My Wild Highlander (32 page)

"Yes, I will give it to him…if he will
release Lachlan unharmed." She tugged the necklace from beneath her
bodice and slipped it over her head.

"Very good. He also demanded that you deliver
it in person, but we cannot put your life in danger. We'll dress up
one of the smaller clansmen as a woman and he'll stand in for
you."

She shook her head. "That will not work.
Girard will know the difference. He is not an imbecile."

"Lachlan would never forgive us if we put
your life in danger. We cannot allow you to be involved in this
part."

"I will. I make my own decisions about my
life."

"You are to stay here…with all due respect,
m'lady." Dirk's tone was commanding, his expression fierce.
"Lachlan will have our heads if you're injured."

"Aye," Rebbie said. "That he will."

Feeling powerless, she struggled for an
answer. "But…I must help."

"You are helping by giving up the pendant. If
you would allow me…" Rebbie held out his hand, palm up. She clasped
the large diamond to her chest for a moment. The precious stone now
represented two people she'd loved most in the world—her mother
who'd gifted her with it and Lachlan whom she must relinquish it
for.

She dropped the diamond into Rebbie's hand.
"Very well," she said. "Bring him back alive…to me. Please."

***

Lachlan has to live.
"So I can
strangle him myself," Angelique muttered to her cold, empty sitting
room. He effectively knew how to rip out her heart.

She paced from one side of the room to the
other, then stared out the window toward the River Tay. Burnglen
was too distant to see because of the trees and the thick white
mist that drifted like clouds fallen from the sky.

As a child, she had seen Burnglen Castle once
and knew it was a hateful-looking ancient castle. Small as compared
to Draughon, but gloomy and dark gray. She imagined Lachlan, in
pain, perhaps unconscious deep in the bowels of the dungeon. Tears
stung her scratchy eyes.

Mère de Dieu
,
protect him.

Rebbie carried her diamond in his pocket. He,
along with Dirk and a dozen men, would make the exchange. What
would happen when Girard and Kormad realized the young man dressed
as a woman was not Angelique? She should have insisted on
going.

When would they return with Lachlan? Two
hours or more had passed.

Camille was asleep in her room. Angelique
feared she would never eat or sleep again.

A thump sounded in the corridor and she
approached the door. A man's groan. Metal clashed and more thumps.
Someone had breached the gates and was taking out her guards? A
chill slid through her. She ran into the bedchamber, threw on her
thick cloak for protection, and armed herself with every weapon she
possessed, hiding them in her secret pockets. She could not bar the
door and the trunks were not heavy enough to block it shut.

The sounds of her sitting room door
splintering reached her ears. "Mother Mary, save us," she prayed in
French, crossed herself, and drew a loaded pistol.

She peered around the edge of the
doorway.

"I've killed the intruders, m'lady!"

"Fingall? Is that you?" A bit of relief swept
through her.

"Aye." Her steward's voice echoed from the
corridor. "Two masked men broke in and killed your guards. But I
took care of 'em good."

"
Mère de Dieu!
My guards are dead?"
She crossed herself again. Though she rarely thought of them by
name, they had been her constant shadows for the past weeks and had
protected her well. She hated for them to come to such a horrific
end.

"I shall protect you myself, m'lady." Fingall
stepped through the ruined door and into the room, a bloody dagger
at his side.

"Do you think more will come?" Angelique kept
her pistol pointed, not at Fingall, but at the doorway beside him.
She still didn't know if the steward had stolen from them or
whether he was trustworthy.

"I cannot rightly say if there are more. I
hope not." He glanced from her to the door and back again, seeming
jittery.

"What of the guards manning the gates?"

"I've not been out there. Lay down the
pistol, m'lady, afore you hurt yourself."

"I will not hurt myself. I am well-trained
with a pistol."

Running footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Fingall rushed toward her. "Go into the chamber, m'lady! You'll be
safe there!"

"
Non!
Do not touch me." She would take
care of this problem herself.

The footfalls pounded closer. Her finger
teased the trigger. Fingall grasped her right arm, shoved the gun
upward and plucked it from her hand. His other arm went around her,
capturing her.

"
Non!
" She kicked back into his shins,
tried to twist away and escape, but he was stronger.

A giant, dark-haired stranger wearing leather
armor appeared in the doorway. Who was he? Not one of her
staff.

"Search her for weapons!" the stranger
ordered.

"Fingall, how could you do this? You
traitor!"

Lying on her stomach on the floor where he'd
lowered her, she struggled against him, but he pinned her legs
between his and held her hands behind her back. Next, he removed
the daggers from her cloak pockets.

"Bastard! Stop!"

The stranger threw a blanket over her head,
making everything dark. No! She must free herself. When Fingall
levered himself off her, she twisted, turned and kicked. But the
men were quicker and stronger. They rolled her up in the blanket in
only moments, black, tight and suffocating. She screamed,
attempting to thrust her arms and legs out, but the wool blanket
held tight.

She gasped for breath in the tight space.
Calm. Breathe.Think!

One at her head and one at her feet, the two
men picked her up and carried her, she knew not where. The only
sounds were their footfalls and a closing door or screech of metal
now and then. They transported her, head first, down steep steps,
bumping her against stone walls. The blanket loosened a bit and she
slipped her hand into the secret pocket in her skirts where she had
hidden the dagger Rebbie had gifted her with.
Grâce à Dieu
.
The jeweled hilt slid into her hand. Her one comfort.

Why did no one stop these bastards from
carrying her out of the castle? Surely the guards at the gates
would come to her rescue.

"Help me! It is me, Angelique!"

Her hip slammed into a wall and pain shot
through her. The giant bastard had done that purposefully. A loud
clang sounded. The gates?

"Guards! Help me!"

The two knaves dropped her on the ground,
jarring all the bones in her body. Ignoring the pain, she rolled,
trying to escape the blanket. Her head came out. The hulking
stranger approached two horses, while Fingall relieved himself near
the low bushes.
Where am I?
She glanced back to see a small
iron gate…the exit of the secret passages. She jumped to her feet
and ran.

"Grab her! She's getting away!"

A moment later, Fingall snagged her skirts
and yanked her back. She fell, her hands sliding over rocks. One
smooth river stone fit her hand perfectly. When she was close
enough, she smashed it against Fingall's head. He yelped.

"Imbecile!" Kormad's man shoved Fingall away
and yanked Angelique's arms up behind her back. He breathed against
her ear and ground himself against her derriere. "If that damned
Frenchman didn't want you so bad, I'd take you right here. So don't
tempt me. I like a wench with some fight in her."

Frenchman?
Mon Dieu
, he meant Girard.
The bastard would show her no mercy. If it came to that, she prayed
her death would be swift and painless.

"Keep your mouth shut or I'll cram something
in it you won't like so much." Her captor kicked a pile of horse
dung to get his meaning across. She tried again to wrest herself
away from him, but he was too strong. He bound her hands behind her
back, tied her feet and threw her over the horse.

She forced herself to breathe normally, and
think of a plan.

"Fingall, are you coming?" he yelled.

"Aye."

She still had her dagger. If they released
her hands, she could use it. And if Rebbie and Dirk had failed in
their mission to rescue Lachlan, she would rescue him herself.

***

"Good work, Fingall," said a man behind
Angelique.

She turned. Kormad's full black beard and
evil dark eyes froze her bones.

The men had removed her from the horse and
untied her. She now stood before the unholy entrance to Burnglen.
All was gray, the heavily overcast sky, the stones making up the
castle and its courtyard.

"Where is my husband?" she asked, placing a
strong bite in her tone.

Kormad laughed and swept his hand toward the
door. "You shall see soon enough. Welcome to Burnglen."

Dare she walk into such an evil abode, one
she might never escape? Inside the hidden pocket in the folds of
her skirts, she fingered the jewels on the hilt of her dagger,
instead of her rosary beads, and whispered a prayer for strength
and protection. With the right grip and stab, she could kill a man,
if she didn't hit a bone. Her distant male cousin in France had
taught her well.

Her first instinct was to attack Kormad, but
he wore leather armor studded all over with metal. She had not the
strength to stab her blade through that. Besides, the bailey teamed
with armed guards.

"Take her inside," Kormad ordered the tall
man who'd brought her.

"No!" she yelled.

He picked her up, flung her over his shoulder
and carried her up the steps. Her stomach ached from his hard
shoulder slamming against it, and nausea. What tragedy awaited her
within these walls?

Grinning, Kormad followed them up the steps.
Bastards!
Trying to stab the giant who carried her would be
useless, covered in thick leather as he was. She would save her
attack until the right moment, when it would count. Maybe Girard
would be the first one she killed.

Once inside the Burnglen great hall, the
guard tossed her roughly onto her feet. Dizzy, she stumbled, but
grabbed onto the long table. The stench of this place was horrid,
rotten food and hound excrement.

"At last, we meet again, my sweet." The
French words were delivered in a smooth, lethal voice.

She turned and met the devil-dark gaze of
Girard.

Chapter Fifteen

Girard
. Here to kill her…rape her.
"Mère de Dieu."
The sensation of ice claws latched onto
Angelique's chest, cutting off her breath.

"I have missed you,
ma petite choute
."
He bared his teeth in the mockery of a grin; his pupils dilated.
The missing arm amplified his malevolence…because of what it meant.
She had done that to him. He would show her no mercy. She would
rather die now.

Sucking in a breath, she tried to think
normally. Dear God, to face a demon…
I will not faint. I will not
faint.

"Did you search her for weapons?" Girard
snarled. His voice, an echo from her nightmarish memories, sent
shards of dread through her.

"No need," Kormad said.

"You do not know our little angel, do you?"
He sounded almost amused.

"You want her searched, do it yourself!"

Girard's gaze stabbed through her. "Where is
that Camille bitch?"

"Not here," she managed in a strong voice.
No, he would not see what he did to her. He would not see he had
torn her apart, physically, emotionally, and that now she was but a
patchwork, held together by thin threads.

"So, you will pay for her crimes as well as
your own."

Angelique focused on survival, clasping the
dagger hilt firmly within her pocket. She hoped he would attempt
searching her. He wore no leather armor as the other men did. But
if she killed him, likely Kormad would kill her.

What must I do? Lachlan
. He would know
what to do. A strong, warm protector, he was.

"I wish to see my husband," she said, barely
pushing the words past her tight throat.

"Oh, you will." Kormad laughed. "'Haps you'd
both like to be buried in the same grave? Together forever."

No.
Lachlan could not be dead. She
focused on the memory of his smile. Tears pricked her eyes.

"Oh, you love this husband of yours," Girard
said.

She had not wanted him to see anything inside
her. Already, he was breaching her defenses. "
Non
. He is a
bastard like you."

One corner of Girard's lips quirked a
fraction. "You will have a chance to say goodbye to him before I
take you back to France."

"What? Back to France?
Non
."

"She's not going anywhere!" Kormad growled.
"Except a few feet beneath the sod of Scotland."

Girard speared Kormad with that devil glower.
"We have a deal."

"That's not part of it."

"You promised her to me first." A bald man
stepped forward. Who…? Dear God, he was the monster who'd tried to
kill her on the ship weeks ago.

"Promised to you?" Girard said. "She is mine
to do with as I please. I own her! Do you understand?"

They argued, growling and snapping like dogs,
ripping apart her life as if it were a deer hide. Which one would
sink in his teeth first? Angelique's legs trembled, and she dropped
to her knees. She could not breathe. Dear heaven…rape, torture,
death, her body used and abused by them. The blackness of oblivion
would be better.

Get up; you are strong, some part of her
urged…or was it a guardian angel whispering in her ear?

I cannot. I have nothing left.

Girard grasped her upper arms and jerked her
to her feet.

Now,
that defensive side of her
shouted. The dagger hilt was firm in her hand. She shoved the blade
up toward Girard's stomach. It bit through clothing and flesh. He
shrieked and shoved her to the floor. Pain shot through her hip and
elbow.