“We have no time to plan a frontal attack,” Lachlan said. “Do ye think we can bribe our way inside, Joan?”
“Nay. The clan’s fear of Archibald is too great. He is hardly beloved, in truth most hate him, yet none would dare to cross him. They know his retribution would be swift and harsh.”
“Then we’ll have to find another way,” Lachlan conceded.
“A rescue?” Graham suggested.
“Aye.” Lachlan rubbed his hand over his jaw. “’Twould be a great help if we knew the castle layout. Can ye tell us where the dungeon is located, Joan?”
Joan’s eyes clouded. “There are two, each placed in opposite ends of the main keep.”
Lachlan turned to Jamie. “We’ll need more men so that we can divide into two groups and search each dungeon at the same time once we gain entrance to the castle.”
Joan shook her head. “In all likelihood, yer brother is being held in the high south tower. ’Tis Archibald’s preferred location when he has a special prisoner.”
Her lovely face creased with sorrow and sympathy. No doubt she believed Aiden already dead or close to it. ’Twas the same bitter outcome Lachlan contemplated himself, but even though ’twas only a slight chance, he had to try to free his brother.
Lachlan hardened his jaw. “Then it must be a small rescue party, consisting of a few men. Disguised, we shall steal into the castle, free Aiden, and make good our escape before Fraser even knows we have come.”
“I shall be one of those men,” Malcolm stated.
Joan’s eyes flashed with fear. “Nay! ’Tis far too dangerous. Archibald shall take even greater delight in capturing ye, Malcolm.”
Lachlan reluctantly agreed. “Though I am grateful fer the offer, I could not ask such a sacrifice from ye, Malcolm.”
“Ye dinnae ask. I volunteered.” Malcolm turned to his wife. “Fraser remains a threat to us all. He needs to know that he has strong, powerful enemies who willnae allow him to exact unwarranted vengeance.”
“I will come also,” Graham said.
Lachlan glanced at Malcolm. “Jamie shall come, too, which means we need one more man. I would like my brother Robbie to ride with us. Will ye allow it?”
Malcolm nodded. “I’ll speak with my father.”
Jamie gulped down the rest of his food and jumped to his feet. “How soon can we leave?”
Lachlan rested a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “It will take us a few hours to get everything ready. In the meantime, ye need to rest.”
The others departed, and once they were alone, Lachlan could feel his wife’s eyes upon him.
“Ye must be very careful. Fraser will take great pleasure in making ye look the fool,” Katherine said, her voice quavering with emotion.
Lachlan’s heart twisted in knots. “Trap or no, I cannae ignore the threat. We all know what Fraser is capable of doing. Aiden’s life could very well hang in the balance.”
“And what of yer life?” Katherine choked, her eyes filling with tears.
“With Robbie, Malcolm, Graham, and Jamie at my side, I know that we can defeat Fraser.” Lachlan clasped Katherine’s shoulders and pulled her close, pressing his lips against her forehead. It tore at his heart to see her so distressed. “Try not to worry so, my dearest. I vow that I shall allow nothing to shatter the love we have and the life we are so eager to build together.”
She hugged him tightly. “I shall hold ye to that promise, Lachlan MacTavish. Now make haste and return to me swiftly, fer I vow that I shall not rest a moment until I am once again in yer arms.”
* * *
They purchased fresh horses along the route and took turns sleeping while they rode, arriving on Fraser land in two days’ time. Over the course of their travels, the men discussed and discarded various plans, eventually agreeing on one. ’Twas bold, reckless, and just mad enough to succeed, as long as each man did his part at precisely the correct moment.
The time had come. Lachlan squinted into the midday sun and gave the signal. Robbie and Graham suddenly appeared, striding boldly toward the Fraser castle.
As he approached the outer gate, Robbie began staggering like a drunkard, merrily singing a bawdy tune while swinging a full tankard of ale. When he drew near, he generously offered to share his brew with the two guards at the gate.
The taller one glared at him in disgust, but the shorter fellow reached for the vessel and took a long swallow. The moment he was distracted by the drink, Robbie cracked him on the head. The other guard lunged, but Graham was in position and quickly knocked him out.
Each man dragged an unconscious guard behind the gatehouse and soon emerged wearing a Fraser tunic. They quickly assumed the same stance and exact positions as the guards before anyone noticed the exchange.
“Let’s go.”
Lachlan nudged Malcolm. The two men emerged from their hiding place. Each pulled the cowl of their monk’s robes over their heads, hiding their faces. Walking slowly, as to not rattle the weapons strapped to their torsos, they slipped through the outer gate.
To avoid attracting any undue attention, they kept their heads bowed. Following Joan’s directions once they reached the courtyard, they were able to quickly locate the outside tower doorway. As it was hidden from the parapet, they were able to approach the entrance unchallenged.
However, Lachlan’s initial elation at their success faltered when he noticed the heavy metal lock securing the door.
“We can force it open if we strike it at the same time,” Malcolm predicted.
Lachlan agreed. He turned and hunched his shoulders. Malcolm did the same. At Malcolm’s signal, they struck the door with full force. It shook, yet held. Lachlan took a deep breath and nodded at Malcolm. They gave it a second and then a third lunge and finally the wooden door splintered off its hinges.
Lachlan peered inside. He motioned to the left, to alert Malcolm where the guards stood.
“The staircase is on the right. I’ll take care of these two while ye climb to the tower,” Malcolm whispered.
The men parted. Lachlan inched his way around the corner, then flattened himself against the wall when he heard voices. Breath held, Lachlan waited until the pair of serving women he spied coming his way reversed their course, their footsteps disappearing in the distance.
Lachlan’s thick leather boots were silent on the stone steps as he climbed the staircase to the tower. He rotated his shoulder and prepared to burst through the door, but when he reached for the handle, he found it unlocked.
A trap?
Slowly, Lachlan cracked open the door, watching warily for signs of an ambush. Angling his head, he peered through the opening, disappointed to see a barren, empty chamber. Cursing beneath his breath, he opened the door wider and stepped inside.
The chamber was freezing. The leather coverings had been removed from two large window openings and the cold wind howled through the room with a keening cry.
Reaching beneath his robe, he slowly unsheathed his dirk and moved farther into the chamber. A slight rustling noise on his left drew his attention. Lachlan swung around and caught sight of a body on the floor in the corner.
“Aiden?”
No response.
Cautiously, Lachlan approached. He could see movement and realized it was the rise and fall of a breathing chest. Whoever it was, they were alive. Lachlan knelt down and carefully turned the body over.
He froze. ’Twas so swollen and bruised he barely recognized Aiden’s handsome face. There were streaks of blood on his cheek and Lachlan realized that a swath of his brother’s hair on the right side had been cleaved from his head. The scalp was raw and crusted—a sickening sight.
“Christ Almighty, what’s he done to ye?” Lachlan choked out.
Aiden’s eyelids fluttered. “Have ye come to give me last rights, Father?” Aiden croaked.
“I’ve come to set ye free, Brother.”
Aiden’s left eye opened to a slit, as the right was swollen completely shut. “Lachlan? God does indeed
have a wicked sense of humor if a vision of ye is the final thing I see before I die.”
“I’m no vision,” Lachlan replied, slicing through the ropes that secured Aiden’s wrists. They too were raw and bleeding, most likely from many unsuccessful attempts to break free.
Aiden grasped Lachlan’s forearm and squeezed. “Ye’re real,” he exclaimed in wonder.
“Aye. Can ye stand?”
Aiden grimaced and shook his head. “My legs are broken.”
Lachlan clenched his hand into a tight fist of rage. Fraser was every bit the monster they all said. However, now was not the time to dwell upon it—he had to get Aiden to safety. But how? His brother was unable to walk.
Flummoxed, Lachlan looked out one of the windows, wondering if it would be possible to secure a rope around Aiden’s waist and lower him to freedom. But as he scanned the ramparts he realized it would be far too easy for one of the soldiers patrolling them to see the descent.
“Ah, so ye have finally come!” a male voice boomed in a cheerful tone. “I’m pleased to learn that ye received my invitation and acted so quickly to comply. Though ye should have announced yerself in my hall instead of sneaking in here like a thief.”
Lachlan turned. Archibald Fraser stood in the doorway. His face was flushed with wine or cold, his eyes watchful and alert, his hand tightly gripping a long-bladed dirk.
Lachlan kept his expression blank, swallowing back his disgust, tempering his response. Fraser was alone. If he could somehow maneuver him closer, there was a good chance he could slit his throat before the guards were summoned.
“I can see by yer treatment of my brother that yer hatred fer the MacTavish runs deep,” Lachlan said, refusing to allow Fraser to see how shaken he felt discovering Aiden in such a state.
“Aye. I’ve much to be angry about.” Though he spoke calmly, Fraser’s eyes were seething with a violent fury. “Ye lied to me about the McKenna bitch and ye took my family’s sword in an unfair fight.”
“Yer feud was with me, Fraser, not Aiden,” Lachlan said tightly.
“Are ye distressed by what has happened to yer brother, MacTavish? Well, ye’ve only yerself to blame. He would have been in far less pain if ye had arrived sooner,” Fraser taunted.
“I thought it would be amusing to send him back to his family in pieces,” Fraser continued, tossing the weapon he held from one hand to the other. “’Twas so difficult to decide where to start. An ear? A finger? Pity he wore no ring that his mother could easily recognize and thus know the finger belonged to her son. So instead I decided to start with a section of his golden hair. Do ye think she screamed or retched when she beheld it? I should like to believe that she did both.”
Lachlan’s stomach roiled. The bastard had scalped his brother. His fingers itched to reach for the dirk he had used to cut Aiden’s bonds that now lay beside his brother, but he knew he would only have one chance to throw it. His timing needed to be perfect or else both he and Aiden would die at Fraser’s hand. Of that there was little doubt.
“What are ye planning to do now?” Lachlan asked, inching toward the wall.
If he could position himself out of Archibald’s direct line of sight, it should give him enough of a surprise advantage to make a lethal strike. If there was any justice in this world, Fraser would have a blade protruding from his black heart before he even realized he had been attacked.
“I’ve yet to decide my next move.” Fraser laughed merrily, but there was no mistaking the murder in his eyes. “Shall I be merciful? Make certain yer death is swift and sure? Well, perhaps fer one of ye. But not fer both. Fer honor to be served, one of ye must die a slow and agonizing death.”
The venom and pure malice in Fraser’s eyes made Lachlan’s blood run cold. Then suddenly, Aiden shouted a warning as Fraser lunged toward them. Lachlan’s hand reached out fer the dirk, but came up empty.
Cursing, he crouched low, shielding his brother with his body. He could hear Fraser approaching. Somehow, Lachlan was able to raise his arm as Fraser struck, blocking the blow. The unexpected move surprised his enemy, knocking him off balance.
Fraser fell backward, staggering toward the large window. With a growl of anger, Lachlan ran toward him, slamming into Fraser’s chest with enough force to send him through the opening.
There was a look of horror and pure fear on Archibald’s face as he disappeared from view. Lachlan held his breath until he heard the dull thud of a body smashing against the hard earth below. The sound jolted through him.
He glanced at Aiden, waiting for the shouts of horror and outrage to start outside, yet all was silent.
Had no one witnessed Fraser fall? The window faced away from the courtyard, but it was the middle of the afternoon. Surely someone would have seen such a horrific sight.
“Why is it so quiet?” Aiden asked.
“I dinnae know. Fraser made no sound as he fell to his death. Is it possible none saw it happen?”
The quiet remained and hope began to flourish inside Lachlan. Was it possible that he and Aiden could flee the tower before the body was found?
“Malcolm McKenna is somewhere belowstairs. I’m going to find him. Between the two of us we should be able to carry ye out,” Lachlan told Aiden.
“Without being seen?” Aiden shook his head. “Impossible. The Fraser guards will be here any minute. Go quickly. Save yerself, Lachlan, before they arrive.”
“Nay. I came here to bring ye home and I’m not leaving without ye.”
“Dinnae be a fool, Lachlan. Ye’ve a wife, a clan to lead, important responsibilities.” Aiden released a shuddering sigh as he strained to continue speaking. “Ye’ve got far more to live fer than I do. Than I ever will.”
Lachlan’s gut twisted with pity. His proud, arrogant, defiant brother was a broken man.
“I’m not leaving ye here,” Lachlan repeated, with a confidence he was far from feeling.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. “They must have found Fraser,” Aiden rasped through clenched teeth. “Do ye have a dirk fer me?”
Lachlan pulled the weapon from his boot, pleased that for all his lamentations, Aiden did not intend to die without a fight. However, Lachlan had every intention making certain they both lived.
“Hide it fer now,” he directed, placing the dirk in Aiden’s hand. “I have an idea. If it works, ye willnae need it.”
Lachlan retrieved his other blade from the floor and waited. It took but a moment for three soldiers, swords drawn, to burst into the room.
“Thank the saints ye’ve arrived,” Lachlan exclaimed. “Is Laird Fraser all right?”
Startled by the greeting, the trio exchanged puzzled glances.
“He’s dead,” one of them said bluntly.
“Ah, ’tis as we feared. He lost his balance and fell from the window. It all happened so quickly there was no chance to save him.” Lachlan slowly crossed himself. “Pity.”
“Are ye claiming that his death was an accident?” the same soldier asked.
“Aye, a terrible, tragic accident,” Lachlan repeated.
The men blinked in surprise, then two of them turned to the third. “William?”
“I know who ye are, Lachlan MacTavish. This was no accident. Ye killed our laird,” William said with a cold look of accusation in his eyes.
“Nay! ’Twas an unfortunate mishap. A stroke of fate, the unexplainable will of God.” Lachlan sighed with theatrical exaggeration. “However, now that Archibald is gone, the most important question is who will replace him as laird? He has no direct heir. I happen to know that in such cases Scottish law allows fer the clansmen to vote and decide amongst themselves who will next lead them.”
A clammy sweat covered Lachlan’s brow. Archibald had been a cruel tyrant to his people. Most, if not all, would be happy to be freed from his yoke of abuse. Lachlan was counting on using that misery to aid him in bargaining for his and Aiden’s lives.
William’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Yer lying. The crown willnae
allow us to choose our laird.”
“They will,” Lachlan insisted. “Especially if yer new laird has the support of the MacTavish clan.”
“And the McKennas.” Malcolm stepped into the chamber.
The three soldiers pivoted, lifting their swords and assuming a fighting stance.
“The MacTavish and the McKenna are our enemies,” William cried.
“No longer,” Lachlan insisted. “Ye have my word, and that of Malcolm McKenna. The feud between us died with Archibald. Accidentally, died.”
Their eyes met briefly, and Lachlan knew William was fully aware that he was lying about Fraser’s death. He held his breath, assessing their chances if the man refused to seize this opportunity.
He and Malcolm should be able to defeat these three. As for escaping from the tower with Aiden, och, well that would prove far more challenging.
“A most tragic accident,” William said finally, taking a deep breath. He turned to the other men. “I shall inform the rest of our men of this tragedy. Ye two will have splints and a stretcher brought here at once. Laird MacTavish wishes to take his brother home.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Katherine spent all her waking hours in her mother’s solar since it overlooked the gate where she could easily watch for any sign of her husband and brothers. It had been nearly a fortnight and still no word. When would they return?
Katherine paced, stopped, stared out the window, and paced again until she feared she might go mad. In contrast, Joan sat serenely, her hands occupied embroidering an infant skullcap for her yet-to-be-born babe, her head turning only occasionally to glance out the window.
“How do ye stay so calm?” Katherine asked, blowing out a frustrated breath.
“Ye must have faith in yer husband,” Joan replied quietly, as she knotted her stitch and snipped the thread. “And mine.”
“I dinnae lack faith in either Lachlan’s or Malcolm’s abilities,” Katherine said, hugging herself. “’Tis the possibility of betrayal that frightens me. From Fraser. Or far worse, from Lachlan’s kin.”
The Bride Chooses a Highlander Page 27
