by Mariah Stone
She chuckled excitedly and dug her nails like a cat dug its claws. “Oh, struggle all ye want. Men think they can rape women whenever they want. Well. I canna be a laird. But I am as powerful as a man in all other ways. I will make ye mine, Angus Mackenzie. Oh, I will.”
Helplessness weighed on him, injecting weakness into his arms and legs like venom. He thrust, and tried to throw her off, but she held on, as excited as a lass on a wild horse. He wanted to scream, but he knew it would be futile. He had not a single friend in this castle. And no one would dare to go against their mistress, even if they pitied him. He felt like a piece of meat, nothing but a bull that was expected to inseminate a herd of cows.
He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She’d imprisoned his body. But she didn’t own his mind. She never would. With coldness creeping into his soul, he stilled and met her eyes.
“And what happens after the wedding, Euphemia?” he said. “Will ye keep me locked up forever?”
She leaned down and began planting wet kisses on his body. They felt chilly and slurpy. “Aye. Till ye submit to me.”
When her lips reached the lower part of his stomach, he stilled and clenched his fists. Her face came close to his cock, and he felt her warm breath on his skin. He cringed and pressed himself back into the mattress, as though it would help to escape her. With a featherlight brush of her fingers, she stroked his cock once, then twice.
“If ye think this will arouse me, ye’re wrong. I can never want a woman like ye.”
“A woman like me?” she purred as she wrapped her hand around him and started moving her fist up and down.
By God’s blood, he was still a man. He still felt things, and his treacherous body was enjoying this. Nae! Ashamed, hating himself, he felt his sex swell with the need for more. Aye, this was only physical, but he hated every inch of himself for reacting to her command.
“A woman who has nae soul,” he spat.
She smiled. “Mayhap I have nae soul,” she said with an undertone of bitterness. “But ye’re wrong that ye canna want me. Look at yer gorgeous cock.”
A low growl escaped his throat. Stop, he willed himself. Stop! Ye canna show her she can win this.
But as she moved her hand up and down, his body was still eager to respond, and more blood flowed to his member. Goddamn it!
“Dinna fight this, Angus,” she said. “Ye already lost. Give me a son. Be my husband. Lie with me. Make me the happiest woman alive.”
He moved his hips sharply away from her hands and to the side and away from her. She lost her grip, and immediately his erection softened. Good! Think of worms… he thought. Snakes… A latrine…
With an angry grunt, she found him again, but his cock was completely flat now. She began pumping him faster, annoyed.
Latrine…
The pleasure didn’t come anymore. He willed his body, and her movements felt disgusting. He didn’t hate his body anymore. He hated her. She was abusing him, doing things against his will. He wouldn’t let her.
She kept moving her fist, but her face lost the expression of satisfaction, the expression of victory. She looked angry, her lips pursed. He closed his eyes.
“Keep trying. I told ye I dinna want ye.”
“Oh, ye will. Nae man has ever gone soft on me.”
Angus chuckled. “Keep me here all ye want. Do whatever ye want. I ken who ye are inside. Rotten. Selfish.”
She let go of him with a jerk. She jumped up and put on her cloak. With a furious snarl, she stood and looked down at him as though she was considering where to spit on him.
“Ye will regret this, Angus,” she said. “Mayhap ’tis the pretty dark-haired girl that’s clouding yer mind. Well, let me see if ye keep thinking of her once her head is nae attached to her body nae more.”
She marched out of the room and slammed the door shut, the heavy iron handle knocking against the wood.
Horror dripped down his spine. “Nae!” he cried after her.
He was already regretting rejecting her—she was right. If he’d known that he would be protecting Rogene by mating with Euphemia, he wouldn’t have resisted.
He was ready to sell his soul to the devil if it meant she would live.
Chapter 24
The next day…
“So, how do we do this?” Rogene asked the band of rescuers who had come with her.
They sat about a hundred or so feet away from Delny Castle, hidden in the bushes and undergrowth. It stood on a hill, and about twenty feet down the slope was Cromarty Firth with its unruly water gray in the light of a cloudy evening. On the other side of the Firth were two long greenish-brown lines of land with a neck of water between them that connected directly to the North Sea. Strong wind, wailing in Rogene’s ears, brought the salty scent of fish and algae. At the base of the slope below them, by the gravel beach, was a small jetty where three birlinns and a couple of fishing boats were docked. Two guards stood watch over the area.
Crouching to her left was Catrìona, the only one in the group wearing a dress, but armored with a dagger on her hip. Would-be nun or not, Catrìona looked like a woman not to mess with.
To Rogene’s right was Raghnall. When Catrìona had brought her to meet him in Dornie, she would have never thought this man was a Mackenzie brother. With tears all around his leine croich, and holes and seams on his cloak, he didn’t look like gentry—more like a rogue from a band of highwaymen. Although he seemed charming and at ease, there was something very dangerous about him.
On the way to Delny, he would sing and play his lute from time to time, and in his voice, she heard anger and sadness that he didn’t show when he talked. Most of the things he said to her were questions masked as jokes. And from the way his penetrating dark eyes studied her, she knew he was assessing her, trying to dig under her skin.
They also had two dozen men with them: a dozen whom Laomann had commanded to go and a dozen volunteers. It seemed every Mackenzie warrior wanted to go and help Angus once they heard what had happened. Many of them blamed themselves that they noticed what was happening and failed to stop Euphemia’s men. Laomann had been generous enough to allow the best warriors to go.
And now, after a week of hard riding where she’d spent most of the time clinging to Catrìona’s back on her horse, they were finally looking at Delny Castle, seat of clan Ross. One of their men had casually asked some villagers if their lady had come with a prisoner, and they had said there was no prisoner, but one of the carts had held a man who was sleeping under many furs and blankets.
The men looked at her, frowning.
“Obviously, we can’t take it by siege,” she said. “We need to think of something else.”
“Aye,” Raghnall said, squinting as he studied the castle with an estimating look on his face. “We need to get in without anyone noticing. With Bruce, ’tis what we often did, when we took castles and burned them. Sometimes, we hid in the carts of tradespeople. Other times, we threw ladders with special hooks to climb the walls. We hid to ambush trading vessels that came to sea gates… And now…”
He rubbed his chin, which was covered with a short black beard.
“We could find someone who would allow us to get into their wagon…” Catrìona said.
“Or steal a wagon,” Rogene said.
She shivered, looking at the impenetrable castle walls. Stone walls two stories high surrounded the big rectangular keep and a courtyard that looked like a perverse fairy-tale castle.
Catrìona frowned. Although she didn’t say anything, Rogene thought she must disapprove of the idea of stealing.
“Nae likely in the bright daylight,” Raghnall said as he peered at the village, which was to the left of the castle.
They exchanged worried glances. The only one who’d been in the castle before was Catrìona, and she didn’t know of any weaknesses or any secret ways to get inside. This didn’t look good, and they were losing precious time. Who knew what condition Angus was in? The orange sun came out from behind a cloud
and reflected off the water in a fiery frenzy of light. And right in the middle of it was a dark spot—a big birlinn, its sail shielding a fair bit of the blinding surface.
“Look, guys!” Rogene pointed.
They all glanced in the direction she was pointing.
“A ship…” Raghnall muttered.
Catrìona shifted closer to Rogene and whispered, “Who did ye call just now?”
Rogene felt heat rushing to her cheeks. “Um…I said, guys… I meant all of you.”
“Oh…” Catrìona said, still studying Rogene with a puzzled expression. “I dinna ken that word.”
Rogene muttered an oath. Even after a couple of weeks here, she still couldn’t make herself forget the modern expressions. She needed to be more careful.
She shifted her attention to the ship. “What kind of ship do you think it is?” she asked. “A trader?”
Raghnall shielded his eyes with his hand, studying the vessel. “’Tis hard to say. But it looks like ’tis loaded, based on how low it sits in the water. I say, aye. It must be a trader or mayhap a delivery. Food, weapons…who kens?”
That sounded oddly familiar to Rogene. She glanced down at the small harbor with the jetty, then back up at the castle. The shore broke sharply there, creating a cliff of sorts that shielded the small gravel beach from view of the castle. Yes, that could work!
She came to sit by Raghnall. “Guys!” she said, and bit her tongue as she cursed herself inwardly.
Everyone looked at her with puzzled expressions again.
“Uhm. I just thought of something that we can use. In February 1307, James ‘Black’ Douglas went with a small raiding party to the Isle of Arran where Brodick Castle was, occupied by the English, of course. The underwarden of the castle arrived with a couple of boats from the mainland with provisions, clothes, and arms. About twenty Englishmen came to unload the boat, and Douglas and his men killed them all. The men in the castle came to their rescue, but Douglas killed them all, too. Then they gathered everything from the boat and camped nearby, waiting for Robert the Bruce to arrive.”
Raghnall winced. “How do ye ken all that?”
Oh, shoot! She knew from her research, of course. “My cousin James Douglas told me,” she said.
Raghnall’s smart, dark eyes bored into her. “Ye’re a wry one, are ye nae? ’Tis a peculiar thing that a woman would ken such military details. I understand why Angus is in love with ye.”
Her face fell. She went completely still. “In love?” she whispered. “Did he say that?”
“He didna need to. I ken him. And good for him for abandoning this evil bitch for ye. ’Tis long overdue he stopped protecting everyone and let others protect him.”
She swallowed hard. He loved her… But no, just because Raghnall said that didn’t mean it was true, right? And even if it was, there would be no future between them, no matter how much she wished otherwise. But even if she couldn’t be with him, she wouldn’t let him be kidnapped and held against his will.
“Anyway,” she said. “Could we do something like that?”
Oh God, she couldn’t believe she was suggesting killing twenty men!
“Maybe not kill them but just knock them unconscious and tie them up?” she said.
Raghnall nodded slowly. “Aye. We could. We could take their clothes and provisions and get into the castle carrying all that.”
“Wouldn’t the guards from the castle see that? Or hear us?” Catrìona asked.
“I think the beach is shielded enough from the keep,” Raghnall said. “But ye’re right about the sound of battle. And we still dinna ken who and how many men are on the birlinn. But it might just work.”
“So we wait for the ship to arrive and see who’s there?” Rogene said.
“Aye.”
When the ship arrived, it was already evening. The group went closer to the cliff and watched it dock. It wasn’t a trader. The ship belonged to the castle, and the captain with a dozen men went there directly without unloading.
“They’re leaving it for the next day,” Raghnall murmured. “’Tis already late.”
“So, what do you think happens next?” Rogene asked. “Do they unload it tomorrow?”
“Aye,” Raghnall said, his slightly slanted eyes glistening in the twilight. Something about his face gave Rogene the impression of a hawk. “They must have come a long way, and the ship is well loaded, as far as I can see. They want to rest first.” He looked at her. “I bet they’ll start in the morn, Black Fox.”
She frowned. “Black Fox?”
The men were settling around them to sleep on the ground, huddling in their heavy woolen cloaks. Not wanting to light the fire, they made a simple meal of bannocks and dried meat and fish. Catrìona sat at the base of a bush and looked into the night sky while chewing absentmindedly.
Raghnall chuckled. “Aye. Black Fox. They’re a myth. No one has actually seen one in Scotland. But folk claim that they exist, only disguised as faeries. They’re especially smart and especially precious.” He looked at her, his dark eyes piercing. “I’ve seen one, though. When my father chased me away, I traveled the world. Before I joined Robert the Bruce, I went to England, and France, and Flanders. Sleeping, just like now, on the forest floor isna new to me. Doing work both honest and…well…nae so honest.”
He picked up a piece of grass and put it in the corner of his mouth, chewing on it slowly.
“I woke up one night because I heard a sound. It was summer, and I’d just left Edinburgh and was heading north where I’d heard Robert the Bruce was gathering men to fight the English. My purse was full of provisions for the road. Cheese. Bread. Bannocks. I even had a small jar of butter. The moon shone brightly. And there it was. Black, its fur glistening like silver in the moonlight, its muzzle in my travel purse. I lifted my head, staring at it. I didna want to harm it and didna mind if it ate my food—I could always get more. But if it was a faerie, I didna want to get on its bad side.”
Rogene licked her lips. He was right about that. Contrary to all logic and reason, faeries existed, and her being here, talking to him, was proof.
“Then it finished and looked at me. Its muzzle glistened with fat—the wicked animal ate all my butter. I only chuckled and marveled at it. It was so bonnie, Lady Rogene. So…out of this world that I wondered for a moment if I was dreaming. Then, when it kent I wasna going to attack, the bonnie thing went into my purse again, grabbed a linen pouch with dried meat, and ran away.” He shook his head and cackled. “It ate everything I had except for my old bannock, which was as hard as wood. Trust me, I regretted nae shooing it away.”
He met her eyes and a corner of his mouth lifted. “Angus told me he wondered if ye were a thief or a spy, and I told him ’tis unlikely. But having met ye now, I dinna ken if I was too quick to come to that conclusion. Ye have a mystery or two of yer own, dinna ye? Ye’re like the black fox, are ye nae, Lady Rogene? Clever. Bonnie. A thing of myths and legends and mayhap nae of this world. And mayhap stealing a thing or two while we’re nae watching. The question is, will ye disappear in the darkness like that wee visitor, never to be seen again, and break Angus’s heart?”
Rogene didn’t dare to move, both shocked and mesmerized by his story. Raghnall, like Angus, was so much more inside than he let show on the outside. Raghnall wasn’t a rogue or a bandit. Angus wasn’t just a giant warrior. And her brother wasn’t just a boy with a learning disability. The three had more brains and wit than many people she knew.
She swallowed hard. “I assure you, I have no intention of breaking anyone’s heart. All I want is to free Angus.”
Raghnall nodded. “We have that in common, lass. Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch. We attack tomorrow.”
Rogene nodded and went back to Catrìona. They made a sort of sleeping bag for the two of them out of two woolen cloaks. But she couldn’t fall asleep, thinking of the black fox from Raghnall’s story.
Foxes were lonely animals. She was lonely. She’d always relied on hersel
f.
But she couldn’t get inside the castle by herself.
She had to trust Raghnall, and Catrìona, and twenty-four warriors she didn’t really know.
And she had to be able to entrust her life and Angus’s life to them.
The thought made her stomach tighten, her gut twisting into a painful knot.
Chapter 25
The next day…
“Thirty-two, I think,” Rogene said as she peered through the undergrowth at the jetty.
The morning was gray and dull, the freshly risen sun invisible behind leaden clouds. A storm was coming from the sea in a heavy black cloud with a wall of indigo rain. The wind threw misty drizzle that smelled of seaweed into their faces. Waves crashed into the beach beneath them. The ships and boats jumped up and down, knocking against one another.
“Thirty-seven,” Raghnall said.
Worry stabbed Rogene in the gut. She had counted only thirty-two. While she was trying to find the five men she hadn’t noticed, Raghnall turned to the warriors who gathered behind them.
Wait, Rogene wanted to scream, we need to check how many there are…
But she knew with her rational mind that it meant wasting time. She just needed to trust Raghnall and the rest. And that was hard. How could she put her life in the hands of strangers when she didn’t even trust her aunt and uncle?
Sweat misted her back under the man’s tunic she wore.
“There are many more of them than of us,” Raghnall said to the men. “And they’re all warriors. Look at their swords and axes.”
They scowled at him, attentive. Broad-shouldered and muscular, they all looked menacing and experienced enough to do their job right. But Rogene wished she could take a sword and wield it together with them.
“We must act fast,” he said. “They’ll be distracted by the rain and the storm, which will play out for us. It might even muffle the screams.” His gaze darkened. “Remember. Nae honor. We slice through them like a scythe of death.”