Gaersa huffed out an angry grunt, then stomped forward and gave the spindly leg of the cot a hard kick. When Catriona ignored her, she latched hold of the footboard and shook the ramshackle bit of furniture until Catriona believed it would surely collapse beneath her. “I’ll no' listen to such talk, Catriona Elizabeth Rose Neal. Ye’ve always been a fighter. Strong. Proud. Fearless.” The old woman stepped back, her ample chest heaving as she gasped out her emotions. “Daren’t ye make my beloved Murtagh’s death be in vain, ye ken? Daren’t ye give up now and abandon hope. ‘Twould sully his memory and I’ll no’ have it.” She stomped her foot and jerked the lantern higher, the spindly bit of iron and glass swinging from her fist. “Do ye hear my words? I’ll no' have it! Ye are no' the first woman ever promised to a man she didna ken and I’ll wager ye’ll no' be the last. 'Tis no' the worst thing that could happen to ye, aye? Think of your poor brother and all he’s endured.”
Catriona sat bolt upright on the cot, rage fighting for supremacy among the storm of emotions roiling through her. She pointed toward the door. “Get out. I’ll hear no more defending of poor Calum and his cruel choices. And I'll bear none of your heartless scolding about how I should count my blessings. The way I see it, I have little to celebrate this evening. My strongest of allies is gone, and those I thought I could trust have betrayed me.” The hopelessness of her situation and the overwhelming sense of all she’d lost shook through her as she rose with both fists clenched and shuffled forward until she stood nose to nose with Gaersa. “Hope is lost, ye heartless old woman, and the enemy has won. Tell those who can do so to pack their things and escape this place, for God only knows what level of Hell waits for us here.”
Gaersa backed up a step, eyes wide and double chin softly trembling. “Ye truly believe the MacCoinnich will abandon ye? Think ye so little of the man and his sense of honor?”
Catriona was no fool. Gaersa was but changing tactics in a weak attempt to return to Catriona’s favor. No more. She’d ne’er trust Gaersa again. No' after the way she’d defended Calum’s actions. “If Alexander has any ‘sense’ at all, he’s already breached the northern pass and isna foolish enough to look back.”
Life had betrayed her. Catriona trembled as she stared up at Gaersa. “Was your sole purpose in coming here to torment me? Ye regale me with my sire’s cruel perversions, tell me to forgive Calum’s ruthlessness because of his sufferings, and then hold out false hope about the only man who ever stirred my feelings?” She turned away from Gaersa and stared up at the moonlit window, then made a backward stabbing motion toward the door. “I told ye to get out. Leave me, Gaersa, and dinna come back.”
Gaersa didn’t respond but the sound of her footsteps shuffling out the door and its quiet thud when she closed it told Catriona that the old housekeeper, the woman she’d once trusted and loved as kin, had at last given her what she’d demanded: solitude.
As the keys jangled in the lock and the tumblers clicked and clanked into place, Catriona closed her eyes and bowed her head. With a hard swallow, she resolved to cry no more tears. Today had been a day of revelation and hard-learned lessons. Somewhere deep in her soul, she suspected Gaersa had been the one to betray her to Calum. She hated to think it was true but Gaersa’s visit had planted that belief solid in her heart. If that were so, Gaersa had sealed the death of her husband and was just as much to blame for Murtagh’s murder as Catriona.
Catriona stared down at her hands folded in her lap, remembering Alexander’s oath to Murtagh to keep her safe. She replayed his anguished shouting of her name from beyond the gate and the terror she’d seen on his face when he had realized all was lost. Alexander had truly cared for her. And now he was gone.
Chapter 12
He’d been helpless to save her as that grinning bastard had dragged her away. The sound of her screams echoed over and over in his mind, slicing deep into his soul and stoking his rage.
Alexander stared down at the keep from the secure outcropping he’d discovered at a higher elevation. Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in all of Scotland, might help fortify the Neal stronghold but it also provided innumerable ways to spy upon the clan and their movements.
From this vantage point, he could see most of the area inside the curtain wall but couldna quite see clear into the bailey to identify individuals as they scurried about, increasing the guard around the fortress. They held their torches high, unwittingly helping Alexander pinpoint their posts and count their numbers. Alexander found their behavior odd. Paranoid even. 'Twas a great deal of activity to protect a keep from as small a group as seven men. Alexander snorted out a satisfied grunt. Calum was afraid. Good. He should be.
Alexander’s horse rumbled with a deep nicker, stomping in the cold night air then sidestepping all along the narrow plateau jutting out from the mountain. The lively animal was obvious in its ambivalence at being free of the stable. Murtagh had been right. The horses he’d chosen for their escape loved the snow and harsh weather of the Highlands.
Poor Murtagh. Betrayed by his own and now dead.
“We erred, brother. When do we go back to get her and make it right?” Graham asked as he sidled his mount up next to Alexander’s.
“We need a solid plan,” Alexander said more to himself than to his brother. He shifted in the saddle, the leather creaking in protest with every movement. “And we need to make haste.” He nodded down toward the keep. “They’re in quite a stir about something considering we’re only seven of us.”
Graham studied the scene for a long moment, his dark eyes narrowing into a scowl as the wintry wind whipped his black hair about his face. “Methinks additional things are afoot other than our attempt at freeing Catriona.”
Magnus nosed his horse in between Graham and Alexander. “Have the two of ye a plan yet? Bloodlust runs high in this group at present.”
Alexander stole a glance back at Alasdair, Ian, Duncan, and Sutherland. The sight of the men reminded him of the four horsemen from Revelations. Mother had bid him memorize that book of the Bible. Perhaps she had sensed his destiny. Aye. Mother knew him well. She knew his thirst for vengeance.
He acknowledged his restless kin with a nod and pulled his attention back to the keep below. “We dinna ken where they’ve taken her, nor what’s been done to her.” That thought alone nearly drove him insane.
“We need someone on the inside willing to give us information,” Graham said as he sat taller in the saddle.
“Our someone was betrayed and now they’ve tossed his body outside the walls to the wolves,” Alexander said, wishing that somehow, they could retrieve Murtagh’s remains and give the man a proper burial—for Catriona’s sake.
Graham leaned forward and gave Alexander a pointed look. “We have ‘the Ghost,’ brother.” He glanced toward Magnus then returned his attention to Alexander. “And I believe there are at least two young maidservants working in Neal keep that would be more than happy to do his bidding.”
“Aye,” Magnus agreed with a shrug to shift his white-blond braid back from across his shoulder to his back. He pointed down the mountain with a casual jab of a finger. “I could slip in right about there. See the weakness where the outer wall connects to Ben Nevis? Take note the space between the blocks of the wall and the stones. A man could slip through easy enough.”
Alexander studied the breach. “Aye, a man could slip through and make his way to the back hallways of the keep.” He shifted in the saddle, worrying the reins between his hand. “But if anyone goes in alone—'twill be me.”
“Ye are no' fast enough on your feet just yet,” Magnus argued. “And ye’ve ne’er been quiet—wounded or no'. Ye canna run. Ye canna crouch nor climb. Ye’d be discovered in a matter of minutes.”
Though his limp was vastly improved, Alexander grudgingly admitted that Magnus might have a valid point. But that didna change the fact he needed to be the one inside that keep, needed it more than anyone could imagine. Guilt at the mishandled escape burned through his veins like a raging fe
ver.
“I can do more than ye know when the need arises.” He kept his focus trained on the goings on below, wishing he could see within those walls, find Catriona. He pulled his attention away from the Neal clan’s movements and turned to Magnus. “I have to be the one, ye ken?”
Magnus glared at him. His eerie blue-white eyes narrowed, and his blond brows knitted into a scowl. “Ye must use your head in this, Alexander. Not your heart,” he said quietly. “Ye risk her life if ye dinna plan well and ye ken that as well as I.”
“They said a regiment’s coming,” Graham mused as he rolled his shoulders and stretched in the saddle. He turned to Alexander. “Did Catriona say if her betrothed would come here or was she traveling to wed him? If she’s traveling, we could steal her away then.”
Alexander tightened his fists around the reins and leaned forward, his anxiousness and frustration building. “She never said. All she knew was that she’d marry in the spring as soon as the passes cleared enough for travel.”
“The passes are clear enough now, I reckon,” Magnus said as he backed his horse down from the narrow plateau and turned the beast toward the other men waiting on the trail to the northern pass of the mountain. He twisted in the saddle and looked back at Alexander. “Give me a few hours, Alexander. I’ll find what we need to know to win this battle.” A rare smile broke through Magnus’s solemn countenance. “'Twill be my wedding gift to ye, aye?”
Alexander ignored the wedding comment. The fact remained he had nothing to offer Catriona other than freedom from her brother. He studied Magnus for a long moment. The waiting would be torture but after mulling it over, he realized he had no choice. He agreed with a stiff nod, scowling down at his still healing leg and cursing it. His other wounds healed and forgotten, already added to scars covering his body. He’d always healed quickly but this leg injury had sorely tested his patience. “Be quick about it, aye?”
“Aye.” Magnus urged his horse down the narrow path heading down the mountain toward the keep.
Alexander turned to Graham where he waited beside him on his mount. “Take the men and find what shelter ye can that’s close.”
Graham nodded then turned his horse toward Duncan, Sutherland, Alasdair, and Ian. “Shelter. Close,” he called out before reaching them. The four men splintered off, each of them taking a different direction. Graham took to the path leading toward the pass.
Dismounting, Alexander led his horse to the back of the plateau closer to the mountain. He found a spot out of the wind, large enough for both himself and the horse, surrounded by gigantic sprouts of stone jutting up from the earth like rows of great gray teeth.
“And now we wait,” he said as he patted the horse’s neck. He secured the animal’s reins around the trunk of a twisted young tree. If he wasn’t on the beast, he’d have to keep it tied. This close to its home, if it discovered itself riderless, it would eventually end up back at the keep. “I’ll be back as soon as I see Magnus is safely through.”
He walked back to the edge of the precipice and looked down. Magnus’s silver-white hair shone in the moonlight, making him easy to spot in his descent down the mountain. “Cover your hair, man,” Alexander said under his breath. “They’re sure to see ye from the turrets.”
As if he’d heard him, Magnus’s almost glowing mane disappeared. Alexander strained to follow his movements, barely picking out his form amongst the shadows. Magnus needed to hurry. In just a few hours’ time, daybreak would be upon them.
Frustrated beyond measure, Alexander returned to his horse and sat on the edge of a boulder beside the beast. He’d ne’er handled idleness well.
Catriona stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance with the flickering firelight from the hearth. She peered at one particular crack in the plaster, not blinking until her eyes burned with the need for it. With the slow determination of a butterfly fighting to emerge from its chrysalis, her bull-headed sense of survival returned. There had to be a way out of this mess that her life had become. Had to be. All that remained was to find it.
She rose from the cot and set to pacing the length and width of the room. Ten strides from one end to the other and six strides across. Not even big enough for a proper tomb. She paused mid-stride. A tomb. Maybe that was her means of escape.
Calum adored pomp and circumstance but only if it focused on him. She harbored no doubt he’d dump their father into his final resting place with no funeral decorum at all. If she could convince Gaersa to intercede on her behalf, perhaps the old housekeeper could persuade Calum to allow her one last visit to her father’s gravesite. 'Twould be expected for the chieftain's daughter to pay her respects and bid him farewell. Such an opportunity would free her of this godforsaken place and provide a means of escape.
But could she trust Gaersa?
Gaersa’s demeanor when she’d shown up in the room had set off warning bells that the housekeeper had never triggered in the past. But why? Why would Gaersa betray her? They’d always been so close. Now that she knew Calum’s history, she understood Gaersa’s softness toward him. The old woman had always made excuses for him and tried to look the other way no matter what he did. But did that mean she couldna be trusted at all? Was it safe to seek her aid?
The shuffling of footsteps and rattling keys sounded out in the hallway. Catriona faced the door, widening her stance and lifting her chin. Who would it be this time come to torment her?
The metallic thud of metal entering the lock, the clinking of multiple keys on a ring, then the door latch jiggling repeated in sequence over and over. It was as though whoever was on the other side of the doorway attempting to open it didn’t have a clue which key to use.
“Damnation and demon’s balls,” a young voice growled out in a low hiss on the other side of the portal.
Catriona rushed to the door and pressed her face close to the crack. “Sawny? Is that you?”
“Aye, m’lady. Me and Tom come to get ye out if we can find the right feckin’ key.”
A glimmer of hopefulness thrilled through her and brought a smile to Catriona’s lips. Who knew her saviors would be a pair of young lads? Praise be. The keys rattled again, coupled with another string of curse words. Well, they’d save her if they could ever figure out which key to use.
“Are ye sure them’s the r-r-right ones?” That was Tom. Poor lad. Such a stutter.
“Hush, Tom!” Sawny snapped in a loud whisper. “I lifted them from her own pocket, I did. These here are the only keys she had. Now hush up, soon as I get the door open, ye must take them and put them back in her apron afore she wakes up.”
Catriona rolled her eyes and leaned back beside the door. This could take a while. Bless their little hearts. She massaged her temples, squinting against the pounding ache inside her head. No more tears. Tears did nothing but make your head throb.
After what seemed like forever, the latch clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing two wide-eyed young laddies. Sawny greeted her with a proud grin. “I told ye we’d get ye out.”
“That ye did.” Catriona hugged both the boys. She’d never been so glad to see those two ragamuffins in all her life.
Sawny handed the ring of keys over to Tom. “Hurry now. Her apron’s hanging on the bedpost beside her pillow so step with care or she’ll have both our heads on a plate just like she did Murtagh.”
Tom took the keys, clamping them between both hands to keep them quiet. “G-G-Godspeed, m’lady,” he said with a respectful bob of his head then bolted out of sight down the dark hallway.
Catriona sent a silent prayer after the young lad, begging for protection against his getting caught. She turned back to Sawny, something he’d said pricking her like a splinter. “Ye said Gaersa betrayed Murtagh. Are ye certain, Sawny, or could it be rumor?”
Anger flashed red across Sawny’s freckled face and his blue eyes narrowed. “I heard her with me own ears, Mistress. She didna tell Calum herself but she as good as did and I wouldha warned Murtagh, too, if she hadna
locked me and Tom in the pantry.” He plucked at her sleeve with an impatient jerk as he held the lantern higher and sidestepped down the hallway. “We’ve no' much time. 'Twill be dawn soon.”
“Lead on.” Catriona grabbed up her skirts and hurried after the boy, wishing all the while they had more light. She didn’t remember this wing. She didn’t know what secrets the place might hold.
“Over here, m’lady.” Sawny stood beside a stone archway that had a moth-eaten set of heavy curtains hung across it for a door.
When she swept aside the curtain, Catriona realized what it was: the garderobe for this wing of the keep. Still holding the rotting curtain to one side, she turned to Sawny. “The garderobe?”
“Aye,” Sawny hurried to explain as he pushed past her and lifted away the wide board with the hole in the center. He pointed downward. “This shaft empties out close to a set of caves with passages connected to the stable’s main chamber. Only me and Tom know about them. I figure ye can hide in them caves until that bastard—begging your pardon, Mistress…” Sawny paused and gave her a polite ducking of his chin. “I ken he’s your brother and all that but the man killed Murtagh.” He took a deep breath and continued, all the while pointing downward at the gaping hole that had carried away human waste and whatever else was dumped down it. “But I figure ye can hide in them there caves until me and Tom find a way to get ye a horse so’s ye can escape.”
Pressing the back of her hand against her mouth and nose, Catriona peered down the chute. A thankful breath escaped her. It looked to be dry as dust—full of cobwebs—but dry and only smelled of dank, musty castle rather than the other aromas one might expect to find in the garderobe.
The Chieftain: A Highlander's Heart and Soul Novel Page 12