Wicked Highland Wishes (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 2)

by Julie Johnstone

  Marion gaped down, her horror quite obvious on her face. “Do you think I killed him?”

  Bridgette scrambled to her feet. “I certainly hope so!” She nudged Marion into action. “Untie me!” she cried out, fearful that Colin would reach them before they could escape, if he was already starting back toward them.

  The minute Marion released Bridgette from her binds, she said, “Come! We must away. I dunnae ken how close we are to Arthorn and the enemy, nor do I ken if Colin is dead.”

  Marion nodded, but instead of mounting the horse Bridgette indicated, she grasped Bridgette and hugged her fiercely. “I was so scared!”

  “Aye,” Bridgette agreed. “As was I. Now come!”

  They quickly mounted the horses, and once they had carefully turned them back the way they had come, they started down the incline. Toward the bottom, Bridgette’s horse began to dance around as if spooked, and it was then that Bridgette realized her mistake. She’d pushed Colin over the ledge so he was already down here! Chills covered Bridgette’s arms, and a terrible feeling gripped her.

  Bridgette grasped the reins tightly, and as she did, Colin appeared from around the corner, blood seeping from a gash on his forehead and rage twisting his face. He threw his dagger before she could react, but it did not hit her as she expected. It flew past the horse’s face, causing the horse to startle and throw her to the ground.

  She hit hard, smacking her head against a rock, and by the time she found her feet, Colin was there and grasped her firmly to him. “I did nae give ye enough due,” he snarled in her ear.

  “Make haste, Marion!” Bridgette screamed, looking around and slumping in relief when she realized Marion had fled. Yet a moment later, Marion reappeared with her horse, charging straight at Colin. With Bridgette in tow, instead of moving out of Marion’s way, the man raised an arm and yelled a command at the horse. The destrier reared back and Marion flew off, landing on her back.

  Bridgette broke free of Colin to scramble to Marion, who lay motionless with her eyes shut. “Marion!” she cried out, but Marion did not answer. Grim faced, Colin silently grabbed Bridgette, snatched her up, and set her hard against the ground as he started to bind her ankles. She struggled against him, yet it was like fighting a furious storm—utterly pointless. When she was trussed, he slung her over the horse, and much to Bridgette’s relief, he took great care with Marion, settling her gently on his horse.

  Colin quickly disposed of Atholl’s body in the loch. Bridgette supposed he did not want to leave any traces for Lachlan and whoever else may be pursuing them. When he was finished, Colin tied the reins of the horses together and then lead them away. He whacked Bridgette on her bottom with stinging force. “That was very foolish, Bridgette,” he chided in a voice that caused a ripple of fear to course down her spine. “Ye will learn verra soon that I am now yer lord.”

  Twenty-One

  Lachlan crouched hidden in the trees alongside Graham and the rest of his men, and stared into the dark at Arthorn Castle. He was not tired, though he had pushed himself and his men relentlessly to get here as quickly as possible. It had taken an entire day for Graham to pick up the trail that Colin and Atholl had taken, driving Lachlan nearly half-mad with impatience and worry. Once they started following the trail, terrible weather had ensued, making their progress painfully slow. But when they had neared Arthorn Castle, a home that had once belonged to his uncle but had been abandoned when Jamie was forced to leave Scotland, Lachlan knew his uncle was here. And so was Bridgette. He could sense her. He could not explain it, but his heart took on a different beat, as if keeping pace with hers.

  He stared up the hill through the woods that surrounded the castle and conjured an image of Bridgette. Was she unharmed? If not, what had been done to her? Had she been forced to marry Colin by threat to Marion’s life? His insides twisted just thinking about it. The questions fired into his mind like a deluge of released arrows.

  “We go as soon as the light is completely gone,” he whispered to Graham.

  “Aye,” Graham agreed. “Up the hill, past the waterfall, and through the secret escape tunnel?”

  “Aye,” Lachlan murmured, hoping his uncle had not closed the secret passages their father had told them about long ago. He had been explaining the tunnel created at Arthorn because he was having something similar constructed at Dunvegan. At Arthorn there were two secret tunnels. One led straight to the laird’s keep, the other to the watchtower. It was the watchtower that overlooked the loch and sat separate from the castle that he wanted to reach. His plan was to scale the rock that met the shore of the loch to reach the tower. It would be dangerous, as slipping from the rock could mean falling to their death in the loch.

  “Shut yer eyes,” Graham said. “Ye have barely slept since we left. I will keep watch.”

  Lachlan was about to argue, but weariness pressed heavily upon him, and he knew a short respite would give him renewed strength. He set his dagger across his legs and his sword by his side. With both hands curled around his weapons, he closed his eyes and dreamed of Bridgette. At first the dreams were sweet memories of holding her, caressing her, simply walking by her side, but the dream quickly turned to terror. Her terror, and he was but a bystander unable to help her. Her in a dungeon, screaming in agony, and he locked on the outside pounding against the door that held her within.

  He awoke with a jerk to the sounds of the forest alive around him and his brother staring at him with unguarded eyes. Lachlan saw the pain there, and it was like it was his own. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I would give my life for ye. The last thing I ever meant to do was hurt ye.”

  Graham flinched, and Lachlan expected him to retort in anger, but the tension in Graham’s face suddenly softened, and with a weary sigh, he rubbed his hands over his face and his eyes, and when he looked up, he inhaled a long shuddering breath and then spoke again. “I was there in the woods the day ye kissed Bridgette.”

  Lachlan frowned. “When?” He’d kissed Bridgette in the woods several times.

  Graham glared at the question. “At her home…before she killed the boar. Her screams brought me to her, and I saw ye.”

  The shock of Graham’s admission robbed Lachlan of the ability to respond. For a moment, he simply stared at his brother. “Why did ye nae ever say anything?”

  Graham gave Lachlan a long look that seemed full of regret. “I did,” Graham replied. “That night in the great hall I confessed to ye she had my heart because I kenned ye’d nae pursue her if I told ye. I wanted to take her from ye because I wanted to best ye at something.” Graham shook his head. “I’m sorry for that. I regret it. I do.”

  Lachlan reached over and grasped Graham on the shoulder. “I forgive ye. I’m sorry for many a thing.”

  Graham nodded. “I’m ashamed of myself. I had convinced myself ye did nae care for her, but I kinnae deny it any longer. The pain on yer face when ye learned she’d been taken…” He paused and swallowed hard. “I’ve nae ever seen ye look that way.”

  Lachlan frowned. “What way was that?”

  “Vulnerable. I made ye into a god as a boy and longed to be like ye, and then when I constantly fell short, I made ye into a devil, but ye’re just a man. And a good one, at that. I am sorry.”

  Relief flowed through Lachlan. Their bond was not severed. “We are brothers, despite the wrongs heaped upon each other.” He said no more. It was enough in this moment to know his brother was not lost to him forever. Lachlan watched the sky and waited for the darkness, preparing for when he would take back Bridgette.

  She awoke in a tiny hole lit only by a small sliver of moonlight that shone in from above. The dungeon was wet, cold, and miserable. They had not been here long. Between the weather, Colin’s head injury, and leading his horse, as well as the one Marion was on, their progress had been painfully slow, which gave her hope. If Lachlan had been able to discern where they had been taken, perchance he would reach her in time.

  The drip of water joined the noise of
worry in her head and the ache for food in her belly. She wondered where Marion had been taken since she had not been put in the dungeon with Bridgette. Would they harm Marion? Bridgette didn’t think they would kill her, because if they did, they had nothing to use to compel Bridgette to marry Colin. Suddenly, the hole above her flooded with light, and the bars above the hole squeaked as they were opened. A rope fell, dangling in front of her face before hitting her in the legs.

  “Do ye wish to come out?” Colin asked in a cruel snarl. “Or do ye wish to stay down here and risk me becoming angry at Marion?”

  Bridgette frantically reached for the rope and gripped it. “I’ve hold of the rope,” she snapped and gave it a hard tug.

  “I was certain ye would be obliging,” Colin sang as the rope went taut and he pulled her up out of the pit. When she reached the top and attempted to stand, her legs gave way from being folded crosswise for such a long spell.

  Colin chortled as he caught her and pressed her to him. He shoved back her hair and grimaced. “Ye look awful. This will nae do for yer wedding day.”

  It was then she realized he had cleaned up and was dressed to be married. Her stomach roiled a protest and her heart ached for Lachlan.

  “Ye ken I dunnae wish to marry ye,” she growled.

  He slipped his arm under her legs and offered her a cynical smile. “I ken it, but I also ken that ye will do so to keep Marion alive.” Looking ahead, he strode with her through the courtyard, up the stairs, and into a bedchamber where two servant girls gave her wary glances.

  She looked upon the water basin and sagged. It did not escape her that she was conquered in the moment by the desperate need to scrub off the grime. Her mind refuted the notion that she’d been bowed. She was simply preparing for the next battle.

  Colin deposited her on the bed, then stood above her staring down. He spoke to the servants yet his gaze did not waver from Bridgette. “She’s really quite bonny when filth is nae covering her. Make her so quickly. Everyone awaits us in the chapel.”

  As he started to turn away, Bridgette grasped his leg. He glanced back, a cruel, amused look upon his face. “Aye?”

  “Is Marion in the chapel? Is she well? If ye’ve harmed her—”

  “Ye would do what?” he snarled. “Refuse to marry me? I want ye to think upon this, Bridgette. Think hard. I dunnae wish to kill Marion, truly I dunnae. When Iain is killed, she would make a bonny bride—as she’s the MacDonald’s niece—for my youngest brother. But I will kill her if ye dunnae marry me with haste and without protest. Do ye ken me?” he demanded, not waiting for a reply but turning to leave.

  Unless Lachlan arrived very shortly, she was going to have to marry Colin to save Marion. Her sense of loss was beyond tears. When an image of Lachlan rose in her head, she shoved it away, fearing that if she did not, she would not be able to make the sacrifice she needed to make.

  She delayed as long as she could, but soon Colin was pounding on the door, ordering they finish. The servants hurried to dress her and fix her hair, and as they started to brush it to flow over her shoulders, she instructed them to yank it back into a severe knot, recalling Lachlan telling her that her hair was a thing that made men lustful. At the time, she had reveled in his compliment, but now she’d rather have no hair than have it be something that made her pleasing to Colin.

  Much quicker than she’d hoped, she was ushered out the door and into Colin’s clutches. Her stomach was in knots, and she felt sure she would be ill. Her legs shook, but she forced herself to move forward, determined not to show weakness. As they entered the small chapel, Marion stood stonily at the front, but when she saw Bridgette, regret twisted her features. She moved to step toward Bridgette, but the man beside her restrained her. As Colin tugged Bridgette toward the altar, tears started to stream down Marion’s face.

  When Colin stopped Bridgette in front of Marion, Marion cried out, “I’m so sorry.”

  “How touching,” Colin snarled. He squeezed Bridgette’s arm. “As ye may have surmised, Marion is yer witness, and”—Colin waved a hand at the tall, dark-haired man gripping Marion’s arm—“Jamie MacLeod is mine.”

  Bridgette gasped as her gaze flew to Lachlan’s uncle. His lips were thin, as if always on the edge of anger, and the set of his chin suggested a stubborn streak. He had eyes of a hawk, dark and predatory.

  She shuddered but tilted her chin up and looked him in the eye. “Ye’re a traitor to yer own family,” she growled.

  His mouth twisted unpleasantly. “They betrayed me first.”

  “Enough,” came a powerfully deep voice from the back of the church. She turned to see a tall man with white hair and a rugged, somber face stride into the room. Behind him came a beautiful woman with pale skin and russet hair that reminded Bridgette of Lachlan. The woman started toward the bench with her head down, her face hidden, but just as she lowered herself and was almost sitting, Jamie spoke. “Nay, daughter, I’ll have ye stand by my side.”

  The woman flinched, yet she dutifully rose and made her way quickly to stand next to Jamie.

  “Quit staring at the floor like a dog,” Jamie growled.

  Slowly, the woman lifted her head until her eyes met Bridgette’s.

  Bridgette gasped. “Ye’ve yer cousin Iain’s eyes,” she blurted as she gawked at the woman’s ice-blue eyes, which were framed with thick, long, black lashes.

  The woman frowned as she touched a fingertip near her right eye. “My cousin Iain? Did ye ken—”

  “Cease the chatter,” Jamie roared and raised a hand as if he was going to strike the woman. She immediately cowered and clamped her mouth shut.

  The older man had crossed the room and now stood near Colin. “Ye sent word that the marriage was about to occur, so here I am, son, but let us nae tarry. Once the deed is done, Jamie and I will be away to meet our men.” The Campbell laird regarded Bridgette. “Join with the lass and then follow to reunite with us. I want ye at the gathering.”

  Colin nodded and pushed Bridgette toward the priest on the altar. The tremors moved from Bridgette’s legs to course through her whole body. The priest looked at Bridgette with such dispassion that she swore vengeance upon him as well as Colin, Jamie MacLeod, and Colin’s father.

  The priest motioned for Bridgette to step forward with Colin, but her feet would not offer aid. Finally, Colin jerked her to him, and as the priest rushed through the ceremony, Marion’s soft crying rang like macabre music in the dark chapel. The priest addressed Colin first, and Colin quickly said his vows, but when it was Bridgette’s turn to speak, her lips would not form words. Numbness had settled within her. The priest cleared his throat, and Colin jabbed her hard in the ribs. Beside her, she heard a gasp, and her first thought was that it was Marion. She turned to her friend, but Marion had her face buried in her hands and was still crying.

  As she moved to face the priest once more, her gaze met Jamie’s daughter’s. The woman gave her a pitying look that was also filled with understanding, and Bridgette had a terrible notion that the woman had not had a happy life.

  “Bridgette!” Colin snapped. “Shall I kill Marion now?”

  Bridgette raised her chin to the priest as hot waves of loathing rolled off her for Colin. “I, Bridgette MacLean, take the swine devil standing—” She never saw the smack from Colin coming. It jerked her head to the left, and her cheek instantly throbbed with pain. Slowly, with rage burning through her she turned back toward the priest who gaped at her. Perspiration ran down his fat cheeks. His tiny, dark eyes darted from her to Colin.

  Colin took hold of her hand and squeezed until she could not stop the hiss of pain that escaped between her teeth. “That was yer last chance,” he said, his menacing tone leaving no doubt. “I’ll nae give ye another. Watch yer tongue.”

  She nodded, fear for Marion replacing the need to fight the marriage. Memories of Lachlan from the moment he first kissed her in the woods until the last time he kissed her in the great hall flashed in her mind. A sob welled within her, but
she somehow managed to hold it back. Bleakness threatened to envelop her and drag her under. She’d had one moment to marry Lachlan and she had convinced him to wait because of the seer’s prediction, but look at her now? Any hope of a future with him was gone.

  From somewhere within, she found the strength to force herself to say the vows, each word leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She finished, and a sense of hollowness and lifelessness filled her.

  When the priest announced them married, Marion cried louder and Bridgette’s throat tightened with the need to join Marion, but she would not give Colin the pleasure of knowing he had broken her. Distraught laughter escaped her, and when he jerked his head to look at her and eyed her as if she had lost her mind, a feeling of triumph consumed her. Let him think her mind cracked by all she had endured!

  Throwing her head back, she let the laughter roll out of her in high-pitched, ear-grating peals. Without a word, Colin dragged her toward the door, and she happily noted the shocked faces of Jamie and the Campbell. Jamie’s daughter’s face, though, was etched with lines of concern and pity. She did not move toward Bridgette and Colin to offer a congratulation, and Bridgette suspected it was because the woman did not think there was much to offer congratulations about.

  Once inside Colin’s bedchamber, he shook her and brought his face inches from hers. “Cease yer laughter,” he roared.

  The pleasure she got from his anger—and the red burn of humiliation on his neck—gave her the determination and courage to continue. She laughed so loudly her throat hurt.

  “Control yerself now!” He gripped her arms harder. Rage twisted his face, and his lips curled back in a feral smile. “We’ll see if this makes ye laugh,” he said in a dark tone that made her shiver yet did nothing to stop the laughter.

  Colin dragged her forward to the fire and shoved her onto her knees in front of it. Sudden fear consumed her as he reached for an iron rod, and she immediately ceased laughing. He was going to cauterize her. She began struggling away from him, but she was no match for his strength.