The man’s voice was familiar to Fiona, but she dared not peek at the speaker. She knew he was an islander by his accent, but she couldn’t quite place him.
“Neil MacLeod, you’re a pig.” The woman laughed shrilly. “Just like every other man in this godforsaken wasteland. You’d probably take her as she is, if I weren’t here to stop you.”
“Nay, Kathryn. She is not worth it. Now, taking you...that’s a different story. Ah, my love, her beauty is nothing compared to yours.”
The woman’s long silence nearly induced Fiona to sneak a quick look at the pair, but then she heard the woman move away.
“Of course, you’re right,” Kathryn asserted with an arrogant laugh. “But you’re still a pig, Neil.”
“That’s why you like me around, isn’t it, my sweet-tongued sow?” Neil responded, moving after the retreating woman.
Fiona partially opened her eyes and peered at the two across the room. By the door, under a smoky torch, Neil was standing with his back to Fiona, holding the other woman in his arms. Fiona looked about the small room desperately. She could hear the sound of water running and the regular clunking sound that she recognized as a mill wheel turning. She appeared to be in the ground floor of some mill. But where the mill was, she had no clue. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, or how far they’d taken her.
She had to get out. But how? There was only one small slit of a window near the ceiling, and the path to the door on the far side was blocked by the two. Her hands were tied tightly in front of her with a leather cord. She tried to flex her hands and fingers, but they were numb.
“Ha! Sweet tongue. As I recall, the only reason you still are around is because of my ‘sweet tongue.’” The woman sneered before stepping away from him. “In fact, I believe you’d be nothing more than a carcass if I hadn’t used my charm on Alec Macpherson that god-awful night at Drummond Castle. I believe he would have gone right out that window after you, when he found us together. What was the name he shouted as you scampered across the greensward? ‘Cowardly knave,’ wasn’t it?”
Fiona shut her eyes quickly as the other woman turned in her direction. So this was her loving cousin, Kathryn Gray. Is this what Alec had tried to tell her before? That he’d been destined at one time to marry this woman? Could Alec have truly loved this wench? She strained to hear the man’s response, but the silence was long and unbroken until Fiona heard Kathryn continue, her tone gloating and nasty.
“What a sight you were, clutching your clothes in your arms as you ran away! Tell me, did you ever mention to him how well that ‘crippled’ arm really worked climbing down that wall?” Her laugh was low and humorless. “It must have been quite demeaning having to take orders from Alec out there on that barren rock of yours, hanging as it is over the edge of the world. And all along knowing that he’d slept with me as you had. That he’d given me pleasures...pleasures far greater than any you could ever dream of giving me. Did I ever tell you that I always enjoyed comparing you two in bed? Aye. You two were always competing. Always. You knew, but he didn’t. Even that last night. The night you ran. Ran for your miserable life.”
Fiona cringed at the woman’s words. Oh, Alec! she thought. What a fool she must have made you feel.
“You told me that he should never know about us,” Neil said angrily. “You begged me to keep silent. And as for that night, I jumped out that window to save your precious plans! Have you forgotten? I did that for you.”
“You did nothing for me. You were just trying to save your own miserable ass.”
“Say what you like. You used me as you use everyone to get your own selfish way. You knew that I loved you and that I would never deny anything you asked. But Kathryn, you and I both know I acted as a man of honor. And if you’d kept your own tongue, your reputation could’ve withstood—”
“Man of honor?” she responded, her laughter high and shrill. “Spare me the ‘honor’ talk. You know nothing about it. But as far as the rest, don’t make me laugh. Compared to Alec, you hardly deserve to be called a man. You lost, Neil. You ran away. You were too afraid to face him. Accept it: You are just a loser.”
“You’re a whore, Kathryn Drummond,” he growled.
“Aye, Neil MacLeod. A whore...like you,” she answered brazenly, pausing to drive her point viciously home. “But I serve no master—unlike you—who has served many and betrayed them all. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you didn’t bring this wench here to just please me, to win back my affection. Someone is paying you. You are still serving others, Neil. Others and yourself. Look at her. Don’t avert your eyes. Look at her. I know what lies buried in your blackened soul. I know whose screams haunt you in the dark of night.”
“Shut your filthy mouth.”
“And I know why you want this wench dead,” Kathryn snapped. “After all, lackey, she saw you kill her mother.”
“She saw nothing, you bitch!” he shouted. “She was long gone when Torquil and...” Neil checked himself mid-sentence. He turned away from Kathryn. No, he was not going to give away his golden goose. Not after so many years.
Fiona’s cry caught and swelled in her throat. Her mother...her mother. This lowlife, this animal! Anger, hatred, beginning as a cold, white spot deep in the base of her brain, spread like freezing fire, hardening the skin of her face, her neck, quickening its pace and then racing through her. Hatred. For this evil man and for the ones with him. Torquil. Torquil MacLeod. After all these years. After living under the fearsome shadow of the man for so many years. Now she knew his identity. And she knew that justice had been served. But what about Neil? And who was the other he’d almost named? Neil knew. This criminal, Neil. And in her mind’s eye, she could now see his face, his hand, hard on her mother’s wrist, wrestling her dagger away.
Fiona’s fingers clenched involuntarily into a fist, but she gasped in pain as the bonds cut into her sore wrists. As the two whirled around to face her, Fiona’s eyes fluttered open slowly and focused on them. She tried to give the impression of one just becoming conscious. One unaware of the time, the place, or the people.
“Well, it appears the fairy princess has awakened.” Neil looked intently into her face from across the room. “Aye, a bright face at last in this drab hut.”
“Get out of our faces.” Fiona watched as the woman spat the words. “Now! Get out, Neil.”
Fiona struggled to sit, but an ache in on the side of her head started the room spinning again as she pushed herself up. Her fingers were stinging, but she turned a fiery face toward the oncoming pair.
“Well,” Kathryn drawled, turning to the Highlander, “didn’t you hear me?”
“You want me to cut her hands loose before I go?”
“Nay, not yet.” The woman stood a step away, still appraising the vulnerable looking thing before her. “She has to earn her freedom. Now leave us alone.”
Fiona pushed herself with difficulty to her feet. Her red hair tumbled over one shoulder as she stood, and she raised her bound hands to her face to clear the loose tendrils away from her eyes. Neil looked hard from Kathryn’s face to Fiona’s. Neither acknowledged he was still in the room. The two women simply stood, facing each other, scrutinizing each other, lost in an eternal glare. Finally, Kathryn looked away, putting a hand to her hair and lethargically patting golden threads that were woven into her flowing locks.
“You’re not letting this wee thing best you, are you, Kathryn?” Neil’s amused expression turned sour as Fiona directed a chilling look at him. He started for the door. “I’ll be outside when you want me.”
As Neil pulled the plank door shut behind him, silence filled the small room like a deadening presence.
Fiona looked searchingly at her captor. Her cousin. She was tall, voluptuous, and blond, with eyes the blue of the sun-faded cornflower. Her charcoal dress was trimmed with silk, and the plaid that crossed her breast covered a deeply rounded neckline. Yes, the woman was beautiful. But her beauty was cold, like the skim of i
ce on a winter loch. Her movements were slow, indolent, languorous even. But Fiona sensed that Kathryn had resources that she held in reserve, hidden.
Fiona cast about quickly for a way to escape. She wasn’t sure exactly what Kathryn and Neil had planned for her, but she didn’t trust them. She knew now that these were people capable of any crime. Fiona’s eyes quickly appraised Kathryn’s strength. She thought she could overpower the taller woman, physically defeat her and try to get out of the millworks. But then Neil—and whoever else was waiting outside—would still create an impassable barrier. She knew she couldn’t possibly fight her way out of this, even if she was a fighter. But she had to try. That was her only chance. Fiona couldn’t quite tell whether the dirk Alec had given her was still sheathed deep in the pocket of her skirts, but it wasn’t much good to her with her hands tied, anyway. Looking at her cousin, waiting for her to speak, Fiona knew she had to use every resource she had. She made up her mind. If they were going to kill her, she was not about to submit passively.
Or will I? she thought.
Kathryn moved impatiently toward the younger woman.
Fiona’s erect posture began to slip as she, almost imperceptibly, began to transform herself. Her chin dropped a bit, and she seemed to curl inward, her eyes darting apprehensively around the room. Gnawing on her lip, she reached up and began to twist her hair into a thick rope. Shifting from one foot to the other, she glanced nervously at her cousin.
She wants a churchmouse...I’ll give her a churchmouse.
Kathryn reached out and took hold of the golden chain that encircled Fiona’s neck. Drawing out the jewel-encrusted cross, her eyes lit with desire at the beauty of the ornament. Fiona stood quietly as her cousin looked covetously at the exquisite workmanship and the sparkling gems. A gleam came into Kathryn’s eye as she turned a contemptuous gaze on Fiona’s face.
“Who did you steal this from?” she sneered.
“It’s...it’s mine,” Fiona stammered in as timid a voice as she could effect.
“Yours?” Kathryn laughed scornfully. “This was made to adorn a great lady.”
“That’s true, m’lady.” Fiona’s chin quivered a bit as she stood with averted eyes.
“Then if it is truly yours, perhaps you’d like to present it to me as a gift.” Kathryn looked appraisingly at the piece. “It would look stunning on me, don’t you agree?”
“Well...aye. It would, m’lady,” the captive responded, panic evident in her voice. “But...my mother...well... Who are you, m’lady?”
The tall woman looked down suspiciously at the timid creature before her. Had she truly been unconscious while she and Neil had argued? At the sight of the woman shivering uncontrollably, Kathryn nearly laughed at the ridiculously unlikely match Alec and Fiona would have made. But no more. She would not let that happen.
“I am Kathryn Gray.”
“Kathryn Gr...Lady Kathryn!” Fiona’s whole frame seemed to energize at the name. “Lady Kathryn! My cousin! Lord Macpherson and the prioress, God bless her, they told me you’d be coming to meet me.”
Fiona stopped abruptly as if stunned by some revelation. She glanced down at her bound wrists and back up into the haughty expression on Kathryn’s face. Her cousin released the cross and turned imperiously on her heel.
“But why...where are we, m’lady?” Fiona asked, quickly feeling for the dagger in her skirts as soon as her captor turned her face. Yes, still there! she thought exultantly, instantly falling back into character.
“You said Alec told you that I would come for you?”
“He did, m’lady,” Fiona said, nodding repeatedly.
“Has he missed me? Did he ask—” the woman cut herself short. Kathryn wondered momentarily if Fiona had detected that note of vulnerability in her voice.
As Kathryn turned away and walked to the other side of the room, Fiona reached in her pocket again and tried to cut the rope on her wrists with the sharp end of the dagger.
“How is it possible?” Kathryn asked, turning to look distastefully at the jumping Fiona. “How is it possible that you are to marry Alec Macpherson?”
“Why...I really don’t know, m’lady. He said he would be ‘willing to have me.’ But I don’t...m’lady...I don’t...” Fiona put her hands in the pouch-like pocket, lowering her face as she started to cry. Her tears coursed down her cheeks, and her body was wracked with sobs.
Kathryn looked on, surprised by the outbreak and disgusted with the pitiful creature. As Fiona continued to weep loudly, Kathryn’s expression of aversion swiftly hardened into one of overt loathing for her weakling of a cousin.
“Pull yourself together,” she commanded sharply. “I don’t want to remain in this rat hole all day. You really are pathetic.”
Fiona gulped for air and wiped her tear-stained face on her sleeve. Still sobbing quietly, she looked past the hard-faced woman toward the closed door.
“Do you really think you could be the lady of such a great place as Benmore Castle? Of course, that’s after the old witch, his mother, is put away.”
Fiona looked at her, wide-eyed and speechless. She had just undone the ropes. Her hands, resting in the deep front pocket, were free.
“And don’t begin that disgusting exhibition again,” she added.
“Nay, Lady Kathryn,” Fiona snuffled. “I’m only suited to be a nun. Just the thought of a man touching me...” She shuddered visibly.
Her cousin’s mouth twisted into a mocking smirk as the tears began to run down Fiona’s face again.
“I just want to go back to the Priory at Skye,” the captive wailed. “I just want to go home.”
Kathryn turned her back on Fiona in frustration. Those were supposed to be her words. This was supposed to be her demand. She wanted Fiona to object. And then she envisioned herself ordering her, forcing her to comply. The little bitch was spoiling all her fun.
“How is it possible we have the same blood in our veins?” she said, turning back to her captive.
“I don’t believe you have blood in your veins, Kathryn Gray.” Fiona’s voice was cool and controlled. The point of the dirk was pressed into the hollow of her cousin’s throat.
Chapter 19
Then Anger came in with quarrel and strife:
His hand was ever upon his knife...
—William Dunbar “Fasternis Evin in Hell”
It took Fiona only one swift shove to pin Kathryn against the wall. The taller woman didn’t make so much as a murmur in protest. Fiona’s left hand gripped her cousin’s windpipe as the right one held the knife to her flawless face.
“It’s God’s will, not my courage, that is about to cut your throat,” Fiona said in a soft whisper. “Would you like to take back what you just said?”
Kathryn whimpered helplessly in response.
Fiona increased the pressure on the woman’s throat, causing her eyes to widen and her complexion to blanch as white as new-fallen snow.
“Now, I want you to listen, and listen very carefully, to all that I have to say.” Fiona waved the knife back and forth in front of Kathryn’s eyes, then slowly laid it against the blond woman’s cheek. “What you did by bringing me here against my will was very wrong. What you did to a good, old man was a mortal sin. For that, more than anything, you will pay. And you will pay with your blood.”
Kathryn shook her head desperately, causing the sharp knife to nick her own skin. She cried out sharply as a thin red line coursed down her cheek and dripped off her chin. She was quaking with fear when Fiona raised the dagger and she saw her own blood on the knife.
“You are doomed to hell, Kathryn Gray. But not yet, cousin and you had better do as you are told, or your bloody face will look like a Macpherson plaid. But, you know, perhaps that might be a better fate for you. Perhaps when you are hideously scarred, Alec may take mercy on you and not imprison you at Dunvegan.”
Fiona whispered grimly as the woman’s horrified gaze never left the dagger. “And hear this: Alec and I love each other. An
d knowing how much he hates you, and knowing how his blood will boil when he learns what you tried to do here, we both know he’ll never rest until he gets to you. And then, if I could possibly talk him out of killing you, you can look forward a lifelong stay in Dunvegan’s dungeons. Do you know what those dungeons are like, Kathryn?”
Fiona paused, waiting for the woman to close her eyes in a silent nod. “They are heavily infested with rats, presently. But I’m sure those rodents would love your company.” She hesitated a moment. “You are a loathsome creature, Kathryn, but how could they possibly object to such a delectable companion?”
Fiona put on a grim smile of satisfaction, knowing she had her cousin’s full attention. “Now, I have a deal for you. You will answer all my questions. And you will do exactly as you are told. Then, when this ordeal is over, I will let you take off for sweet courts abroad. But listen to me, Kathryn. That’s with the condition that you never come back again. Now, what do you say about that?”
Fiona let up on her hold only long enough for Kathryn to gulp down air and nod.
“Very well! Who killed my mother?” she demanded.
Fiona let the knife scrape her cheek when Kathryn was slow in answering. The taller woman shook with terror as she stammered out the response.
“Tor—Torquil MacLeod’s men.”
“I’ve found that much in my own. Who else was there?”
“I honestly don’t know. Please...please believe me. Neil had told me. He’s the one to ask. He knows what happened. He was there. But he would never say who was behind it all.”
“You are lying.”
“I’m not! I swear it!” Kathryn began to weep. “Please believe me. He wouldn’t tell me. Please! I’m sorry for what happened here. For bringing you here. It wasn’t my idea.”
Her eyes looked wildly into Fiona’s. “It was Neil’s. I know he’s still paid by someone else. Perhaps the same man. His orders are to kill you. He means to do it. But—”
Angel of Skye Page 29
