So far, nobody had seen her. Pushing the stone to open the lever, she heard footsteps behind her. Pivoting, she found Mary standing before her in a new traveling cloak. Her friend strolled around her and leaned against the wall.
Rhiannon turned to face her. “What are you doing here?”
Mary smiled. “I came to say I am sorry.”
“For what?”
Rhiannon sensed someone else behind her, but before she could turn, a searing pain entered the back of her head, and blackness descended.
Chapter Eleven
Lachlan rode his horse hard for the better part of two days. He had already found most of his men and sent them home. The investigation was over. He should have not left without talking to Rhiannon about his feelings for her, but he did not yet understand them himself. The more time he spent riding the countryside, the clearer his thoughts for the vixen became.
He loved her.
He could not think about anyone but her. At first, he believed it was just a part of his duty. A good Inquisitor consumed himself with the accused, gathering information. However, if truth be told, he sought knowledge not for the Justiciary courts, but for his own interests. She had changed him in ways he did not realize until now.
Rhiannon was a witch and she was a good person. Hexed or not, he knew her heart was pure. When her twentieth came, he would stand by her side and they would face the curse together.
Lachlan urged his mount faster, eager to see his lovely Rhiannon again. He chuckled at the look on Tremayne’s confused face when he asked to draw up the betrothal contracts for his daughter. Instead of taking Rhiannon back to Edinburgh, he pledged to her father he would defend her with his life. He would sooner cut off his own sword arm than put her in harms way. Her father muttered something about the chosen one and vigorously shook Lachlan’s hand until it felt like it was going to fall off.
His Majesty’s gift be damned. Baird’s Glen was not worth Rhiannon’s life. He was not completely without means; he would build a fine and noble keep in the highlands for Rhiannon. It would not be a grand castle, but she would be safe and happy.
The imposing fortress of Gleich Castle emerged from over the hill and Lachlan’s spirit soared. His arms itched to hold Rhiannon close. His mouth craved to kiss her soft lips and confess how she had touched his life.
The gate was open and he rode through, waving at the somber gatekeeper.
The village was a blur as he raced up the steep incline to the castle. Even his horse must have sensed there were oats in his hay at the top of the rise.
Swinging down from his horse, he ran up the bailey stairs to the entrance. Loud chatter filled the great hall. He searched for Rhiannon, but could not find her among the clan.
He walked up to the high table where the Roberts’ family sat. Something was wrong. Their faces were etched with concern and worry. Even Rhiannon’s pregnant aunt appeared extra pale.
“Where is Lady Rhiannon?” he asked, his voice loud and firm.
Gavenia rose unsteadily to her feet; her eyes were swollen and red. She leaned over the table and passed him a parchment.
Opening the paper, Lachlan read aloud, “To save you all from suspicion and peril, I have left to face my destiny. Please do not come after me, I depart on my own choice. I love you all, Rhiannon.”
“I have searched everywhere, but I cannot find her,” Laird Tremayne said, his face seemed to have aged since he saw the man two days ago.
Why did she leave? Did she think I was going to take her to Edinburgh? I am such a fool! I should have explained myself before leaving. This is my fault.
“Where is Master Grigor?” Lachlan asked, scanning the crowd for the Inquisitor.
The chieftain answered, “He has not been seen since Rhiannon left.”
Lachlan’s stomach tensed immediately. Even with the message in his hand, he did not trust Grigor.
Gavenia asked, “Do you think the Inquisitor seized her?”
“Rhiannon is a prize he would not take lightly to losing.”
A shriek pierced the din of the chamber. Alayne’s face went from pale to red as she bent over, clutching her protruding stomach. Her hand grasped the back of the chair for support while the clan gathered around her. Callum pushed his way through and stood behind her.
“The babe,” she panted. “’Tis coming.”
Alayne screamed again and Lachlan felt it shoot right though his body. He had never heard such a sound of pain come from a woman.
Adela, Rhiannon’s grandmother, placed her hand on Alayne’s stomach. “There is something wrong.”
“I will take her upstairs,” Callum said and went to pick her up.
“Nae,” Adela shouted. “There is no time. This babe seeks to come out now.”
Gavenia swiped the high table, sending bowls and goblets crashing to the floor. Callum picked up his wife and laid her on the table. He used a cloth to wipe her sweating brow.
She grabbed his hand. “Pledge to me, you will not let this one die, even if it means sacrificing me.”
Callum stared at her dumbfounded, his eyes tormented.
“Pledge to me!” she screamed and then her body violently contracted.
“No one is going to die,” Adela said soothingly. “Lay back and relax.”
The chieftain asked people to leave, personally walking them out the door, jesting and ribbing about a new member of the family. His calm authority soothed everyone’s concerns for Alayne. Soon Lachlan was the only one left in the hall with the Roberts’ family.
Gavenia and Adela placed their hands on the pregnant lady and closed their eyes. They chanted in Latin. A blue light appeared and swirled around the women three times. It then shot out the chamber.
Warmth enveloped Lachlan as swift as a fox.
They were all witches!
He watched in fascination while they calmed Alayne’s agonizing screams down to mere sobs.
A low vibration sounded behind him when transparent spirits flew passed him. As they brushed by him, an incredible emotion of love and acceptance entered his being. Male and female entities in varying vibrant colors gathered around the women.
“They are Celtic Gods and Goddess’,” Tremayne stood beside him along with the chieftain.
“What are they going to do?” he asked.
“They will use their energy to help birth my grandchild,” the chieftain answered.
Floating above, the entities held their hands out and white light shot down into the hands of Gavenia and Adela. The chieftain turned to Lachlan and Tremayne. “Come on lads, lets us seek a mug of ale in the kitchens.”
Lachlan stepped back. “I…I must go after Rhiannon.”
“First you must rest and eat,” the chieftain replied.
“I agree,” Tremayne said. “You will do my daughter no good by falling off your horse from exhaustion. While you are eating, I will arrange a fresh horse and supplies for your journey.”
“Thank you,” he said and bowed.
Lachlan resisted a wave of dizziness and tried to remain upright. He followed the chieftain into the kitchen. His stomach churned from lack of food and the thought of Rhiannon being in the hands of Grigor.
If anything happened to her…
“It is not always easy being the chosen one for a Celtic witch,” the chieftain said while they both sat down at the kitchen bench. He nodded to the kitchen-hand. “John, bring the lad food and a mug of ale.”
“I do not understand what the chosen one is or how you all knew it was me.”
The chieftain chuckled. “For every child born from a Celtic witch, there is another who is destined to be their mate. One who can do no harm to them or resist their heart’s desire.”
“Am I under a spell?”
“Nae, ’tis fate.” The chieftain took a swig from his mug. “That, and the wizard told us you would come.”
Lachlan shook his head. ’Twas so much to take in.
The chieftain smiled at him with clear blue eyes and placed
a hand on Lachlan’s arm. “I can guarantee your life will never be boring.”
Lachlan hardly tasted the food he pushed through his mouth. His thoughts were on Rhiannon and which direction she may have headed. If Grigor had her, then he would hasten to Edinburgh as fast as he can. He had to make a choice, either follow Grigor or search the countryside for signs of Rhiannon. If he made the wrong decision, he could lose days, if not weeks by going the wrong way.
He ran his fingers through his hair and stared into the kitchen fireplace. He must go after Grigor. If she was with him, then her life was in immediate danger.
After gulping down half of the ale, he rose. “My thanks for the victuals.”
The chieftain nodded. “Milord…bring back my granddaughter.”
“I swear upon my honor, ’twill be done.”
Chapter Twelve
The back of Rhiannon’s head thumped with a dull ache. She groaned through dry lips and tried to touch the offending lump, but her arms could not move. They were bound to her sides by scratchy rope that grinded against the thin material of her sleeves. Her sore body shivered from the cold night air. Her entangled hair matted with leaves and dirt fell across her face. Twisting her head around, she found herself lying on the ground beneath an old pine tree. A diminutive fire burned, but there was no one around except three horses on the other side of the small clearing.
Rhiannon struggled against the binds, the rope cutting through her flesh.
If I could only get enough movement…in…my hands.
Her wrist slipped through the ropes, scraping her tender skin. She sighed with relief. It was all the space she needed.
Curling her hand in an arc, she summoned her powers and focused on the ropes. Within a moment, energy speed through her veins and the rope obeyed, releasing its grip and falling to the dirt. Sitting up, she rubbed the lump on the back of her head and scanned the area. Who had hit her? The last thing she saw was Mary telling her she was…
Shock, confusion and anger infused her body all at once. Betrayed by her closest companion.
“I see you are awake,” Mary’s satisfied voice intruded on Rhiannon’s thoughts. Her friend walked into the circle of light. The black fur coat wrapped around her shoulders made her look as if she were a vicious animal instead of the carefree and fun lass Rhiannon once knew.
“How could you?” Rhiannon spat.
“You should thank me,” she sneered.
“Why, pray tell?”
“I could have told Grigor your whole family were witches, but I only informed him of you.” Mary stood over her.
“Traitor!”
“You think you are better than everyone else,” she yelled, her eyes glossy from the sudden outburst.
Rhiannon gnashed her teeth. She could not look at her friend. “Not everyone else…just you.” Hurt spiked her words.
Mary leaned over. “Well…then…you can burn on the stake, witch!”
Rhiannon glared at her, her body filling with hatred.
Mary went to leave.
“Do not walk away from me,” Rhiannon warned.
Mary halted, then continued walking.
Rhiannon rose to her feet, her hands heated as evil enveloped her body and soul. “Mary!”
Mary’s thick skirts and fur caught fire. Her scream rent the air.
Rhiannon gasped. What had she done? She ran to her friend and tried to put out the flames with her hands and dirt. “I am sorry. I am sorry,” she cried.
Mary danced around until the last flame was out, smoke rising from her ruined gown, her fur coat hanging lopsided across one shoulder. Fear stared out from her green eyes for the first time. “Grigor was right, you are the devil’s servant.”
Rhiannon stood up and stiffened. From behind, the cool edge of a dagger pressed against her throat.
“Chant one word and I will slit your bonny neck.”
The scent of foul onions assailed her senses, making her stomach queasy. It had to be Grigor standing behind her, his body pressed against hers. Was that an erection digging into her backside? She resisted the urge to shudder.
“You cannot hold a knife to my neck the whole way,” she said, her eyes boring into Mary’s.
He released her and pushed her away from him. “I do not need to. You will come willingly to Edinburgh with me and confess to His Majesty.”
Rhiannon laughed and placed her hands on her hips. “Why would I do that?”
“If you do not, I will tell His Majesty your mother consorted with another witch. I witnessed the crime myself.” He glared at her. “Perchance, she also knew you were a witch as well. Could your mother also be…a devil’s servant?”
Fear lodged in Rhiannon’s throat. “Nae, she is not!”
He shrugged his shoulders. “One word from me and His Majesty will send his men to hang your mother.” He walked causally around the fire and crouched down to place another log on the flames. “I have already sent a messenger stating I return with a witch. If anything happens to me, the king will burn Gleich Castle. I am the only one who can save your mother from the noose and your clan from destruction...”
“… If I come with you and confess.” Rhiannon finished the sentence for him, her accusing tone stabbing the air.
“Precisely.” He grinned spitefully.
She trembled with impotent rage and fear. She must calm the sorceress within or else do something she would regret. Taking a deep breath, a cold numbness settled in her heart. She had no choice. “Do you pledge to leave my mother alone, convince the king my clan is innocent of all knowledge?”
Grigor placed his hand over his heart. “You have my word as an Inquisitor.”
Rhiannon’s mind whirled with thoughts. Come the day of her twentieth it would not matter where she was, as long as it was far away from her loved ones—far enough that her evil powers would not touch them, endanger them.
Grigor pulled iron shackles out of a saddlebag. He stalked toward her.
“There is no need for restraints,” Rhiannon said, backing away.
He shrugged. “I know. But I like to see you in them.” Grigor clamped the heavy irons on her wrists and yanked on the chain, hurtling her downward. With his other hand, he grabbed Mary and roughly pulled her against his body. Reaching inside Mary’s ruined gown, he grabbed her breast.
Rhiannon turned away in disgust until Grigor yanked on the chain again.
“Witch… watch us fuck!”
Rhiannon glared at the two, her limbs weak with fatigue. Her world had turned on the point of a dagger. She must think of a plan. Escape. But how? Grigor found her one true weakness. Her mother. She had to protect her and do what Grigor wanted, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.
“Bend over,” he ordered Mary.
Her friend turned around and lifted her skirt; her pasty buttocks gleamed in the firelight. Grigor fumbled with his laces and pulled out his small erection, then pushed inside her.
“Watch me pleasure this whore with my cock.”
Rhiannon shifted her gaze, but Grigor pulled her chain again, the iron biting the skin around her wrists.
Mary moaned when Grigor groped her breasts, his breathing increasing with each thrust.
The sexual mist swirled around the couple and seeped into Rhiannon, building her powers with erotic stimulation. Powers she yearned to use, but could not.
She stared at the rutting couple. Usually, she would have enjoyed feeding off their energy, but tonight, she remained unaffected. Her thoughts turned to Lachlan. It would have broken her heart to have him take her back for trial rather than Grigor. Either way, it did not help her current situation. No matter what she said on trial, they would convict her. The courts always did, whether a person was guilty or not.
Rhiannon stared up at the stars. Soon the hex would take place, proving to everyone, they could not trust her. With her superior powers, the world was truly in danger when that day came.
Perhaps it was best she died on the stake. Everyone would be bette
r off.
A tear trickled down her cheek, and Rhiannon swiped it, smearing dirt on her face. If only she had hugged her parents one last time—kissed Lachlan before he left.
She shook her head. She must not think of that now.
The chains to her shackles relaxed and she glanced at Grigor. A self-satisfied smile flitted across his face while he retied his laces. “Did you enjoy watching us?”
Rhiannon swallowed lingering emotions about Lachlan and welcomed the spark of resistance that fueled her resentment. “As much as I would enjoy watching two filthy pigs mate.”
His smile dropped and he backhanded her across the cheek. The side of her face burned and throbbed. She glared at him. “I can make your codpiece fall off.”
He bent over her, his finger pointing near her nose. “I can watch your mother take her last breath before her neck breaks in the noose.”
Grigor swiped at her nose and she pulled away, scrunching her face into a scowl.
He turned and walked toward the horses.
Rhiannon looked at Mary. How could she stand by and let this man threaten her clan? Her friend noticeably averted her guilty eyes and settled on the other side of the small clearing, swinging her burnt coat around her shoulders.
“Can you not look me in the eye, Mistress Mary?” Rhiannon asked with contempt.
Her friend cleared her throat and stared at the ground. “I see nary a reason to cast my eyes upon the devil’s servant.”
Rhiannon scoffed. “Seems to me, ’tis you who have become the willing servant of the devil.”
She lifted her pert nose. “He loves me.”
“He is using you.”
“You do not understand.”
“Then tell me. Help me understand how you could betray our clan. Betray me for this sadistic bastard.”
The reflection of the flames danced in Mary’s moist eyes. “He…he makes me feel…”
Witch Hunter Page 9