Witch Hunter

by Lyn Armstrong

  A long pause settled between them.

  Mary roughly rubbed her eyes. “Why do you care about the clan? They all hate you.”

  Rhiannon swallowed. “They do not hate me. They just fear me,” she said in a small voice and then looked down at her dusty hands—hands that could hold such destruction. “And I do not blame them.”

  Grigor returned with a vial in his hand. He stood over Rhiannon and unplugged the lid. “Drink.”

  She studied the small green bottle. “What is it?”

  “Assurance you will not escape during the night.” He shoved the vial closer to her.

  “I will not try to—”

  “Drink it!”

  Rhiannon jumped at the tone in his voice. After a long pause, she swiped the bottle from his hand and swallowed the bitter contents. The liquid burned her throat as it made its way to her empty stomach. A queasy ache gurgled in her abdomen, but she resisted the urge to retch. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she leaned against the rough tree trunk.

  Grigor grinned and lay down near the fire.

  “Take the first guard,” he ordered Mary.

  “Who are we watching for?” she asked.

  “Lord Lachlan.”

  At his name, Rhiannon jerked her gaze up.

  “Do you think he would steal Rhiannon away from us?” Mary asked.

  “Aye, the king’s prize is worth the risk.”

  Rhiannon frowned. “King’s prize?”

  Grigor perched up far enough to look over the fire. “His Majesty promised whoever brings you to trial and proves you are a witch will receive Baird’s Glen—a large castle with hundreds of tenants in the surrounding land. Grigor lay back down and put a funny feather hat over his face, covering his eyes. “I am going to be very wealthy.”

  The king’s prize. Was that all she was to Lachlan?

  Even after the intimacy they had shared, he left her to gather his men so they could escort her back to Edinburgh. He wanted Baird’s Glen more than he wanted her.

  Misery threatened to shatter the last shreds of her control.

  Her stomach growled again and a dizzy sensation whirled through her head. The glow of the fire blurred before her eyes while her mind dived into a hazy state. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground and closed her eyes, praying she would not vomit before passing into unconsciousness.

  * * * *

  Rhiannon’s dreams led her back into the forest near Gleich Castle. The thick trees opened up to the glen where she and Lachlan had first made love under the stars. She glided into the area to find a fire crackling. The black smoke rose and twisted into a shape of her naked body. Chained to a wall, she was being tortured, the image of blood dripping down her face.

  Tension stretched across her chest. Panic held her in a tight grasp. She felt so alone and frightened. The crunching of footsteps sounded behind her and she quickly turned.

  Lachlan stood before her in only his breeches. His sculptured chest glowed from the fire; his deep brown eyes gleamed like pools of sensual lust. Lachlan picked up her hand and placed a kiss on her palm, the rough stubble around his warm lips tickled her skin.

  “Everything will be all right,” he said in a low, husky voice. His tongue darted out to lick the inside of her wrist.

  Fear faded away the moment he touched her. The skin prickled up her arm and her nipples hardened with sensitivity, straining against the fabric of her linen chemise. She inclined her body against his and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I am glad you are here,” Rhiannon whispered in his ear.

  A wicked smile crossed his face. He collected her up into his arms and carried her to the waiting cloak on the ground. She cradled her head on his chest, content within his warm and safe embrace. Gently, he placed her on the cloak and bent to take off his breeches. His nutmeg hair fell over his smoldering eyes, giving him a boyish appeal, endearing him to her even more.

  He kneeled down and gathered her dress in both hands, slowly pushing the satin fabric up her legs and over her feminine mound. Lachlan intently stared at her when he sucked on two fingers, then guided them in between her receptive wet sheath. His fingers glided over her aching nub and she jolted with desire.

  He licked her juices off his fingers and groaned. “Spread you legs further apart, my love. I want to see how delicious you are.”

  She obeyed.

  With one hand, he opened her inner lips and with the other, eased his fingers inside her again. In and out, he built a faster rhythm. Her body increased its sexual need, yearning to release. Just as she neared, Lachlan pulled his fingers out and settled between her legs.

  With his shaft in his hand, he rubbed it up and down her slit. She arched her back, pushing her hips up until his member slipped inside her moist opening.

  “You want this, don’t you,” he stated in an odd voice.

  “Aye,” she responded and ground herself against him.

  He pounded against her, filling her inside.

  Rhiannon closed her eyes, soaking in the sexual aura that infused her soul.

  “Get off her!” a female’s voice screamed in the distance.

  Rhiannon dismissed it. She did not want anything to stop her body reaching its peak, fulfilling her powers.

  “Get off her you bastard!”

  Was that Mary? Why was she so upset? Rhiannon tried to see through the sexual haze surrounding her body. She tried to open her eyes, but could not. Lachlan did not budge, his shaft plunging into her body with frenzy.

  “Stop it!” Mary’s voice seemed closer and louder.

  Lachlan rose up without pulling out of her, and Rhiannon heard the sound of a slap.

  Rhiannon willed her eyes open. This time she forced through the muddle of her dreams to clear her head. Her eyelids fluttered open and she gasped.

  Instead of Lachlan making love to her, it was Grigor inside her, pounding against her once willing flesh.

  Beside her, Mary lay on the dirt; a red welt bruised her cheek. She glared at Rhiannon with jealousy and hatred.

  “Argh!” Rhiannon growled in distaste.

  Using her chained hands on Grigor’s sweaty chest, she gathered her powers and pushed him up with her powers, sending him to land on the other side of the clearing. The horses behind him sidled with fear. Rhiannon rose unsteadily on her feet, the after-effects of the potion still in her body.

  She thought she had been dreaming of Lachlan, but all the while, it was Grigor touching her, fucking her. Fury infused her sorceress’ blood, and her hands burned with heat. A seductive evil washed over her body, its power hungry to destroy.

  Mary ran in front of her. “Leave him be,” she pleaded.

  “Get out of my way,” Rhiannon warned.

  “Nae. You must not harm him. For…for your mother’s sake.”

  Rhiannon finally looked at her friend, at the fear in her eyes. The need for revenge slowly subsided.

  Grigor stood on his hairy lanky legs, his member flaccid and shriveled. Even he did not look as haughty and confident as before.

  “Touch me again and you will regret it. This I pledge to you,” Rhiannon spat in an unnatural, shrill tone.

  She returned to her bedroll, unable to look at the pathetic man or her friend who protected such a vile creature.

  * * * *

  The morn came too quickly. Sunlight burned the backs of her eyelids, forcing her to shade her eyes before opening them.

  Grigor threw a piece of stale bread at her. “Get up, we need to keep moving.”

  Rhiannon picked the bread off her lap and held her wrists up. “Remove these shackles,” she said in a confident tone that brooked no argument.

  He shuffled from foot to foot, uncertainty in his half-lidded eyes. “Release her,” he snarled at Mary and stormed away.

  Taking a bite from the dry bread, she studied Mary as she did his bidding. Her friend crouched down; her eyes were red as if she had been crying all night.

  “Do not think you can seduce Master Grigor ag
ain. He is going to marry me,” Mary announced while she unshackled Rhiannon.

  “Marry you?”

  She gave a curt nod. “Once you are delivered to Edinburgh, Grigor is going to take me to a stately castle and then everyone will love me.” She rose to her feet. “I will be the mistress of the keep.”

  Rhiannon rubbed her chafed wrists. “You cannot earn love through ownership of stones and land.” She pushed herself to stand. “’Tis through caring and loyalty for those who matter to you the most.”

  Mary scoffed. “What do you know of it?”

  Rhiannon thought of her family. After all the things she had done to disappoint them, did they still care about her, still love her? She had mistreated them so badly—especially her mother.

  Her chilled hands unconsciously twisted together.

  She had a chance to make it right. She would sacrifice herself for her mother and her clan. They would be safe.

  Grigor led the horses over to them and glanced back. “We must hurry.”

  Mary kicked dirt onto the dying embers. “Lord Lachlan could not possibly have caught up to us yet.”

  “You do not know him like I do,” he stared at Rhiannon. “He wants Baird Glen as much as I.”

  Rhiannon smiled. “Is that a chink I see in your arrogance?”

  His lips thinned. “You should hope he does not catch up to us.”

  “Why?” Rhiannon asked and swung onto her saddle.

  Grigor grabbed her horse’s reins. “If he does…you will kill him.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  For two days, Lachlan stopped only to rest his horse. Judging by Grigor’s tracks, he had two people riding with him who weighed less than a man, probably females. Rhiannon had to be one. He felt in his heart that she needed him. Just the thought of Grigor torturing her as he had done with other witches made his gut twist with anxiety. He urged his mount to race faster. The horse he bought from a farmer ten leagues back was not used to traveling so far from home, but Lachlan thanked God he was strong. With fresh horses, he would soon catch up to Grigor. He only hoped it was not too late.

  He pulled his mount to a halt at a small clearing and swung from his saddle. Crouching down, he touched a pile of blackened wood, where a small amount of heat still resided.

  They could be no more than a half a day’s ride ahead.

  His heart lightened. He was close. Grigor was no match against his swordsmanship, and would soon concede Rhiannon to him. He could not wait to see the smile on her face after he rescued her. When they returned to Gleich Castle, he would sign the contract for the betrothal. He cared not that she was a witch. He could not think of spending another day without her in his arms, smelling her delicate scent, kissing her sweet lips.

  Engrossed in his thoughts of Rhiannon, he almost missed the hoof prints in the grass heading west.

  Lachlan frowned at the change in route to Edinburgh.

  “Where are you taking her?” he questioned aloud.

  Wielding his horse around a moldy boulder, he followed the path leading across the moors, toward the black mountains. Of course, it would be a trap. Grigor was a desperate man, and not an overly intelligent one at that.

  Whatever danger followed the path, it was one he was willing to take.

  No one was going to hurt Rhiannon.

  * * * *

  Rhiannon stood on the rock overlooking the steep valley below. She could sense Lachlan was near. His masculine energy called to her like the moon called to the stars. Even though she was hurt about Baird’s Glen, she did not want to take his life.

  “Are you really going to kill Lord Lachlan?” Mary joined her on the overhanging rock.

  “Aye, she is,” Grigor came up behind them, his crooked nose held high in the air. “Or else her mother dies.”

  She turned to Grigor and he stepped back, his weak eyes uncertain.

  Rhiannon said, “I pledge he will follow us no more.”

  “Just see that ’tis done,” Grigor snapped and returned to the shallow cave where the horses were hidden.

  Heat infused her face but she remained silent.

  Mary touched her shoulder. “Rhee, I have been thinking—”

  “Really?” Rhiannon arched a brow but kept her sight on the horizon.

  “I know I have betrayed you in the worst way, but you must see ’twas for the best. Grigor would find out sooner or later you were a witch, and who knows whether the rest of your family would be implicated as well.”

  Rhiannon faced her old friend. “If you are looking for redemption for your disloyalty to me and the clan, think again. You placed your self-serving plans of a better life at the stake of my death, and possibly of other innocent people who have cared for you since you were born.”

  Tears welled in Mary’s eyes. Rhiannon turned away with a cold heart. “Save your sobs for my mother when you tell her of my death.”

  “Rhee—”

  “He is here,” Rhiannon announced moments before the spec on the moorland appeared in the distance. “Get ready.”

  * * * *

  Lachlan entered the valley with trepidation. Mountains flanked either side of the narrow pathway, making a surprise attack easy on an unsuspecting traveler. He had difficulty believing Grigor could muster such a strategic ambush. Only someone who was used to listening to soldiers would know the advantage of the gully.

  He glanced down at the stunted grass. Fresh hoof prints marked the ground. They definitely went through the valley. Keeping his eyes and ears alert he urged his mount forward.

  A shadow flittered against the rock wall and he glanced up.

  With hands on his hips, Grigor leaped down from the jutting rock to stand in front of Lachlan’s horse like a child imitating a battle hero. Lachlan smiled at how absurd the thin man appeared. Even his feathered hat sat askew on his head.

  Resting his crossed wrists on the saddle horn, Lachlan asked, “’Tis foolish to face me without even a sword in your hand?”

  “I need no sword to fight you, milord.”

  “Where is she?” his low tone cut through the still air.

  Suddenly, Rhiannon materialized in front of Grigor. Even the Inquisitor stumbled backward in astonishment.

  Lachlan’s horse sidestepped with uneasiness. “Whoa,” he said softly and petted his mount on the neck, calming her distress.

  “Are you well, milady? Has he harmed you?” Lachlan asked.

  “I am well,” she replied in an ominous tone, her eyes held no warmth. In fact, they seemed to be red. It had to be a trick of the sunlight.

  “Kill him,” Grigor ordered with a smug smile.

  Relief at seeing her was replaced with a sinking dread.

  Rhiannon lifted her arms in the air and flicked her hands. Suddenly the narrow mountain walls were grinding along the valley floor, closing the space. His horse reared in fear and threw Lachlan to the ground. Panicking, the steed ran toward Rhiannon, and she casually leaned against the wall to allow it to pass. Behind her, Grigor yelped and followed Rhiannon’s lead.

  “Join Mary on the other side of the valley,” she ordered Grigor.

  “What about him?” he pointed to Lachlan on the ground.

  “He will die here…and so will you if you do not move,” she said in a calm tone.

  Grigor glanced at the walls grinding closer together, rocks falling around them. He turned and fled.

  Lachlan pushed to his feet. A deep sadness weighed heavily on his heart. What had happened to her?

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked and dusted his hands. He looked behind him, the walls closed as one, blocking his exit. On the other side of Rhiannon, Grigor leaped through the opening where the horse had escaped. The walls stopped moving. They stood facing each other, completely enclosed in a small circle, trapped inside a small clearing of solid rock.

  “I must go with Grigor to the Edinburgh and stand trial for witchcraft.”

  “Nae. You cannot!”

  “Why should I not?” she said in a curt ton
e. “So you can turn me in for Baird’s Glen?”

  Anger and hurt filled Rhiannon’s eyes. He would give anything in the world not to be the cause for it.

  “I am sorry I did not tell you of the King’s incentive for your arrest. I thought it was the only thing in the world that mattered to me. Baird’s Glen would give me the prestige that I earned on my own. Not because I was the son of a Duke. But it means nothing to me now. I only want to protect you.”

  Love you.

  He ached to hold Rhiannon in his arms, tell her about his feelings, but the look of betrayal kept him rooted to the spot and silent. He took a deep breath and released it, running his fingers through his hair. “I do not want anything to happen to you. If you go on trial, the King will make certain you die on the stake. He loathes and fears witches more than anything else.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why are you allowing Grigor to take you in?”

  Rhiannon lowered her eyes; her hands clasped together.

  “If I do not go with him, he will accuse my mother.” She stared up at him, her eyes moist. “If I do not die on the stake, then she would take my place.”

  Lachlan’s heart clenched, and he could no longer stop himself from touching her. He grasped her slim arms, willing the heat from his hands into her body. “I would never let that happen, you must trust me.”

  “I… I cannot put faith in a witch hunter.”

  “If you do not trust your mind, then trust your heart.” He moved close to her, so close he smelled the sweetness of her breath. “I love you. I have from the first moment I saw you race your mount across the glen. You were wild and free, a woman who enjoyed life and feared nothing.”

  She looked away. “You are wrong. Everyday I live with fear. Good and evil battle within me. Soon, the dark side will win.” Rhiannon’s blue gaze swung up to his, capturing it with hopelessness. “Would your love still burn for me?”

  “We can fight it!”

  “Nae. It is too strong. You must not be around when the hex steals goodness from my soul.”

  “I will not leave you.”

  Rhiannon touched his cheek. The usual chill of her hands cooled his warm face.