by Lynsay Sands
Realizing that these thoughts were only pointing out that Johnny's doubts were hurtful to her, Kyla pushed them away and slid into the room, quickly raising a finger to her mouth to gesture the servant to silence when Henry spotted her and got abruptly to his feet.
Her hurt soothed somewhat by the man's open joy at seeing her, Kyla smiled and moved to the bedside to peer down at her brother. She hardly recognized the man in the bed. Johnny had always been big. As large in her memory as Galen. He had been a mighty and able warrior. Had he not been so outnumbered the day of the picnic, she knew there would never have been any danger of his dying. But his wound and the long recuperation from it had eaten away at his body. He was pale and emaciated, appearing to have shrunk to nearly half his original size.
"Kyla."
Her gaze slid to Johnny's eyes at that whisper to find them open now. The first expression to enter his eyes was joy upon seeing her, but it was immediately replaced by fear and suspicion. Kyla felt hurt, despite knowing to expect it.
"You are mending," she murmured quietly.
One short nod was his answer as doubt battled suspicion in his eyes.
"Gilbert told me so, but I would not rest until I saw it for myself."
"Thought your men had succeeded, did you?"
Kyla stilled at the dry rasp of his voice, pain swelling across her face before she hid it. She cleared her throat to murmur sadly, "He told me of your suspicions as well, but I hoped him wrong."
Johnny turned his head away at that, one hand shifting agitatedly atop the blanket and Kyla sighed. "I know you love her, but she--"
"Do not try to push your shame onto her," he turned to growl furiously. "She had nothing to gain. All would have gone to you."
"Did she know of the codicil?" Kyla asked, forcing her voice to remain calm and even. "I did not."
"You were there when the king's man told me the contents of the will."
Kyla shifted impatiently at that. "It was eight years ago, Johnny. I was a child and my heart was breaking at the loss of mother and father. Think you I heard anything that man said? Think you I even cared?"
He stared coldly past her, his expression stubborn and Kyla's shoulders straightened determinedly. "Fine. If there is no other way."
"What are you doing?" he gasped when he finally glanced over to see that she was untying the laces of her gown.
"Giving you proof," she responded coolly.
"Proof of what? What--" His gaze slid frantically to a wide-eyed Henry.
Kyla shrugged. "It matters little if he sees. The three of us used to swim naked in the river together."
"We were children then," Johnny snapped, half-sitting up on the bed. "Stop her, Henry."
Kyla turned her back to her brother to face the servant as he moved uncertainly forward. Her expression stopped him dead. "He must know. She will kill him yet. She will kill both of us."
Henry paused at that and nodded, then moved to stand beside the head of the bed as Kyla began to slide her tunic and under-tunic off her shoulders to reveal her back. "She said I received little but a small wound during the attack. She lied. Mayhap you should consider what else she lied about."
Dead silence was her only answer.
John stared at the wound to his sister's back in horror, a myriad of things running through his head. Not the least of which were memories his illness had taken with it until now. A rush of them. The battle with the attackers. The moment he had realized he was losing. The pain of the sword through his flesh. Kyla's scream. Seeing her running toward him as they raised a sword over his head. Shouting at her to stay back. The impact as she threw herself across him. He remembered it all now. All of it. And he cursed himself for listening to his black-hearted wife's even blacker lies. He had been a..."Fool."
Kyla stiffened at the whisper and immediately drew her gown back into place, fear of what it meant making her hands shake clumsily as she tried to retie the laces before turning to face him.
"Lies." He almost moaned the word as the pain of his wife's betrayal struck. Her claims of love, of passion, of happiness had all been lies. She had wanted naught but his riches. "All lies," he whispered sadly.
Each of his words striking at her heart like a dagger, Kyla swayed where she stood, then staggered toward the door. She had not convinced him. He thought her a liar. Despite seeing the injury he--Catriona had won.
"Kyla?" Johnny sat up straighter, frowning when he saw that she was leaving. "Kyla!"
Tugging the door open, Kyla hurried from the room, racing blindly down the hall she had run as a child, straight for the stairs and out the front doors of the keep.
Duncan glanced to the side when the door to Johnny's room opened, his eyes widening as a woman exited. Sobbing fit to tear a man's heart out, she raced for the stairs. Stunned, he turned to a frowning Robbie. "That looked like--Ye don't think?"
Cursing, the larger man turned to open the door of the room they had stood guard over since relieving Tommy and Gavin hours earlier. The moment he saw Galen alone in the bed, he cursed. "Wake him up. I'll go after her."
Kyla was halfway across the bailey before she realized she was running blindly with no real destination. All she wanted was to escape the pain eating at her. And she realized quite suddenly that there was only one place she could do that. With Galen. His love and faith in her would ease her troubled heart. And he would know how to set things right. She knew that as surely as she knew her name. Galen could fix it. He had to.
Turning back toward the keep, she found herself confronting her brother's First.
"Good morn, Lady Kyla."
"James," she murmured grimly, then tried to step around him only to find her way blocked again.
"I am sorry to keep you, but hoped you might have a word of advice. One of the children in the village has fallen and broken her leg."
Kyla stilled at that. "Broken her leg?"
"Aye. The bone cut right through the skin. She's bled a lot and in awful pain. If Morag were here--"
"Bertholde is supposed to tend such things now. She trained under Morag."
"Aye, but she is seeing to a birthing on the edge of the estates, so the butcher is tending the child. But he wants to bleed her and I fear the child has lost a lot of blood already, so thought--"
Cursing, Kyla pushed passed the man toward the stables. "The stupid fool. Petey does not know the first thing about healing."
"Nay, my lady," James agreed easily, following her toward the stables.
"He shall kill her should he bleed her."
"I fear so," he murmured.
"Who is it?"
"Excuse me?"
"Who is it?" Kyla repeated as she entered the stables. "Which of the children? Was it little Sally? She is forever needing patching up." Her voice trailed off as she spied the wagon just inside the stable doors. Kyla slowed to a stop. "What is this? Where is the stable master?"
"I sent him on an errand."
It was more his tone of voice than his actual words that made Kyla turn. Facing the man, she opened her mouth to question him further, then cried out as she saw his fist swinging toward her head. A moment later the lights went out.
Chapter Twenty
"I told ye not to let her leave the room ere I awoke," Galen snapped, tugging his shirt over his head as he moved toward the door.
"She didn't come out of here. She came from the room next door."
"Well, how the Devil did she manage that?"
"I don't ken. 'Twill be all right, though; Robbie went after her. I would have, too, but he ordered me to wake ye."
"There must be a hidden door," Galen muttered distractedly, his gaze moving around the room. He cursed. "The silly wench! Doesn't she know the peril she is in? Catriona would see her dead rather than let her talk to her brother."
"Aye. Well, she has shown a distressing tendency to lack sense in such things," Duncan muttered as Galen finished donning his plaid. "Robbie will have caught her up."
"He'd better have,"
Galen snapped, stomping out of the room and hurrying down the hall. He was at the top of the stairs when he halted abruptly, his expression darkening as Robbie bounded up the steps toward him...alone.
Kyla's head was pounding when she woke up in the back of the wagon. Ignoring it, she sat up slowly and peered about, scowling at the back of the driver of the wagon she lay in. It wasn't James. Someone in cahoots with him, she thought grimly and considered her position. She recognized the land they were passing through. They were nearing the outskirts of her brother's property. She had just identified that fact when a shout drew her eyes back to the front of the wagon again to see the MacGregor and twenty men riding on the lane, headed for the cart.
Cursing, Kyla scooted quickly to the end of the wagon and leapt to the ground. She had barely regained her feet when she was grabbed from behind and lifted into the air.
Galen eyed his men grimly. They'd searched every inch of the castle and bailey, all with no sign of his wife. Kyla was missing.
"Where exactly did ye last see her?" he asked Robbie harshly.
Rather than be impatient at once again being asked that question, Robbie calmly repeated what had happened once more. "She was going out the keep doors as I came down the stairs. When I reached the doors meself she was nowhere in sight. She must have run for it."
"I thought you saw her running for the stables?" Gilbert reminded him of what he had said the first time he had told the tale.
"Aye...Well I thought I saw her run into the stables, but--"
"Ye followed at once?"
"Aye, but the stables were empty. Not even the stable master was about."
"Ye said James stopped ye?"
"Aye. He asked me what me rush was."
Frowning, Gilbert stepped closer. "Where was James coming from?"
Robbie raised his eyebrows at that. "I don't--The stables," he answered, suddenly recalling. "He came from the stables."
Galen cursed at that and turned to Tommy. "Find him. Bring him to me."
Shropshire watched Tommy leave, then turned to Robbie to ask, "Did you see anyone else leave the stables ere you entered them?"
Robbie grimaced. "Aye. A wagonload of hay."
"Hay?"
Seeing Shropshire and Galen exchange a glance, he protested, "She couldn't have been in that. 'Twas not fresh hay. 'Twas fair foul. The smell was--" He grimaced distastefully and shrugged.
They were all silent for a moment, then Tommy hurried back in. "He's gone."
"Gone?"
"Aye. The stable master said he rode out no more than ten minutes ago."
"That would not be long after Kyla went missing," Gilbert muttered grimly.
"He took an extra mount with him," Tommy added. "A white gelding."
"Catriona's horse."
They all turned to the stairs at that announcement. Johnny Forsythe stood there, Henry directly behind him, ready to catch the swaying man should he fall. "I gave it to her at my wedding."
"Catriona is locked up in her room. She would not come out when I was searching in here for Lady Kyla," Gilbert announced grimly.
Galen turned and hurried toward the stairs.
"Here we are. I fear 'tis not as nice as you are used to, but then we must all make sacrifices in this time of trouble. Besides, you shall not be long here."
Stumbling into the small, dingy room under the impetus of his push, Kyla caught at a table beside the bed and managed to stay on her feet rather than tumble into the bed as he had intended. Turning now, she faced him warily as he closed the bedroom door and began removing his sword belt. "What are you doing?"
The MacGregor raised an eyebrow in mock surprise as he set his sword aside. "I should think you would know what I am doing, my lady. You have been married to the MacDonald long enough to know when a man is disrobing."
"Why?" No matter how she tried to add force to her voice, Kyla could not keep the broken edge of panic from it as she stared wide-eyed at the man quickly removing his mail to stand clad only in braies and a top.
"You owe me a wedding night," he explained easily, then winced as he reached thoughtlessly toward the ties of his braies with his right hand. Holding that hand up now, he smiled coolly. "You owe me for this as well, do you not?"
Shaking her head frantically, Kyla pushed herself further back against the bedside table as he neared, fear eating away at her. He stopped in front of her and his hand, the injured one, moved to rest against her cheek.
"Aye. You do," he murmured solemnly. He leaned forward, then, his mouth covering hers in what she supposed he thought was a kiss, but which to her in no way resembled one. Where Galen was gentle and questing, or sometimes hungry and passionate, this man was sloppy and brutal as he alternated between almost licking at her tightly closed lips and nipping viciously at them.
Twisting her head away, Kyla felt along the table behind her until she found a nice heavy candle holder. Raising it in her hand, she slammed it into his head with all the force she could manage. Pushing him away as he cried out in pain, she made a run for the door. She had it open and was charging out into the hall before he could stumble after her, but found herself crashing into the burly chest of one of his men before she had even taken two steps toward freedom.
Cursing roundly, she spat and clawed at the man as she was dragged back into the room. Furious himself, the MacGregor barked at his man to tie her, then sat on the side of the bed, rubbing at his head irritably as his order was carried out.
Kyla continued to struggle for all the good it did. The man handling her so roughly was as large as Robbie. He had little trouble forcing her to her stomach on the floor, then keeping her there as he ripped up the top sheet of the bedclothes the MacGregor tossed him. Using those strips, he bound her hands behind her back before turning to tie her ankles together.
Once she was trussed up like a pig for the spit, the MacGregor had the other man lay her atop the bed beside where he sat. He then ordered him from the room. As soon as the door had closed on him, the MacGregor turned to her.
"That was foolish. Where, pray tell, did you think you were running to?" He shook his head, then winced at the pain that action set up inside his skull and grimaced. "I should say, my dear, that while it is true that pain adds a little spice to the pleasures of the bed, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing."
Kyla glared coldly at him, then tried to roll away when he reclined beside her. Unfortunately there was nowhere really for her to roll to. She had barely rotated onto her back before he threw a leg over hers, bringing her to a halt. Kyla began cursing herself then. All she had managed to do was lay herself out like a lamb for the slaughter. With her hands bound behind her back, her body was arched upward in an entirely unintentional invitation. An invitation the MacGregor would have no qualms accepting, she could tell, as his eyes traveled over her body.
"You have a much different body than Catriona's," he mused. "Still, variety in all things has always appealed to me." With that, he reached out to grasp her gown by the neck and rend it downward, baring one breast to view.
The maid's eyes were round holes of fear as she peered through the cracked door. "Her ladyship is resting."
Growling, Galen shoved the door open, sending the servant stumbling backward with a cry of distress. One glance was enough to tell him that Catriona was not in residence. He turned furiously on the servant. "Where is she?"
"I don--My lord!" She gaped at Johnny Forsythe as he stepped into the room.
"Where is she?" he panted weakly, leaning heavily against Henry.
"I...She...I do not know."
"Yer lying," Galen snapped, taking a threatening step toward her. "She left here with Lord Forsythe's First. Where were they going?"
Panic and fear consumed her expression, but she shook her head.
Grabbing her by the arms, he shook the woman. "They've got me wife! Now where the Devil did they take her?!"
"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" the woman half-screamed and half-
sobbed. "She told me only to say she was resting and not to let anyone in."
"Get out of my sight," Galen snarled. The woman fled at once.
"If Catriona ordered her maid to claim her asleep, she most like plans to return," Gilbert murmured as Henry urged Johnny to sit on the bed.
"Or she may have just wished for more time to get away ere we followed," Tommy pointed out.
Scowling, Galen turned to Kyla's brother. "Is there anywhere nearby that Catriona could have had Kyla taken?"
Johnny frowned over that. "Her father's estate abutts ours, but Ramsey Hall is too far away for them to use if she plans to return. 'Tis several hours' ride." He thought briefly, then suggested, "But his land ends just a half-hour from here. There is a small manor there that is usually empty."
"I thought Morrissey lived there," Shropshire murmured.
Galen's head whipped up at that name. "Morrissey?"
"One of his retainers. He use to have his own lands, but lost them through a gambling debt. Out of charity, Ramsey allows the man to remain within his old home. 'Tis the manor Johnny speaks of," Shropshire explained, then glanced to Johnny as he asked. "Is it not?"
"Aye. But 'Twas a business arrangement. Aside from his gambling habit, Morrissey is a good man. A good overseer, as well, and Ramsey often has to be away at court. In exchange for allowing him to live in his family home, Ramsey has Morrissey oversee Ramsey Hall while he is away at court. But lately that has been more often than not, so Morrissey has been staying at the hall."
"Damn. That explains all."
Both men peered at Galen in surprise at that bitter murmur. "What is it?" they asked as one.
"The MacGregor's mother was a Morrissey," Tommy explained when Galen was silent. "His father married her for her dower, but he hated her because she was English. When she died giving birth to him, he sent the boy to be raised by her brother. Then he set about spending the dower and his son's inheritance ere he could come to manhood and claim them."
