My Wild Highlander (33 page)

"You see!" Girard yelled. "You see why you
should search her?" He tore at his clothing to examine the bloody
wound. Not deep enough.

Kormad chuckled and snatched the dagger from
her hand. "Take her to the dungeon and toss her in with MacGrath,"
he commanded the guards. Two yanked her up, one by each arm,
painfully wrenching her shoulders. But she was glad to hear the
name MacGrath. Was Lachlan alive?
I pray you, Mère de
Dieu.

"Wait, search her first," Kormad said.

Their meaty hands ran over her—her breasts,
legs and hips. She almost gagged. "Cease!"

"No more weapons," one of the guards
said.

"Take her below. We have more important
matters to attend to. Have George saddle the horses."

The massive guard dragged her, stumbling,
outside to another area, his cohort in front. Steps led down to a
narrow stone passage, dark and underground. She tripped and
would've fallen if this beast hadn't been holding her up. She could
scarce breathe in this dank, foul place.

The cell door screeched as the guard in front
opened it a narrow space. Her captor shoved her inside the
blackness and the door clanged shut.

Gaelic curses resounded. "Angelique! How the
hell did they get you?"

"Lachlan?" She turned, unable to see. "Where
are you?"

"Here."

Relief surged through her, weakening her
limbs. "
Grâce à Dieu,
you are alive. Are you hurt?" In the
dark, she found him, her palms stroking over his doublet, up his
arms to his shoulders. "Are you bleeding?"

"Nay." He framed her waist in his hands, then
hugged her close, the most wonderful feeling in the world. "I have
a devil of a headache, but I'll live." His voice was deep and husky
against her ear. "Did Kormad hurt you?"

"No. Girard is here also. They were arguing
about what to do with me—kill me or allow Girard to take me back to
France. I will not go—"

"What the hell were Rebbie and Dirk thinking,
letting you slip into the bastard's hands?" he rasped along with
blunt foreign words.

"It was Fingall. He and Kormad's man killed
my bodyguards, then stole me away through the secret passages."

"Damn Fingall. I had someone watching him and
I had two guards posted in the secret passages at all times."

"Likely they are dead. I pray Rebbie and Dirk
still live."

"As do I."

The warm possession of his embrace lured her,
but his betrayal repelled her. She backed away. "I thought if they
could not rescue you, I would myself, you miserable miscreant."

"I ken I'm a damned fool. If you die, 'tis my
fault." His tone was tortured. "I couldn't even protect you."

"I did not need your protection."

"Well then, what did you need from me?"

Things too precious to verbalize. Finally,
her eyes adjusted to the dark. The sliver of light from the small
window in the door outlined Lachlan's tawny hair, the bone
structure of his face, his broad shoulders. "What I needed, you
cannot give, so it matters not," she said.

"Tell me."

"Fidelity."

"I gave you that, at least. 'Twas the only
thing I gave you."

"Do you imagine I believe your lies?" How
could he think she'd never find out?

"What lies?" he demanded.

"I know what you did yesterday."

"You're angry that I bought you two white
horses?"

Her throat ached. "No! Neilina. The south
tower. I am not an imbecile."

"God's teeth! That was Dirk with Neilina. We
hatched a scheme so she would think 'twas me, but in truth 'twas
Dirk pretending to be me."

Lachlan would never change. He likely
believed his own lies. "You think I am exceedingly naïve,
oui
?"

"Nay. 'Twas a good hoax."

She turned her back to him. "How are we to
escape this place?"

"Angelique. You cannot believe that was me. I
was meeting with members of the Robertson clan to purchase two
mares for you as a surprise, a late wedding gift. You can ask Dirk
and Rebbie."

"If they live, I trust their word no more
than yours. They are your loyal friends, so naturally they will lie
for you.

"Ask anyone in the Robertson clan when I left
their castle." He named the Drummagans who accompanied him. "Ask
any of them."

"I won't have a chance. Kormad is going to
kill us, you know. Bury us in the same grave…so we are together
forever." A sob burst from her constricted throat.

"Come here." Lachlan pulled her into his
arms, her back against his hard chest. His thick, strong arms held
her tight.

She squirmed from his grasp. "No, you are a
lecher. I believed in you. I believed you had changed and every
word you said." The tears would not stop no matter how much she
wished they would.

"I swear to you, upon my honor, I didn't
touch Neilina. And somehow I shall prove it to you."

"But I heard you. You told her to meet you in
the south tower at sunset."

"I did say that, but I didn't meet her. I
never intended to. I had Dirk take my place so he could find out if
she's Kormad's spy. I think she is."

"You…the man with her wore a kilt. Dirk does
not wear a kilt."

"He wore mine. He pretended to be me!"

Did he tell the truth? She wished to believe
him. It would be her fondest dream if he was honest, but some part
of her refused to be naïve and trusting anymore.

"She moaned your name while…" At the image of
Lachlan driving into another woman, nausea welled inside her.

"'Twas not me. I told you, you're the only
one I want." His tone was low and fierce. He turned her and clasped
her close, her face against his chest. And she allowed it. She but
needed one moment of hope. The unique, appealing scent of him
filled her nostrils, bringing back memories of the profound and
sweet intimacies they'd shared. How she wished….

"I'm sorry you went through that, and
believed it was me," he said. "Truly, love, I'm not lying. Dirk
made her think he was me. It was necessary so she wouldn't know we
suspected her of being a spy. How are you thinking I got captured
out on the moor if I was in the south tower?"

"I do not know when you were captured. I
left."

"What do you mean?"

"I left you." She shoved back from him. "I
was going to London for a divorce when Rebbie and Dirk stopped my
coach."

"Damnation." His voice held an icy edge as if
she were the betrayer.

"I had every right!"

"You would do that without even confronting
me. Just assume?"

"I told you—"

"You judge and sentence me all without my
knowledge?" His voice echoed from the walls.

So the small pleasant moment was passed. No
more deceiving herself.

"I knew this would happen when I married you.
I knew you would have affairs and mistresses and whores. I knew you
would draw me in with your charm, make me trust you, then that you
would trample my heart like refuse. I should not have been
surprised really, but I wanted to believe. My own folly. Why did
you have to pretend…?" Why couldn't he have simply been honest
about his intentions?

"I didn't pretend about us! I told you at the
first I would never lie to you and I haven't." Lachlan glared at
Angelique's back through the dimness. How could she believe such a
thing about him? Had she learned naught about him in the past few
weeks?

"I do not know what the truth is anymore,"
she whispered.

Her words stabbed like daggers into his
chest. He had never been called a liar so much in his life.
Unfaithful? Hell, he hadn't even been tempted to look at another
woman since he'd married her. Strangely, she was all he desired. He
didn't understand it, but she wasn't like other women. She was
special in a way he'd never experienced before. He wished only to
please her, protect her, and give her all she wanted.

But the thing that quelled his anger was the
raw pain in her voice. She cared; she wanted him all to herself.
That much, he liked. What sliced him to the core was her distrust,
her doubts. Like everyone else including his father, she expected
the worst of him. He was a worthless, faithless, ne'er-do-well and
could not rise above it. What a fool he was. Their capture was all
his fault.

He must prove the truth to her. How? The
testimony of Dirk and Rebbie meant naught. No one else knew of
their ruse with Neilina. But plenty of men had seen him at the
Robertsons'. None of this would matter anyway, if they couldn't
escape. He had failed utterly at protecting her. What kind of
husband was he?

"I have an idea," she whispered. "You will
pretend to hit me. I will scream and cry, and the guard will
come."

"I wouldn't have anyone believe I'd hit my
wife."

"A ruse. He will open the door to separate
us, and you hide behind the door and hit him."

"He will not likely come alone. And he'll be
heavily armed if he thinks I'm violent."

"Do you have a better idea?" she asked in
challenge but kept her voice low.

"Aye, you pretend to hit me and knock me
down. He'll think I hit my head on the wall. My head already has a
lump on it, so 'tis believable. You scream hysterically. They won't
see you as much a threat. They'll think I'm unconscious or dead and
come in. Then we'll disarm them. If there are two of them, you'll
need to be careful."

"Very well."

"Let's get into a mock fight," he whispered.
"Come on, throw a few punches."

Out of nowhere, her hand flew up. The slap
cracked against his face.

"Ouch." His cheek stung and a resounding pain
shot through his head from the earlier injury. "Do you have to be
so damned enthusiastic?"

"You told me to."

"Not hard," he whispered.

"Weak lad!"

"Och. Come on, show me what you've got, wee
wench."

She shoved lightly at his chest and he
toppled backward in a controlled fall, though he tried to make it
look real in the event someone spied through the opening in the
door.

Angelique screamed, the deafening sound
intense in the confined space. "I've killed him! I've killed
him!"

"What the devil is going on?" The guard
growled from the passage.

"I've killed my own husband! But he deserved
it! The unfaithful swine."

That was a bit much. Lachlan watched the door
through eyes narrowed to slits. One guard entered, halting just
inside the door, a torch in one hand, a dagger in the other, and
his sword still in the scabbard. Angelique crouched in a corner,
pretending to weep. "I did not mean to kill him. I shoved him. He
fell and cracked his skull on the wall."

After wedging the torch between two rocks in
the wall, the guard inched closer and nudged Lachlan with his foot.
When Lachlan didn't move or even breathe, the man bent over him.
Lachlan grabbed the guard's knife hand, shoving the blade toward
his chest, and grasped the hilt of his sword at the same time. The
guard jerked back, cursing, and dropped the knife. Lachlan took
possession of both weapons.

"What's happening?" A second guard entered
the cell.

Angelique sprang from behind the door and
bashed the empty chamber pot against his head. He slumped to the
floor.

The first guard backed toward the exit.

"Halt!" Rising, Lachlan motioned with the tip
of the sword toward the back corner. "Over there."

When the man obeyed, Lachlan leapt over the
other guard and joined Angelique in the corridor. She locked the
cell door.

The first guard yelled. Lachlan closed the
small opening at the top of the door, muffling his cries.

Footsteps and voices advanced toward them
down the dim corridor lit by a lone torch.

"Hell. Kormad's men," Lachlan said.

"I am ready." Angelique held a dagger.

"Where did you get that?"

"From the second guard."

"Have a care." Damnation, what if he couldn't
kill them all and protect her? Nausea clutched at him when he
imagined the horrors she would endure if he died. Rape, torture,
death. He simply could not fail.

Wielding the sword in one hand and the knife
in the other, Lachlan confronted the first of Kormad's men. The
large, leather-clad bastard charged him, sword slamming against
Lachlan's. The impact traveled up his arm, clashing steel deafening
in the confined space. Fortunately, the passage was so narrow two
men could not fight abreast. He knocked the sword from the man's
hand and quickly ran him through. Battle fury raced hot through his
veins.

The second man stepped over the body and
attacked. Once he fell, Lachlan turned his attention to the next in
line. He and two others hung back, their eyes wide in the
dimness.

Someone charged in from outside, behind the
men. A battle cry arose.

Rebbie? Indeed it was. And Dirk backed him.
Clanging blades were a blur of motion.

Lachlan engaged the enemy closest to him. The
man stumbled and fell. Lachlan smashed the sword's basket hilt
against his head, knocking him out.

"Lachlan! You live." Rebbie slapped him on
the shoulder. "Come!"

"How many outside?"

"None. We dispensed with them."

"I thank you." Lachlan took Angelique's hand,
keeping her close by his side. "Where are the rest of our men?"

"Two or three were killed," Rebbie said. "The
others, we know not what happened to them. 'Twas chaos. When we saw
Fingall and the other man bring Angelique through the gates, we
knew we had to act quickly."

Outside, Dirk held three of Kormad's
horses.

Another guard charged around the corner.
"Help her mount," Lachlan said to Dirk, then engaged in swordplay
with the last man. He was fast and skilled.

More of Kormad's men poured down the distant
castle steps. Where the hell did he get so many men?

"We must go now, Lachlan!" Dirk threw a stone
at the man. It bounced off his shoulder, but that was enough to
distract him. Lachlan's blade sliced his arm. Yelling curses, the
enemy retreated.