Catching hold of her unbound hair, he twisted her fiery tresses around his hand, then shoved her into the stream. She stumbled, her feet sloshing noisily in the water. Cedric jerked her hair, keeping her upright. Tears stung her eyes as pain needled her scalp, but Chandra was determined not to cry. As she blundered up the bank, in the distance, she spied the dim light in the cottage. Holding her breath, she prayed Cedric wouldn’t see it. Suddenly the tiny beacon went out.
Mother of God, do not let Cedric find him. Aleck! Keep safe, my love.
As Aleck ducked through the door, sword in hand, Owen snuffed the candle, then grabbed the small leather pouch hidden by the fireplace. Dashing through the door, he nearly collided with the Englishman.
Holding his head, fighting off the dizziness that had claimed him again, Aleck uttered a soft curse. He was useless to Chandra. In his condition, how the hell could he possibly help her?
Aleck felt the touch of Owen’s hand on his arm, then saw the boy was pointing at the wood. Dawn was breaking, and as Aleck gazed into the trees, he spied the shadowy figures as they moved toward the cottage. One, he knew, was Chandra.
His sword slipped from its scabbard. As he made to take a stance, Owen’s hand met his forearm. The lad’s head shook vigorously; he poked at Aleck’s chest, and one finger bounded into the air. Then the boy pointed to the wood; seven fingers leapt toward the sky. The lad was right, Aleck thought. In the shape he was in, he couldn’t possibly face that many men. Damn the luck! Why did his strength have to fail him now? Owen’s hands shoved against him, and Aleck knew he had no choice but to seek shelter among the trees.
Just as the pair were swallowed by the dense wood on the opposite side of the cottage, the tiny group entered the clearing. Crouched behind a thick tree, watching, Aleck noted that Cedric was in the fore. He held Chandra prisoner by her hair.
“Which way now, bitch?” the man asked, then a shout erupted from one of his companions. Cedric spied the structure no more than a dozen yards in front of him. He pushed Chandra toward it. “So, we are at his lair, are we?” Chandra tried to struggle free of him; her foot kicked his shin. Cedric jerked her hair hard, the claymore’s blade swinging to her neck. “Be still or I’ll slit your throat.”
Seeing the brutality, hearing her soft cry, Aleck instinctively tensed, ready to bound into the clearing. But as his thighs started to stretch, he felt Owen’s hand on his shoulder, pressing him down.
“Sassenach!” Cedric’s voice boomed into the air. “Come hither or your whore dies.”
Again Aleck moved; again Owen held him down. Then all at once, eerily, a cry went up from the hill high above the wood. Cedric and his men looked at one another, startled. The yell signaled that invaders approached; it had pealed from the castle walls.
“What mischief this?” Cedric demanded, knowing that Lochlaigh was under siege, or soon would be.
“’Tis probably James’s army,” Chandra replied. “For your disobedience, you now face the king’s wrath. All of you will suffer.”
Cedric cursed. “Set your arrows to the place. Burn the bastard alive.”
“No!” Chandra cried as Cedric began dragging her from the small clearing. Arrowheads primed, flints were struck, then bows drawn. Streaks of light arced through the air, striking the thatched roof. “No!” she shouted again as the flames began devouring the dried grass and reeds. Cedric’s arm clamped around her waist. Lifting her, he forded the stream. Halfway up the path, she smelled the acrid smoke, saw the billowing plumes as bright orange flames leapt toward the sky. While Cedric pushed her onward toward the castle, Chandra’s hand covered her belly. Dear God, do not have let him been in there. Their child needed his father.
On the other side of the clearing, Owen was prodding Aleck up the hillside through the wood. Several times he staggered and clutched at a tree, then, at Owen’s prompting, continued. Pray God that Chandra was right, he thought, fighting his vertigo. The second most welcome thing he could see on leaving the thickness of the trees would be the five hundred soldiers who were presumed to be in London. The first would be Chandra safe and sound and Cedric dead.
The sun topped the horizon just as Aleck and Owen reached the edge of the wood. Stumbling from the trees, Aleck focused on the hillside by the castle, searching for his wife. Chandra and her uncle were nearly at the gate. Suddenly he heard the loud snort of a horse almost in his ear. Spinning around, Aleck felt his head twirl. He fell backward, landing hard on his rump.
“Rather reckless of you, cousin,” Jason said as he fought to calm his horse. “I could have run you down.”
Aleck bit back a curse, then with Owen’s help came to his feet. Looking toward Lochlaigh, he saw that Chandra had disappeared. He swore vehemently. Eyeing Jason, then Sir John beside him, he released his breath. “Where are the rest?” Aleck asked, not caring how James’s men had gotten there, just so they had.
“About two miles back,” Sir John replied. “We saw the smoke and came on ahead.”
“My wife has been taken prisoner by her uncle. They are now in the castle. I fear you may be too late.”
While the men spoke, Owen dashed into the wood. Shortly he returned with Aleck’s stallion, saddled and ready. “What happened to your head?” Sir John asked, eyeing the bandage.
Aleck tore the linen from his head and threw it to the ground. “Chandra’s uncle waylaid me about a mile from here,” he said, reaching for his horse’s reins and missing.
“Are you certain you are up to this, Montbourne?” the knight queried, inspecting the neatly stitched gash that disappeared into the thickness of the man’s hair.
“I’d not question him too much, were I you,” Jason commented. “’Tis dangerous to one’s health.”
Surveying the bright purple and yellow bruise on the viscount’s jaw, the knight chuckled. “Whitfield, you probably deserved it.
“Aye, he did,” Aleck interjected. Sheathing his sword, he managed to mount his horse, then extended his hand to Owen and lifted the lad up behind him. Owen, who had gone without sleep for nearly two days, rested his cheek against Aleck’s bare back. In a few seconds, he dozed.
“Who is the lad, anyway?” Sir John asked.
“He saved my life, twice,” Aleck said, glancing at Owen over his shoulder. “Hand me that length of rope.” The knight took it from his saddle and passed it to Aleck. With Sir John’s help, he wrapped it around Owen and himself, tying the boy firmly to him so he’d not tumble from the horse. “I’d hate to lose him now.” The smoke grew thicker around them. “The whole wood burns,” Aleck said. “Let’s go meet the others.”
At a canter, they struck off toward the oncoming army. Owen bobbed awake. When away from the smoke and approaching fire, the horses were slowed to a walk; Owen dozed again.
“How do you suggest we approach this situation?” the knight asked Aleck.
“What number came with you?”
“Nearly five hundred. Our ride was fast and hard. The troops are weary. They’ve had little sleep.”
“Then we should sit at the front gate and try to talk them out of their foolishness. Cedric doesn’t have full control of the Morgans, I’m certain. If they see the force that stands against them, they might come to their senses. Surely they’ll know they cannot win.”
“Or, simply because we are English,” Sir John said, “they will choose to fight us to the last man.”
“What about Chandra?” Jason harped.
Aleck turned to him. “While James’s men keep the Morgans’ attention, I’ll try to find a way inside. Thanks to you, she is in grave danger.” He looked to the knight. “Cedric’s intent is to kill her, but on seeing the force against him, he might decide to keep her alive and use her as a pawn with which to negotiate. Let’s move James’s army to the castle as quickly as we can. To delay could spell disaster.”
As they rode ahead, Owen blinking awake again, Aleck learned that at about the same time he’d reached the gates at Montbourne, the messenger sent from his home
had reached London, the two having taken different routes. While the man was frantically searching for Aleck, he’d run into Sir John. The knight had gone straight to James with the information about Chandra’s flight and the fact that he thought Aleck would give immediate chase. Their king did not hesitate. His army was on the move within a few short hours. The ride had been arduous, to say the least; they’d picked up Jason midway between London and Montbourne.
“I couldn’t allow you to die in Scotland, cousin,” Jason said with a shrug. “All Hawkes meet their ends in England. Why break tradition?”
Aleck eyed him closely. “Then pray, cousin, that I get Chandra away from her uncle alive, else you might be the first to be buried here.”
Though James’s soldiers were bone-weary from their travels, they were nonetheless eager to fight. In a quarter of an hour, Lochlaigh stood under siege.
When Cedric’s party reached the castle gates, Chandra was immediately led to the north tower and roughly shoved through its door into the cellars. “Open the trapdoor,” Cedric ordered two of his men. As the ancient access creaked upward, a sickening stench rising with it from the belly of the dungeon, he turned to Chandra. “Your new abode awaits you, Niece.”
Pushed toward the yawning hole, Chandra felt her heart stop. “No good will come to you by this,” she said, her feet digging into the floorboards. “James’s men will destroy you.”
“They have no way in—or they won’t once we’ve found your hidden passage and barred it. Let them lay siege to Lochlaigh. Months will pass before they have starved us. By then, winter will be upon us. Weary of waiting, they’ll probably go home to their warm beds and their plump wives.” He turned to his men. “Throw her in.”
Two of her errant clansmen grabbed her arms. Struggling against their holds, Chandra tried to keep from the opening. “No!” she cried, feeling herself being lifted. Her feet dangled above the gaping trapdoor—and then, she was dropped through it.
Stagnant water splashed onto her skirt as she landed, luckily, on her feet. The smell was nauseating. She gagged, then fought to keep the bile from her throat. As she stared up at the opening, its distance three times her own height, the door fell shut.
First there was naught but blackness, but as her eyes adjusted, she saw a faint light coming from an arrow loop set in the twelve-foot-thick stone wall. The sound of tiny feet, nails scratching, met her ears. Rats! she thought, hearing a squeak. Her skin crawled.
“Find that passageway,” she heard Cedric’s voice above her. “When you do, secure it.”
Standing perfectly still, she listened to the scuffing sound of footsteps as they tracked the floorboards. Her heart sank when at last she heard an excited shout. What she imagined were sacks of grain fell onto the floor against the shelving. Thump, thump, thump went the constant noise above her. It stopped, then all was quiet. Tears stung her eyes as she realized she had no chance of rescue. She’d rot here in this foul-smelling hole, the rats devouring her flesh. It mattered not, she decided. Not if Aleck no longer lived. She thought of the tender life budding inside her. Her hand covered her stomach. Please be alive, my love. For our child’s sake, get me from this place.
A furry creature scampered over her foot. Chandra’s heart seemed to jump to her throat; she dashed through the sludge toward the arrow loop. Its slanted opening, where it met the room, was wide enough for a man’s body to fit inside, narrowing as it inched toward the outside wall. She jumped and her fingertips caught onto the ledge; feet scrabbling up the stones, she pulled herself onto the shelf. Three rats were quickly flung into the muck below. Arms wrapped around her raised knees, she sat quietly.
Chandra thought she’d be fairly safe now, with the light flowing through the loop, down the shaft toward her. But when night fell, she would no longer be able to see. She shuddered as she pictured the voracious pack of vermin scrambling up the wall to swarm over her. At the thought, she became sick. Hanging her head over the ledge, she retched violently. Finally, she straightened and wiped her face with the tail of her plaid. “Oh, Aleck,” she whispered, looking at the heavens, “if you live, find me, love. This, I fear, I cannot bear.”
Out in the yard, Cedric stood on the steps leading to the wall walk. The clan had gathered round to hear his words. “Our chief has betrayed us. She has lain with the Sassenach—the one who killed our Devin. Willingly she became the Englishman’s whore! The smoke and fire you see is the destruction of their lair. I caught them there together. The bastard is undoubtedly burned to a crisp. Now James’s army approaches to lay siege. The king wishes to destroy Lochlaigh, to destroy the Morgans. As Highlanders, it is time we stand and fight! What say you? Do we die as warriors, or do we surrender like cowards? The choice is yours!”
Several in the group looked at each other, uncertain that what Cedric had said about their chief was true, Angus among them. Others whooped loudly, ready to fight. Then a shout sounded above them. All the Morgan men, followers and dissenters both, raced up the stairs to the battlements, Cedric at the fore. Reaching the crenels, they peered over the wall to see the nearly five hundred who stood in a line that circled the base of the hill. It appeared to many that Cedric had spoken true.
A loud cry swelled through the whole, the eerie sound sending chills down each Englishman’s spine. When the Highland yell had ended, for a moment all was still. Then an unearthly screech answered from high above the castle; the hackles stood on each Morgan’s neck. Hundreds of eyes quickly searched the sky. There above Lochlaigh, a hawk circled steadily.
“’Tis a bad omen,” someone whispered.
Chapter
15
Aleck cursed loudly as he paced behind a large outcrop of rock that stood well below the castle. Since the moment he’d stumbled from the wood at dawn, he’d kept himself hidden, not wanting Cedric to know he was alive. In the interim, Sir John periodically brought word back to him about the negotiations—if one could call them such. Presently, they were at a stalemate, as they had been all day. Now, as the sun sank behind the distant hills, Aleck was vexed that they were no closer to getting Chandra from the castle than when all the bellicose posturing had started. The whole day had been wasted with the two sides blustering at each other, Aleck had grown weary of waiting.
“Look, inform Lord Penrose to tell the bastard who now insists he’s chief that James wants the Lady Lochlaigh. If he releases her into Lord Penrose’s care, the army will retreat.”
“But James wants Cedric, not Chandra.”
A violent epithet hissed through Aleck’s lips. “I know what James wants. ’Tis Chandra who is in danger. Get her out of there, and Penrose can do as he will. He can level the place if he wishes. I want my wife.”
Sir John arched one eyebrow. “I’ll speak to Penrose,” he said of the commander who’d led the force from London to Lochlaigh. “But he is one who goes strictly by the book.”
“Then lend me your dag, and I shall shoot him dead.”
“Not a good idea, Montbourne,” the knight said, his hand covering the wheel-lock pistol’s breech protectively. “I’ll speak to him now.”
Sir John rode away, and Aleck’s backside hit hard against a flat rock as he sat down. “God’s wounds!” he exploded. “If there were only some way to get in there, I’d rescue her myself.” He felt a hand poking at his shoulder. “What is it?” he snapped, turning on Owen. The boy pointed to the castle. “Not now. I have to figure a way to get inside.” He was poked again. Frantically Owen gestured to the fortress. The lad appeared to be miming the opening of a door. Owen glanced from side to side, then stealthily crept through the imaginary portal. “Are you saying you know a secret way to get in?” Owen nodded. “Damnation! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Owen shrugged, and Aleck remembered that when he’d mentioned it earlier, the lad was dozing against his back. “Show me where this entry is.”
Picking up a stick, Owen drew a circle in the dirt, then pointed to the castle. “Lochlaigh,” Aleck said; the bo
y nodded. A line was formed to the side of the castle, and Owen pointed to the woods. “Aye, the forest—or what’s left of it.”
Owen formed dots in the dirt, looking like a path from the wood to the northern tip of the castle. He patted the rock next to where Aleck sat, then with his arms made a large arcing circle. Afterward he again opened the imaginary door. Aleck stared at Owen. Then it dawned on him.
“The entrance is behind some large rocks below the north tower?” Owen nodded. “Did you see Chandra go in that way?” Owen affirmed that he had. A smile claimed Aleck’s lips, and he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Good lad!”
This action brought a frown from Owen, and Aleck apologized for having been too personal. “When it is dark, you may show me the way,” he said. The boy pointed to Aleck’s wound. The lad’s head gyrated, his eyes crossing. “’Tis better, Owen. The light-headedness has left me, thanks to your roots, unappetizing as they are. My vision, though, is still doubled at times.” Owen shrugged. “’Tis impossible to cure everything, Owen. You’ve worked a miracle already.” He patted the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”
Aleck drew his sword from its scabbard, then looked thoughtfully at the boy again. “Here,” he said, pulling something from the top of his boot. “’Tis Chandra’s dirk.” He’d placed it there after retrieving it from one of the leather pouches hanging on his saddle. Since the time he’d disarmed her of it, he’d kept it close to him. With its edge, he cut a piece from the rope Sir John had given him earlier, then fashioned a belt around Owen’s waist. “Where we’re going, you’ll need your own protection.” He tucked the dirk into the makeshift belt; then they waited. Finally, when the sky had darkened sufficiently, Aleck said, “’Tis time, Owen. Let us find Chandra.”
Having just finished with a ten-minute tirade, which had fallen upon the one calling himself Penrose, Cedric now stood on the wall walk listening to his clansmen argue among themselves. Ever since the hawk had made its appearance above Lochlaigh, tensions had been taut. Not only did he have to contend with the arrogant English outside, Cedric was besieged by the squabbling, superstitious lot inside. After he’d refused to release the Lady Lochlaigh, telling the swelled-headed Penrose to take his bony hide from Scotland without her, he’d turned to see several of his clansmen staring at him.
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