Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (37 page)

"WiIliam!" Shona felt her body grow cold.Night seemed suddenly torn away like a curtain at dawn, and by the light of the rising sun she could see the sword in his hand. "What are ye doing here?"

"I believe the question is, what are
ye
doing here, my love?"

A scream sounded from camp.

Terror ripped a hole in Shona's heart. "Nay!" she shrieked, and lunged off, but in that instant, William grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to a halt.

She struggled wildly, trying to break free. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lift his hand.

Still, she was unprepared for the blow across her cheek.

It echoed in her head. She reeled backward, trying to think. From the left, she heard a noise and tried to turn toward it. But suddenly William's arm was crushing the breath from her throat. Her back was pressed against his chest, and she could feel the sharp point of a knife just below her jaw.

She froze, fighting for breath, for thought, but suddenly he swung about, dragging her with him.

"Halt!" William ordered.

Five yards away, Dugald skidded to a stop.

"There's a good lad," William crooned. He turned his head slowly and kissed her ear. "That's right. Stay just where ye are, or your love will not be so bonny." Lifting his hand, he scraped his knife slowly along her healing wound and smiled. "But then, perhaps ye like them scarred."

A muscle jumped in Dugald's jaw, but in a heartbeat his expression went blank and he spread his hands peaceably out at his sides.

From camp, Shona heard the sharp sound of steel against steel. Another man screamed.

Instinct made her jerk toward the noise. Her movement dragged William to the left a few inches. In that moment, Dugald lunged toward them.

But William crushed her back to him with a curse and pressed the blade back against her throat.

"Move another inch," he growled, "and I'll slit her throat like a Christmas hog's."

Dugald froze, but his face was not so stoic. For a moment Shona saw wild lightning flash in his eyes. William laughed.

"So I was right," he murmured. "Ye
do
care for the little bitch. But who does not? Even Hadwin turned against me in the end. He had nothing against a few practical jokes, a cut girth, a bit of a brawl to make the others look like fools. But he would not hurt the lady." He nuzzled her neck with his cheek. "Poor fool. Another who thought ye might actually care for him. But tell me, Shona love, do ye return Kinnaird's feeling, or is it no more than lust?"

She didn't answer. From camp, a cry was cut short. She whimpered in terror. Where was Kelvin? And what of Rachel?

"Are ye worried for your little friends?" he asked. His lips grazed her ear as he spoke. She shivered at the touch. "If so, perhaps you should have stayed with them instead of creeping out here to meet your lover."

Someone yelled a curse.

"What do you want with her, William?" Dugald asked. His voice was even, rational, the tone calming, somehow.

"What do I want with her?" William laughed. "I want what any man would want with a haughty bitch like her. I want to teach her humility. She could have avoided all this and taken my suit."

Shona gritted her teeth against the acid taste of terror as his knife bit into her throat.

"But she thought herself too good. Too good for
me\
" William growled. "Ye think I did not see how ye two stared at each other. Like animals in rut. But tis not too late for her to pay for her mistakes. And maybe..." He ground his crotch against her buttocks. "Maybe if you're good, Dugald the
Dragon,
I'll let ye watch. Unfortunately, there won't be much left of her when I'm through. Some think my amorous techniques a bit rough. My lovely Deirdra, God rest her, thought it better to throw herself from the turrets than to return to my bed once the child was born. But what can ye expect? I have been patient. So patient, I need to expend my frustration somewhere."

Shona gasped at the ugliness of his words. Panic threatened. But that was what he wanted. He wanted her afraid and terrified, blubbering for mercy. That much she knew, and that she would not give him. But mayhap, if she were lucky, if she were smart, if she'd not misjudged Dugald...she forced down the fear, jerked her head to the right, and yelled, "Nay, Kelvin!"

William twisted to the right, and in that second Dugald threw his knife. It hissed through the air and sliced into William's shoulder. He staggered back with a rasp of pain.

Shona jerked away. William reached for her. His fingers snapped her sleeve, but she lurched forward.

From behind her, she could hear the sound of running feet.

"Lord William?" someone cried.

"Get her, damn ye!" he roared.

Shona pivoted about to look, but suddenly a hand grabbed hers. She turned to fight then realized it was Dugald who was dragging her along. Relief washed through her. She spurted after him, running, bent and wild, through the woods away from camp.

Someone approached from their right. Shona felt his evil presence before she saw him. She screamed to Dugald. He dropped her hand, slammed to a halt, and spun toward the intruder.

There was a moment of silence as he leapt then the sharp crack of bone.

In a heartbeat Dugald was up beside her again, grasping her hand and urging her on. She tried to see over her shoulder, to search for others. But branches and bracken blocked her view. Still, no matter how far they ran, she knew they were pursued, could hear men scrambling after them.

"How many are coming?" Dugald asked.

She had no way of knowing, and yet she did. "Three," she gasped. "Maybe four."

He pulled her sharply to the left. She stumbled and fell to her knees in the bracken. In a moment he was down beside her.

"Stay put!" he hissed and rose.

The pursuers were nearly upon them. "Dugald." She tried to rise, but he pushed her back.

"Down!" he growled and sprang away.

Someone shrieked a battle cry, but the noise ended abruptly. From her hiding place, Shona saw William's soldier drop his sword and stumble back, his torso impaled on a seven-foot branch.

The next man leapt forward, but Dugald snatched the dead man's spilled sword and swept it upward. The villain blocked the cut. Dugald's sword broke in two. The brigand shrieked in glee and lunged. But Dugald spun about in a wild circle and slammed the broken blade into the hollow of his throat.

He fell clawing at the bloody hilt.

The rest was a haze of movement and screams. But in a moment all was silent, and Dugald stood alone. He turned and ran toward her. His sleeve was torn and blood stained the fabric, but otherwise he seemed unscathed.

“How did ye do that?'' she whispered, her gaze frozen on the gore.

"Come," he said, reaching for her hand.

Light exploded from the camp. Men screamed.

"Nay!" Twas a boy's cry that issued through the morning air.

"Kelvin!" Shona yelled. She scrambled to her feet. Dugald grabbed her, but she fought him off.

"Kelvin!" she yelled again, and jerking free, scrambled away.

"Shona!" Dugald yelled. "Nay. Stay here."

But she could not. Heart pounding, lungs aching, she flew through the woods. It seemed like an eternity before she burst into camp.

Bodies lay strewn everywhere. She stumbled past them, searching for the boy.

Rachel jerked from Liam's arms and ran toward her.

"Rachel." Relief flooded through Shona as she pulled her cousin into her arms. They clung together, blocking out reality for a few brief moments. But the reprieve could not be prolonged. The nightmare was real. "Rachel," Shona said, pressing her to arms' length. "Where is Kelvin?"

Rachel's face was streaked with blood and dirt, but beneath the grime, she was as pale as death.

"They took him," she whispered.

"Nay!" Shona fell to her knees, still clasping her cousin's hand. "Tis not so."

Rachel knelt down beside her, holding her in her arms as she rocked back and forth.

"Why?" Liam asked. He was gripping his right arm. Blood oozed between his fingers. “Why did they come? What did they want?"

"Tis my fault." Bullock stumbled up. His leg bandage was bloody and there was a slash cut across his temple. "I failed. I slept." His face was somber, his expression tortured. "I slept while I should have guarded."

Shona rose slowly to her feet. There was no time for mourning—not now. "No one heard them come, Bullock. Not until it was too late. And ye were wounded and drugged."

"Twas as if we were all drugged," Liam said, his tone confused, his face twisted in agony.

"Why?"

"It makes no difference why!" Bullock growled. "Twas my duty to stand guard. And twill be me who will make the bastards pay!" He stepped forward, but even as he did so, he faltered on his wounded knee.

Shona caught his arm. "Nay! Please dunna go," Shona pleaded. Bullock had been her friend and protector long before she had known the meaning of the words. Now, it seemed, it was her time to protect him. "Ye must not go after them. Stay here."

He turned to her, surprised by her response. "What of the boy?" he asked.

"What of Rachel?" she countered. "Ye know how she is. She will tend the wounded and forget all her own needs. What if yet another evil should befall her?"

Bullock scowled. "But the lad is like a son to ye."

"And Rachel is like a daughter to the Flame," she said. "Your loyalty lies with her."

Understanding shone in Bullock's face. "And what are
your
plans?'' he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Dunna worry over me," she said.

A soldier limped up. "We must return to Dun Ard. Gather troops," he said.

But Rachel's gaze never left Shona's face. "Ye plan to go after them yourself," she whispered.

"Dun Ard is too far," Shona said, ignoring Rachel's words. "Blackburn is closer. Go there. Tell Hawk what has happened. He will send a message to Father."

"Why did we sleep so?" Liam asked, still mired in his questions. "Twas like an evil spell."

"Shona," Rachel said. "Ye must come with us to Blackburn. Hawk will send troops. They'll find Kelvin. They'll bring him back."

"Damn William to the depths of hell!" Bullock swore.

"Why did he do it?" Liam asked. "Why attack us? Why take the boy? Surely he can do them no good. He is but a waif."

"It matters little why he did it," Bullock growled, glancing around at his fallen men. "For he will roast in hell for his sins, no matter what the reason."

But Liam was of an entirely different mind. Born without Bullock's tremendous bulk, he had survived by his wit and cunning. He turned his gaze on Shona, his eyes narrowed as if he could see through her to her soul. "Why?" he repeated. "What did they want?"

She shook her head, afraid she knew the reason, yet hoping against hope that she was wrong. "I dunna know," she whispered.

"William wanted Shona," Dugald said, striding up. "She was his quarry."

"What?" Rachel and Liam spoke in unison.

"William attacked Shona in the woods."

"What were ye doing in the woods?" Rachel asked.

"Revenge, then?" Liam said. "Revenge for breaking their engagement?"

"A stinted lover?" Bullock rasped. "He has slaughtered my men and his own cousin for naught but his bruised pride?"

"What has happened here?" A soldier wandered up, his eyes round and bewildered, his gait still unsteady with sleep.

All eyes turned to him.

"Stephen!" Bullock gasped, "Ye have survived?"

"Survived? 1 was fast asleep." He glanced dazedly about. "Surely this is but a dream."

"A dream!" Bullock rasped, and lunged toward his own man, but Liam stopped him, able, in Bullock's weakened state, to pull him to a halt easily.

"Do ye say ye slept through the entire battle?" Liam asked.

"I..." Stephen paused, hugging his wounded arm to his side. The bandage from the night before seemed inordinately clean amidst the chaos. "I did naught but sleep after Lady Rachel tended my wounds."

Rachel scowled. "The herbs should not have been so strong that..."

A shriek cut her words short.

They turned as a unit toward the noise.

A soldier stumbled from a tent, staring wildly about at the carnage around him. "Merciful God, what has happened?"

"Where have ye been?" Bullock growled.

"I... I..." The soldier stumbled toward them, looking disoriented and hazy.

"Tis as if we were bewitched," Liam murmured.

"Did this man take your herbs, Lady Rachel?" Dugald asked.

"Nay, he—"

"Warwick." Liam said the name softly, as if he did not mean to say it at all.

Shona turned quickly toward him, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs, her stomach sick.

“What are ye saying, Liam?"

"Tis the work of the Dark Sorcerer. He made it all seem peaceful here beneath the rowans.
He
did this."

"Nay. The wizard is dead. Boden killed him."

"Boden killed him," Liam murmured, "but he is not dead."

"Ye make no sense," Rachel said, but just then someone groaned. She jerked toward the noise as if wrenched from her own terror and hurried to the downed man's side.

Liam went after her.

Shona watched him go, her mind boggled, her fear escalating.

Warwick! Alive! But how? And if so, why would he have come here?

The answer came to her quickly. She reached up and pulled Dragonheart from beneath her nightgown. The amulet glowed warm against her palm.

Could the old wizard have somehow survived Boden's sword? And if so, could he now be haunting her, still trying to obtain Dragonheart? Twas not possible. Why would anyone want the pendant enough to kill for it?

"Bullock," Liam said, returning to the group. "Rachel says for ye to lie down. Stephen and Andrew, she needs your assistance."

The two soldiers hurried off to help tend the wounded, and Bullock, though told to do otherwise, limped off to do the same.

Liam turned toward Shona. Their gazes met.

"Why does the wizard want Dragonheart?" he asked.

"What are ye talking about?" Shona asked.