Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (38 page)

"What has the pendant done for ye?"

She shook her head in confusion, but Liam stepped forward and grasped her hand in his own.

"What gifts has it given ye, lass?" he asked.

"Ye canna truly believe tis magic."

"Sara held the dragon before ye," he said. "Three days she was in the wilds alone. Three days with a bairn not old enough to crawl. Not a bite did she have to eat, not a drop of milk for the babe.

But neither of them sustained so much as a scratch for their trials."

"And ye would give credit to the pendant?" she asked, incredulous, confused, shaken.

He remained silent then blew out a heavy breath. "In truth, lass, it matters naught what I believe.

It only matters what the wizard believes."

"The wizard," Dugald said. "The one called Warwick?"

"Dunna say his name out loud!" Liam warned then lowered his voice. "No good can come of it."

"Ye think he is after Shona's pendant because of its powers?"

"Dragonheart is not Shona's," Liam said. "She is only keeping it for a time."

"Keeping it for whom?"

Liam shrugged, impatient and angry. "I dunna know. I only know that she has it now, and as long as she does, the wizard will hound her."

"The wizard is dead," Shona whispered.

"Did ye see his body?" Liam asked. "Nay. And neither did I. I should have searched for him harder. I should not have given up."

"If the pendant endangers her, then she should be rid of it," Dugald said.

"Nay!" Liam's tone was sharp, but softened in a moment. "Nay, it has come to her for a reason."

"Come to me?" The whole thing seemed unreal, and yet, somehow, Shona was not surprised at Liam's words, for there was something about the dragon that was not quite normal, not quite earthly.

"What powers does it give that the wizard would wish to possess?" Dugald asked.

"How would I know what is in his twisted mind? I am not like him!" Liam snapped.

Shona stared at him.

Liam ran splayed fingers through his hair and drew a deep breath. "I dunna know," he said more softly. "Mayhap tis all foolishness conjured up in a sick old man's mind."

There was a moment of silence as each person turned to his own thoughts.

"What kind of bird is behind you, Shona?" Dugald asked quietly.

"What?" Shona turned to him in surprise, certain he had lost his mind.

"There is a bird on a branch behind you. What kind is it?"

"Our men are dead or wounded and ye would ask about a bird?"

He stared at her. “I would know why William of Atberry held a knife to your throat,'' Dugald said, his voice deadly soft. “I would know why, before I cut his heart from his chest."

She swallowed, remembering the sharp snap of a broken neck and Dugald's stoic expression as he left the man dead.

"Tis a treecreeper behind me," she whispered. "In fact, there are two of them."

Liam started. "How did ye know?"

Scowling, Shona shrugged. "I dunna know. I suppose I heard their calls."

"In the midst of battle, with your mind boggled by the loss of a boy ye love like a son?" Liam said. "Amidst all that, ye heard the high-pitched call of a tiny bird?"

Shona tightened her fingers over Dragonheart. "He has enhanced my senses?" she asked, awestruck and quiet. "Is that what ye think?"

"I canna explain it, lass. Your senses have always been uncanny. Mayhap it but enhances one's own gifts. I dunna know its mysteries, and for that I am sorry. I only know that the Dark Sorcerer thinks it precious beyond all else."

She straightened. "It matters naught if it is magical or nay," she said. "Nor does it matter why the wizard wants it. All that matters is Kelvin's life."

"We will get him back," Dugald said. "They came for
you
, of that much I am certain. They only took the lad to lure you to them."

Shona's stomach turned over. "They would use him as bait?"

"Aye," Dugald said. "And therefore they dare not kill him."

"Kill him!" She could hear the terror in her own voice, could taste the bile in her throat. "I must go!"

"Go?" Dugald caught her arm. "You are not thinking, Shona. They have two dozen men, all trained and well armed. We have little more than a handful of warriors, and most of them wounded."

"Shona," Rachel called. "Come here."

Shona hurried through the camp to where her cousin knelt beside a fallen man.

"Hadwin." Shona whispered his name as she crouched beside Rachel. "What happened?"

"William!" Hadwin croaked. His eyes were wide and staring, his skin waxy. "I did not know."

Shona grasped his hand between her own. It felt unearthly cold. "He took Kelvin, Hadwin.

Why? Where did they go?"

"I swear... I was not privy to his plans," he whispered again. "He wanted you, but..." His body spasmed. "Forgive me," he rasped, and went limp.

She rose slowly to her feet. Rage coursed through her. She turned away.

"Shona," Liam said, "tis too dangerous. Ye canna go."

"Twill be safer alone."

"Alone?" Dugald's tone was as deep as the earth as he watched her from a few inches away.

"Aye. They are not nearly so likely to see one coming as a whole troop. And too," she said, pressing the pendant's warmth against her chest. "If Dragonheart is powerful, surely he will aid me.

For this much I know, the amulet is not evil. Mayhap this is the very purpose for which he came to me, to give me the strength to see Kelvin safely returned."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Liam glance at Rachel. She saw her cousin nod and turned toward the magician.

She knew he would try to stop her. But she would not let him. "Ye needn't worry, Liam," she said. "I am stronger than ye think—"

But suddenly, reality dipped, the earth tilted beneath her feet. And though she fell like a bobbing apple into dark waves, she knew it was Dugald who had betrayed her.

Shona awoke slowly. She lay on her back inside a tent. Outside, the world was dim, darkened by either clouds or nightfall. She remained still a moment, trying to ascertain which. Twas clouds, she decided, then remained motionless a while longer as she marshaled her senses. She did not know exactly how much time had passed since Dugald had spilled her into oblivion, but it had been less than half an hour, of that she was certain. Someone had carried her inside her tent, hoping to keep her safe. Their intentions were good, she knew, but that knowledge did nothing to improve her mood.

After all, Kelvin's life lay in the balance.

The memory of him brought her fully awake. William had taken Kelvin. William, who had pretended to care about her. Anger burned through her, but she stilled it, forcing herself to think, to plan. She did not know why the duke had taken the boy. But just now it made no difference, for it would not change her actions.

Rising to her knees, she swayed then steadied herself. The tender dell below her left ear throbbed, but she ignored it.

Now she must gather what she needed and leave before the others realized she was awake, for they would try to stop her. Glancing about, Shona recognized the canvas bag that contained her clothing. Dropping to her hands and knees, she crawled silently to it, pulled out her leather breeches and a simple tunic, slipped off her nightgown, and dressed in the men's garments. She left her feet bare, plaited her hair into one thick braid, and retrieved her knife from the floor.

Rising silently, she stood motionless and listened. Through the canvas walls of the tent, it seemed she could hear every word spoken—Rachel's quiet orders as she continued to tend the wounded; Liam as he joked with the same. Where was Dugald? She concentrated a moment longer, then placed him some hundred rods away, speaking quietly with Bullock.

Apparently she had awakened before they'd expected her to. Therefore she must leave now, while she still had the chance.

Turning toward the back of the tent, Shona made one quick slice through the canvas. It parted in cooperative silence. She slipped through, glanced warily about, and hurried into the woods.

This would be a mission of stealth and cunning. An arsenal of weapons would do her little good against William's might. All she would need was a horse and a bow... and more luck than any one person was likely to have in a lifetime.

The trail was not difficult to see, for William wanted nothing more than to be followed. Dugald urged Eagle on. He could not be more than an hour behind Shona.

But what would happen when she found Kelvin? Dugald's gut tightened with dread. He forced his thoughts aside; he would not think of that now. He would not think of her life in danger, or how her skin felt beneath his hands. Those thoughts only boggled his mind.

He would not even think of how he would kill William, though surely that time would come.

For now, he would concentrate on the matter at hand.

They were heading south by west. Why? Where were they going? Unbidden questions burned in his mind, blurring his thinking. He steeled himself, blocking away the fear. Instead, he would plan.

Of one thing he was certain: the element of surprise would be on Shona's side. Never would a coward like William expect a maid to challenge him unaided. Nay, he would be certain she would bring her soldiers, soldiers who had been wounded, soldiers who would slow her progress.

They had fought like true warriors. That much had been obvious in the pale light of morning.

Though five of Dun Ard's men had been killed, William had lost nearly twice that many. Where they had come from, Dugald didn't know. Mayhap the Irishman was correct. Maybe there was a wizard who had brought more men and cast an ungodly spell over the camp. If that was the truth, what other kind of dark illusions could he cause to overtake people's minds?

Whatever the case, Shona had not slept. Could the amulet be magical? Could it have called her away from camp? And what about himself? Was the amulet responsible for his own survival, or was it Shona's own bright allure that had kept him awake, had drawn him to her?

No answers came, only more questions; so Dugald rode on, urging the miles to rush away beneath the galloping hooves of his horse.

The trail ended just before dawn of the second day.

Dugald hunkered down in the shadow of the woods and stared through his glass at the distant fortress.

Kirkwood Castle. It was a small estate, but it would be easily fortified. For more than half a league in every direction, the land was devoid of trees, offering no cover to any who might hope to breech the stronghold. Beith Burn flowed deep and fast past the feet of the castle and beneath its huge bridge. Around the entire fortress the land had been dug away so that the water of the Beith swelled about the towering brownstone.

Lowering his leatherbound glass, Dugald settled back on his heels. Where was Shona? Surely she had not already gone to Kirkwood, he thought, and though he believed he must be correct, the idea made him feel sick. He could not be too late.

Dugald calmed his breathing with an effort and turned to logic. She had ridden through one day and one night without sleep. She would rest for a spell before attempting to rescue the boy—alone, herself against an army who held a child for a purpose she did not know.

Dugald gritted his teeth in dire frustration. There was no logic in any of this. How could he plan? How could he think, when none of it made sense?

Why did they want Shona, and why would she go after them alone? True, she was no wilting maid, but surely she did not think she could challenge the might of a fortress alone. Unless, mayhap, she believed Liam's words, that the dragon aided her. Could she think herself invincible?

But no. She had been shocked at the Irishman's words. She would not depend on some pendant of metal and stone to see her through this challenge. Therefore, she must have some other plan in mind, some plan that did not depend on brute force.

So what could she be thinking? What kind of...

Dugald's mind froze.

She was not planning to try to breach Kirkwood Castle atall. She was planning to give herself up—an even exchange, her own life for the child's.

The thought struck him like a rock to the back of the head, and he trembled, for suddenly he knew it was true.

He rose with a start, his heart pounding. He must find her now, before it was too late to tell her all the things he had neglected to say. To admit why he had been sent. To beg forgiveness, now that he knew the truth. She was all that was good. No woman who could care so for another's child would ever plan the death of the young king.

Dugald pivoted toward his horse, then stopped abruptly, for there, not two rods in front of him, stood Shona.

"Lass!" he rasped. Was she real or an illusion conjured up by fatigue—or perhaps by the wizard Liam had spoken of? "Shona?" he said dubiously. Still she did not disappear. He took a tentative step forward. "You are well?"

Her expression was absolutely solemn, strained by worry. "What are ye doing here?" she asked.

She was real. She was hale.

"I've come to find you."

"Why?" She stood with her leather-clad legs spread slightly, her auburn hair plaited and tossed against her back. "To assist me, or to again knock me on the head?"

It was the peeved tone of her voice that made him relax a mite. No illusion could sound so irritated that he had come to save her.

"I did not knock you on the head," he said.

"Then what did ye do?"

"I...discouraged you from coming here and risking your life."

"Discouraged me? Warning me of danger is discouraging. Telling me I am a fool to go is discouraging," she said. "Rendering me unconscious with a touch of your hand is something else all together." She was silent for a moment, then, "Who are ye?"

"You know who I am."

"Aye. Ye are a man who says he has come to woo me, yet who insults me at every turn. Ye are a man who proclaims himself a coward, yet who can kill without weapons, without sound, without effort. I would know now who that man is."

He stared at her for a moment, feeding his weakness, letting himself drink in the sight of her.