The Beast of Aros Castle (Highland Isles)

by McCollum, Heather

  Ava stared, wide-eyed, her heart opening with amazing relief. Tor Maclean stood across the clearing.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Despite the crush against her throat, Ava stilled. Even if she were to die under Vincent’s twisting brutality, she would know Tor had followed her, had tried to save her, and that was enough.

  Tor stood with two of the brutes unconscious at his feet. Crook Nose stood aside, hands raised. Tor’s gaze met hers briefly before moving to stare icily at Vincent. “I will kill ye where ye stand.”

  “And bring England to Aros to avenge an Englishman?” Vincent said smugly, although Ava could feel a slight tremor in his voice.

  “’Twould be easy for ye to disappear in these woods, ye bloody jackanapes,” Crook Nose called.

  Vincent shoved under Ava’s chin, stretching her neck, ready to turn it with full force, breaking the linked bones. Sweat coated Ava’s palm as she gripped the sgian dubh in her right hand, which lay against her skirts. She closed her eyes, envisioning where Vincent’s head must be just over her. She felt his chin brush her scalp as he called more threats. His arms yanked her up so hard that only her toes remained on the ground.

  With a surge of desperate power, Ava slung her arm upward in an arc from her side, angling the blade so that the tip plunged behind her head into flesh.

  Vincent screamed, and before he could do anything further, Tor lunged, grabbing Ava out from the trap of the devil’s body. Tor twisted her away and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t look,” he said. She inhaled his familiar scent, her body shaking, and buried her face in his chest.

  “Ye bloody did it, lass,” Crook Nose called.

  Ava could hear Vincent gurgling with a keening moan and slapped her palms against her ears.

  “Finish him,” Tor ordered and lifted Ava into his arms. He strode away until she couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of her own heart. Tor sat, holding her on his lap. He slowly pulled her hands from her ears, turning her wrists this way and that. But it was dark under the cover of the trees. “Are ye hurt, Ava?” he asked, the soft rumble of his voice like the Aros River, gentle and constant.

  Yes, she was hurt, but the bruises would fade. She doubted the feel of her blade pushing through sinew and veins ever would. She shook her head.

  Crook Nose ran up, breathing hard. “Here’s your dagger, lass. I cleaned it.”

  “Just set it down,” Tor said. “What hand did ye play in this foulness?” His voice was low, almost bored. Crook Nose didn’t know that he stood on a precipice between life and death at Tor’s hands.

  “I helped the lass,” he said. “Stopped the other two from coming to the bastard’s aid.”

  “I believe I did that,” Tor countered.

  “Before,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “They wanted to take her and kill the earl. I convinced them to give her a chance to slice the bugger herself.”

  Tor held her for a long moment, weighing his words. She was too shaken to respond. “Get rid of the body and take whatever ye can from the conveyance, but get rid of it when ye’re done.”

  Tor stood, carrying her. He bent to retrieve her sgian dubh and kept walking toward his horse. A shiver rattled through Ava, Tor’s warmth barely registering. He lifted her up onto his horse where her skirts rose enough so she could straddle the steed’s back.

  “Hold on to the saddle,” he said, and she tried to steady herself by leaning forward. The darkness and weariness added to the illusion that this was all a dream, or rather a nightmare. He climbed up behind her and pulled her back into his arms. With a click of his tongue the horse glided forward, quickly finding its stride.

  Were they going back to Aros? At the moment, Ava didn’t care. She only cared about the man who held her close, sharing his warmth and strength with her, even after she had betrayed him. Without a doubt, Ava knew she loved him. As long as the darkness wrapped them up, she was safe from his condemning eyes.

  Ava dozed fitfully, lulled by the gentle stride of the horse and the warmth of Tor’s chest at her back. Silent and always moving, they continued through the night. Thunder rumbled far off, reflecting the hollow ache Ava felt inside. The sporadic waves of nausea in her stomach were a type of respite from the sadness and shock that left her weak. She kept one arm across her abdomen, clinging onto a baby that was hopefully there. For a baby would give her something to sink her entire mind and heart into. One who would never wonder who its mother was. Would a baby be enough to keep her self-hatred and sorrow away? A baby that might have Tor’s beautiful blue eyes?

  Dawn was sliding lighter shades of indigo and blue above the trees, making it easy to see ahead. They should have reached Oban by then, but there were only more woods and far off water in sight. The salty smell of sea air moistened the morning breeze.

  “We aren’t going back to Aros?” she asked softly, her voice clogged from hours of silence. Where would he take her? Exile?

  “Not through Oban,” Tor answered, and Ava’s stomach unclenched. “I’m not prepared to answer Captain Taylor’s questions.”

  “We depart to Aros from a different port?”

  “A small village south of Oban where Macleans have allies. We will wait until night to sail across the channel.” He guided the horse out of the forest and stopped on a bank overlooking a gray ocean. It stretched out before them, no village in view.

  “We will rest through the day,” he said, directing the horse down a narrow path to the rocky shoreline. The steed picked his way between clumps of seaweed on the sand until they reached a series of natural boulders that the tides had chiseled away. Tor dismounted and led the horse under one that sank in far enough to be considered a cave with a wide mouth, opening onto the sea.

  Without his support, Ava bent forward to lay against the horse’s neck. She would just sleep here. Her eyes flew open with the feel of controlled falling as Tor pulled her down. He set her inside near a folded blanket, leaving her to tend the horse.

  Tears pressed behind her eyes, and she didn’t have the strength to dam them. She let herself fall to her side, her cheek resting on the blanket. Completely drained and miserable, Ava closed her eyes, letting the cold coat her into numbness.

  …

  Ava felt the heaviness of the sgian dubh in her right hand, hidden in the folds of her skirts. The moon shone down through the trees as wind whipped her hair before her face, making her squint. She kept trying to see clearly, but hair and heavy eyelids darkened the scene before her. She tried to move and realized she was held captive, iron-like arms around her waist. Vincent.

  Panic flooded Ava, pounding blood through her body. “You will not take me,” she tried to say, but her lips felt stuck and only a whimper emerged. “No,” she managed to yell and raised her right arm high. With the point of the sgian dubh up, she thrust behind her head, stabbing at Vincent.

  Loose, she spun away from him as he fell to the ground, her dagger planted through his neck. As his hands tried to staunch the blood around the blade, he looked up, and Ava screamed. The man wasn’t Vincent. Blood pooled around Tor Maclean as he slumped to the ground into death.

  “Ava,” Tor said, and Ava jerked, her eyes flying open. “Ye’re having a nightmare.”

  Tor squatted before her, and she pushed herself into a sitting position, the blanket wrapped around her. She groaned softly at the aches in her back, arms, and legs.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured and wiped at her damp cheeks. Had Tor covered her after she’d fallen asleep? “I’m fine.”

  He stood, returning to his leather satchel, which he seemed to be unpacking. Behind him the sky was gray, a gentle rain falling. It looked to be the middle of the day. He took out wrapped cheese, dried meat, and a pastry.

  Ava stretched her legs. She needed to empty her bladder before anything else. Slowly standing, she turned to catch Tor watching her. “I’m a bit stiff,” she said.

  “Ye’re not hurt?”

  She shook her head, but he came closer anyway, insp
ecting her bruised cheek and gently taking her hands. Her sleeves rose to show the bruises on her wrists. “I should have known it was that bastard,” Tor said, staring at them. “When ye were so panicked when he came to Aros.”

  Ava pulled her hands back. “I need to use the privy,” she said, walking past him to the wide cave opening. “Is it safe?” she asked, peeking out.

  “Aye, for now. But keep alert.”

  “Do you think Crook Nose will tell the English I killed Vincent?” she asked, looking back.

  “Crook Nose?”

  She flipped her hand toward the woods. “The man we left behind. His nose is crooked.”

  Tor’s pinched face relaxed. “He won’t tell anyone, or he’d have to give up the coach, horses, and all the belongings on it. Plus, he’d likely be blamed and arrested if he tried to say that a lass killed an earl.”

  Ava shivered slightly, the nightmare still crawling through her thoughts. She nodded and stepped around to find some privacy. She came back down the bank minutes later, having wiped her face with rain and raked fingers through her wild hair.

  As she looked to the cave, her heart thudded hard. Such pain. She’d betrayed him, and yet he’d come to save her, risking his home and clan.

  Tor stepped around the edge. “Come back inside.” He glanced along the shore. “We shouldn’t be seen.”

  The food sat on the blanket. In the center was a tart. Ava’s stomach growled in the silence of the cave. “Eat,” he said in response. “Alyce packed plenty.”

  “I’m fine without food,” she said.

  Tor frowned at her. “Another lie.”

  His words caught at her, and she blinked rapidly, reeling from their sting. “Tor… I…I am so sorry. Tell me what I can do to prove to you how sorry I am for not telling you.”

  He indicated the food. “Eat.”

  Ava exhaled hard and sat down. She picked up some cheese and nibbled at it. The food calmed her stomach, and she drank from Tor’s water flask.

  He sat and ate some cheese. They both shared the two bannocks in silence. Ava’s nerves were brittle, and she chewed slowly, making herself take in the food. Soon all that remained was the tart. “It’s yours,” Tor said, nodding to it.

  “I’m full,” she answered, turning away from the delicious-looking apple pastry.

  “A nibble of cheese and a small bannock doesn’t make one full,” he countered.

  She pushed off the ground to walk to the back of the cave, putting distance between herself and the damn treat she wasn’t going to eat. “Do what you will with it,” she said. “I don’t deserve tarts,” she whispered.

  “Why is that?” he asked, and she realized he’d walked up behind her. But she kept her back to him.

  “Only good girls deserve tarts,” she whispered to the back wall.

  His hand on her shoulder gently turned her toward him. He stared at her for a long moment.

  “What?” she finally asked. “What more can I say? You know my reasons for lying. You know I was going to tell you the next day. Tell me what else to say, what else to do?” Anger laced her voice, and she tried to turn back to the wall.

  “Ye wouldn’t eat the tarts at Aros,” he said softly. “Only when I forced ye when I thought ye were losing weight.” He let her turn away.

  But there was nowhere for Ava to go. She pulled her long hair to one side and began to plait it. “The Countess of Somerset, who I now know was my mother, she said tarts were only for good girls. I was too rash for her approval. I suppose I disappointed her from the very time of my conception.”

  “So ye snuck tarts at night,” he said. “By stealing away to the kitchens at Somerset.”

  She shrugged slightly. “I’d never have one otherwise.” And she’d probably never have another one. After a moment, Tor moved back to the blanket, and Ava sat down. She watched him wrap the tart back up, sliding it into his satchel.

  “Is Mairi safe?” Ava asked.

  “Cullen was bringing her home to Aros when I left. Her husband is dead, possibly influenced by Somerset to battle against the MacNeils. And the bastard that was tormenting her was Fergus MacInnes’s son.”

  “Good Lord,” Ava said softly. “I knew something was going on. I should have forced her to tell me or said something to you.”

  Tor shrugged. “My sister is very stubborn, and she is safe. She fended him off until we arrived. She’s strong.” He turned to meet Ava’s gaze. “Just like ye. Strong enough to defend yourself and smart enough to turn one of the enemy to your side.”

  The compliment caught Ava off guard. She stared until he looked away. “Rest,” he said. “We will find a boat once the sun goes down.”

  Ava sat in the prow of the little boat while Tor rowed. They’d left his horse behind with the man who’d loaned him the sleek vessel that skimmed over the surface. In the cloudy night, only the beacon on Mull gave them a direction. Ava couldn’t even tell exactly where the surface of the water ended and the night began. Her fingers curled over the sides of the boat. Every once in a while, she would glance behind her at Tor’s back as he pulled the oars in clean, constant strokes. His broad shoulders never faltered as he inched them across the channel through the choppy waves.

  Reaching Mull, they walked toward Aros in silence. Dawn faded the black sky to gray as they met the path through the waking village of Aros. Chimney smoke curled up out of cottages as they passed, Ava several paces behind Tor. Candlelight brightened the edges of shuttered windows, and hushed voices wafted through thin walls. The portcullis rose slowly when Tor called to the keeper. Its chains clanked in the early morning hush.

  “Find your bed, Ava,” Tor said and veered left to talk to Hamish as he came out of the barracks built into the thick wall on the front side of Aros Castle. Ava stood still for a long moment. Find her bed? She looked at the closed double doors, made of thick oak, at the top of the steps into the keep. Find her bed? She hadn’t a clue where that was.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Maybe we should leave,” Ava said to Grace as they stood watching from the deserted roof of the keep. Tor was easy to pick out, his height and strength evident in comparison to the other men gathered in the bailey. Cullen stood with him, looking just as commanding.

  “Whatever you think is best,” Grace answered, tucking her arm through Ava’s. She’d discovered her in the great hall the morning before, not sure where to go. She’d taken her up to their old room and put her to bed for the day. “But Joan doesn’t want you to go. She told me as much.”

  Ava glanced at her half sister. “Thank you for explaining things to her and Mairi.”

  “I’m just as at fault,” Grace said.

  Ava shook her head. “I married him, lied about everything. It was my plan.”

  Grace huffed. “When are you going to stop hating yourself for doing what you needed to do to save us? We had no other choices. I really didn’t want to run with wolves.”

  Ava looked back out, a thin strand of her hair tickling her cheek in the breeze. “Where do you think they’re going?”

  Grace looked over the waist-high wall. “I suppose Kilchoan to talk to the MacInneses. Mairi said they plan to tell the MacInneses that if Normond is made their chief, the Macleans of Aros and the MacDonalds of Islay will go to war against them. It won’t come to that, from what Cullen told her, but that’s probably why so many are going.”

  Tor mounted his beautiful bay horse and raised his arm to start them off. He and Cullen rode side by side out under the portcullis, followed by at least twenty warriors. Just outside the gates, the woman who had kissed Tor waved a colorful blue handkerchief until they passed. She walked inside the gates with a basket on her arm. “Bridget MacDougal,” Grace murmured. “She waltzed around the castle yesterday like it was hers.”

  “Maybe she still thinks it could be,” Ava said.

  “Nonsense. You’re married to him.”

  “No.” Ava shook her head, turning away from the sight of Tor riding away. “He married
Aveline Sutton Ellington, a woman who doesn’t exist.”

  “What does he say about it?”

  “We haven’t broached the subject.”

  Grace huffed. “You’re going to have to ask when he returns. We need to know his mind, so we can decide what to do.”

  With November, the breeze had taken on an iciness that stung Ava’s cheeks. Grace shivered. “Let’s find our breakfast inside.”

  Ava and Grace walked into the great hall where Bridget spoke with Mairi at the long table. Their conversation ended abruptly, and Mairi turned to Ava with a smile. “Ye’re up. Do ye feel well?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Ava said. She wanted to apologize to Mairi, but not with Bridget standing there. She shook her head. “I’m sorry about all that was going on at Kilchoan.”

  Mairi’s mouth tightened on a smile. “Seems that there are snakes in every home.”

  “Mairi,” Bridget said, her tone rebuking. “I wouldn’t call Ava a snake.”

  Mairi’s eyes went wide as she looked between Bridget and Ava. “That’s not what I meant. I…I meant Normond and the Earl of Somerset.”

  Ava’s heart thumped, but she gave the flustered woman a half smile. “Yes, they were snakes, weren’t they?” Had Mairi really meant to insult her, calling her a snake in their keep? Ava’s face felt hot, but she sat next to Grace far from her usual seat as Tor’s wife.

  Mairi sat across from her and clutched her hand to pull Ava’s gaze. “I heard what ye did, with the sgian dubh. Ye’re a warrior, Ava.”

  Bridget sat down next to Mairi. “Ye could don a kilt and train with the boys. Ye have a savage heart.” She laughed, but her words didn’t sound like a compliment.

  Mairi’s smile faded. “Are ye well? With all of it?”

  Was she? No. She’d dreamed again of killing, killing Tor instead of Vincent, her guilt still torturing her. “As well as I can be,” she answered.