Juliette Miller - [Clan MacKenzie 02]

by Highlander Taken

  In a desperate attempt, I reached for the ties at Kade’s wrist before I even made a move to cover myself. But Aleck was there, his arms wrapping themselves around my waist, pulling me away with a strength I could not begin to defy. As my hands were dragged from my husband’s body, I was able to pull the wool of his kilt lower over him, covering him. And I fumbled with my own garment, pulling it over my exposed breasts as I was carried some distance from my husband and placed on my feet. Aleck’s hold on me did not ease.

  “Take me,” Kade said, his voice eerily calm. “Leave my wife. This has nothing to do with her.”

  “In fact,” said Aleck, clear glee in his tone. His eyes were bloodshot, perhaps from the effects of the drug he’d been given by the healer. A drug that was regrettably weaker than I had been told. “This has everything to do with her. Isn’t that right, Stella? Shall I check you for blood? Because it doesn’t appear you were able to fully succeed in your quest. It appears, aye, that we arrived just in time.”

  Kade’s expression did not change. His face was a mask of composure, but his eyes were blazing with hatred, with rage and realization. And with regret.

  “I’m going to kill you anyway, soldier,” Kade said evenly, his eyes locked on Aleck. “How painful your death is will depend on your willingness to take your hands off my wife this instant. And refrain from ever touching her again.”

  Campbell laughed loudly. “These Mackenzies never fail to amaze. You’re as defenseless as you could possibly be, soldier. Yet you insist on tossing out threats that will only succeed in making your predicament all the worse.”

  Aleck seemed to barely register Campbell’s remark. He replied to my husband’s words with the confidence of a man whose opponent was at a distinct and pleasing disadvantage. “On the contrary, Mackenzie, this lass no longer belongs to you. Your marriage is a sham. Unsealed and invalid. If I hadn’t just witnessed what appeared to be your willingness, I might have suspected that you found the lass displeasing, which is beyond my powers of comprehension. I intend to wed her myself. And to give her what she is clearly crying out for. You might as well witness at least part of the proceedings. Since you don’t appear to have much of a choice.” To his soldiers, he commanded, “Bring in Laird Morrison.”

  My father was dragged into the room by Hugh and another guard. And as I looked at the man who had raised me from a distance with tyranny, abuse and displaced grief, I could feel only pity. His eyes had lost their spark entirely. Perhaps the storming of the keep by Campbell’s army had pushed him over the edge of his loosening grip on reality. His madness had taken over. He seemed barely able to comprehend where he was or who he was.

  Aleck loomed over his laird menacingly. “I’ve agreed that Campbell should be the one to kill your laird-in-waiting, Morrison. I’ll take the pleasure of securing my title as laird with my own sword.” With that, Aleck, without removing his hold on my arm, drew his weapon from its scabbard and drove it into my father’s heart with one quick, forceful thrust. “Your time has come, old man. ’Tis something I should have done long ago.”

  My father’s frail body slumped to the floor, blood spilling freely, inky black. He was dead before he even hit the cold stone floor.

  I gasped, not with anguish over my father’s death—his cruelty had steadily eroded any affection I might once have felt for him—but with shock. Not only was Campbell’s army within our walls, but my father was dead and my husband’s life would be the next to be taken. Campbell, even now, was approaching Kade, his sword raised and a large knife clenched in his other hand.

  Strangely, even amid the dire situation at hand, a pressing regret echoed insistently in my mind. I have not yet made love to my husband. I wanted to, before we were both separated, imprisoned or worse. Not because I was being forced to consummate our marriage under threat, but because the time I had spent in his company was the sweetest, most nourishing of my life. I wanted a thousand more moments with him, learning him and treasuring his beauty and his comfort and his love. That was what I wanted from him: love. In that tragic, terror-stricken moment, it was the only thing I could comprehend. That I loved him. The very real possibility that he might be taken from me before I would truly know him, in every sense of the word, felt tragically unjust. I loved him and he might never know it.

  “I now pronounce myself laird of the Morrison clan,” Aleck said, “since the previously appointed laird-in-waiting’s time has just run out. And I am the rightful second in line for the title. If any man present has any reason to dispute this claim, speak your piece now.”

  My mind was reeling. How could I save him? Fighting them would be foolish. I remembered the small knife strapped to my thigh, but there were at least twelve hostile warriors in this room, every one of them armed to the teeth, and with an endless army huddled outside the door.

  Campbell held his sword so the very tip of it hovered near Kade’s chest. Right over his heart. “This almost seems too easy,” he taunted. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment for quite some time. Yet I never envisioned it quite like this.”

  My husband’s chest rose slightly with his breath, putting the sword’s blade that much closer to contact. “Fight me like a true warrior, Campbell,” Kade said. “Wouldn’t you rather live out your days knowing you bested me with your skill and not your underhanded deceit? Fight me in a duel and kill me if you will. But do it with honor.”

  Campbell was not at all conflicted. “Ah, but I’ve already bested you with cunning and strategy, Mackenzie. I can live with that. Honor, I believe, is overrated. The ends justify the means, so they say, and this end—your death—will be the sweetest revenge of all. ’Tis your own sheer misfortune that the lass was able to assist us so thoroughly with our plan. She could not have been more helpful if she’d been given explicit instructions.”

  Kade’s gaze found mine, and in that flashing, quick intensity I could read there a fleeting question, one that stemmed from our history: my fear of him, my unwillingness to wed him, my long list of hesitations.

  It was that question that gave me an idea.

  I had just watched one of my father’s senior officers kill him in cold blood. And now I was about to watch this ruthless rebel kill my husband. I could see the anticipation and the bloodlust written across Campbell’s face as his sword’s tip drew ever closer to my husband’s heart.

  My plan was risky, aye, and would have dire consequences for us both. But it might keep him alive. It was the only priority: I needed him to live. So I could tell him and show him how much I had grown to need him.

  “Nay! You cannot kill him,” I said too loudly. It took everything I had to steady my voice, but I continued. I directed my gaze at Campbell, avoiding Kade’s eyes, knowing the questions there, the hurt and the anger, would very likely cause me to falter. “He’s too valuable. If we use him as a hostage, we’re safe from attack from both the Mackenzie and the Stuart armies, as well as their allies.”

  The room fell entirely silent. All eyes were on me, and my skin felt hot and awash with anxiety under the scrutiny. I could practically feel Kade’s disappointment, his sorrow and his remorse, piercing into me like a sword of steely despair. But if I was to be at all convincing, I would need to show no fear. I condemned myself as I spoke, and I resolved to spend the rest of my life making it up to him—if we survived. I needed now to be stronger than I ever had been in my life. And so I drew on the memories. The secret garden. My husband’s face as he slept in the moonlight. The astounding pleasure of his kiss and his touch. I would hold those memories close to me as I endured what I must to keep him alive.

  I squared my shoulders and continued, leaning closer to Aleck, allowing his hold instead of struggling against it. “’Tis true. I’ve met them, and I believe both his brothers will agree to virtually any request you make of them if they knew Kade’s life depended on it. With that in mind, and with the Morrison and Campbell armies newly allied, your rebellion could go far. Further than it ever has.”

  Alec
k, whose hands were somewhat indecently placed in his eager acceptance of my sudden acquiescence, said, “She’s right, Campbell. Consider it. I know your ultimate prize is revenge, and I agreed you could claim his life—but think on it. There’s no telling what they’d agree to.”

  Campbell paused, and his eyes found mine. He was wary and skeptical. “What is this? The lass supports your coup, Aleck, against her own husband?”

  “My husband is a brute and savage,” I said, impressing myself with the cold brittleness of my delivery. I sounded almost convincing. “’Tis well known this was an arranged marriage I wanted nothing to do with. Aleck here knows it to be true.”

  “Aye,” Aleck gloated, believing me almost instantly; I was thankful in that moment that he was a man led by desire and ambition, and not by powers of intuition. “The marriage is not yet sealed—I confirmed it myself with the assistance of a healer. She remains intact.”

  Kade had been entirely silent until this point, but at Aleck’s pronouncement he let out a low, animal growl. I flinched from the impact of his enraged glare. Even bound and defenseless, he looked fiercer, more malicious, and more foreign to me than he ever had. I was almost glad for his constraints as I pulled my eyes from the icy lock of his accusations.

  Campbell chuckled, studying Kade with real interest. “Is this true, Mackenzie?”

  When Kade did not answer, Aleck said, “He refuses to force the lass against her will.”

  As amused by this information as he might have been, Laird Campbell was not entirely convinced. “What I witnessed with my own eyes was a scene in which this lass did not appear unwilling, not in the slightest.”

  I felt a light rise of heat at the embarrassment of being discovered as we had been, and I grasped for a persuasive explanation. “I—I had been given reason to suspect that your army’s arrival was imminent, Laird Campbell, and I knew I had to keep my husband suitably distracted—and restrained. If he wasn’t restrained here and now, all the men in this room would likely be dead. You know it as well as I do.”

  Campbell was highly offended by the confidence I had in my husband’s military skill. “Unlikely,” he said, surly at the implication that he and his men could be bested by a single Mackenzie. To Kade, he said, with inflections of sarcasm, “Your precious ‘honor’ has cost you dearly, Mackenzie. Not only has it cost you your wife and your alliance, but it is the cause of the mutiny of half of Morrison’s army. I know your skill, soldier. I know you could have cut them down one by one if you’d chosen to. Aleck here has spared me no detail of your methods. You prefer to coerce them with ‘honorable intention’ and prizes for valor and loyalty, rather than ruling with an iron fist. Your downfall, in every way, can be blamed wholly on your honor. ’Tis a pity.”

  “Rot in hell, Campbell,” growled Kade, “along with your underhanded old man.”

  With that, Campbell swiped Kade’s jaw with his fist and the blunt end of his knife. Kade’s head swung to the side with the blow, and his eyes closed for a brief moment. I had to physically restrain myself from crying out, from breaking away and running to him. “Gladly,” replied Campbell. “But first, I’ve some business to attend to, involving you, the dungeon, and my formidable knowledge in the ways and means of torture. For the next few days, you’re going to wish you were in hell, Mackenzie.”

  Aleck appeared to be enjoying the proceedings immensely. It mattered little to him whether Campbell chose to kill my husband or not. He had other things on his mind that were far more pressing to him. He pulled me against him, and I could feel his intent in the hard lines of his body. “Your marriage, Mackenzie, is now, therefore, invalid—or at least it will be in a matter of minutes. And you’re of no more use to us except as a bargaining tool. Take your revenge as you wish, Campbell. Beat him, torture him, cage him in the dungeons. Break him until he is no longer a threat to us. But keep him alive. It would be in all our best interests if we could hold off the combined force of the Mackenzie and Stuart armies simply by using him as a pawn. ’Tis a brilliant idea and one we should have thought of ourselves. My bride is not as naive as she looks.” He gave me a look of proud approval and of menacing promise.

  Campbell was circling Kade now, his sword lowered but still at the ready. He appeared to be giving the suggestion, or his methods of torture, some thought. Kade did not seem to notice him; his eyes were fixed on me. Coldly. With all the severing emotion of the doomed.

  “Meanwhile,” said Aleck, “as you avail yourself of your revenge, Campbell, please excuse me and my bride-to-be as I proceed to finally make an honest, satisfied woman of this lass. And I,” he added, tossing a glance at Kade that I could feel as a heavy ache in my heart, even as I turned my eyes away, “will waste no time in consummating our marriage, immediately and enthusiastically. Stella, come with me.”

  With that, Campbell’s men surrounded Kade, cutting his silk ties to replace them with their own restraints, made of tight leather and hard metal. He fought them like the savage that he was, but he was vastly outnumbered. They beat him with the bone handles of their knives. They kicked him and cut him. His blood was astoundingly red, accusing me with its bright, gaudy hue. Tainting my soul with his pain.

  But the image was blurred by my own terror and the weight of my betrayal, as I was grabbed and carried up the spiral stone steps of my mother’s turret. By a very strong and very determined Aleck.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE SCENE WAS eerie and unreal, and seemed to unfold with extraordinary slowness. My senses took in every detail as I was carried up the familiar steps to the hidden enclosure of the turret. The light was purple, stained with dusk as day gave way to night. We passed the series of diamond-shaped windows as we ascended. His footsteps were quick, heavy but agile with his anticipation. His arms were warm against my back and beneath my knees, and his chest was a solid mass of pinpointed sharpness. I could smell the intensity of his desire, and I knew he would not be gentle or kind. He did not have it in him. Once he might have, but compassion had long ago given way to raw ambition. And I was the pinnacle of all that he had ever worked for, yearned for, fought for. It didn’t matter that I would be taken by force. I was the crown upon which he would proclaim his manhood and his victory.

  I was laid down onto the ancient pink sun-bleached pillows where my mother had once slept. Aleck straddled my hips, pinning me painfully. I struggled, but he didn’t so much as budge. His finger swept down my cheek, touching my lips.

  “I am laird of this keep now,” Aleck said, “My word is law, and I claim you as my wife. We will make it official before the minister tonight. But first, I’m going to take you as my own, as I have long dreamt of. You know this, lass. You know that you were destined to be mine. Isn’t that true?”

  I did not answer him, and my silence angered him. His voice was brutally calm: an undisguised order. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

  “Aye,” I whispered, afraid of what he might do, to make this even more gruesome than it would already be, if I did not obey him.

  My gown, which had been hastily rebuttoned at the front, was torn open. My breasts were exposed and he took them in his huge, calloused hands, pinching roughly. “I saw you, you little wench. Offer yourself to me, like you did to him.”

  My sorrow at the reference—to him—was profoundly painful. I thought of what they might be doing to him now. I knew Campbell would be creative with his revenge. My only cold comfort was the final agreement. Keep him alive.

  My task was to make Aleck as mindless as he could be. It would make my plan easier to carry out. Carefully, I took his hands and held them. He allowed this, his dark eyes heavy-lidded, questioning, dull yet hopeful. I slid my own hands over my breasts, plumping and playing them, teasing my nipples between my fingers. “Take me in your mouth,” I told him.

  He leaned down to obey me. He was too manic and ungainly to be gentle. There was pain as he sucked and bit at me, and I was glad of it. I wanted to feel pain. Any pain. As though it might link me to the tortu
re my husband was surely experiencing, far below us.

  Aleck was thoroughly distracted, and I was able to reach down and unfasten the soft leather of my knife’s holster. I removed it entirely from my body, placing it under one of the cushions near my right hand. My heart thudded in my chest so loudly I feared he would sense my panic and the real reason behind it. But terror was only expected in a scenario such as this. And this man had none of the perceptiveness of my husband; he was entirely immersed in his own agenda.

  “Take off your tunic,” I said. “Let me see what a strong warrior you are.” Gouge deep—and put some effort into it. Muscle is more resilient that you might expect. I wanted easy access. A clear, unfettered strike.

  He followed my request immediately, removing his weapons and his shirt. His chest was huge and barrel-shaped, less lean than Kade’s, equally marred by battle scars. His breathing was uneven, his weight crushing me as he laid himself over me. He fumbled with the ties of his trews with one hand. With his other hand, he was clawing at the fabric of my gown at my hips, yanking it up to my waist.

  I felt him, hot and rearing, against the skin of my thigh, seeking, finding.

  It was then that I struck.

  The expertly sharpened blade of the long, thin knife sank easily, more easily than I was expecting. It was embedded to the hilt and I twisted and thrust, digging as deep as I could in one, fluid slice.

  Aleck yelled out, pulling away and sitting up. His movement caused the knife to gouge a long, gaping crescent in his torso, just below his ribs along the side of his body. It was a lethal wound. I could sense this immediately. The blood was profuse, gushing in a pulsing, cascading flood. His face registered confusion, a baffled bemusement. And then it turned. To rage. He was dying, but there was still enough life left in him to seek out his weapons. But he was having difficulty coordinating his eyes and his hands.