Highlander Untamed (34 page)

“Will we be back before dark?”

Rory nodded. “We can pick up our pace when Colin returns.”

They’d traveled slowly, enabling Colin and a small party of warriors to scout ahead of them as they rode. Rory was not taking any chances. With the Highland gathering and temporary truce behind them, Isabel knew that Rory anticipated an attack from the Mackenzies. In fact, Douglas had led a small party of MacLeod warriors to follow the Mackenzies early that morning to ensure that they departed Kyle Akin, where they would cross to Kyle of Lochalsh. Rory had also kept a close eye on Sleat, who had traveled in the party with her family as far as Dunscaith Castle. Dunscaith was very close to Armadale, where Argyll and her father would then cross to Mallaig.

She inhaled the salt-filled air. The sea was close. The
birlinns
moored along the shore in the village would carry them back to Dunvegan.

The deep laughter of men echoed in her ears. The MacLeods were still basking in the glow of their resounding victory. For most of the journey, she’d been subjected to the loud, boastful banter of Rory’s warriors replaying every second of the various trials of skill and strength that had taken place over the past few days.

As the stories were mostly about him, Rory kept unusually silent, but he did seem amused by the more exaggerated retellings. Yet even though he seemed relaxed, Isabel knew he was constantly alert to their surroundings. She was watching him so closely, she noticed him tense.

“What’s wrong?” Isabel teased. “Are the stories of your legendary skills not to your liking?”

Ignoring her gentle ribbing, he frowned. “Colin should have returned by now.”

Isabel felt a shiver of fear creep down her spine, but Rory’s presence prevented her from panicking. “Do you think…?” She didn’t want to voice her fears.

“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances.” He halted his men and began issuing his commands; the sudden pounding of hooves stopped him. It was Colin, and from the blood running down his arm, Isabel knew what had happened.

“Mackenzies,” Colin gasped, his breathing labored from his hard ride. He pointed. “About a score of them, ahead.” He looked directly at Rory. “They were waiting by the boats, but now they’re heading in this direction.”

“Mackenzies?” Isabel echoed. Her blood ran cold. “But Douglas watched them cross the kyle this morning.”

“It was a trick,” Rory said. “The Mackenzie did not send all his men to the gathering. He must have sent others separately, in secret, trying to catch us unaware.” But Rory was never unaware. As he began to shout his commands, Isabel realized that he’d anticipated something like this. If it weren’t for her presence, Isabel suspected he’d be looking forward to the fight. He seemed to thrive on the pressure, on the danger. Except when he looked to her; then he looked worried. “Isabel, stay close to Alex. He will lead you from harm.” She didn’t want to leave him, but he must have read her thoughts. “You will obey me. We don’t have much time, they’ll try to surround us.” Even as he spoke, Isabel could hear the sounds of horses coming from behind. To Alex he said in a low voice, “Take her through the trees. We will meet you at the boats. And Alex, you know with what I entrust you?”

Alex met his brother’s gaze and nodded, then spun his horse around.

“You’ll be careful,” she pleaded.

His gaze met hers, and something passed between them. An intensity of emotion that bore deep into her bones. “Aye, lass,” he said gently, “now hurry.”

With one long look at Rory, she turned after Alex. The Mackenzies were heading straight for them, having just crested the small rise ahead of them. Arrows started to fly. Her heart pounded with fear. What if something happened to Rory? What if she never saw him again? She should have kissed him, told him that she loved him, but it was already too late.

Rory and his men attacked right in the direction of the flying arrows.

“Hurry, Isabel,” Alex shouted.

Only the knowledge that her presence would endanger Rory even more gave Isabel the strength to leave him. She would not make the same mistake she’d made before. Rory was the greatest warrior she’d ever beheld; his skills would not fail him. Still, she could not quiet the voice in her head that reminded her even Achilles had his heel.

The fierce battle cry of the MacLeods echoed in her ears as she followed Alex into the forest at breakneck speed. The light was fading fast. She couldn’t repress the shudder of trepidation that moved over her as the memories assailed her. The forest. Dusk. It was too eerily similar. Fear rose in the back of her throat, but she tamped it down.

They rode for a few minutes, but her thoughts never strayed far from the battle taking place behind them or the man who was waging it.
Please, don’t let anything happen to him.
Suddenly, she heard a shout behind them.

“Alex! Behind you.”

Relief swept over her. It was Rory. He’d followed them through the trees. Her relief, however, was short-lived as an arrow flew by her, missing Alex by inches. Isabel looked behind her to see a handful of Mackenzies hard on their trail. Alex stopped and quickly brought his horse around, positioning himself between her and danger. He raised his claymore just as the Mackenzies descended on them. Isabel heard the clatter of steel as the fighting began.

Alex held them off until Rory could catch up to him. With the two of them, the small band of Mackenzies didn’t stand a chance. Isabel stared in horrified fascination as Alex and Rory methodically, ruthlessly, dispatched their enemy.

They were so close to escaping unharmed. But just as Rory lifted his claymore on the final man, a lone arrow shot from the trees found its mark straight into Rory’s gut. He slumped forward over the thick neck of his powerful warhorse. His golden hair draped over the shiny black coat of his destrier. Blood spread across his saffron-colored
leine croich,
staining it a horribly deep, dark, saturated red.

For one terrifying moment, Isabel’s heart stopped. Time stood still.
He is dead.
When a piercing, animalistic scream tore shrilly through the clear day, she didn’t realize that the sound had come from her.

“No!”
Her guttural cry sounded no more than a whisper.

Rory lifted his head, and their eyes met. Wordlessly, he sought to comfort her. He was alive.

Slowly she exhaled.

When Rory spoke, he addressed Alex, his voice weak and raspy. “Another group must have followed. Use the old passage. Hurry.” Isabel noticed his knuckles were stark white as he clenched the reins, fighting to hold himself upright on his horse.

Isabel felt panic grip her chest, catching her breath in its tight hold. She felt smothered by an invisible cloak of horror.
This couldn’t be happening.

Alex recognized her panic and brought her back to reality with the cold, calm voice of authority. “Isabel, collect yourself. Do not fall apart on me. Move quickly now, we have to get Rory back to Dunvegan.” His words acted like a physical shake. “Do you understand? If we do not get him back, he will die. It is our only chance. We must move now before they have time to surround us.”

She nodded. Her voice seemed stuck in her throat.

Alex grabbed the reins of Rory’s horse and raced through the cover of the woods. Tears flew from the corners of Isabel’s eyes, aided by the force of the wind as her horse pounded through the underbrush. Heedless of the branches scraping her cheeks, she followed Alex at a terrifying speed as he led them north toward Dunvegan through the woodlands, skirting the open coastline and shaggy moors where the Mackenzies had waited. Even now she could hear the wild cries of their pursuers just behind them, excitedly closing in for the kill.

Rory’s head bounced awkwardly over the neck of his horse. The thought of the pressure of the arrow on him with each rough stride of his horse acted like a knife twisting in her own stomach.
I can’t lose him.
The pain must be excruciating. He would never survive. She’d seen injuries like this before and knew it would be a miracle if he survived even the day.

“Not much farther, Isabel, don’t slow down. We’re almost there!” Alex yelled, his words almost lost, muffled by the crashing thunder of hooves.

Isabel forced her mount faster. Never very good with directions, she knew if she lost sight of Alex and Rory, she would never find her way out. If the Mackenzies didn’t find her first.

“They’re up ahead, we’ve almost got ’em.” The Mackenzies sounded close, too close. As if they were right behind her.

“Faster, Alex, they’re gaining on us. We’ll never be able to hold them off.”

“We’re almost there.”

He headed left toward the coast and led them along the edge of the woods, through more dense underbrush and down a well-covered path that led to the rocky shoreline. They had reached the tiny inlet of the loch just south of the castle. There was nowhere left to go. Above them, perched high on its rock of inaccessibility, Isabel could see the castle not one hundred feet in front of her. So close to safety. But they might as well have been in Edinburgh. To reach the castle, they would have to fly or swim. The loch surrounded Dunvegan on one side, and on the other, the landward side, a cavernous rocky trench fronted it.

“Where are we going?” she shouted ahead to Alex.

“Just follow me.”

She could no longer see Rory. Alex had urged Rory’s horse ahead, and there was barely enough width on the rocky coastline for the horses to travel single file.
Please let him live.

Alex led them around the inlet and headed straight for the rocky cliff where the edge of the steep crag met the edge of the trees. Isabel cautiously raised her eyes to the ominous thirty-foot sheer wall of rock and the curtain wall of the castle that rose high above it. There was no way in. Unless Alex planned to scale the wall with Rory on his back, they were cut off by water on one side and inaccessible terrain on the other.

Alex slowed his pace and headed straight for a large, jagged rock covered with dense foliage.

She could hear the battle cries of the Mackenzies behind her. They were hidden from view by the trees on their right, but she knew that any second her party would be visible. And vulnerable.

Her horse followed Rory and Alex as they dove right into the middle of a thicket, turned sharply left behind the jagged rock, and disappeared into nothingness.

A damp, dark chill enveloped her body. She could hear the snorting of Alex’s horse in front of her but could see nothing in the darkness. Slowly, her horse followed Alex’s destrier as if by instinct. Or scent. She blinked repeatedly, accustoming her eyes to the loss of light. Finally, she could make out stone walls and a damp floor. They’d apparently entered a wide tunnel in the cliff. Alex stopped in front of her and turned, motioning with a finger to his lips for quiet, then continued into the bowels of the rocky cliff.

After a few minutes, they stopped completely and Alex slid from his horse.

“It’s safe now, Isabel. We must leave the horses here and walk the rest of the way. I’ll return for them later. But now I need your help with Rory.”

Rory.
Isabel leapt off her horse before Alex could offer her assistance and flew to Rory, who was still slumped over his horse. She thought from his position he must have fainted, but at her touch, he opened his eyes and smiled weakly.

“Rory, oh God, Rory. Hold on, we’re almost there.” Craving further reassurance that he truly lived, she grabbed him, clasping his arm desperately. Conscious of his injury, she carefully leaned forward around the arrow protruding from his belly and placed her lips on his damp brow. His skin felt so cold. She could smell the metallic scent of blood. Fear unlike anything she had ever experienced strangled her soul. Surely the capricious fates would not be so cruel when they’d only just found each other?

“Isabel, we must get him to the castle.”

Wordlessly, she helped Alex slide him from the saddle, trying not to cause him more pain than was necessary. Alex slung an arm over his shoulder, and Isabel supported him as best she could on the other side. Rory moved his feet, but Isabel could tell by the spasms of stiffness that racked his body that each step caused him new agony. Huddled together, they struggled along the treacherously wet path of stone and sand.

“Where are we?”

“In an old passageway built long ago by our Norse ancestors. It is rarely used, and few even know of its existence. Only Rory and I know how to find it. And now you.”

She gulped, honored to have been entrusted with such a secret but all the same wishing she didn’t know. She still felt loyalty to her family and would rather not be forced to lie.

Exhaustion threatened to crumple her legs; the large physique that she so admired was definitely a detriment at a time like this. Isabel knew by the way he tried to hold himself away from her that he was attempting not to crush her with his weight. With the amount of blood soaking her gown, she feared he would soon lose consciousness—or worse.

Don’t fall apart, Isabel. He needs you.

Just when she thought she would not be able to take one more step, Alex stopped.

“We’re here.”

She nearly wept with relief. Even in the damp tunnel, sweat beaded on her brow. Wiping it away with her sleeve, she looked around blankly at solid rock.

“I don’t understand.”

“Look up.”

In the roof, perhaps a foot above Alex’s head, she noticed a door.

Alex answered her unspoken question. “I’ll go up first. You’ll need to hold him steady while I try to lift him through the trapdoor. We’ll be at the bottom of a hidden staircase that leads to the kitchens in the old keep.”

How could that be? She’d been over every inch of that tower. Isabel held her tongue, not wanting Alex to question why she’d felt the need to inspect the castle so closely.

“What is that smell?” She sniffed. “Almost like roasted meat.”

“It is roasted meat. A particularly cruel ancestor of mine decided to vent the kitchens into the dungeon to torment the prisoners.”

“Are we near the dungeon pit?” she asked. The only entry to Dunvegan’s dungeon was located in a small room in the great hall above the kitchens. She repressed a shudder. The dungeon was nothing more than a horrific thirteen-foot-deep hole in the rock where prisoners were tossed and left to die. When she’d first arrived at Dunvegan, she’d had many nightmares about that pit.