"Aye, Ciara has many fine qualities," Ninian added. He emptied his mug, then set it aside. "Her children will not lack love or attention."
His anger subsided a bit. Alastair turned to his uncle and decided it was time to put his plan into motion.
"Tell me, uncle," he said, pausing until the man looked his way. "I understand you were in residence five years ago when Rachel was abducted from this keep."
Suspicion clouded his uncle's feature for the space of a heartbeat. "Aye. I spent many hours in the saddle searching for her."
Alastair nodded. "'Tis what I heard. I was also told you offered your men to aid in the search when you had to depart."
John narrowed his gaze. "Aye, 'tis the truth you were told." He set aside his mug and leaned forward. "Why do you explore this topic?"
With a shrug, Alastair finished his drink and placed the vessel on the floor between his feet. "Since I am now wed to Ciara, I just wish to confirm what transpired that fateful day that Rachel vanished. Hearing the same tale repeated assures me that her sire deserved the death he met."
Some of the tension vanished from his uncle's face, only to appear on Ninian's.
"I heard about her unfortunate end." John shook his head and climbed to his feet. "That topic also resides in the past. Since we are approaching a new relationship, I believe it best to leave such discussions alone."
The man was guilty as sin. Alastair knew it, felt it to the very center of his soul.
"The hour grows late. If you will excuse me, I will find my bed."
Alastair nodded and watched John leave the room. The moment he departed, he turned his gaze on Ninian. "I am surprised you were able to restrain yourself."
"'Twas trying, indeed," Ninian whispered and glanced toward the door. "The bastard is fortunate I did not draw my blade on him."
A weary sigh slid through Alastair's lips. "I hope we will soon gain the information we need. Then, I will gladly give you permission to kill him, provided I do not beat you to the task." He climbed to his feet and looked down at the other man. "I bid you goodnight."
Alastair left the room and slowly climbed the stairs. Each step tugged at the unease nestled in his gut. The light of torches cast eerie images across the ancient stones. He stepped onto the landing and paused.
Tense silence filled the air. A look along the corridor revealed nothing amiss. Everything appeared to be as it should.
Quietly, Alastair approached the chamber he shared with Ciara. At the door, he stopped. Muffled voices edged their way to his ears from the direction of his uncle's chamber. He moved along the worn stones until he reached his uncle's door.
Alastair paused and strained to hear the whispered words beyond. 'Twas no use. Only snippets and an occasional word made it to his ears. He did hear enough to know the occupants were his uncle and Johann.
Displeasure stirred in his gut once more. It appeared Ciara was right about the woman. He was tempted to burst into the chamber and catch the pair in their deceit.
Tomorrow, he told himself as he returned to his chamber. His trap should be set by then and, if all went well, he would snare a traitor or two by the end of the day.
Chapter Twenty-Four
"Make a sound, and you die in your bed."
Ciara's eyes snapped open. Against her throat, the cold edge of a dagger pressed into her skin. Through the semi-darkness, she stared into the scarred face of John MacDonell.
Disdain curled his lips and a hand grasped her arm. "Rise."
Terror mixed with dread in her heart. It beat so strong against her ribs, she thought it would burst. John tugged upon her arm and Ciara rose to her feet. Her gaze sought Alastair. He continued his sleep, unaware his uncle was in their chamber.
John pulled her across the room. Cold stones caressed her feet and sent a chill straight into her soul. She tugged upon her arm when he reached the door.
"Release me at once," she hissed, and tried once more to free herself from his grasp.
John ignored her and pulled her into the hall. Once the door closed behind them, he shoved her toward the stairs.
Fear edged its way into her heart. She called for her husband, a plea that lured a mirthless chuckle from John.
"My nephew canna hear you," he said and pulled her with him down the circular stairs. "He drank from the whisky I offered as gift, never knowing I had added sleeping powders to the brew. I dare say he will not stir before dawn."
At the bottom of the stairs, Johann waited. Clutched in her gnarled hands were a pair of Ciara's slippers and a cloak.
"Put these on," John hissed and tossed the items toward her.
Her hands shook so badly she could barely manage the task. In the shadows of the foyer, Ciara met Johann's gaze. "Why are you helping him?"
Hate distorted the woman's features. "I lost a child," she said as Ciara donned her cloak. "So shall you."
The icy hand of dread gripped Ciara's belly. She needed to escape, to find a weapon to use to her advantage. Alastair could not help. Where were Ninian and Torquil? Her gaze flicked to the den and the door that stood ajar.
Alastair's sword was there.
John reached for the door. The moment his back was turned, Ciara made her move. She shoved Johann against the wall and ran for the study. Once inside, she slammed the barrier and turned the key in the lock.
Curses drifted to her through the thickness of the door. Ciara's heart raked her ribs and she fought to remain calm. The handle rattled and Ciara backed away.
The blade! She had to get the sword. Ciara turned, and stopped dead in her tracks. Ninian lay sprawled in a chair before the hearth. The door rattled again. Ciara ran to her brother and shook him.
"Ninian," she cried amid the thunder of a key turning in the lock. She glanced at the door and terror sped through her veins. Clearly, Johann had stolen the spare keys. "Brother, I beg you to awaken."
'Twas no use. Ninian was held in the same sleep that captured Alastair. And Torquil? Where was the mighty giant?
Frantic, Ciara looked for a way to escape, a place to hide. The handle rattled again, followed by the groan of hinges. Ciara grabbed Alastair's sword, freed it from its sheath and turned to face the door.
John entered the room, Johann close behind. Anger darkened his features.
Ciara swallowed hard and, sword held before her, backed away from the man. "Stand away from me, or I swear I will run you through."
Dark eyes glimmered in the faint light of the room. He moved with purpose toward her. Ciara tightened her hold on the hilt. One more step, and she would strike.
John stopped beside the chair where Ninian slept. Light glimmered on the edge of his dirk moments before he pressed it against her brother's throat.
The sword Ciara held became quite heavy in her grasp. Alarm stilled her heart and lowered her blade toward the ground.
A cruel smile twisted John's lips. "I see you understand my intention." He nodded toward the sword. "Drop the blade now, or I cut his throat."
Tears stung the back of her eyes. The sword slipped from her fingers and clattered against the floor.
John nodded. "That's a good lass." He adjusted his hold on the dirk. "Now, come to me."
An uncomfortable lump wedged in her throat. She barely noticed Johann retrieving Alastair's blade.
"I said, come here," John hissed and moved the blade against Ninian's throat.
Blood trickled down his neck. Ciara choked back a sob and did his bidding.
John stared into her eyes and eased the dirk from Ninian's throat. Without warning, he lashed out with his palm and struck her hard across the face.
Ciara stumbled from the blow and landed with a thud on the couch. Pain throbbed through her cheek, and silent tears slid from her eyes. She would kill the bastard for this.
"Disobey me, and you will get more of the same." John gripped her arm and yanked her to her feet. Held in his cruel grasp, Ciara had no choice but to follow him from the room.
At the door that opene
d to the outside, they paused. Johann appeared and handed the man a ball of cloth. Through the dim light of the foyer, his eyes met hers. "Open your mouth," he commanded.
Ciara shook her head and tugged upon her arm for freedom.
John sneered and twisted her arm. Pain shot through her body. "Open your mouth!"
Through her tears, Ciara stared at the crazed man. No one was around to help her. Once again, she was alone.
"Do it now, or I swear I will return to that room and slit your brother's throat."
Pain held her heart in its grasp. She opened her mouth. The instant she did, John shoved the fabric inside. His fingers twined in her hair and forced her to her knees.
Still held in his powerful grasp, Ciara was helpless to stop Johann from tying the gag in place. Once that was accomplished, John pulled her to her feet. Johann stepped around them and opened the front door.
Frigid air sliced through the warmth of the hall. John tugged on his cloak, then pulled Ciara outside behind him. The moment they crossed the threshold, Johann, who remained inside, closed the door.
Two men sat astride horses, and another awaited use. Ciara did not recognize these men, and assumed they belonged to John.
She stumbled down the steps behind him and collided with his back when he stopped. One of the men tossed him a rope.
Without a word, John jerked her hands before him and wound the coarse fiber around her wrists. "My nephew erred when he invited me here. If he wishes to see you again, he will forfeit his holdings to me."
Trepidation coiled around her heart. 'Twas then she knew that John had a hand in the abduction of Rachel so many years ago. What did puzzle her was Johann -- 'twas her daughter who was taken.
John secured the free end of the rope to the pommel, then faced Ciara. "Mount."
She was in no position to argue. Ciara slid her foot into the stirrup and straddled the back of the horse.
The two men moved their horses closer, one before and one behind. John took the reins and handed them to the lead man.
"You know what to do," he said and stepped away from the animals.
The horse jostled and Ciara clutched the pommel to keep from falling off. Tears slid over her cheeks as she was led into the night, away from her husband, her love.
Ciara hung her head and prayed she would not die before telling Alastair how much she loved him.
* * *
Thunder throbbed through Alastair's head. With a groan, he raised his hand and rested it upon his brow. What the devil had happened to him?
The thunder sounded again. Alastair inched his eyes open. Through the window, the bold rays of morn spilled across the room and increased the pounding in his head. 'Twas then he realized the insufferable noise came from the door. He scowled and glanced toward Ciara.
Naught but an empty bed greeted him. Foreboding settled in his heart. With determination, he climbed to his feet, tugged on his robe and approached the barrier.
Torquil stood on the other side. One look into his trusted man's eye and Alastair knew something dire had occurred.
"What is amiss?" he asked, and willed his pulse to cease its erratic beat.
"Ninian needs tae speak with ye at once."
Alastair scowled. "And for this you woke me?"
"Aye," the big man said. "He fears his sister has fallen into peril."
Alarm inched its way up Alastair's spine. "I will be down right away."
He closed the door, shed his robe and dressed with the haste of a man caught in the wrong bedchamber. Once that was accomplished, he raced down the stairs and entered the study.
Ninian sat before the hearth, his head in his hands. Alastair stepped into the room and exchanged glances with Torquil before he spoke.
"What makes you believe Ciara is in danger?"
The man raised his head. A stream of dried blood stained his throat. Shadows hung beneath his eyes, and he generally looked as bad as Alastair felt.
"John fed us tainted whisky," he said, his voice rough.
Disbelief slid through Alastair's heart. "That canna be. He drank from the same flask we did."
Ninian shook his head. He winced and pointed toward the mug still resting on the hearth. "The man touched not a drop."
Trepidation wound along Alastair's spine. His gaze moved to Torquil. "Where is my uncle now?"
The big man averted his gaze and shrugged. "Gone. I bunked with John's men last eve tae keep an eye on them. I was not aware of his departure."
Anger mixed with fear in the pit of his belly. "And Johann?"
Torquil scowled. "She alerted me to John's disappearance." He withdrew a folded parchment and crossed the room to stand before his laird. "She claims to have found this in his chamber."
Alastair took the paper from the other man's grasp. His hand trembled slightly as he broke the seal and unfolded the stiff paper.
The words before him fed his anger until he thought he would explode.
"What does it say, MacDonell?"
He lowered the paper and meet Ninian's worried gaze.
"John holds Ciara. He demands the surrender of my holdings for her safe return." The paper crumpled in his fist. "I will kill the bastard for this!"
"I will gather the clansmen," Torquil said and headed from the room.
"Bring Johann to me first," Alastair called after the man. He approached the hearth and removed his sword.
"MacDonell, I will alert my clan as well."
Alastair turned and faced Ninian. "Nay."
Confusion touched the man's eyes. "She is our sister. We should -- "
"I said nay!" Alastair snapped and silently dared to be challenged again. "You are the only one who cares about her." He took a deep breath and tried to remove the bite from his voice as he tightened the leather strap around his waist. "She is part of this clan now. We take care of our own."
He started from the room. Halfway to the door, he stopped. Johann stood in the threshold. From the look on her face, he knew she had participated in the events of the night before.
Rage built in his chest. He closed the distance that separated them. "Where is my wife?"
The woman swallowed hard and averted her gaze. "I do not know, laird."
Alastair's hand shook. He curled his fingers into his palms to keep from striking her. "Lie to me again, and I will remove your traitorous tongue."
Her gaze snapped to his. She retreated a step and wound her fingers in her skirt. "I refuse to disclose that information."
Anger clenched his jaw. "I have never struck a woman in my life, yet I swear to do so now if you do not tell me where that bastard took my wife."
"To hell with coddling the old bitch," Ninian snapped. He shouldered his way past Alastair.
Johann's eyes widened in fright and she attempted to flee the room. Ninian grabbed her by the hair and shoved her into the nearest wall.
"Where is my sister?" he asked and pressed his knee against the small of her back. "Tell me now, or I will sever your spine."
Johann gasped for air against the stone. "I canna breathe."
"Continue to deny me, and breathing will be the least of your worries." Ninian tightened his hold on her hair and applied pressure to her back. "This is your last warning."
"The croft," Johann cried, her eyes closed in pain. "He took her to my croft."
"Do not release her yet," Alastair said. He approached the woman and stared at her face, half of which was pressed against the stones. "Did you send a missive to my uncle when Valerie passed?"
The woman closed her eyes and winced. "Nay, laird."
He didn't believe her. Alastair met Ninian's gaze and nodded. The pressure the man applied to her spine drew a cry from her lips.
"Let me put it this way, woman," he said. "Did you inform John of the activities on my mountain?"
The half of her mouth he could see curled into a snarl. "Aye, I did. I knew the moment that Mackintosh bitch set foot on our soil that trouble would follow."
Alastair pl
aced a hand on Ninian's shoulder. The man eased his hold on the woman. She slumped against the wall and sucked air into her lungs.
"Why did you betray me to John?"
Johann looked at him and struggled to regain her breath. "He was kind to me, laird. In the days that followed my Rachel's disappearance, he was most attentive and concerned over all who lived upon this mountain."
Alastair's fingers curled into his palms.
"I heard of the request your late wife placed upon your head." Johann shook her head. "I could not allow a Mackintosh to join this clan or have their blood mingle with ours."
Anger churned through Alastair's belly. "You will gather your belongings from this keep and depart this mountain before the sun sets on this day. If you fail, so help me, I will have you stoned." He turned away from her and started for the door.
"You canna mean that, laird. I've always held you dear in my heart," she said, her voice halting him. "Your uncle would do naught against you."
He took a deep breath and expelled it slowly through his teeth. "Johann, I believe John is the one who arranged for Rachel to be taken. He is the only person with the knowledge and power to accomplish such a feat." He donned his cloak and met her gaze once more. "You have just assisted the man responsible for Rachel's demise."
Johann ran to him and gripped his arm. "'Tis a lie! John did not torture my Rachel."
Alastair paused while Ninian gathered his cloak. He looked down into Johann's weathered face and frowned. "How do you know?"
Johann averted her gaze. "I have naught but his word."
"John merely thirsts for land," Alastair said as he pulled open the door. "Someone else was behind Rachel's death."
He started from the keep, yet paused and glanced at the woman from over his shoulder. "If harm has befallen my Ciara, banishment alone will not save you. I suggest you use the day to your advantage and place as much distance as you can between us."
Alastair left the keep, Ninian on his heels. The brisk air of dawn kissed his skin and urged him onward.
Ten minutes later, the men of MacDonell were mounted and riding hard toward a croft nestled in the woods.
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