Juliette Miller - [Clan MacKenzie 02]

by Highlander Taken

  But how?

  Maisie offered me the answer, as though I had asked the question aloud. My sister, for all her faults, was well versed in the ways of clever feminine wiliness. And she had a plan.

  “I’m going to distract these men, Stella,” Maisie whispered. “And you’re going to sneak around behind this row of bushes and pour your potion into that bottle of whiskey.”

  I looked at her in the semidarkness under a bold crescent moon and a myriad of bright stars. The black clouds were gone now. I prayed that this might be a good omen. “What are you going to do? You can’t show yourself, Maisie. ’Tis far too dangerous. These are uncivilized men. There’s no telling what they might do.”

  “I can handle them,” she said. “I’ll promise to return to them with food and more drink. And perhaps a little more than that. They’ll allow me to leave. I can be quite convincing when I put my mind to it.”

  I hoped she was right, and I feared greatly for her safety. I refused to let go of her arm.

  “We’ve little other choice, Stella,” she said, prying my fingers loose. “Let’s do what needs doing. Go.” And with that, my sister unfastened the top two buttons of her gown and strode out into the clearing.

  Galvanized with fear, for her, for me, for my husband most of all, I crept along behind the row of shrubbery, as quiet as I had ever been.

  “Good evening, soldiers,” Maisie said coyly, walking right into their circle as if she were a long-lost friend of Campbell and his rebellion. “Hugh,” she greeted. “Campbells, welcome. I’ve been sent from the manor to offer our guests refreshments. Indeed you must be hungry.”

  Her intrusion, for a moment, was met with silence. Then, with leering chuckles, followed quickly by lewd, suggestive comments. “You’ve no idea, lass,” said one of them, “and I know exactly what I intend to eat.”

  This inspired bawdy laughter.

  Maisie giggled lightly at his comment. I was astounded by her bravery. She had the courage of all these soldiers put together. Either that or she was that sure of her feminine influence that she had no doubts whatsoever that she could manipulate these and any other men any way she chose. “That might be arranged, after I bring you some meat from our kitchens. What do you prefer? Lamb? Or venison? Why don’t I bring a bit of both?” She stood close to the soldier who had spoken to her directly, fingering the tufted horsehair of the helmet he still wore. “A big, strong warrior such as yourself needs sustenance.”

  “Aye,” the man replied, somewhat less lecherously, as though he was, in fact, hungry.

  She weaved her way through the men, describing some of the food the kitchens had to offer. She had the undivided attention of each and every one of them.

  And I took my opportunity. I reached from behind the leafy branch I hid behind to grab the whiskey bottle, which was unstoppered. Carefully—and quickly—I poured the entire contents of the glass vial into it, swirling it to mix the contents. Then I placed the bottle back where it had been.

  Maisie watched me out of the corner of her eye as she leaned over one of the men, granting him a privileged view of her abundant cleavage. “What a big sword you have,” she commented, touching his shoulder. “I like strong warriors with big swords. Why don’t I get you some more whiskey, as well? Have you run out?”

  The soldier looked to his right, locating the bottle. And to our infinite luck, he took a large swig, then passed the whiskey around. The men drank all that was left. “Aye,” said one of the men, to which the other men laughed.

  “Stay a little longer,” one of the soldiers said, touching Maisie’s gown with his hand, but she skirted him coquettishly.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Maisie told them, retreating into the darkness. “I’ll feed you myself if you’re good. If you let me play with your sword.”

  “Hurry,” one of them called after her.

  There was some murmured mirth in the aftermath of Maisie’s interruption, which lulled into silence within a matter of minutes. By the time Maisie found her way back to me, several of the men were snoring loudly and all of them were sprawled on the ground, deeply asleep.

  Our plan had worked.

  Campbell still lay in front of the door, holding the keys loosely in his grasp.

  It almost seemed too risky to tamper with him. The possibility of waking him would have unleashed too much consequence. But of course we needed the keys. I had no doubt Kade would be chained and worse. But as I reached with determined trepidation to extricate the keys from the sleeping warrior’s grasp, a hand went over my mouth as I was grabbed roughly around the waist and pulled behind a bush.

  * * *

  MY FIRST THOUGHT was that one of the men had awakened or had feigned sleep, suspecting our plan, thwarting it and avowing to kill us in retribution. I was so certain that my time had come that I almost gave into it. I went still, allowing myself to be dragged backward. Episodic images flickered across my consciousness. My mother’s face, hazed by the distance of time; my sister Ann’s kind eyes; the scent of the night garden; Kade’s expression as we’d made our wedding vows. And in that flashing memory, I had a sudden and powerful realization: he’d loved me even then. I’d been too overcome on the day and knew too little about the manifestations of his emotion at that time to read him. But now, in hindsight, I understood. He wants you. And I wanted him. Desperately and acutely. More than my own life.

  I thrashed against my aggressor, reaching for my knife and breaking free at the same moment he let go.

  I turned on him, holding up my knife, ready to strike.

  But I stopped myself, as I realized who it was. It was Caleb. His hands were held up in a defensive disclosure. Maisie stood behind him. Both of them looked at me with a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Stella, you’re armed?” Caleb asked. “You’re fighting back?” In his simple questions, I realized Caleb had summed up the changes in me that my marriage had, if not introduced, then at least allowed. I was empowered. And I had to admit, it felt remarkably good. I felt strong and wild-eyed. Defiant and bold. Here now, with a knife in my hand and a purpose to fight for, I felt a truer version of myself than ever before. I was going to get what I wanted—my husband—no matter what I had to do to find him, free him and keep him. Or I would die trying. “While I applaud your sentiments,” Caleb said, “put it down. I’m here to help you. There’s another way in. If Campbell wakes, he’ll kill us all. Come. Hurry.”

  We crept farther around the base of the tall hill, following Caleb. “How did you find us?” I whispered.

  “My brother heard that your husband was taken. I went to find you and your sisters told me where you were headed. Jamie’s waiting for us at the back entrance. ’Tis used by the tradesmen,” he explained. “I used it when I installed the chains.”

  Jamie was loyal to my husband, I knew that. And I was relieved by it, especially now, in this fraught and dangerous darkness. It made me feel as though our cause had numbers and hope. Campbell was here, but Aleck was dead. Campbell’s small army was among us, but so were our own troops, many of which were against the mutiny, and fighting on our side.

  Caleb spoke again. “Jamie has sent messengers to summon the Mackenzie army. Since they’re our closest neighbor, they’ll at least know of our plight. They may even have made it to Kinloch by now. They were dispatched some time ago.”

  If we didn’t free Kade by the time the Mackenzies arrived, he would be used as a pawn against his family, and if they didn’t agree to any—and every—request made of Campbell, Kade would be tortured, slowly and horribly, until his life bled away. And there were many, many requests Campbell could make of them, I knew. He wanted ultimate power of the Highlands, including Ossian Lochs and Kinloch, too. Kade’s life was worth it all to me, and to his siblings, but how much would be sacrificed to save him?

  I stopped in my tracks, remembering a crucial detail. “The key, Caleb. We still need the key.”

  Caleb smiled slyly, pulling something from the pocket of his trews. He held up a large a
nd intricately carved silver key, which shone white in the moonlight. “I always make an extra. It proves handy to possess the master key to every lock in the keep.”

  I almost threw my arms around him and kissed him. Out of gratitude and nothing more. My fondness for Caleb was there, in my memory and here now. Once I had thought of his face as an etching on my thoughts, and it was true still. If Caleb was a pleasant, comforting surface inscription, then Kade was a deep, gouging totality. My love for my husband had become so much a part of me that it felt like the very blood that coursed through my veins. Aye, his warrior’s blood had mixed with my own, transforming my life, and me along with it.

  We could see Jamie’s silhouette now, against the night. But there was no door, nor bushes of any kind. And then, as we drew closer, I could see that a trapdoor had been opened, lined with sod and dirt. There was a small hole in the ground, just large enough for a man to fit through. The top rungs of a ladder leading down were just visible.

  Wordlessly, Jamie began to climb into it, disappearing from sight. Caleb made a move to follow him, but I held his arm. “Caleb,” I began, “you don’t have to risk your life. You’ve done enough.”

  But Caleb gently removed my hand, as though remembering Kade’s warning. “Your husband, Stella, is soon to be laird of our clan. Considering our past, my life will be a living hell if I don’t prove to him that I am worthy and loyal. Let me do this.”

  Caleb began climbing down into the dungeons and I didn’t bother to argue with him further. In truth, I was glad of his newfound bravery, and I understood it. We had both grown in this way and there seemed no point to deny him his right to prove himself.

  I turned to face Maisie, and I held her hands. “Your debt is repaid, sister. There’s no need for you to come farther. Go back to the manor and lock yourself away. As lady of this keep, I’m issuing you an order. I’ll not take nay for an answer.”

  “Stella, are you certain—”

  “Go.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was the manic resolution in my voice, the ominous and unfathomable black hole or the combination of the two, but to my intense relief, my sister, for perhaps the first time in her life, obeyed.

  Maisie retreated toward the manor as I began my descent down the ladder into the dark abyss of the dungeons.

  * * *

  I MIGHT HAVE been descending into hell itself. The darkness was thick and total. I could see nothing, not even my own hands as I clutched the damp rungs of the wooden ladder, my feet feeling clumsily along the narrow, slippery surface for the next step. It was a long way down.

  I thought of Kade. Alone. In pain. In the dark. Was his life draining away as he dreamed of the gentle hills of his home, wishing he had never seen me or met me or sacrificed himself as he had?

  There were shuffling footsteps below me and a sudden, vibrant light. Jamie and Caleb had reached the bottom and had lit a small torch that illuminated an orange circle of brightness. They waited for me to climb down the last rungs of the ladder. “This way,” said Jamie, leading us into a narrow dirt tunnel.

  I listened for sounds, of groans or calls for help. But there was nothing but our almost-silent footsteps.

  We didn’t have far to travel. The tunnel soon opened up into a large, open chamber. Along one side of the corridor was a row of prison cells, carved into the dirt and clad with thick iron bars. We passed one, and another. Empty. And a third. Could it be that Campbell had taken my husband somewhere else? That he had tricked us into thinking that Kade would be kept here when, in fact, he’d hidden him somewhere else, somewhere we would never be able to find? Or had he killed him already and buried him in an unmarked grave? The thought caused me to choke back a sob. What had I done?

  But my fears were, in part, allayed. There, in front of us, at the end of the oval room, lay a large, inclined slab. And a figure. A man, clad only in the shreds of his kilt.

  Kade.

  He lay so still. Too still.

  It took me a moment to make out in the dim light that he had been laid on a bed of nails. As we drew closer, I could see that his wrists and ankles were bloodied by the chains that bound him. And he was being stretched, his arms pulled above his head, his legs pulled tight. His bare chest was cut and bruised, covered with dirt and stripes of dried blood.

  Was he alive?

  At that moment his head turned. His eyes were glazed and dull. He squinted against the small blaze and flinched at the sight of us. Hatred radiated from his beaten body and shone from his narrowed eyes, returning some life to him, at least. I realized he couldn’t see who we were. He might have thought it was Campbell and his men, returning to beat him again, to tighten his bindings another notch.

  “Release him,” I said to Caleb. “Unlock the chains.”

  Caleb was already there, and Jamie moved with him, holding the light near Kade’s ankles so Caleb could see.

  I went to Kade, standing close to him, looking into his eyes. He recognized me, I could see that, but there was no joy in him at the realization. Behind the haze of his pain and delirium, the hatred lingered, a thread of fear, a brief glimmer of hope and, most of all, fury. I wanted to touch him, to somehow relieve him, but I hesitated. I didn’t want to hurt him, or anger him further, and the look in his eyes unnerved me.

  His gaze swerved to Caleb and Jamie, then back to me. He was clearly unsure of our agenda, of our loyalty, and I could read the doubts as they flickered across his face. Have they been sent by Campbell? Or are they here of their own accord?

  “’Tis me, husband,” I said. “We’ve come to free you. You’re safe now. Your brother’s army is on its way.”

  I was glad I had thought to tell him this, because it was the mention of his brother and his clan that speared through his fugue. His eyes became clearer and focused, just as Caleb unbound the last of his chains.

  In one fluid, unexpectedly quick movement, Kade jumped off his torturous pyre and stood before us. He looked big, spooked, battered, yet entirely lethal. And it was a good thing, too, I thought. Because at that very moment, a second torch illuminated the night, emerging from the far tunnel that must have led to the entrance. A lone soldier, instantly recognizable.

  In his other hand, Campbell held his sword.

  * * *

  IN AN INSTINCTUAL movement—and I could identify a small surge of pride at my newfound tendencies—I drew Kade’s enormous sword from its scabbard, still slung across my shoulder, with some difficulty. I could barely lift it. Somehow I found the strength. I held it up. “Kade,” I said.

  If there was doubt in him, and if he questioned my motives in that moment, he didn’t show it. He turned instantly, and seeing his salvation on offer, he walked over and grabbed it from my hands. His body, though beaten and bloodied, had lost none of its animal grace; he moved with an arrogant, fluent confidence that I could only hope and pray would see him through.

  Kade was at a disadvantage, aye, since his strength had been depleted by agony and injury. But he had Jamie, who, although young and inexperienced, was at least armed. I handed Caleb the second of Kade’s weapons I carried: the large bone-handled knife. Caleb contemplated me with a brief look of incredulity, but he took the knife. It looked awkward in his hands; he was as untrained in the art of warfare as I was, but something was better than nothing. And I had my small knife. Small, but still capable of killing a man: this I knew to be true. In fact, it was still carrying the blood of proof.

  But my silent celebrations at our odds were decidedly short-lived. Hugh appeared in the arched doorway, menacing, armed and very much awake.

  The battle was on.

  Campbell struck at Kade first, a mighty blow that carried all the weight of his intention. And Kade answered the blow as his equal. My husband, bloodied or not, came to life with a sword in his hands, as though energized and healed by its familiar solidity, as though he absorbed strength from its steel. They circled each other, and I backed away, taking refuge behind the bed of nails, crawling under it, readying my
self to lash out at Campbell’s feet and legs if the opportunity arose.

  Hugh went for Jamie, knocking his sword from his hands in a single swipe. Hugh was a seasoned warrior and outweighed Jamie by a considerable amount. But Jamie retrieved his sword and answered his charge, holding his own, but barely. Caleb could do little to help his brother. He held up the knife and clung to the periphery, desperately out of his depths. But he was here, and at the ready, and offering whatever assistance he could, and I was glad of it.

  Campbell and Kade’s fight was at fever pitch, blow after blow, the echoing clang of metal against metal filling the room like brash, violent music. Kade was tiring, I could see; the torture and blood loss had taken their toll. I was desperate to intervene, and crept closer.

  A howl punctuated the darkness. Jamie was hit. I couldn’t see where. His leg, I thought. There was blood, and lots of it. And they were wrestling now, with Hugh pinning Jamie down. Caleb leaped on to him, stabbing with his knife. And Jamie’s sword found purchase from below. Hugh growled in pain.

  But my attention shifted. It was then that Kade stumbled. Just slightly, but it was a sign. Campbell was working his advantage. Their swords were blurred with the heat of their fight. And Campbell’s back was to me. His feet moved closer to where I was crouched under the pyre.

  I struck, slicing through the flesh of his calf.

  Campbell howled, not expecting my attack. He lost concentration for a single moment, looking behind him. And it was all the opportunity Kade needed. It was the kind of invitation he trained each and every day of his life to exploit. Kade’s sword struck at Campbell’s throat, above the chainmail’s edge, in a precise, fatal angle, sinking deep.

  With a final, brittle choking sound, Campbell’s body fell to the floor.

  Campbell, whose family had led two generations of war throughout the Highlands, was dead.

  Jamie, Hugh and Caleb all lay on the floor. There was movement, but I couldn’t tell who it was; the torches, discarded nearby on the dirt floor of the dungeon, were now flickering and sparse.