As he thought about his red-haired lass with another man, madness clouded his vision, shaking his soul. Not only was he about to unleash on these guards, his heart ached in his chest as if it was being squeezed.
Tavish’s facial features turned sinister and his eyes darkened. “Ye have no choice. Either Henry will behead ye or ye submit and return to the dungeon where eventually yer dragon will die.” Tavish unsheathed his dirk and stood face to face with Conall. “Ye see ye’ll be too weak to fight and by the time the wedding is over, the magic will have killed yer dragon. It’s that simple. Ye will die one way or another.” In one fluid motion Tavish drove the dirk hard into Conall’s stomach and twisted the blade.
Conall cried out as gut-wrenching pain ripped through him. His head flopped forward.
With the blade still impaled, Tavish grabbed a fist full of Conall’s hair and shoved his head back so they were eye to eye. “Just ask yer friend over there. He can tell ye how it feels.” Tavish removed his dirk and let go of Conall’s head. As he quit the cell chamber, he motioned for the guards to release their hold on the prisoners.
One by one the guards followed their master out of the dungeon as Caden scurried back to the shadows. Conall lay on the ground in a pool of blood. His last thoughts before the darkness closed in on him were of Effie, and he now understood why she needed to heal him. He needed to fight this magic so he could shift and destroy Tavish. Killing Sir Henry would be a bonus.
HIGHLAND STORM
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After the day’s events, Effie stood in front of the long silver-accented mirror and reflected as she combed through her red hair like she was in some kind of daze. The sheer nightdress she wore hung loosely off her shoulders and left nothing hidden for the imagination. From the outside she looked radiant, just like a newly wedded woman should look, but inside she was numb. Her heart ached and she felt hollow.
A kiss on the back of her neck brought her attention to the man standing behind her. His strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against his chest in a loving embrace. Moving her hair over to one side, he exposed more of her slender neck and continued to trail kisses just below her ear. “You are exquisite,” Sir Henry whispered. “I knew you’d make me a beautiful wife.”
Effie faked a smile and carried on brushing her hair. She was quickly running out of excuses to delay the consummation of their marriage. Her first delaying tactic was that she’d persisted to know more about Sir Henry and his home in England. As he told her about his brother, Sir Thomas of Lancaster, whom he would succeed, and how wealthy his family was, Effie tried to pay attention and look interested, but he bored her, although the ramblings were welcome, for it gave her time to think of another round of questioning.
When Sir Henry advanced on Effie, unlacing the front of her wedding dress as if he was tearing through a package, that was when she gave the excuse that she needed to bathe and calm her nerves, which wasn’t completely dishonest. Like a feeding frenzy of fish, her stomach flopped, causing her to become nauseous every time he touched her. Aye, a bath would help and waste more time.
Once she was dressed, her next excuse was her unruly hair. Now as she stood excuseless, time had run out. Alas she knew sooner or later she would have to bed this man, a man she did not love, nor fully know.
The reflection in the mirror reflected the lie she was living. It made her sick. No longer able to look at herself, she closed her eyes and leaned back into Henry’s embrace. Strong hands crept up underneath her breasts and cupped them, squeezing a little too hard for her liking.
No matter how deep she reached down into her mind, imagining it was Conall kissing her neck, stroking her breasts, and feeling his arousal pushing into the small of her back, her senses would not lie to her. This was not the man she yearned for, but she’d tamped down those feelings, holding firm on her decision. She prayed that Conall would find a way to save them both before it was too late.
As she sought a place of solitude, a place to escape, she recalled visiting the chapel before the ceremony started and before the local folk arrived. She’d entered the nave and never in her life had she felt so small compared to the enormous stone pillars that flanked the room. Tiny footsteps echoed through the empty space, making her feel even more alone. She swallowed hard as she felt the guilt cloud around her like a cocoon; she was condemned.
Only a handful of times had Effie passed through the church. After countless unanswered prayers, she eventually thought it of no use. God had forgotten about her.
As she reached the altar she lit a candle. Kneeling before the cross, she began to pray. “Dear God, please forgive me for what I’m about to do, for I do it out of love. I know it’s too late for me, but please keep Conall safe.”
Hanging on by a thread of hope for Conall’s sake, she pushed aside her frustration and begged God for mercy. The least she could be granted was forgiveness and understanding for the sacrifice she was about to make.
That thought alone must have hit her hard because suddenly she felt the bile rise up her throat. Her hands clamped around her stomach as she pushed away from Henry. Not being in her own chamber she searched Sir Henry’s bedchamber frantically for the wash basin. She held her hand over her mouth, hoping she would find it in time.
With only his tunic on and his manhood throbbing, Henry rushed over to the nightstand and retrieved the wash bowl. Quickly he dumped the water and raced over to Effie, but before he could release it, she vomited into the bowl. As violent as a raging storm, Effie’s insides swirled and she lost the contents of her stomach not once but twice.
After the last lurch, Effie peered up from the bowl to find Henry’s head turned to the side with his eyes clamped shut. His skin was sweaty, pale and he made a heaving motion as if he too was going to release. Effie found the situation too laughable to be embarrassed. Here stood a noble knight who had seen bloodshed and death, now he was ready to pass out over a little vomit.
Effie took the bowl from Henry’s grasp and placed it outside the door of the chamber. Grabbing a cloth, she dampened it with the water pitcher and washed her face. As she turned to face Henry, he stood like a stone statue, pale and gray.
She peered up at him and held back a chuckle. “Henry, I’m sorry. It must be something I ate.”
“Aye.” Sweat beaded his forehead. “Should I go and fetch the healer?”
“Nay, I just need to rest.”
Henry staggered across the room and grabbed his trews. With his erection long gone and his libido wounded, he slipped on his clothes and ran his hands through his hair. He walked to the door ready to quit the room, then he turned to face Effie. Disappointment written all over his face he said, “Get some rest.” He left the chamber.
Effie felt sorry for the poor man, in many more ways than one. She would never return his love. Aye, if her plan didn’t work, she would be forever be a noble knight’s wife. Conall had to get her out of this mess and fast. He was her dragon and no man takes a dragon’s mate and lives to tell the tale.
She found comfort in that as she slipped into bed, she exhaled in relief. The day from hell was finally coming to an end. Tomorrow would be the true test as she hoped her plan would work. In a matter of seconds fatigue claimed her and she fell asleep.
~~~~~
A murmuring voice hummed through Conall’s head as he tried to wake, but his body refused to react to his command. The pain from the gash in his gut pulsed violently. Pulling strength from within, he called for his dragon but was left unanswered. The magic was too thick inside these cell walls, weakening him and trapping his dragon as if he was behind iron bars as well.
“Conall, wake up!” Caden called out, shaking his shoulder. The urgency in his voice rang clear, yet Conall was too weak to react. “Ye need to wake. Now!”
Ice cold water splashed his body and he jerked, awakening and breathing heavily.
“Finally!” Caden threw the cup across the chamber. “Ye dinnae have much time, the guards are coming f
or ye. There’s been chatter all morn aboot the battle and how ye have to fight today.” The blond warrior squatted in front of Conall, checking under the ripped piece of tunic at the fresh wound on his chest. “This is no’ good.” He shook his blond head. “’Tis no’ healing. I’ve done all I can do.” Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair. After the beating Tavish had inflicted, Caden had spent most of the night tending Conall’s wound. He was in no shape to be fighting today.
Conall slapped his cellmate’s hand away. “I can take care of meself.” With a grunt, Conall painstakingly rose to his feet, stumbling about the small chamber trying to reduce the fatigue and pain that ripped through his aching muscles. The chains had been removed, although he felt like they still drug behind him, heavy and unforgiving. He braced his hand on the cold stone wall for balance as he shook the cobwebs free from his mind. The last thing he remembered was the dirk puncturing his skin and the thought of Effie with Sir Henry, married.
Rage tore through him, whirling like a gust of wind whipping and churning out of control. Billowing gray clouds stormed over his eyes as he fought for his resolve. His dragon stirred, rattling his cage, desperate to shift and foaming at the mouth. He hungered for bloodshed and he would soon quench his appetite. No one came between a Dragonkine and his mate and lived to tell the tale.
Clanging armor echoed down the corridor, stopping in front of his cell, which brought his attention to the guards. Two guards fumbled with the keys as they bantered back and forth about how Tavish had outwitted a dragon. Conall turned his head and flashed his beast’s reptilian eyes, causing both men to step back and swallow hard.
One man called out with a shaky voice, “Step oot where I can see ye and place yer hands in front.”
Confident and in control, Conall stepped in front of the gate, giving them plenty of room to enter his lair if they so dared. With his stance firm, he held his hands together and in front of him as if to surrender to their requests.
One guard opened the gate and the other guard scurried in. With shaking hands, he slapped the metal cuffs, attached to a thick, heavy chain, around Conall’s wrists. The warrior stared down at the puny man, amused by his distress.
Conall stayed as calm as he could manage, for he had to play nice if he was going to get out of the dungeon and find Effie. He desperately needed to escape the magic and heal, so he would go along and be the good prisoner until he could hold his own.
He cleared his throat. “Where are ye taking me?”
The guard, still holding the gate door, too afraid to enter, spoke up. “It be time for battle.”
“Battle? Well, do I have a squire to assist me, aye?”
“Squire?” The guard questioned as if it was an odd request. The rules of battle were clear. Each man involved in the trial by combat was allowed one person to assist him in the fight.
“Aye. I do believe in a trial by combat that the accused and champion receive the right of a squire to assist them in battle. I will have weapons, correct, as I’m sure Sir Henry will have? I need a squire to bring me me weapons.”
The guard snickered. “If ye want a squire, look around.” He pointed to the folks in their cells and chuckled. Half the men were either too sick or weak to pick up a weapon, leaving him with only the broken and untrustworthy folk to choose from. “If ye trust a thief, go right ahead, choose yer squire.”
“Caden, do ye accept to be me squire?” He didn’t know if he could trust his cellmate but he had to take the chance, for if Caden was what he suspected he was, this fight would be over as soon as it started. Being as weak as he was, Conall didn’t have the strength alone to beat Henry, but with Caden there with him he had a better chance. He knew he was taking a risk; Caden could try to escape and leave him behind.
Stepping out of the shadows, Caden cracked his fingers and rolled his neck. “Aye.”
The guard holding the gate spat orders out for the other guard to chain Caden and to make it quick.
The blond warrior stood shoulder to shoulder with Conall and placed his hands in front of him.
Keeping his eyes locked in front of him, Conall said, “Dinnae make me regret me decision.”
Caden grinned but stood silent.
One guard led from the front and the other pushed the prisoners ahead, as the entourage shuffled down the dark corridor to a hidden pathway to the courtyard where Clan Maxwell was gathered awaiting the battle. By the time they reached the end of the pathway, Conall was exhausted and could barely stand.
At the end of the dank passageway there was a cage into which the guards corralled the warriors. As one of the guards pushed Conall forward, he stumbled into Caden and fell to the floor. Quickly Caden helped him up and leaned him up against the cage for balance. How was he going to fight when he could barely stand on his own two feet?
“Ye maggots wait here until the gate opens. Then the fun begins.” The guard chuckled as he slammed the cage door shut behind the prisoners.
Caden stood and looked out to the courtyard through the gaps in the bars. There had to be at least five hundred people, if not more, sitting around waiting for the show. Conall leaned his back against the bars, supporting his weight and catching his breath. Crimson leaked through his tunic and dripped to the dirt floor. How am I going to make it out of here alive? Again he tried to call forth his dragon and was denied. He needed to shift and heal himself but the magic still lingered, immobilizing his dragon.
Just inside the curtain walls of Caerlaverock was a hollowed out archway where a behemoth of a man dressed in a black hooded cloak and hood approached the cage and unlocked their bindings. In a deep gut-wrenching growl the man said, “Yer weapons lie on the table to the right. The squire stays with me until ye need to replace yer weapon. There will be no trickery or ye shall meet me sword.”
Conall shuffled to the table. Disgusted at his choices, he grabbed a wooden targe and a sword. He turned to the edge of the archway, looking across the courtyard to another hollowed out archway which mimicked the one he was standing in, although he imagined the weapons were sharper for Sir Henry.
As he looked up to the second level of the curtain wall, people gathered and pushed their way to find the best view. When he looked closer there was a more pronounced canopied balcony with clan Maxwell’s flag whipping in the wind along with a red-crossed flag indicating clan Maxwell had indeed sided with the English.
His heart sank when a red-haired lass came into view. Effie. She was beautiful in a deep green dress and with her hair freely blowing in the wind. Holding back the desire to run to her, he stood just watching, until a fully armored knight with his helmet tucked under his arm bent down and kissed her.
As he watched Henry deepen his kiss, Conall’s rage took over and his dragon summoned a storm. The wind picked up and blew into a gale. The clouds grayed and rolled in like charging warhorses in the sky. Thunder boomed and rattled the earth as rain threatened to fall.
~~~~~
After last eve’s embarrassing, yet appreciated vomiting episode, Sir Henry had never made it back to Effie. It was a relief not to have to worry about consummating the marriage, although how long she could delay the deed was still in question. It wasn’t that Sir Henry was a grotesque man; in fact he was the complete opposite. Especially now as he leaned down to kiss her before he headed down to the courtyard; his eyes were demanding, yet charming and he had a gentle touch. But he could not compare to Conall. Good looks aside, the man had attacked her home.
“Are you feeling better this morn, my Lady?” Henry lifted her chin with his metal-clad hand and examined her face.
“Aye.”
“Good. I still think you should see the healer after the battle.” It was more a demand then a request.
“I will,” she said. Henry gave her a cross stare as if he didn’t believe her. “I promise.”
Henry smiled and kissed her cheek before he made his way to the courtyard.
As she sat underneath the canopy looking down to the courtyard, sh
e began to feel nervous about her plan to free Conall. He was healed now and able to shift, which gave her comfort. The difficult part now would be convincing him to leave without her. Since she was married now, Conall would be safe.
Looking over her right shoulder to the battlements, she took a deep breath of relief. Sir Neil nodded, and was ready for battle with a few hundred Maxwell loyalists beside him.
“It won’t be long now before yer dragon dies,” Tavish seethed into her ear. He sat down next to her, causing the bile to return to her stomach.
“Och, I do think ye be mistaken, Tavish, me dragon will be leaving here today.”
A burst of laughter belted from him. “Ye have no idea who ye’re dealing with, do ye sister?”
Of course she did. She was dealing with a good-for-nothing pain in her arse bastard who she wished had never come into her life. In fact she regretted not standing up for herself all those years ago, and all the missed opportunities to enlighten her father as to what a monster his son had become.
As she turned to face Tavish she realized that this was the man who would ruin everything her father had worked hard to gain. He would run all the good Maxwell warriors away, give into the temptation of greed, and destroy their good family name.
But she had seen a darker side of Tavish that chilled her to the marrow. What he had done to Maggie was unforgiveable. She was innocent and Tavish had taken that away. Plus, knowing he very well could have killed her father left her more fearful for her life, as she knew she was pushing him a little too far with her boldness.
Tavish stood and raised his hands and the crowd settled. Chatter abruptly stopped as if he was a royal king addressing his loyal subjects. This sickened her even more, the way Tavish arrogantly relished the power he held over the Maxwell people. “Good morn to ye fine folk of Dumfries. Justice will be served here, as my father’s murderer will be punished and put to death.”
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