defensive, and at least a day old. If Adaira had been taken this morning, and Ian had fought to protect her, the wounds would still be fresh.

  And now that he thought about it, Amber had been acting strangely too.

  God’s blood, nothing sat right with him. No matter what may happen here, he had to return to his wife.

  He strode back to the other lairds, feeling like he was running out of time. “Something’s wrong,” he shouted, trying to be heard over the rushing water. “I’m going back.”

  Callum followed him through the dark toward the horses. “I’ll go with you. I feel the same.”

  “He wants Amber. Not Adaira,” Lachlan said, barely able to get the words out past his clenched jaw.

  “Agreed.”

  “So abducting Adaira was just a way to get to Amber. But how? He knows I wouldnae leave her unprotected. I left my best men with her. I trust them with my life.”

  “Aye. So assuming all the tunnels into the castle have been plugged, and he canna get in, he needs to get her out. An escape route.”

  Lachlan broke into a jog despite the uneven terrain and dark skies, his heart racing and his breathing shallow. Aye, that would work. “Amber’s not stupid. She would ne’er follow anyone she…” He stopped as that nagging feeling in his chest unknotted and the pieces fell into place. Ian hadn’t delivered the message, Amber had. “…she would go herself.” Lachlan cursed and raced toward his horse.

  Callum ran after him. “You think she sent us away so she could escape and go to Murray?”

  “She ne’er put up a fight to come with us. Not one word. When have you e’er known Amber not to fight? She wanted us gone from the castle so she could get out. Ian’s message was for her, not us. She’s going to trade herself to Murray for Adaira.”

  Callum whistled and signaled the other lairds as he ran. They were already in pursuit. “He must have sent Ian to tell Amber to come to him or he’d kill Adaira.”

  “Aye.” Lachlan stumbled and caught himself against a tree. For a moment, fear for her safety overwhelmed him. “Oh, sweet Jesus, he’s going to kill her, Callum. Where would he take her?”

  “Somewhere significant and within walking distance of the castle.”

  “Her cottage.”

  Callum nodded, and Lachlan sprinted for his horse, calculating how long ago Amber would have escaped the guards, how long it would take her to get to the cottage, and how long it would take Lachlan to ride to her rescue.

  Too long.

  He mounted Saint and urged him into a dangerous gallop. Lachlan might die if the stallion stepped wrong and threw him, but if he didn’t get there in time, Amber would die for sure.

  And his heart would die with her.

  * * *

  Amber stood in front of her cottage, which Lachlan’s men had repaired weeks ago, trembling with fear. She expected to die, maybe painfully, and sorrow for herself, for Lachlan, squeezed her throat shut. They’d had such little time together, and she knew her passing would hurt him terribly.

  But she was Adaira’s only hope, and just maybe God would be on her side and help her take the devil down. She wasn’t defenseless. She had her knives, she knew how to fight, and this time she was determined to kill.

  And she had surprise on her side too. He wouldn’t expect her skilled attack.

  The cottage was quiet. The windows shuttered with no light peeking through the cracks and no sparks or smoke coming from the chimney. Still, she knew he was inside, and she prayed he had Adaira with him.

  She’d left Ian in the shelter of the trees with instructions to run with Adaira and alert the warriors as soon as the girl came out. If Ian and Adaira ran into a patrol, maybe they would get to her in time. But Murray wasn’t an idiot. He would have planned for every outcome and would either take Amber with him or kill her in the cottage and run.

  And if he did kill her, she wanted the MacKay warriors to find her instead of Lachlan.

  Lifting her hand before she lost her nerve, she knocked on the wood, hard and abrupt. Something sharp and pointed touched the back of her neck, and she froze.

  “Open the door and step inside,” Murray said from behind her.

  She did as he asked, her heart beating like it was making a break from her chest. She stumbled as she went over the sill, quickly righted herself, and scanned the room. Adaira lay before the hearth, bound and tightly gagged.

  “Adaira!”

  Amber ran to her as Murray checked outside one last time, closed the door, slid the bar across, and locked them in.

  Amber quickly pulled a knife from her sock and cut the bonds around Adaira’s feet before Murray could stop her. She needed the lass to be able to run.

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” she whispered. “Remember what I told you. Run when I say. I’ll be right behind you.”

  The knife was smacked out of Amber’s hand before she could finish cutting Adaira’s wrists free. The blade flew into the ashes in the hearth below the low-burning fire and disappeared.

  Adaira screamed and lunged at him, but Murray kicked her into the corner.

  Amber threw herself between them. “Stop! I’m here. You said you would let her go if I came to you. Trade me for her.” She knew he wouldn’t honor his word, but she wanted to stall for as long as she could, try to figure out a plan. And she wanted him to think she was in a weakened position. One he controlled.

  “Foolish woman,” he said, his bow lowered, his other hand fisted, ready to strike. “Now I have two people he cares about. I’ll hurt you both, then kill him from a distance.” He lifted his eyes, looking for the knife she’d used. “Where is it?”

  She hesitated. He would search her if she denied knowing where the knife was—God’s truth, he would search her anyway—and find her other knife in her sock. Maybe he would think that was her only weapon and stop looking. Then she’d have two hidden knives, one in the ashes, and one in her hair.

  “I doona know,” she said.

  He punched her in the jaw and she fell facedown onto the hard-packed dirt floor. She almost blacked out, seeing stars. He landed on top of her and pinned her in place, her hands behind her head, her face pressed into the dirt so she could barely breathe.

  “Let’s look, shall we?” He ripped up her skirts and shift, exposing her to her waist, and spread her legs. Then he tore off her shoes and socks—and found the knife. “Here it is. Just a wee one, but sharp. It could do a lot of damage. You lied to me, Amber. What should I do to a lass who lies?”

  He lifted the knife to her left buttock and sliced down, cutting though the fleshy skin. She screamed, the pain more than she would have imagined for such a soft spot on her body, and squirmed to get away, but he’d trapped her. Then he sliced her other buttock too. Not as deep this time, as she managed to move at the last minute.

  Adaira was pressed back in the corner, screaming around her gag. She’d dug her hands into the dirt floor, scraped it up with her nails.

  “You doona want me to cut your arse with your knife?” he asked her. “I can tup you with it instead. But a bigger knife, aye? Like the one your husband has.” He pushed her knife in his boot and pulled out a large, wicked-looking dagger with a honed edge.

  Amber sobbed when he turned her head and waved it in front of her face. “Please, Laird Murray,” she begged. “Have mercy. I’ll do anything you ask, I promise.” But she could see it in his eyes—he wanted to hurt her in this way—and she knew she was about to die. She would ne’er recover from these injuries. And even if she did, her life as Lachlan’s wife would be over, his eager lover replaced by a woman irreparably damaged.

&
nbsp; And Murray wouldn’t stop there. If she didn’t bleed to death immediately, he would torture her in some other way.

  He leaned down and placed his lips by her ear, the hand on her head gentling, his words soft and lover-like as he trailed the blade slowly up the back of her thigh. “I’m not such a monster, Amber. I do want to please you. Is this how you like it, dearling? Soft and sweet?”

  She almost cried in relief at his tender hands and stupidity. “Nay, I like it rough. Like this.” Twisting her head and lunging up, she bit his cheek as hard as she could, tearing through skin and underlying tissue and chomping down. He yelled and pulled back, but she managed to get one hand free and jab a finger in his eye. He stumbled back, roaring with rage, a bloody, gaping hole in his cheek, his hand over his eye.

  She scrambled back toward the hearth, spitting out the offending tissue in her mouth before she choked on it. “Run, Adaira!” She reached for the iron poker with one hand and the knife buried in the ash with her other. Murray charged her. She swung the poker. He caught it and yanked her toward him. She struck with her other hand, the small knife stabbing into his shoulder.

  “God’s blood, I’m going to kill you, ye wee cunt.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Adaira run past. Murray grabbed her by the hair at the last minute and pulled her back, but Adaira still had the dirt in her hands from the floor and threw it in his face. He let go as it hit his eyes, and she kept going. Amber tried to get by him too, but he dived for her, grabbed her ankle and pulled her down.

  She looked up and saw Adaira pulling the door open. “Run, Adaira. Doona stop!”

  * * *

  Lachlan heard his wife yelling, heard the terror and determination in her voice a second before he saw Adaira race out of the cottage. Exultation burst through him, knowing Amber was still alive and fighting to stay that way, but at the same time he was terrified—he was so close, yet it took only seconds to kill someone.