by Cosby, Diana
“A point well made,” Seathan agreed.
Duncan kicked his mount into a gallop, as did his brothers. “Aye, we will find the bastard and save Isabel,” he called. “When we do, Frasyer is mine.”
Heartbroken, a tremor whipped through Isabel’s body, then another as emotion again threatened to overwhelm her. After all the tears she’d shed, one would think none would be left.
Yet, images of Duncan trapped in the flames, cinders like a horrific shower falling around him, besieged her mind.
She wrapped her arms around her body, the emptiness inside her tearing through her soul. Oh, God, if only she and Duncan had left the eve before, then he would be alive. Instead, they’d made love.
Now, he was gone.
The only man she would ever truly love.
Frasyer moved nearby, and she stiffened.
Bile rose in Isabel’s throat as she stole a glance toward Frasyer, who after several hours of travel, had installed them in a crofter’s hut. Terrified of his rank, the poor people living within had hurriedly followed the earl’s orders to abandon their home to him. She prayed they had relatives close by.
As much as she’d longed to secretly tell the husband and wife of her plight and ask them to find help, she’d remained silent as the farmers and their children had scurried out. Frasyer had warned her if she tried to gain their help, he’d kill the entire family.
With her heart still raw from Duncan’s death but hours ago, she refused to jeopardize innocent people’s lives. In the fight for Scotland’s freedom, many more lives would be lost, but if she could help spare even one, she would.
Exhaustion weighed heavy on her after this nightmare of a day. Duncan was dead, Lord Caelin was imprisoned and scheduled to be hung, and she’d learned William Wallace was her father. Now, Frasyer planned to hand her over to King Edward, who would use her as bait to draw Wallace in. Then the English king would kill him.
Isabel fisted her hand. She may have lost everyone who mattered to her, but her country would not lose their rebel leader—Scotland’s only hope to lead them to freedom.
Repulsed, Isabel watched as Frasyer preened within the fire-stoked chamber as if he was already before King Edward receiving yet another title. All Frasyer could see was his wealth, of what more he could gain, not the bloodshed caused by his greed or the people he destroyed.
Frasyer shot her a cold look as he shoved another chunk of seared venison into his mouth. “Do not think to escape me.”
“As if guarded by your knights I could.”
He slowly chewed, swallowed.
Disgusted, she turned away.
“Face me when I speak to you.”
Isabel kept her back toward him.
The clank of a blade sinking into wood made her jump. Heavy steps pounded on the wooden floor. Cruel fingers bit into her shoulder and jerked her around. Gray eyes bore into her with malicious intent.
“Defy me again and I will have you whipped.”
Ice chilled her veins. Before she would have held doubts, but since he’d watched Duncan trapped within the flames, something had broken inside him. Now, he would enjoy watching her suffer.
“Or,” he said, “use you for the position you were bartered for.”
His mistress. She stiffened. “You cannot. An injury has prevented your ability.”
Nostrils flared. Hideous glee framed the anger in his eyes. “But not the abilities of my men.”
She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear his taunt inspired. “I despise you.”
Frasyer’s laughter, deep and cruel, rumbled within his chest. “Imagine, William Wallace bound and forced to watch while his daughter is raped.”
Sickened, she wanted to turn away, the pitiful amount she’d eaten threatening to purge. “My father will not cede to your demands, regardless of your twisted efforts. He will rip out your heart with his bare hands.”
“In that we both agree,” he replied with confidence. “Wallace’s outrage will override his common sense and he will gallantly storm to your rescue.”
“I was referring to Lord Caelin. Wallace will not come after me,” she lied.
The earl glanced to where the Bible sat, a satisfied smile curdling along his lips. “Deny what you will. I hold proof.” He caught a tendril of whisky hair between his fingers, slid it across his lips before she could jerk away. “But we both know, he will come for you, Isabel. When he does, Wallace will die.”
With his brothers, Griffin, and their men nearby, Duncan scanned the brae before him. Careless tracks smeared the pristine, snow-covered hillside.
“Frasyer is sloppy in his arrogance,” Duncan said, adding with disgust, “and slow.”
“Aye,” Seathan agreed.
“To Frasyer,” Griffin said, “his glory lies before him like gold-drenched silk.”
Alexander grunted. “One I would like to be cramming down his bloody throat.”
“As I.” Duncan pointed toward the crest of the brae where the swirl of smoke lazing from a distance crofter’s hut caught his eye. “Look over there.”
“The MacNaris’,” Seathan said.
Duncan stilled. “The tracks lead straight toward their home.”
Somber silence settled over the men.
“Do you think Frasyer ordered them slaughtered?” Griffin asked.
Seathan clenched his teeth. “Aye, along with their twin boys, Adam and Douglas.”
“Mayhap he has spared them,” Duncan said, not believing it for a moment. To Frasyer, eleven-year-olds were Scots, boys who would grow to men, men who would wield their blades against England’s might. If he had chosen to kill their parents, neither would the lads be spared. Muscles bunched with tension as he made to stand. “We will find out.”
Seathan’s hand settled on his shoulder. “It is foolhardy to storm in,” he said as if reading Duncan’s mind. “Whatever the fate of the MacNarisses is long past. If we expose ourselves due to carelessness, our edge of surprise and any chance of freeing them and Isabel is lost.”
Duncan exhaled a frustrated breath and glanced up at the fading sun. “Aye. It is time to move into place.”
Seathan glanced skyward and nodded. “So it is.”
Anticipation slid through Duncan as his oldest brother waved to several of his men he’d selected to go with him after planning their approach to Frasyer’s encampment.
Five knights, led by Alexander, slipped off to the west.
Griffin, followed by four other men, worked their way east.
“Duncan, wait until we are in place,” Seathan said. “Once I give the signal, then go in and bring out Isabel.”
“I will.” Duncan watched as Seathan and the two remaining knights made their way down the knoll to circle around. Countless moments passed as he waited, the pounding of his heart echoing the passage of time. Finally, from the brae directly across from him, he saw Seathan waving.
With his every sense on alert, Duncan stole forward. He used the cloak of trees, large drifts of snow, or anything else that nature provided to shield his presence from Frasyer’s men.
By the time he reached within a stone’s throw of the MacNaris’ home, long shadows echoing the arrival of night greeted him. In place, he, as everyone in their band, would wait for Seathan’s signal, then they would make their move.
A profile of Frasyer’s knight outside the doorway had Duncan pressing behind a large oak. Catching his breath, he searched the surrounding forest to where his brothers, Griffin, and their troops hid in wait.
Smoke continued to swirl from the chimney and wavering light seeped from slits in the heavily covered windows.
No signs of a struggle or the telltale sign of bodies being hauled from within existed. With Frasyer’s mood high from this day’s victory, he prayed the earl had spared the family’s life.
Breaks in the fresh snow leading to the nearby shelter caught Duncan’s attention. The trail headed east. Had the MacNarisses left? Or had they departed to go hunting with hi
s sons and knew not of Frasyer’s arrival?
Hoping they’d left, Duncan turned his focus back to his brothers and their planned attack. He scanned the nearby woods, then glanced toward the hut. Three knights stood posted outside. One near the front entry, the other two scattered deeper into the woods to watch for any intruders. Groups of men were camped farther away.
The odds were definitely in Frasyer’s favor, but he and his brothers held the element of surprise. One they’d use to give them an edge.
For Isabel’s life and Scotland’s freedom, he prayed it would be enough.
The crackle of burning wood echoed in the somber silence as Isabel rubbed the bruises on her arm, her body still aching—painful reminders of Frasyer’s warning if she again tried to escape.
Earlier, she’d made it to the door before his men had caught her. Furious she’d dare defy him after everything, for the first time ever, Frasyer had beaten her for her attempt to flee and bruises riddled her body. After, he’d assured her this was but a warning of things to come should she again try to escape.
His abuse confirmed her earlier suspicions that he’d lost his mental balance. That he’d turned to physical brutality didn’t worry her as much as his insanity. His self-serving decisions of the past would compare naught to those made with a twisted mind.
Isabel drew her blanket closer and, numbly, peered at the fire blazing in the hearth. The scent of herbed stew filling the hut made her nauseous. With her thoughts scarred from this day’s horrors, she couldn’t eat. And with horrific visions haunting her of Duncan trapped in the flames and left to die, she doubted she’d find sleep this night.
Somehow, she must stop Frasyer from delivering her to King Edward. If only she could get word to Duncan’s brother Seathan, or any of the rebels.
The brush of a limb against the side of the hut startled her. She ignored the sound. ’Twas nothing. What did it matter anyway? Duncan was dead.
Grief swamped her, but with sheer determination, she battled it back. If she succumbed to it now, she would never have the strength to look for help let alone an opportunity to escape.
The limb again scraped against the hut.
She frowned. The wind was blowing, but not enough to bend the limb to where it would brush against the home. On edge, she glanced at the home’s exit, then the two guards who talked in quite tones nearby as they ate.
Nothing was out of the ordinary, unless one considered her fate. If only she had herbs to drug the guards and Frasyer, then she could slip out while they slept.
Another swish of the tree limb against the side of the hut had her looking toward the far wall.
The sound wasn’t coming from the wall, but near the far window.
Heart pounding, she stared at the crafted panes. Had someone witnessed Frasyer’s abduction of her and was trying to covertly alert her to their presence? Or had the people who lived here informed the rebels of Frasyer’s actions?
Her shoulders drooped. Neither explanation made sense. Besides, the earl’s cruelty was known far and wide, as was the fact she was his mistress. Only Duncan knew the truth and of the earl’s destination. Now, he was dead. Emotion built in her throat.
She started to turn away.
A shadow at the window caught her attention.
The outline of a man came into view.
In the cover of night, she couldn’t make out his face, but she embraced the fact that someone knew of her plight.
She looked at Frasyer.
Unaware of the stranger outside, the earl sat before the roaring fire, his thumb absently rubbing the worn leather of the Bible.
Again she glanced toward the window.
The inky outline of a face lay shadowed against the glass.
She nodded.
The shadow mimicked her action.
He’d seen her! She stole another look toward Frasyer. The earl hadn’t moved.
One of the guards stood. “I will go and relieve Robert.”
The other guard nodded. “I as well.”
No, she had to divert their attention. Isabel stood.
“Did you need something, Lady Isabel?” the closest guard asked, his tone curious.
Frasyer turned toward her. Frowned. “She needs nothing.” His curt tone assured her neither man would be allowed to aid her regardless of her request.
“I have need to relieve myself,” she said.
“You will not be allowed outside until morning, when we depart.” Frasyer gestured to the corner. “Use the chamber pot.”
Heat stroked her face. “It would be improper with you and the men in my presence.”
Frasyer shrugged. “If you choose to suffer, so be it.” He turned away. “Sit down, Isabel.”
Frasyer’s cold voice crawled through her. Tension seeped in the room like a wash of foreboding.
She didn’t move.
“Do not make me regret allowing you to remain untied.” His warning held a lethal threat.
She swallowed hard and sat. After ensuring Frasyer and his knights were not looking at her, she peeked toward the window. The outline of the man was gone!
No, he was again moving into her view, but just the edge of his face. The shadowed outline of his hand made a sweeping motion. What was he telling her to do? She scanned the others in the room, then looked toward the stranger.
He repeated the murky gesture.
Isabel followed the direction he indicated. He was gesturing to the Bible. Why? She stilled. The only person who knew about the Bible and its significance to her plight was Duncan.
Duncan?
Hope rose swift and keen. What if by some miracle, Duncan had escaped?
“Isabel?”
At Frasyer’s harsh tone, she jumped. Composing herself, she turned toward him. Goose bumps crawled across her skin as gray eyes watched her with suspicion.
“You seem preoccupied,” he drawled.
She fought to remain calm.
“Do not do anything as foolish as to try and escape.”
“As if I could overpower you as well as five knights.”
Frasyer grunted, but he seemed far from convinced she wouldn’t try. He watched her a second longer, then turned away.
Isabel exhaled, her body a mass of nerves. Could it be Duncan? But how? She’d seen him trapped in the blaze.
Please, God, let Duncan have lived.
“Did you need us to remain here, my lord?” one of the knights asked Frasyer.
He waved them toward the door. “Relieve the men.”
No, she had to stall the guards! If indeed it was Duncan, she couldn’t allow him to be caught. “Wait!”
Frasyer’s eyes narrowed as he stood. “Silence.”
“Why? What else could you possibly do?” she taunted, needing to buy time.
The veins streaming Frasyer’s brow bulged into dark, ominous lines. “Go!” As the knights exited, Frasyer turned toward her, slow, with intent. He raised his hand. “I warned you not to cross me.”
Chapter 21
Fury poured through Duncan’s veins as, from the window, he watched Frasyer stalking toward Isabel with malice. His muscles strained against the urge to storm the cabin and tear Frasyer apart. At the shove of the door, his gaze shifted to the two knights exiting the home, then back toward Frasyer.
The door thudded as the knights departed, barely penetrating Duncan’s focus.
Frasyer had almost reached Isabel.
Signal, he silently willed his brother, withdrawing his sword in anticipation.
Fear dredged Isabel’s brow. She shielded her face with her arms, the recent bruises from an earlier beating shoving Duncan’s anger up a notch. The devil take it. He’d not stand here to watch her be beaten! Duncan bolted from the shadows and rounded the corner.
A knight stood several paces away. “You there!” The guard strode toward him.
Duncan raised his sword, never missing his stride. By God, he’d reach Isabel.
Steel hissed as the knight withdrew his weapo
n. Stunned shock creased his face as he recognized Duncan, then anger. “This time you will die!”
Keeping his eyes on his foe, Duncan edged toward the door. “Nay, it will be the men who have chosen to serve an earl driven by evil.”
An owl hooted—his brother’s signal.
A war cry rose up into the night.
Caught in the sporadic torchlight, a blur of men stormed down the brae like an avalanche of fury.
The knight before him whirled toward the slope.
The advantage Duncan needed. He sprang forward and drove his sword deep into the man’s side.
A muffled cry of pain fell against his palm. The man’s struggles faded with the shudders of his body. The knight went limp.
Duncan had barely shoved the man away when another knight rushed him. He angled his sword. Honed steel screamed as it clashed against his aggressor’s sword. Gritting his teeth, he drove forward, heedless of the roar of battle around him, thrusting like a madman, with the soul purpose of reaching Isabel.
His attacker stumbled, ducked, then swung.
Duncan’s arm trembled beneath the impact of the blade. He gritted his teeth and shoved.
The warrior twisted his sword. Steel scraped, broke free. He angled his blade and charged forward.
Duncan used the man’s momentum, catching his arm and pulling him forward as he turned to his side.
The knight grunted as he landed face-first into the snow.
Before the man could move, Duncan slid his dagger into his heart.
Snow muffled the man’s scream.
Duncan withdrew his sword. As he shoved to his feet, he scanned the tangle of men engaged in battle with his brothers. Seathan had a knight backed up against the side of the stall. Alexander was cursing as he dodged his aggressor’s blade, then he lunged forward in a surprise move sealing his attacker’s fate. On the edge of the forest, Griffin was skillfully battling his opponent, forcing him back.
Seathan finished off the warrior, and Duncan caught his attention. “I am going for Isabel!”
His oldest brother nodded, then angled his blade to meet his next attacker.
