Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (43 page)

"Dear God!" Shona gasped. Turning wildly about she yanked open a door on their left.

They flew inside. Shona slammed the door shut. By the light from an iron candelabrum, Dugald searched for a bar to lock them in, but there was none. Racing across the room, he snatched a shield from the wall, propped it beneath the door latch, and jammed it against an uneven floor board. Then he grabbed the handle of a nearby trunk and dragged it across the floor to hold the shield in place.

Something shattered behind him. He swung toward the noise. Shona was beating at the window with a stool, but the panes were thick and reinforced with iron. He ran to help her, but even as he did so, the door rattled as someone threw his weight on the far side.

Shona swung the stool harder. Shards of glass sprayed away. Metal twisted but held.

Snatching up a wooden chest by its handle, Dugald slammed it like a mace against the window.

One pane creaked as a small portion twisted outward.

"Break it down!" William screamed.

Bodies slammed against the far side of the door.

Shona swung her stool with renewed vigor. Dugald wielded the iron-bound chest. More window broke away. Nearly enough. Nearly. He swung again.

The trunk scraped inward as the door was forced open. Men streamed in.

Dugald heaved the chest with all his might. It shattered the window, broke away the iron, and fell outside.

But there was no time to follow it. He swung toward the intruders. Snatching up the candelabrum, he wielded it like a sword. It struck the first man full in the face. He screamed as he stumbled sideways. Flames flared like fiery snakes in his hair.

The next man lunged forward. Dugald swung again. A candle soared through the air, leaving its metal prong empty and deadly. The sharp end slashed across the soldier's throat. He stumbled back into his companions, grasping at his throat.

"Through the window!" Dugald yelled. But even now men were swarming past their fallen comrades into the room.

"Back! Get back!" William yelled. The men moved to the side, letting their lord pass. In his hand he held a sword, and in his eyes there was a killing rage. "It seems only right that I slay the dragon. Get the woman," he said, and lunged.

"To the window!" Dugald shouted, but already it was too late and Shona knew it.

Darting forward, she snatched up a fallen sword and swung with all her might.

The closest man leapt back with a scream, holding his arm. The next came on, not knowing he dealt with a desperate woman trained to fight. He dashed toward her then stumbled back, a diagonal slash across his chest.

"Jump!" Dugald yelled, turning just in time to see she had a respite.

Pain seared through his arm, slamming him back to the reality of his own battle.

William laughed, the sound high-pitched. "So ye think ye can stop me, Kinnaird." He advanced.

Dugald retreated, still holding his impromptu weapon. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the bed drapery had caught fire.

Shona stood with a sword held in both hands, her legs spread wide as soldiers fanned out before her.

"Aye," Dugald said, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. "I will stop you. You shall never be king."

William raised his brows. "How did you know?" he asked, advancing slowly.

Behind him a tapestry caught fire.

"Twas the way you wooed Shona. You were too patient. Twas obvious you had more important things on your mind. And once I met the maid, I wondered what you could think more important Mayhap the life of a king, I thought. So twas
you
who tried to have him killed."

William circled, his arms spread wide. "Young James is inordinately lucky, I fear. But that was before I found the wizard. His gifts are astounding. Ye would be impressed," he said, and lunged.

Dugald danced backward, and William smiled. "I'm in no hurry to kill ye, Kinnaird. As ye said, I'm a patient man. All these years I have waited, amassing my armies, training my sons. Once the king is dead, nothing will stand between me and the throne, and no one will have the power to change that, not with the wizard at my beck and call."

"So twas your plan to steal Dragonheart from the maid, then give the pendant to the sorcerer so that he would have the power to dispense of the boy king?"

"Tis still my plan," William snarled, and swung as he leapt.

The blade swept across Dugald's chest. Blood sprayed into the air. William sprang forward, but Dugald wrenched up his weapon, blocking the next swipe before stumbling weakly back.

Pain as hot as the flame that licked the walls swept through him. But he gasped for breath and strength as he held the iron in front of him. He could not fail her. He could not.

"Tis still my plan," William repeated. "I will be king."

He struck again. Dugald blocked the first stroke, but his weapon was heavy and cumbersome, his arms weakening from loss of blood.

The next swipe came from the side, cutting across his biceps.

The candelabrum fell from his numb fingers.

William lunged forward and Dugald leapt back. But his strength was draining with his blood, and his feet caught in the rug that bunched beneath his feet.

He fell. William leapt forward. Dugald rolled to the side, and William, unable to stop, stabbed his sword into the wooden floor. It held there for only an instant, but in that moment, Dugald grasped a candle from the floor. Flame soared as he swept it through the air and slammed it into William's face.

The duke screamed and stumbled back. His sword clattered to the floor, but he snatched out his knife and lunged forward.

Death screamed in Dugald's ear, but if he died, so would Shona.

He wrenched the candelabrum from the floor, but had enough strength only to point it upward.

Filled with wild blood lust, William threw himself forward. Too late, he saw the deadly prongs waiting for him.

They sliced into him, impaling him just below the sternum.

His eyes went wide with shock and horror. Bloody froth foamed at the corners of his mouth. He stumbled weakly back, the candlestick protruding from his torso.

"I will..." He stumbled again then caught himself on the wall. Flames licked at his feet, though he did not seem to notice. "I will be king!" he rasped, and toppled backward onto the floor.

"He's dead!" a soldier hissed.

"Jesus God!" another murmured. "He meant to kill the king."

"Heads will roll for this."

"Not mine!" someone rasped, and lunged away.

Panic boiled up like hot tar. Men rushed from the flaming room.

"Dugald!" Shona stumbled toward him and fell at his side. "Dugald, are ye all right?"

He grasped her hand. Something smeared warm and sticky between his fingers. He turned his head and realized with stunning relief that the blood was his own.

He turned his eyes to hers. They looked unearthly bright by the light of the fires that blazed around them.

"Go, Shona."

She laughed. The sound was wild. "Surely ye jest."

"Leave now, before tis too late."

"Never. I will never leave ye."

His back felt wet. He realized vaguely that it was his own blood he felt, seeping like a warm pool into the floor boards.

"And what of Kelvin?" he asked.

"Get up!" she ordered, pulling his arm.

"Where's the boy?" he asked.

"Shut up!" she yelled. "I willna go without ye. If ye stay, I stay!"

Dugald remained as he was for a moment, but if he knew anything, he knew she was stubborn enough to do as she said. Closing his eyes against the numbness, he tried to sit up.

"Give me the amulet."

Dugald snapped his gaze to the doorway. Amidst the flame and smoke, a black robed man stood.

"Warwick," Shona whispered.

"Give it to me," he ordered, his voice low, his opaque eyes eerie.

She pulled at Dugald again, still trying to drag him from the floor. He could not die; she would not let him. "I dunna have it."

Warwick stepped forward, seeming to walk on fire. Flames licked at his robe, but his milky eyes never flickered from her face.

"Ye do," he countered. "The farther I got from you, the weaker I felt the power of the dragon.

You still have it. But where?"

Beside her, Dugald forced himself to sit up.

Shona nearly sobbed with relief, but Warwick came on. "Stay back," she ordered, and swept a knife from the floor. "Stay back or I swear ye will die this day."

The old wizard stopped, but then he chuckled. The sound was low and evil. "Such bravery. Tis almost a shame to see it die."

"And if I die...then what? Ye shall never have Dragonheart."

"Maybe not," Warwick murmured. "But what if I kill him first?" he asked, nodding toward Dugald. "What then, lass?"

With a strength caused by sheer primal terror, she pulled Dugald to his feet. He felt as limp as a kitten by her side, no more substantial than a doll of rags. "Ye cannot kill him," Shona sobbed. "Ye canna; he is the greatest warrior that ever lived. Dugald the Dragon, they call him."

Warwick laughed. The sound quivered through the crackling air like a banshee's howl. "So you have two dragons! But I only need one!" he shrieked and raised his clawed hand.

Dugald stiffened and staggered backward.

"What's wrong!" Shona cried, struggling to hold him up. "What is it?"

"He is dying!" Warwick screamed. His voice screeched above the roar of the fire that crackled all around them. "Suffocating because of you."

"Nay!"

"Give me the amulet."

"I dunna have it!" she cried.

Dugald staggered sideways. She went with him. Heat seared her legs. Terror scoured her soul.

"Tell me or he dies!" roared Warwick.

Dugald stumbled. She tried to hold him up, but in a moment, he fell to his knees. Shona collapsed to the floor, still encircling him in her arms.

"Let him go! Let him go!" she screamed.

"Give me the amulet!"

"I canna!" she sobbed.

Warwick roared with rage and lunged toward them, arms outstretched.

Death screamed her name. She dropped over Dugald's body, covering him, holding him for one last moment.

"Warwick!"

The name shrieked through the room. The wizard shuddered to a halt and turned.

Barely daring to breathe, Shona raised her head, but the flames obliterated the doorway.

"Who is there?" shrieked Warwick.

"Let them go!"

It was Liam's voice. Shona clasped Dugald's tunic in tight fingers, silently begging him to breathe, to live.

"Who are you?" Warwick asked, stepping forward.

"Let them go," Liam repeated, "or by all that is mighty, ye will pay."

"Liam," Warwick hissed. "Come to me."

"Tis not likely, old man."

"Come to me now, or I will kill them both."

No one spoke. The flames crackled higher. Terror rode Shona like a spurred horseman.

"Very well then," rasped the old man, and spun toward them.

"Nay!" Liam screamed, and sprang through the doorway.

Flames billowed around him. For a moment he looked like the devil incarnate. But the sparks died in his hair.

"You have come," Warwick crooned, "after all these years. Twill be you and I, now. We will be invincible..." He turned slowly toward Shona. "Once we have the dragon."

The breath stopped cold in Shona's throat. She shuddered and squeezed her eyes closed, unable to meet his gaze. But even then she could feel him coming, knew he would kill her.

"I've got the amulet!" Liam's words echoed in the room.

The wizard turned slowly toward him.

Liam held up his fist. A short length of chain dangled from between his fingers.

The dark wizard stepped toward him. "The powers of the dragon!" he hissed. "We will learn them and leash them. Nothing will withstand our might."

"Nay, old man," Liam said. "I have the power." He raised his fist. "So much power that I dare throw it away. Ye want it...go get it," he said and twisting about, tossed it into the inferno behind him.

"No!" screamed Warwick. The cry wailed through the castle, and then, like a craven hound, he sprang after it into the flames.

Liam leapt across the floor. Grabbing Shona by the arm, he yanked her to her feet.

"Get out!" he yelled. "Get out!"

She fought wildly against him. "Not without Dugald."

"He's dead."

"Nay!" She jerked her arm free and fell down beside him. "He is not dead!" she cried, and just then she heard him gasp for breath. "He's not dead," she gasped, stunned by the truth. "Liam, help me."

"God's balls," Liam swore. A beam of wood crackled and collapsed from above the doorway.

"We'll not get him out that way."

"The window!" Shona cried.

Liam rushed to the shattered pane and glanced below. "Twould be kinder to kill him here."

"When have I ever been kind?" she rasped. "Dugald, get up. We'll have to jump."

His eyes opened. "Jump?" he whispered.

Tears welled in her eyes. She smiled and wiped them away. "Tis no great feat for ye. Not for Dugald the Dragon."

"Tis about time you got my name right."

She sobbed a laugh. "I'll not forget again if ye promise to live."

He raised a hand gently to her cheek. "I fear the choice is not mine, lass," he said, and let his eyes fall closed.

"Nay!" She jerked at his tunic with both hands. "If ye die now, ye will forever be remembered as Dugald the Dastardly."

"I do not think I could live with that," he said.

"Then come," she whispered, and dragged him to his feet.

He grimaced in agony but shuffled slowly to the window. They crawled onto the sill together and glanced down. Fifty feet below them, the river roiled black and cold.

Shona grasped his hand. Fear coiled in her stomach, but there was a stronger emotion.

"I love ye," she whispered.

Dugald turned to her, his face streaked with soot and blood. "And I love ye, lass, forever and always, no matter the outcome."

"God's balls, will ye two hurry up?" yelled Liam. "The Irishman is frying in here."

"Forever and always," Shona said, and they leapt together.