The Highland Curse (Scottish Strife Series Book 2)

by Dana D'Angelo

  “Ye are nae going anywhere,” he growled. Reaching down, he picked up the manacle.

  “Nay, please dinnae do this, Fingal,” she pleaded, changing her tactic, and not caring that she now begged. But he was immune to her appeal, and before she could continue, he secured the shackles around her wrists.

  “Bastard,” she spat in his face. “Ye will pay for this ill-treatment! When my parents return from their travels, I’ll have ye chained here in my place. And then ye will suffer.”

  “Och, sae ye believe that ye can do this, hmm?” His lips curled into a sneer. He wiped the spittle from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Well, ye can forget about it. Your parents willnae be returning tae Dunnvie Castle.”

  There was a finality to his tone, and she ceased her movements. “What do ye mean that my parents willnae be returning?” she asked, her voice sounding faint. The stale air in the small chamber suddenly felt even more stifling, and she could scarcely breathe.

  “Tell me what ye have done with my parents,” she said, the anguished words coming out before she could stop them.

  He studied her for a long while, and then he smiled at her, showing his ugly teeth. “I was just going tae leave this chamber, but I think ye have persuaded me tae change my mind,” he said, walking over to the exit. Adrina didn’t know why, but when he closed the door, it felt as if he had closed off the entire world. The half-smile on his lips brought a chill to run down her spine. She now knew that he planned to leave her chained to the wall. And with no one to help her, it was certain that she would be locked in her prison indefinitely.

  “They’re dead,” he said, his tone nonchalant.

  “Dead?” she repeated. She leaned heavily against the wall. Somehow the revelation couldn’t penetrate her mind right away, and she stared at him, wide-eyed and numb. She had hoped and prayed that the visions she had of her parents had been wrong, that the pictures were only a part of her overactive imagination. She might have even convinced herself that she had lost her mind, as everyone suggested. But in all the years that she had known Fingal, he had never made a jest. And the gloat on his face assured her that he was sincere in his admission. Her skin began to crawl, and the feeling of dread ballooned in her chest. She had already suspected that something had happened to her parents, but to hear the actual words felt as if a bucket of icy water was tossed over her head.

  If the solid wall behind her hadn’t provided support, her legs would have buckled. All at once she recalled the image of her parents being ushered to the gallows. Even now she could picture the stoic look on her father’s countenance while her mother had fallen to pieces.

  Adrina placed a hand to her throat as a choking sound emerged. There was no doubt in her mind what happened next.

  Fingal folded his arms over his chest, watching her. His slender fingers stroked at his gray beard. “I guess it wouldnae hurt tae tell ye how they died,” he drawled.

  “Ye used my great-grandmother’s book of magic,” she said, the bile rising from her gullet.

  He tilted his head to the side and gave her a curious look. “How did ye ken that?”

  “I perceive that the book that ye carry isnae for your reading pleasure.” She glared at him. “I saw ye conjuring a spell in the spare chamber. Ye cast your sorcery for evil gain.”

  Fingal pulled the book out from his belt and looked at it. “Och, now that would explain it. I should have locked the door while I worked. But there’s nay need for me tae worry about what ye saw. Ye forget that I’ve convinced everyone that ye are possessed by demons. Nay one would ever believe what ye say.”

  “When the other clans discover ye have taken over Clan MacGill, ye will be questioned.”

  “When they arrive here, the curious ones will discover that I’m the proper laird here.” He let out a laugh, his meaning clear. “Anyone who enters the gates of Dunnvie Castle will be put under my influence, and they would be none the wiser. ‘Twas fortunate that I discovered your brooch.” He dug into his sporran and pulled out the jewelry. Holding it up in the air, he admired it. “I wondered for a long while how ‘twas only ye who were unaffected by my spells, but now I understand.” He lifted up his hand, and set it next to the clasp. “This ring was stored away with the book of incantations. At the time I thought ‘twas just a pretty trinket, but now its genuine purpose is revealed.”

  “When the MacGregon brought ye back here, ye had me worried,” he continued, and dropped the gold ornament back into his pouch. “I thought about using my potent magic on ye, however I’ve since changed my mind. I think ‘twould give me greater satisfaction tae witness your agony, and have ye ken the reason for it.”

  Her hand clutched at the iron links, making the chains rattle. She wished that she had the strength to break the restraints from the walls and launch herself at him. Unfortunately she neither had the power nor the brawn to overpower him.

  “What will ye do with me afterward?” she asked.

  He lowered his hands to his side and stared into her eyes. “Ye will die, of course. What do ye think I’ll do with ye? Ye are nay use tae me. In fact having ye alive will only hinder my plans for the clan’s future. Ye have made it quite plain that ye are a troublemaker. If ye somehow broke free from my control again, I would face more disruption. ‘Tis something that I cannae risk. My men will escort MacGregon far enough from the castle. And when they return, ye will be disposed of — just like your parents.”

  The threat of death caused the wind to rush out of her lungs. He was going to do it, she realized. And he would have no remorse.

  “Ye have nay right tae that grimoire. It belonged tae my great-grandmother.” Her nails dug into the palm of her hands. “I demand that ye relinquish it now.”

  “Relinquish this book?” He snorted. “I would never leave this book out of my sight, for it contains all my hopes, my dreams,” he said. For a second his eyes glazed over, as if he had become lost in his memories, and had forgotten that she was in the room with him. “The forces contained in these pages will help me rule Clan MacGill. After that, I can look for bigger gains, and maybe even obtain the Scottish throne.” His eyes sparkled and he let out a gleeful laugh at the possibility. With his new powers, Adrina had little doubt that he would be able to obtain his goals. And when his ambitions were realized, all of Scotland would suffer.

  But then Fingal raised his head, and seemed almost startled to realize how much he had revealed to her. Tucking the book back under his belt, he said, “This book belongs tae me now.”

  “I dinnae understand why are ye doing this, Fingal.” Even though she tried to control her voice, it trembled. “Ye were a poor, wandering clergyman, and had nay place tae sleep. My father gave ye employment, shelter, and treated ye like family. Is this how ye repay him, by massacring him and his family?”

  Fingal’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Tevon has always treated me like a common servant,” he hissed. “I have greater potential than tae just be his pet. Dunnvie was poorly run before I took over the duties. I made a profit for the clan each year, and in all areas.” He placed his hands on his hips. “In every way I make a better laird. And unlike your father, I see nay reason tae join the war against the English. There’s nothing tae gain from it, nay profit tae be made. I would allow the other clans tae die in Gertrude’s war. ‘Twould then be easier tae steal their land once their numbers are weakened.” The frown on his countenance turned fierce. “However after ye ran off, my plans went awry.”

  She shook her head in denial as her body sagged against the wall. “Ye are making this up,” she said faintly. Was she the cause for her parents’ death? The guilt and horror seeped into her, making her weak.

  “It happened.” His lips twisted in a smirk as he took in her agitation. “When ye ran away, the chaos that ye caused disrupted my intricate spells. Somehow your father found the missive from the MacGregon. Tevon asked too many questions, and sae he had tae be terminated. And since your mother would’ve caused trouble as well, she had tae go too.
“

  “Nay!” she shouted louder. “This cannae be true. Ye are the one who —”

  CHAPTER 18

  The door burst open.

  “Duncan!” Adrina gasped.

  He glanced quickly at her and clenched his fists. Her face was ashen, but aside from the tears staining her cheeks, she appeared unharmed. Fingal was lucky that there were no signs of physical injury, otherwise he would already have been a dead man. With long, strong strides, he made his way over to the advisor.

  At Duncan’s approach, an expression of horror flashed for a split second on Fingal’s features, and he cringed as if a predator cornered him. Slick sweat began to bead at his upper lip, but then he seemed to remember himself when he recognized the two warriors that were with Duncan.

  “Get him!” Fingal shouted, pointing a bony finger at him.

  “Hamish and I have nay issues with the MacGregon,” one of the guards growled, ignoring the advisor’s command.

  “Aye, Conran’s right. Our issues are only with ye,” the other man said, his tone menacing.

  Fingal’s bravado wavered, and he turned white. “What the hell are ye doing?” he asked, his eyes wide. He glanced nervously around him and his gaze fell on Duncan. “And what are ye doing back here? I — I thought ye were returning tae your home.”

  “Ye thought wrong,” Duncan said. He gestured for the guards to move forward.

  “Ye are going tae pay for what ye done tae us,” Hamish said, his face red with anger.

  “Aye,” his companion growled. “I’m going tae dangle him by his scrawny neck, and show him how it feels tae be manipulated.”

  “Stay back!” Fingal yelled, putting out a hand to curb their advance. Then recollecting that he possessed the book of magic, he pulled it out from his belt. He opened the cover and flipped frantically through the pages, searching for an incantation. But Duncan and the two guards closed in too quickly. Letting out a cry of frustration, he slammed the book shut. He then raised the book to his chest, holding it there as if it was a shield. All the while, his eyes darted around the small chamber, scouring the place for a viable escape route.

  “Ye can forget about casting more spells. I’ve made sure that these guards are immune tae your sorcery.”

  “Ye will nay longer control us,” Hamish said, his eyes glittering with hostility.

  A frightened expression appeared on Fingal’s countenance. Dropping the grimoire to the ground, he seemed to know that the book couldn’t help him at this point. His shoulders slumped slightly, but then his eyes alighted upon Adrina. Suddenly his lips curved into a triumphant sneer, as if he perceived that the lass was his saving grace. He withdrew a dirk from his belt. Then moving quickly to her side, he unlocked her from her prison. Setting her in front of him, he pressed the dagger to her delicate throat.

  “Release the lass,” Duncan said, slowly. He avoided looking at her, knowing that she was likely petrified. In his experience wretched and fearful men were violent and unpredictable, and he couldn’t risk having Adrina injured.

  By now Fingal knew that the Dunnvie guards wouldn’t help him. Duncan and the two guards blocked the only exit. And like a trapped fox, there was nowhere for the advisor to run.

  Duncan gestured for Conran to circle to the other side of the cleric.

  Fingal’s brows shot up in panic as the three of them closed in around him. With his eyes darting between each of the men, he held onto Adrina, knowing that his life depended upon it.

  “Stand aside,” he said, jerking his chin at the entrance that they obstructed. “Or I’ll slit her throat.”

  A commotion sounded at the doorway, and three more warriors crowded there.

  “We heard shouting, master!” a voice boomed across the small chamber. He was a burly man who led the group. Taking in the sight of Duncan and the two Dunnvie guards, his brows snapped together. “Who are ye?” he barked at Duncan. Then he turned his gaze to the advisor. “And what’s happening here?”

  At seeing his men, Fingal’s confidence buoyed. “These men have breached the security of the castle,” he said, the ugly curl returning to his lips. The hand that held the dagger lowered, and he loosened his hold on Adrina slightly. “Ye are now outnumbered, MacGregon,” he said gesturing to his men at the threshold. His eyes began to shine with triumph. “And ye are going tae regret ever coming here.” Taking in a deep breath, he bellowed, “Kill them!”

  Duncan brandished his claymore. He rushed at the guards, striking hard and keeping them at bay. Relief flooded him when he heard the sound of fighting at his back. Conran and Hamish had joined in the skirmish.

  But then a sudden scream rang throughout the chamber. He whipped his head in time to see Fingal securing Adrina more tightly to his chest. Duncan started to break away from the fighting to help Adrina. But she didn’t need his assistance. Rearing back her arm, she thrust her elbow deep into Fingal’s abdomen. The tremendous blow caused the air in his lungs to rush forth. And as the man doubled over in pain, he dropped the dagger to the ground.

  That was when Duncan saw his chance. He dropped his sword and dove at the smaller man. The sudden charge took Fingal by surprise, and the force of the motion caused him to arch backward. Somehow in his descent, he managed to grab onto Adrina, and the three of them crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

  Duncan got up first and pulled Adrina up with him. But then she glanced down at Fingal who was still sprawled on the ground. Before anyone could blink, she bent down and tore the signet ring from Fingal’s hand.

  “’Tis mine!” he shouted, clawing at the ring.

  But before the cleric had a chance to reach Adrina, Duncan lifted his booted foot, and rammed it down on the advisor’s hand.

  Fingal shrieked.

  In an act of desperation, he bent his legs, kicking hard at Duncan. The force of the kick caused Duncan’s knees to collapse. While he started to recover from the sudden assault, the advisor squirmed to retrieve the dagger that lay on the ground. And when the smaller man secured the blade in his hand, he scrambled up.

  Meanwhile the three guards abruptly ceased their attacks, and stood in the middle of the floor, holding their heads. They peered around the small chamber as if they had just awoken from a deep slumber.

  “Where am I?” one of the guards asked.

  “The high tower,” Hamish replied.

  “The high tower?” another guard repeated, his voice suspicious. “What are we doing in this auld chamber?”

  “MacNauld is the one who brought ye here,” Hamish growled, pointing an accusing finger at Fingal. “He has put a hex on us all. And for many months he has controlled our minds and actions.”

  One by one, they turned to Fingal, their gazes narrowing with rancor.

  “’Tis a lie.” Fingal gripped the dagger so tightly that the whites of his knuckles stood out.

  “’Tis ye that lie,” Adrina said, her voice fierce with anger. “Your greediness and lust for power will be your downfall. And my parents will be avenged. Arrest him!”

  “I didnae do anything wrong,” he protested. “The clan needed a better leader —” His eyes widened as the guards bore down on him, their expressions forbidding and cold. He looked wildly around him, and his desperation increased when he discovered that he was completely trapped.

  Hamish grabbed Fingal by the scruff of the neck, and in panic, the advisor slashed his blade at the warrior, drawing blood. The guard howled in pain. In a blinding rage, he thrust his sword at the cleric, piercing him in the chest.

  A blood-curdling screech reverberated throughout the chamber, and Fingal fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

  Then there was silence.

  Adrina looked at the body, an expression of shock on her face. The scream had drawn more people to the tower chamber, and they now crowded at the door. They too were looking down at the corpse lying on the ground, their expression ranging from confusion to shock.

  “Take him away,” Duncan commanded.

  Two gu
ards came forward, and dragged the corpse out of the room.

  Duncan reached over and pulled Adrina into his arms. “Are ye all right?” he asked.

  Adrina looked up at him and nodded.

  “Ye came back for me,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

  “Didnae I tell ye that I would be back?”

  “Aye, ye did.” The horrors of the past few days caught up with her, and the words came out in a rush. “But I thought Fingal had convinced ye that I was insane. And I was afraid that ye would nae want tae associate with me any longer. He knew how tae conjure magic, and all along he planed tae murder me…”

  He tightened his hold on her. “I wouldnae have let him do that. I knew that he was up tae something when his raven kept trailing us.”

  “I didnae think ye accepted what I told ye about the raven.”

  “I dismissed the idea at first,” he admitted, “but the bird continued tae follow us tae Dunnvie Castle. And then when MacNauld his men showed up, I knew ‘twas nay coincidence.”

  Adrina’s brows creased in confusion. “But how did ye break the spell that Fingal placed on ye? I heard him recite an incantation while ye were unconscious. At the time, I was protected by the bloodstone, but ye didnae have anything tae shield yourself from his black magic.”

  “I drank the potion.”

  He picked up grimoire from the ground and handed it to her.

  “Ye drank the potion?” she asked, taking the book from him. “As I recall, the last of the elixir dripped out from the vial.”

  “’Twas nae the last of it.” He picked up his sword and slid it back in its sheath. “Before I left, I asked Venora to prepare an extra bottle of the tincture. ‘Tis ingrained in me tae prepare for the worst,” he said, shrugging as if he thought it was of no consequence. “’Twas after ye related how the curse affected your people that I decided tae take precaution. And before we ventured near the castle, I swallowed some of the concoction. “

  “Then ye werenae affected by the black magic?” she asked.