Sweet Revenge

by Lynsay Sands

  "Come to think of it, I do recall something being said about Morrissey having a nephew with him," Shropshire murmured.

  "'Twould explain why Lady Forsythe chose Thomas MacGregor to husband Lady Kyla," Gavin commented with understanding. "That has bothered me since hearing the tale. I couldn't figure how she came to choose him."

  "Aye," Galen growled now. "'Twas bothering me also,"

  "But if Morrissey was at Ramsey Hall often, the MacGregor most like would have been as well," Tommy put together now, then frowned. "Was there not some rumor that the MacGregor was to be married before?"

  "He was married before," Angus pointed out dryly. "To Lindsay's daughter. They say he took her without her father's blessing, then beat her to death when the old man refused to pay her dower."

  "Nay, I meant ere that," Tommy muttered impatiently, his brows drawn together in concentration. "It seems to me there was some rumor when he first returned from England that he would marry an Englishwoman."

  "Oh, aye." Galen nodded. It had been near three years ago since what his First spoke of had happened. "Aye. One of the MacKenzies said the MacGregor had planned to marry an English lass. But the father was a wealthy English Lord and refused to allow the marriage because the MacGregor was poor."

  "Catriona?" Robbie suggested in a rumble, one eyebrow cocking.

  "Er...Johnny," Shropshire murmured uncomfortably now. "There were certain rumors going around court ere your marriage, that your wife had wished to marry some penniless Scot, but that her father would not have it."

  Forsythe nodded. "I heard those same rumors, but thought them the usual court tripe put out by jealous dandies. I was blind."

  "Aye, well," Shropshire sighed unhappily. "All of this would explain the problem of the codicil to the will. If you died and Kyla had been forced into marriage to the MacGregor, he would inherit all."

  "And if she had died after that, the MacGregor would have been free to marry Catriona," Galen said grimly.

  Nodding, Gilbert turned to his friend. "This could be the evidence you needed to prove which of the women spoke the truth."

  "My sister does not lie. I fear I had forgotten that for a while, but she came to me this morn. She showed me her back and I remembered all. It was as she said. I was on the ground with a sword through my belly. They were about to cut my head off, but she threw herself atop me taking the blow herself." Mouth twisting bitterly, he shook his head. "I should have never allowed that witch to whisper doubts in my ear."

  Galen nodded. "'Tis good to hear ye finally come to yer senses. But me wife may be being killed as we speak. I would go after her. Where is Morrissey Manor?"

  "Take them there, Shropshire," Forsythe ordered his friend grimly.

  When the MacGregor's hand moved toward her naked breast, Kyla closed her eyes and began to pray. She just knew she would be sick if he touched her.

  "I hope I am not interrupting anything, my lord?"

  MacGregor stilled at those arch words and glanced to the doorway.

  Glimpsing her sister-in-law over the MacGregor's shoulder, Kyla sagged with relief, then nearly laughed hysterically at the irony of it. Never once, in all the time since Johnny had brought the woman home to wife, had Kyla been happy to see Lady Catriona. But she would have welcomed the Devil himself at that point if it had saved her from this man's unpleasant gropings.

  Getting to his feet, the MacGregor smiled, unperturbed, at the other woman. "Now you know how I have felt knowing you shared Forsythe's bed every night." She glared at him.

  "I did that for us!" Catriona snapped. "Once he is finally dead I will be a rich widow and free to marry who I wish." Softening suddenly, she hurried forward, reaching for his face with both hands. "Oh, Thomas. You know it was for you. Only you. Do not be angered at me for trying to give you all you deserve."

  Kyla's eyebrows rose at that, more at the use of his first name than anything else. It was the first time she had heard his name spoken. It was amazing how one could spend so much time with a Scot and never hear his first name, she thought, then turned her attention back to the couple before her. The MacGregor suddenly caught one of the small, pearl white hands at his cheek and crushed it between his ruddy fingers, snarling. "And was James for my good as well?"

  Catriona paled, but to give her credit, her expression did not change one iota. "Everything I have done has been only to further your best interests."

  He raised his eyebrows at that, his hand closing even tighter around her delicate fingers before he asked pleasantly, "Will you not even ask how I knew?"

  When she merely bit her lip against the pain he was inflicting, his eyebrows rose further. "Nay, hmm? Well, I shall tell you anyway. Spies, my dear. I have had someone watching you at all times. And you would do well to remember that." Releasing her, he tilted his head slightly. "Do you not wonder why I specifically ordered you to bring James here when I knew he was your lover?"

  A strange glow of almost anticipation entered Catriona's eyes. "Tell me."

  MacGregor leaned forward and murmured, "To kill him, my dear. My men do it as we speak."

  While Kyla gasped at that statement, Catriona and her lover both smiled. Then MacGregor suddenly slapped her and barked, "Did you enjoy bedding him?"

  Catriona stumbled backward a step under the blow, one hand raising to cover the mark he had left on her cheek. Anger and excitement fought briefly on her face, then she straightened, shoulders stiffening and coolly announced, "Of course not. He knows not how to treat a woman. Neither does Forsythe. They are both soft fools. Only you treat me as I should be treated." Then her gaze slid to Kyla on the bed and her expression twisted. "Have you enjoyed bedding her?"

  Kyla stiffened indignantly at the slur to her honor, mouth tightening when, rather than deny having bedded her, the MacGregor smiled. "Certainly."

  "Pig," she hissed and Kyla bit back a nervous breath, her gaze locked on the couple. She could feel the rage rolling off the man, and wasn't surprised when he caught Catriona by one wrist and twisted it maliciously behind her back, forcing her against his chest. Catriona cried out in pain at the move, but the MacGregor merely twisted her arm a little further, then reached his free hand up to the front of her gown, and tugged at the lovely material, uncaring that it ripped as he bared her breasts to his view.

  "Look at yourself. You are already hard for me. Your nipples are like pebbles," he sneered and much to Kyla's amazement his words were true. The other woman's breasts were puckered with excitement, her breathing coming as short panting as the MacGregor kneaded and pulled at her flesh in a vulgar manner.

  "Faith! You are probably already wet, are you not?" he growled now, snaking his hand down to jerk her skirt up and test for himself.

  Much to Kyla's horror, this only seemed to excite the other woman more. She moaned as he handled her in this coarse fashion, apparently uncaring that Kyla witnessed the whole thing.

  "Aye, you are," he said now with a trace of satisfaction as he delved his hand between her legs. "You are as slick as a well-used-whore with want. Tell me you want me," he ordered, laughing coldly at the way she arched into his touch. He must have pinched her flesh when she wasn't quick enough answering, because pain flashed across her face briefly, then she nodded.

  "Aye. I want you," she gasped. "Oh God, Thomas. I want you." She tugged at his hair, dragging his head toward her as if desperate for a kiss but the MacGregor jerked his head away. Twisting her arm again, he sent her to her knees before him. "Beg," he ordered, smiling cruelly.

  Closing her eyes, Kyla turned her head away in disgust as Catriona began to do just that, begging him to do a myriad of absolutely horrid things to her. She tried to close out what happened after that, determined to distance herself from the couple as they grappled there on the floor. She now understood the rumors circulating about this man. He seemed to like to humiliate. He certainly enjoyed hurting. Even more dismaying was the fact that Catriona seemed to enjoy being the recipient of that pain. It was all rather repellent to
Kyla. She was relieved beyond expression when they both cried out their release and collapsed on the floor.

  "MacGregors?" Shropshire's gaze slid over the men in the courtyard at Morrissey. There were at least a dozen of them, all excited and shouting as they watched one of their own do battle with Johnny's First. James wasn't doing too well. The battle would be over soon.

  "Aye," Galen grunted, his gaze moving slowly over the men.

  "They outnumber us two to one."

  "That ought to about make the odds even," Tommy commented and much to Gilbert's amazement, the Scots all smiled at each other.

  "I must go."

  Kyla blinked her eyes open, disoriented for a moment as to where she was, until movement drew her eyes to the couple on the floor. Catriona was struggling out from beneath the MacGregor's naked weight, hurriedly drawing her clothes about her. Memory kicked in then and she realized that she, too, must have passed out briefly. After the couple's animalistic display, sleep had been a welcome relief.

  "Eager to return to your husband?" the MacGregor sneered, sitting up to twist one already bruised nipple as she struggled to pull her torn gown back on.

  "I will be missed," Catriona answered, licking her lip as her lover leaned forward to bite down on her abused flesh. "'Tis cruel of you to tease me so." She moaned, then, sighing reluctantly, she pulled away and got to her feet, frowning over the irreparable damage to her clothes. "You have ruined my gown."

  Shrugging, the MacGregor got languidly to his feet, drawing his braies on as he did. "You have a cloak to cover it."

  Exasperation crossing her face, Catriona gave up on her gown and reached for the cloak he held out. "Send word to me at Forsythe once you have killed her."

  Kyla's eyes went round in horror. "You cannot do that!"

  Catriona turned to her with disdain. "Of course we can."

  "But I thought--"

  "What?" The other woman arched her brows cynically. "That you would get to marry Thomas? You should be so lucky. Do you think I would allow that?"

  "But you sent me to Scotland to--"

  "Die." Catriona snapped the word. "Aye, if you had survived the journey, he would have married you, but you would not have survived your wedding night. You were to suffer an accident," she spat, then sighed. "It is nothing personal, Kyla. Truly you did at least try to be nice to me. I had no intention originally of seeing you dead, but then you interfered in the attack on your brother--I really must thank you for that, by the by. Had you not done so, all would have gone awry. Johnny had not informed me of the codicil to your father's will."

  "That I would inherit should he die without heir," Kyla murmured.

  "Aye. And, of course, since you allowed yourself to be married off to that savage MacDonald, that meant he and you would have inherited all had Johnny died from his injuries." She grimaced at that. "All would have been lost then."

  "Then all is still lost," Kyla said triumphantly. "For if Johnny and I die--"

  "Nay," Catriona interrupted calmly. "'Tis all in the sequence of events. So long as you die first, all is still well. I inherit then whether there is an heir or no."

  When Kyla slumped back on the bed, Catriona gave her a pitying look. "'Tis your father's fault. Had he not written that codicil, I would have let you be." Not waiting to see Kyla's reaction to that, Catriona turned back to her lover, caressing his cheek in the first show of true affection she had actually seen between the two. "Send word once 'tis done. Make sure it looks like an accident. I will tend to her brother then and we shall be together always."

  Nodding, MacGregor caught one of her fingers in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before biting down hard enough to make her start. Tugging her hand away then, she turned and left the room.

  "Well..." The MacGregor faced Kyla. "Let us get it done, shall we?" He suggested it as if asking her to dance rather than talking about killing her.

  Pausing before her, he tilted his head and raised one eyebrow slightly. "Or do you have a last request? Your favorite meal, mayhap?" His gaze glittered as it ran over her where she lay and he reached out, grabbing the breast revealed by her torn gown and squeezing it hard as he asked. "Or mayhap there is another hunger you would like satisfied? Were you very excited by watching us?"

  Kyla's mouth thinned with disgust. MacGregor sank onto the bed beside her and murmured, "I have always found such scenes stimulating."

  "Aye, well...you obviously have perverted tastes," she muttered, turning her face quickly away when he would have pressed his lips to hers. It was a useless attempt. She had no escape and they both knew it. Perhaps that was why the MacGregor merely laughed and tugged her face back before mashing his mouth onto hers. It was the poorest excuse for a kiss she had ever experienced. He seemed more intent on chewing the lips off her face than anything else.

  Kyla was just wondering if she could possibly get herself out of this mess when the man suddenly stilled against her, then lifted his head away.

  Actually--she realized as his face moved further away, improving her view--he hadn't so much lifted his head away as had it torn away from her. Galen was now holding the smaller man by the scruff of his neck, fury his only expression. He shook the MacGregor in the air, then tossed him across the room where he crashed into the wall by the door. The villain slid down to sit on the floor, shaking his head dizzily.

  Gilbert had followed Galen into the room. Glancing now from the dazed man on the floor to the bed where Kyla still lay half-exposed, he turned abruptly and blocked Galen's men from entering, setting up a flurry of arguing from them.

  Ignoring everyone, Galen dropped his sword and bent to Kyla. "Are ye all right?" Fear and worry battled in his eyes as his gaze dropped worriedly to her torn dress and the bruises even now forming on her pale flesh. He gathered the two torn pieces of her gown together to cover her up. "He hurt ye."

  "Nay. Well...not much anyway," she added at his expression of patent disbelief. "You came in time."

  "Thank God," Galen breathed, hugging her close.

  "Me laird!"

  Galen ignored the shout, thinking it a protest against being excluded from the room, but Kyla glanced over his shoulder, her eyes widening in horror. The MacGregor had landed on the floor beside where he had set his sword earlier. He now had that sword in hand, was on his feet, and was charging toward Galen's unguarded back.

  Instinctively trying to save her unsuspecting husband, Kyla brought her knees up toward her chest, caught her feet in his stomach, and shoved Galen away to the side with all her might. The MacGregor faltered in his step as he saw his original quarry pushed out of the way, then continued forward, hatred spitting from his eyes as he rushed on toward Kyla.

  Seeing the threat, Galen's men pushed by an oblivious Gilbert, bursting into the room and drawing their swords. At the same moment, Galen regained his wits enough to see what Kyla was trying to protect him from. Releasing an enraged battle cry, he grabbed for his sword, lunged to his knees, and thrust it at MacGregor even as his men rushed forward, echoing his cry.

  Kyla and Shropshire both watched the outcome in amazement. Six men, six swords. All thrust at a different spot on the MacGregor as he raised his own sword to kill Kyla...And all of them found a home.

  Eyes wide with shock, the MacGregor halted a bare step from the bed. Arms still upraised, sword hanging behind his back, he peered at her blankly.

  "Damn," he gasped with a sort of startled dismay. Then the sword slid from his fingers, clanging to the floor behind him as he sank slowly to his knees. He slumped forward, his head falling in Kyla's lap where she lay on the bed.

  "Damn," Gilbert echoed, sagging back against the doorframe he had been standing in throughout.

  "Aye, damn." Kyla sighed wryly, then shifted a bit where she lay. She did her best to avoid looking at the swords that protruded from the MacGregor from seemingly every angle. He looked like a porcupine. A bloody porcupine.

  "Could someone please remove him and untie me?" she snapped after a moment when no one
moved and her saviors merely stood grimacing bashfully over the pincushion of a man that had once been the MacGregor.

  Everyone was moving again at once. Galen returned to her side even as his men dragged the hapless corpse of Thomas MacGregor off her and a little away to remove their swords one by one. Doing her best to ignore what the men were doing, Kyla smiled gratefully at her husband as he quickly helped her to a sitting position, then frowned as her sister-in-law suddenly came to mind. "Catriona--"

  "We caught the wench below. Henry is holding her."

  "Henry? Who is with Johnny then?"

  "His own men," Galen answered and when Kyla began to look worried, he soothed her. "He will be all right. We have all those who would see him hurt here...Unless there is someone else?" he added worriedly, pausing in untying her.

  "James. He hit me in the stables and--"

  "He'll not trouble anyone," Galen told her dryly. "MacGregor's men were finishing with him as we arrived."

  "Oh," she murmured as he finished untying her. That done, he grabbed the linens off the bed and wrapped one quickly about her shoulders. Ordering the men to see to MacGregor's body, he carried her from the room.

  Henry was waiting by the horses in the courtyard, one heavy hand gripping a sullen Catriona. The woman glared coldly at Kyla as Galen carried her past. After settling her on his saddle, he quickly joined her, then they both peered around at a sudden scream from Catriona. The men were bringing the MacGregor's body out.

  Henry did his best to hold onto the woman, but her grief would not be contained. Breaking loose, she rushed forward to throw herself across the inert body. The men stopped at once and stood about, watching uncomfortably as she clutched at her fallen lover, kissing his lifeless flesh and howling hysterically. She carried on so for several minutes before Gilbert finally moved to urge her away. He tried soothing words, then short ones, but when reason and orders failed, he glanced at Galen, shrugged, then knocked the woman unconscious with a blow to the head.

  Kyla grimaced slightly at that, but said nothing. Catriona deserved that and more for what she had done. Besides, sleep, willing or forced, was most likely best for the woman just then. Her life would never be the same after today. Even Johnny would not be able to deny the evidence Galen would present to him on returning. And Galen would have to do the presenting, for she was simply too weary to face the brother who had betrayed her so with his doubts and suspicions.