Highland Captive Read online

  The priest paled and crossed himself. “Where is your husband, Lady? And the other lairds?”

  Her chest cramped, and she scrubbed a hand over her face before answering. “Gavin took some men with him to the cathedral to talk to the master builder—another traitor. I was on the turret and I saw an archer kill the guards Gavin left outside the cathedral door. Another tried to take me and kill Ewan, but I killed the traitor instead. Ewan is safe for now, but I can only imagine that Gavin walked into an ambush.”

  Father Lundie made a distressed sound.

  “I haven’t seen the other lairds since yesterday,” she continued, “but Annag told me they went hunting.” She pointed toward the gate. “Look, Father. It’s open and no guard. More men are about to come, I’m certain of it, and if they do, they’ll find Ewan. But if I close the portcullis, how will I get out to save Gavin?”

  Her voice broke at the end and he squeezed her hands. “Surely the other lairds—”

  “Will get here in time? Will not be ambushed and killed once they ride under the gate? This has all been planned, Father. Someone is going to kill the lairds, Gavin, and my son unless we stop them now.”

  The priest closed his eyes, his lips moving as if in prayer. Deirdre wanted to shake him. This was a time for action, not reflection! She was about to tell him so when he opened his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

  “We need to close the gate. Permanently. Can you jam the portcullis so it stays down? I’ve read about them, I can show you how it works.”

  He smiled at her gently. “I understand about mechanical things, my lady. I grew up in a castle near Perth, and my father was a blacksmith. I helped him repair our portcullis on several occasions.”

  “How fortunate,” she said, feeling heartened.

  “Nay, not fortunate, Lady Deirdre. The Lord provideth. I’ll need to hit the release latch and then jam something into the chain before the grill hits bottom. The timing will be the difficult part.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Aye. And you, Deirdre? Are you certain? You are only one person—a fierce lion at heart, to be sure—but still only one against a cathedral full of enemy warriors. You willna be able to defeat them alone.”

  “I have to do something, Father. What if he’s alive? What if I can save him and the others? Save Ewan? As you said, the Lord provideth.”

  “Aye, lass, that He does.” He reached his arms behind his neck and unfastened a chain, then slipped his hands beneath her hair at her nape and refastened it. He lifted the pendant that hung at the bottom of the chain that now sat between her breasts. “’Tis Saint Michael the Archangel. He will give you strength and guide your way in this difficult task. Trust in him.”

  “Thank you, Father. And may he guide your hand too.”

  She hurried to the door, peeked out to make sure the way was clear, and then ran to the mare. After untying the horse, she said her first prayer. God knows she’d need every bit of help she could just to make the mare go where she wanted it to.

  “Let’s go, lass,” she said as she put her foot in the stirrup and swung her other leg over the saddle. “I promise you that Thor will be at our destination.”

  The mare seemed to understand, and she trotted underneath the portcullis without much urging and then toward the cathedral. Deirdre didn’t even look up. All she could concentrate on right now was keeping her feet in the stirrups and not falling off.

  They were almost halfway toward the falling-down church when she heard the portcullis slam shut. For now, she had foiled the master builder’s plan. Surely, Ewan and the other lairds were safer for it.

  She and Gavin, however, were another matter.

  * * *

  “Your wife is coming.”

  No other words could have drawn Gavin out of the black abyss as quickly. They reverberated inside the cavern of his mind like a knock on the door to his consciousness, waking him.

  He opened his eyes, then squinted against the bright light that still made his head pound. He let them adjust, and then once the pain had ebbed, he slowly looked in the direction of the voice. A man stood at the window, looking out. The same man from before, with the long, black hair. The one the others had deferred to.

  “She’s riding here by herself. She really must love you. Although, there’s no one left at the castle she can ask to accompany her. I wonder how she made it out?”

  Gavin pushed himself into a sitting position with his good arm. His head swam, nauseating him, and he leaned back against the stone wall for support. He heard movement and cracked his eyelids. The man had turned to face him, but he was backlit by the window, and his face was in shadow.

  “Who are you?” Gavin croaked.

  “Does it matter? You’ll be dead soon, along with your foster brothers and the great Gregor MacLeod.” His voice held a note of mockery.

  “And my son?” he croaked.

  “Him too. I’m sorry for that. I doona like killing children, but Laird MacIntyre insisted. If it’ll make you feel better, I intend to kill him as well. When the time is right.”

  Gavin closed his eyes, swallowing down the bile that had risen in his throat. “It doesn’t. But I take pleasure knowing that my son is alive and safe—my wife would ne’er have left the keep otherwise. And he still will be when my brothers and the Great Gregor MacLeod take back my castle.”

  “Maybe. You’ve all proven to be worthy adversaries—smarter and stronger than I imagined. You thwarted my schemes against your foster brothers’ clans, although the fault wasn’t in my planning, but that I had to rely on weak men like Laird Fraser, Machar Murray, and Irvin Sinclair. They failed me.”

  Gavin stayed quiet, hoping the man would continue talking in case Gavin somehow managed to escape.

  “I doona like it when things don’t go according to plan. Your wife riding here—by herself—was not part of the plan. Her brother claimed she was naught but a frightened mouse.”

  “Not my Deirdre.”

  His captor made an approving sound in the back of his throat and turned around to look out of the window again. “I like her spirit. And she’s lovely too. I hadn’t seen her up close before. Maybe I willna give her to Boyd after all. Do you think if I took her with me, she could grow to love me like she does you? I’ll let her keep your son, if he’s still alive.”

  What a master game player this man was. He was like Callum, with his ability to understand people’s deepest desires—and fears. Except Callum was a good, just man, and this one liked to get into people’s heads and play.

  “Naught to say, MacKinnon?” the man asked.

  “Nay.” He refused to give the conniver what he wanted.

  The man shrugged, but Gavin could tell he was disappointed. Aye, he wanted to tie Gavin up in knots, and he’d succeeded.

  “She’s almost here,” he said. “I’ll bring her up to you afterward and give you some time together before you die. Maybe I’ll make her watch while I kill you. It’ll add an extra layer to our union—something for me to overcome. I like a challenge.”

  “You’ll enjoy failing to defeat my brothers and Gregor, then. The same as before.”

  “I doona think so. This time I’m not relying on weak men.”

  “I wouldnae be so sure. Your plan is already coming apart.”

  He turned back around to Gavin, who squinted at him, trying to make out the details of his face.

  “She’s here,” he said. “Would you like me to bring her up to watch you die or leave her below for my men?”

  Gavin dropped his head back and closed his eyes, let all his emotion—the pain, fear, and devastation that roiled within him—show on his face. He gave the man what he desired. “It doesn’t matter what I want. You’ve already decided.” Maybe that would sway him into bringing Deirdre up here. Any additional time he had to heal, to wait for his brothers to come to thei
r assistance, would be welcome.

  Then he heard his wife’s voice, and he couldn’t stop the moan of despair that tore from his throat.

  Twenty-Three

  “Hello? Master Builder? It’s Lady Deirdre! Are you here?”

  Deirdre looked around the empty cathedral, trying to hold herself together. She’d infused a forced cheerfulness into her voice, but her throat was so tight now that she doubted she could do it for much longer.

  Where is Gavin?

  The two dead guards outside were gone, along with the six horses the men had ridden. Inside, rocks and sticky mortar covered the floor in big, messy piles. She even thought she saw blood in certain spots.

  She swallowed, blinked her eyes dry, and called out again. “Hello? Is anyone here? Master Builder?”

  “I’m here.”

  She turned and saw the sullen-looking master builder coming down the stairs. He had rock dust in his hair and on his clothes. “Good day, Master O’Rourke. I told my husband that I would meet him here. Have you seen Laird MacKinnon this morning?”

  “Aye, he was here.”

  “Oh.” Furrows of confusion marred her forehead. “Did he leave, then?”

  “You could say that.”

  “What does that mean?” She almost yelled the question, her control slipping. “He wanted me to speak to you about the cathedral, to help determine the cause of the stress fractures.”

  He reached the bottom, maneuvered around some piles of rocks, and carried on toward her, not slowing his stride.

  She stepped back nervously and continued talking—babbling, really. “I noticed when we were here earlier that some of the stones where set unevenly, so the weight is not being distributed properly. You’ll have to remove all the blocks and re-mortar using—”

  O’Rourke lifted his arm and hit her across the face with the back of his hand—so fast and hard she barely had time to defend herself. She screamed in shock and pain and fell backward onto the stone floor, scraping her elbow.

  “Deirdre!” she heard Gavin call out faintly from upstairs.

  “Gavin!” she yelled, pressing her hand to her jaw. The pretense was over, and she rose from the floor, grabbing some rocks—but O’Rourke shoved her back down and kicked her in the thigh.

  She cried out again in pain, fear crawling up her spine as more men appeared—big, tough-looking men. What could she possibly do to save Gavin or to save herself? She was one woman against a room full of warriors.

  O’Rourke yanked her up roughly. “What a stupid besom you are, coming here to tell me what to do.” He pushed his face into hers, his expression vicious. “Now we get to have some fun. And not just the men here. The new arrivals will surely want a piece of you too.”

  “Nay!” a voice commanded from the top of the stairs, and O’Rourke tensed. “Bring her here but blindfold her first.”

  O’Rourke ground his jaw, and she could hear a few rumblings from the gathered warriors. The force was at least twenty-strong down here, possibly more behind them and upstairs. A force large enough to overtake a castle in a sneak attack. She wondered if they knew yet that Father Lundie had jammed the portcullis.

  Then O’Rourke grabbed the bottom of her skirt. Her momentary satisfaction fled, replaced by fear and panic. Were they going to rape her after all?

  Instead, O’Rourke ripped off a long strip of wool from her hem, tying it roughly around her eyes. The band was tight, only the smallest crack of light visible at the bottom.

  She was jerked forward and had a hard time staying upright as she was dragged across the debris-littered floor. The other men were closer now, voices louder and their talk crude. She tried not to listen and prayed again to Saint Michael for help to vanquish her enemies. Surely God would be on the side of peace and justice?

  At the top of the stairs, she was transferred to someone else, whose grip was much gentler. “Lady Deirdre,” the man said, his softer voice almost warm.

  “Please, can I see my husband?”

  “Aye, but, lady, you must know his death is inevitable. Use the time to say goodbye. I will save your son if I can and keep you safe, but Gavin MacKinnon will not survive this day. War does not treat women and children kindly, I’m afraid.”

  “Which is why my husband and his allies fight for peace and justice in the Highlands!”

  “A noble cause, for sure, but I canna afford the luxury of being noble. I will make sure you’re cared for, and your son too, but none of the lairds will survive today. Our forces are too strong.”

  He turned her away from him and placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her forward step by step. “’Tis a brave thing you did, coming here. How did you get past my men?”

  His men? So, he was the leader, the one who had sanctioned her return to Boyd and had given the go-ahead to murder Ewan. No matter how kind and remorseful he seemed to be now, she had to remember he was a blackheart of the worst kind.

  “A man attacked me. I fought him off.”

  The blackheart’s fingers tightened on her shoulders, and he pulled her back against him. His cheek rubbed gently across her hair, almost lovingly. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

  “Did you kill him?” he whispered.

  “I doona know. I ran to find Gavin, but then I remembered he was coming here to speak to the master builder. No one was in the castle and the gate was up. It was easy to get out.”

  He loosened his fingers on her shoulders and rubbed them soothingly, then guided her forward. “You may remove the blindfold when I’m gone. Say goodbye to your husband, Lady Deirdre.”

  She heard a door close behind her and the muffled sound of something being jammed against it. Deirdre shoved the blindfold back. She was in a large room with stone walls and a wooden floor. Gavin was slumped against the far wall.

  “Gavin!” She ran to him. One side of his face and body was covered in blood. “Oh no. Oh no!” She put her fingers to his neck on the uninjured side and tried to feel for his pulse. For a minute she couldn’t feel anything, but then the vein bumped beneath her fingers as his eyes fluttered open.

  She laughed and cried at the same time and gently cupped his face in her hands. “You’re alive, dearling! I was so worried about you.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I canna fight, Deirdre. I canna protect you. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Your arm?”

  “It’s broken, but that’s not the problem. ’Tis my head. I’m concussed. I canna balance; I canna swing my sword. I canna even stay awake for more than a few minutes.”

  He tried to get up, and she forced him back down. “I’m taking care of you this time, Gavin MacKinnon. I have a plan.”

  “What can you do against them?”

  “A lot. I’ve already saved Ewan and Annag, and enlisted Father Lundie to jam the portcullis, so the gate canna be lifted. And I rode that bloody mare all the way here.”

  He smiled and she leaned forward to kiss him. “We’re going to make it, Husband. Doona lose hope.”

  “If the gate is jammed, my brothers and Gregor willna be trapped inside and taken unaware. You’ll be safe with them, if we can find a way for you to get out of here. You can raise Ewan.” He placed his hand over her belly. “And maybe another bairn too. The MacKinnons will survive. Our family will survive.”

  She frowned at him. “You will survive.”

  Unfastening her plaid, she loosened her chemise and pulled out three of Gavin’s daggers she’d found in their room, followed by a leather sheath that she’d fastened around her waist. Her breasts swung free near his face when she laid the weapons on the floor between them.

  “If that doesn’t get me up, nothing will,” he said.

  She snorted as she pulled up her skirt to unfasten another leather sheath wrapped around her thigh that held three more daggers. He laid his hand on her leg. “Nay, you keep that
one. I’ll just take an extra dagger.”

  He pulled a knife from the sheath on her thigh and gave it to her. “Put it in my left sock. And then tie the band tight at the top.” He tugged her skirt back down. “This man will try to woo you—’tis a game for him. Ne’er forget, no matter what he might say or do, he is the enemy. And tell my brothers and Gregor that Clyde is a spy. He killed Lorne.”

  She closed her eyes as despair rose within her. When would the betrayal and lies stop?

  After refastening her chemise and plaid, she reached for the leather sheath that she’d laid on his lap. She couldn’t imagine it would fit around his waist. “Where does this go?”

  He held out his broken arm. She raised horrified eyes to his. “I’ll hurt you.”

  “Aye, but I’d rather be hurt than dead. It has to be this arm, so I can throw with my left.”

  “You can do that?”

  “We train on both sides for exactly this reason.”

  She gritted her teeth and then strapped the dagger-filled sheath around his broken arm. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and she almost wished he would pass out like he had before, if it would spare him the pain. When she finished, she kissed him. “I’m going to look for a way out. Can you move at all?”

  He grimaced. “Slowly. I willna be any help to you.”

  “I need to get onto the roof.”

  “The roof? Nay!”

  “Aye. I know where the structure is weakest. I can take out all of the warriors by loosening one stone.”

  “And what happens if you’re on top of it? You’ll go down too.”

  “I’ll step back, Gavin.”

  His jaw worked furiously, and then his eyes slowly closed and his body went slack.

  “Gavin!”

  His eyes fluttered open moments later, and he slowly focused on her. “Was I out long?”

  “A few seconds.”

  His brows lifted. “It’s getting better then. Help me up.”

  “You need to rest.”

  “There’s no time. Look—Master Cameron wanted to leave spaces for stained-glass windows up here. Instead of shutters, he piled stones in the voids to keep out the wind and rain, but he didn’t mortar them down. If we remove the rocks, we can see up to the roof, maybe find a safe way up.”