by Jeanne Rose
But had her mind really been askew?
She’d believed in magic and mythical guardians implicitly at the time. And Bain had seemed to go along with her . . .
“Good morning to you, sweet Caitlin,” he said suddenly, startling her and anchoring her in the present.
“You’re awake.” She turned and slipped an arm about his neck, meeting the deep blue of his eyes. “Good morning.”
He kissed her, then squinted at the window. “Though ’tis more like afternoon than morning.”
“We slept all day?”
“More or less. Are you as hungry as I? There will be food in the kitchen.”
“I could eat a shipload of bread and a side of beef.” From the rumblings of her stomach, they had slept a long time.
Bain swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to dress. Caitlin rose more slowly and searched for her clothing. The shell of her red sweater set lay on the floor on one side of the bed, the cardigan on the other, along with her pants. Bain had to help her find her socks and shoes, thrown to the room’s corners.
“You were very enthusiastic last night,” she teased.
“Aye.” He seared her with his glance. “And I will be verra enthusiastic again once I fill my belly.”
She assumed a sexy pose. “Really? Hope you’re planning on wearing your plaid. It can get a woman going.”
He growled and made a grab for her but she ran away, laughing, enticing him into following her out the door.
“There’s nothing like a man in a skirt.”
“’Tis not a skirt,” he objected.
“’Tis, too!”
Even the torches seemed to burn brighter as they headed for the kitchen, laughter bouncing off the walls. A veritable feast was waiting on the kitchen’s wooden table – a decanter of wine, a huge fresh salad, hot bread and cookies, a bowl of ripe strawberries, several succulent cheeses and, in the fireplace, a huge roasted turkey.
Caitlin piled her plate high and dug in. Her appetite had returned full-force. “M-mm. Who’s the cook – Ghillie?”
Busy chewing, Bain nodded.
She hadn’t seen the strange man with tufted ears since the first day she and Bain had met. “Where is he anyway?”
He wiped his mouth. “Who knows? He comes and goes. You can always find him in the kitchen in the mornings, if you are of a mind to.”
“Is he your servant or not?”
“He helps with the household duties.”
“A good little brownie, hmm?”
Bain merely smiled. While Caitlin continued musing about brownies – household fairies, they were very shy and rather homely, if wonderful cooks and housekeepers. She glanced at the kitchen’s stone floor, which had been swept and scrubbed clean enough to eat on. But she’d be darned if she was going to ask any more questions about legends or mythical people.
She and Bain were having such a nice time, she was reminded of the fair. Avoiding the darker events that happened afterward, she mentioned how much she had enjoyed herself that evening, and learned that Bain had attended all kinds of fairs in various parts of the British Isles. They discussed games of chance and carnival rides, as well as knightly tournaments and theatrical performances.
“So you’ve seen almost every play of Shakespeare’s performed in the open air?” she asked, sipping at her wine.
“Aye. Though my favorites are the comedies, such as A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream.” He chuckled. “Once I saw a tragedy become a comedy, when a flock of sheep came running across the stage in MacBeth instead of armed men.”
“Now if the sheep had been wearing swords, that would have been even funnier,” said Caitlin, giggling.
They both laughed. She wished they could always be this relaxed. No doubt being in a castle removed from the outside world helped. But she would soon have to face that world and the sometimes frightening events that connected her with Bain. She glanced toward the kitchen’s shuttered window, unable to see so much as a crack of light.
“‘Tis already dark on this side of the broch,” said Bain. “The sun is sinking.”
“Already? My sense of time is all turned around.”
Unable to walk away from a meal without trying to clean up, she scraped any remaining food into a bowl and wiped off the table with one of the cloth napkins. Then she noticed Bain was sitting stiffly, a scowl upon his face. The change in mood was like night and day.
Her throat tightened. “Is something wrong?”
He stared at the window. “I thought I heard the falcon’s call.” He rose. “I will open the shutters.”
Now Caitlin could hear the shrill whistle as well. She ducked when the bird fluttered through the window a moment later and landed on the fireplace mantel. Beak half-open, bold eyes glittering, its wings beat the air frantically.
“Something is wrong,” muttered Bain.
“What?” Her heart speeded up. So much for their peaceful interlude.
Bain motioned for her to accompany him out of the room. “Come.”
“Your enemy?” she asked, the wind suddenly gone out of her. “I thought he was badly hurt.”
“Not badly enough. I must prepare.”
He strode purposefully down the passageway and she had a hard time keeping up. “Where are we going?”
“Outside.”
“Wouldn’t it be safer in here?”
“Not for you,” he muttered as they went up the stairs and down another passageway, a different corridor than the one onto which his bed chamber opened. Slanting upward, it was more like a ramp.
Caitlin couldn’t understand why she’d be safer outside – she’d just been thinking about how secure the castle felt. She started to object when they stopped and a big door swung open, flooding the passageway with moist cool air and the dim light of the gloaming hour.
Bain took her in his arms and kissed her. “Go. Leave this place before ’tis completely dark. Atholl comes.”
“Leave you?” She clung to him instead of letting go. “You were stabbed the last time this Atholl came visiting. I’m not going anywhere!”
“You must go, my heart.” He kissed her again, his mouth softer, more lingering, his expression somber and frightening. “And if I dinna see you again, remember my love.”
She panicked. “What are you talking about? What do you mean I might not see you again–”
He cut her off with, “I have my duties.”
Which made her furious. “Your duties as a guardian?” For which his very life was in danger. “So we’re back to that. What about that traveling through the grave into death itself stuff?” “I told you I canna ask you for that.” He pushed her away. “And you are not ready. Our time has been too short. Keep yourself safe, sweet Caitlin.”
“Bain!” she cried, ready to commit to anything to remain at his side.
But even as she spoke, the door slammed shut.
“Bain!” She pounded on the solid rock. “Damn!” Her hands hurt. And she was locked out again.
Unbelievable. Weeping with frustration and with anger that she couldn’t control her emotions, she slumped to the ground. How had she imagined that everything could ever be all right between her and Bain Morghue? He might be the most fascinating man she’d ever known, the most passionate, but he was also the most impossible and elusive, his lifestyle the most bizarre.
She pulled herself back together as the gray of gloaming turned to the gloom of oncoming night. And though the moon rose in the east, a great mass of clouds approached from the west, threatening to shut out any promise of light.
Still, Caitlin refused to slink off. If nothing else, if she were very quiet, she reasoned, she might somehow catch sight of this Atholl and identify Professor Abernathy’s murderer to the police. Crouching behind a massive fallen stone, she felt her pockets, relieved that she still had her car keys. As soon as Atholl arrived, she could run for the vehicle parked at the bottom of the hill and drive for Droon to fetch Sergeant Cooke. Surely he and his crew could st
op any serious violence.
The clouds roiled closer. Heavy waves splashed in the loch. The darkness deepened and thickened with mist from the sea. In the distance, thunder rumbled and Caitlin shivered with cold, though her resolve remained unchanged. She pulled her cardigan about her more tightly, her hands freezing in position when she thought she heard a skittering sound.
A pebble disturbed by a passing foot?
Listening carefully, she hardly dared breath. When she heard nothing else, she slowly rose to a standing position. But she could see little in the dim moonlight. Only the outline of the broch’s walls seemed blacker than the night.
She shivered again, started to sink back behind the
stone when she was jerked up again so hard, her teeth clacked together. A hand clutched her arm like a vise.
“Well, what have we here?” asked a silky, nasty, familiar voice. “If it isn’t the prince’s little harlot.”
“Julian. You’re hurting me!”
“Good!” He jerked her again as if to show his authority. “I shall do far more before this night is over!” He laughed crazily. “Your suitor is dead! Did you find his body or have you merely been pining away, waiting him for him to appear?”
He thought he’d killed Bain. Upset and in pain herself, Caitlin nevertheless made note of that. Then she cried out when Julian slapped her face. “Ah-h!”
“I am your master now. You will show me respect!” he snarled, his voice rising. “Answer me when I speak to you!”
Stunned, she struggled to think. “Uh, I-I’m mourning the prince. I found him.”
Julian cackled and half-pushed, half-dragged her toward the nearest standing wall. Fearful, she decided she would try her best to go along with the madman. Bain had said he was preparing and would surely appear. She didn’t want Julian forewarned.
Muttering Gaelic, he touched the edge of a stone and a door gaped open, light pooling from the passageway.
She caught her breath in surprise. “You know how to get into this place?”
“I am Atholl, the great adept! My powers are mighty and endless!”
He was truly, deeply insane.
And terribly disfigured, she realized as soon as she caught sight of his face. One eyelid was swollen to twice its size, while red painful-looking welts ran down both sides of his face. The falcon had wounded him sorely all right – the cuts were criss-crossed by numerous stitches. No longer sleek, his hair stood up in tufts where the welts ripped into it. Both eyes were bloodshot.
She tried to mask her horrified look too late.
He curled his lip. “So you think I’m ugly?” He shook her yet again. “Well, perhaps I shall sweeten the evening with some light diversion.”
He wore a claymore on a belt outside his coat. From inside the garment, he drew forth a long knife with a sparkling, twining gold handle – the dirk that matched Bain’s claymore. Smiling, licking his lips, he showed the dagger to Caitlin.
“Tonight I shall enjoy the dual pleasures of taking your body and slitting your pretty throat.”
“Y-you’re going to kill me?” And rape her? Dear Lord, where was Bain?
Julian started down the passageway, pulling her along. “The question is, do I want to kill you before or after I open the door to the invisible world?”
So that’s what he thought he was about. Hoping she could buy some time, playing along with him, she suggested, “Why don’t you throw me to the unseelies? Some goblins maybe? Wouldn’t that be more fun?”
“No, no, I want to do it myself.”
Again, Caitlin prayed for Bain to come to her rescue. As strong and as crazed as Julian was, she feared she wouldn’t be able to get away from him on her own. They came to a flight of steps and descended, entering another nightmare passageway. She only wished she were dreaming. He pulled her faster, quickly coming upon more stairs, these twisting and winding deep into the castle.
“Where are we going?”
“To the lowest basement, my dear.” Continuing downward, they passed a torch and Julian glanced nervously up at the rafters high overhead. “You haven’t seen a falcon about this evening, have you?” He sneered. “I have a taste for roasted fowl.”
Unthinking, she blurted out, “The only roasted fowl I’ve seen around here was a turkey.”
“Turkey?” He stopped short, nearly causing her to stumble. “You dare to make fun of Atholl?” His eyes blazed. “Cheeky harlot!” He smacked her across the face so hard that she saw stars. “I should slit your throat this very minute! You were too good to have dinner with me, eh? Too busy wasting away for your pretty prince!”
The coppery taste in her mouth was blood. He’d split her lip. And charged her adrenaline.
“Bain has ten times your courage! He didn’t attack a poor old professor and run a sword through him.”
She realized too late she’d spoken as if Bain were still alive. But Julian didn’t react.
“Professor Abernathy,” he mused. “Yes, that was a nice piece of work. Too bad you couldn’t have seen it.” He started down the stairs again, pulling her behind him. “Even worse that you couldn’t have seen the way I dispatched your prince. Incidentally, I appreciated the ring you left in your pocket. It was very helpful.”
Caitlin remained furious enough to goad him. “Why slit my throat? Why not bury me alive like those soldiers your ancestor killed?”
“Wonderful idea but not quite personal enough.”
“Your ancestor was an evil pig and so are you! You shame the MacBains!”
He merely chortled and dragged her out of the stairwell into a long room with an earthen floor. A huge chain dangled against one wall among great tapestries hung on long poles and between standing suits of armor. It took Caitlin a moment to recognize the crumbling dungeon she’d stumbled onto a day or so ago. Though the room had obviously been rebuilt and furnished. It also looked much larger in the torchlight.
Julian pulled her along, passing a suit of medieval armor and a tapestry of a war scene with fiery horses, glinting spears and swords, ferocious warriors. Glancing up, Caitlin suddenly had the distinct feeling that the eyes of the animals and the humans in the tapestry were following them.
If only.
She wished there were someone around to come to her rescue.
Thinking she herself would fight to the death with tooth and nail before Julian laid either hand or blade upon her, she stumbled, almost falling when he halted to stare down into a great, deep, dark pit in the floor. Mounds of dirt rose on either side. A grave?
Chills ran up and down her spine.
“Ah, no human has seen the cairn for more than a thousand years.” He raised the dirk. “I, Atholl, have come to claim my heritage. The golden armor shall be mine. I shall go and come forth from the invisible world as I choose.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, muted by the broch’s thick walls. A torch hissed and Caitlin blinked as a suit of armor came alive. No, not a full suit of armor . . . merely greaves that covered Bain’s shins and a shiny gold breastplate over his chest. His claymore was raised, his expression fierce.
A warrior in gold and black.
“Bain!”
“Fiend!” Julian jerked back, visibly shaken. “Get away from me! I killed you!”
“Not quite.” Bain gazed from his enemy to Caitlin. “Release the lady.”
Sweat beading his face, Julian backed away, taking her with him. Then, obviously recognizing the opportunity she presented, he grabbed her, placing the blade of the dirk against her throat. “Surely you jest, prince. You can’t order me to do anything! Step back, lay down your sword instantly or I’ll slit her throat right in front of you!”
She could feel the sharp edge of the dagger. Something warm slid down her throat – blood? But her eyes were on Bain, who backed away, his expression torn. She couldn’t let him drop his weapon. She’d gotten herself into this situation and wouldn’t let him suffer for it.
Desperate, she screeched, “The falcon!”
Julian jumped and looked upward, his hold on her weakening.
Taking the only chance she had, she bit his dirk hand as hard as she could and elbowed him with all her might.
“Yah!” he yelled, dropping the dagger.
Squirming away, she plunged forward, heading for the other side of the room.
But Julian was faster and right on her tail. Lunging, dagger once again in hand, he swiped at her, knocking her into the wall. She grabbed the edge of a tapestry, staring up with horror as it tumbled. The heavy pole came down, hitting her squarely in the head . . .
SHE OPENED HER EYES again in complete blackness. Was she dead? But then she moved slightly, smelled the earth beneath her, felt the heaviness of the fabric covering her. Knocked out by its pole, she lay beneath the fallen tapestry.
But how much time had passed?
Outside, she heard muffled curses and the clash of metal. Julian and Bain were fighting.
She scrambled out into the light and shakily got to her feet. She couldn’t see the dueling men, couldn’t even hear them when thunder rumbled so loud, the floor seemed to shake. She felt dizzy, sick, but she had to help Bain. Hurrying across the room, she finally sighted the men on the other side of the deep pit. Sword in one hand, dirk in the other, Julian thrust, parried, jumped back and thrust again. Despite his injuries, he seemed very skilled.
But Bain had him on the run. “Give up, Atholl! You are outmatched!”
“I’d rather die!”
“You will die.”
“Aha!” Julian snarled, running at Bain with his sword.
Bain feinted, then came after as Julian turned and ran. Fearing the man would grab her again, Caitlin ducked below the mound of dirt.
“To the invisible world!” yelled Julian, laughing crazily.
Caitlin heard a muffled thud. She rose in time to sight Bain leaping into the pit, presumably following Julian. The maniac’s crazy laughter boomed from somewhere below.
The pit was obviously a tunnel. Peering over the edge, not knowing where the tunnel might lead, Caitlin decided she’d have to follow, too. What if Julian cornered the man she loved? The man who loved her? She jumped, tumbling as she hit the ground at least six feet below. Her head spun as she scrambled up but she kept going, ducking her head as she entered the narrow tunnel, scurrying down a slanted incline.