Connie C. Scharon - Highland Legends 02

by Phantom Bride

  "Lovely Lady Devon, come, I'll take you inside." He lifted her from her soft resting place and slung her roughly over his shoulder. She winced in pain as her tender ribs felt the sting of his crude movement.

  Bryce carried her back outside and walked toward the main entrance to the manor, nearly colliding with Nigel as he rushed out to greet them.

  "You did it!" Nigel's eyes were wide with fear. "MacLean will hunt you down and kill you. There's no place in all of Scotland you'll be safe."

  "Shut up and get the door open! I'm freezing."

  Obediently Nigel opened the portal for his cousin and ushered him inside. Bryce studied the interior, dumping Devon unceremoniously onto the carpet near the fire. She moaned and rolled toward the warmth.

  "What have you done to her?" Nigel questioned.

  "She didn't come willingly, you fool. She'll be good as new in a few days."

  Nigel knelt beside Devon and ran his hand lightly over her white face. "She looks half dead."

  "Then tend her if you must, but get me some hot food. Are there any servants or are you alone?"

  "Where would I get money for servants?" his cousin retorted.

  "You did this yourself?" Bryce waved his hand around in the air indicating the relatively comfortable room. Nigel nodded and Bryce let out a cold laugh. "You seem very suited to serve. Perhaps you were born above your station." He stared at his sour-faced cousin, still finding it difficult to believe they were relatives. Nigel was so weak and whining. "Did you follow my instructions?"

  "Yes."

  "Well find her a room. I'm too cold and tired to fool with her now."

  Nigel scooped Devon into his arms and stood while Bryce sank into a chair by the crackling hearth. Nigel hesitated before leaving the room.

  "There was an old couple living here, caretakers for the property. I'll send the woman to fix you some dinner."

  Bryce gave no indication he heard his cousin. His eyes closed and he was rapidly sinking into the deep sleep his body craved.

  Nigel carried Devon into one of the chambers and laid her on the bed. She felt his shaking fingers probing at her wet clothes, peeling off layer after layer.

  Devon made a feeble attempt to roll away from him, but her limbs were too numb.

  "Don't be afraid, Devon," he murmured. "I need to get you some dry clothes."

  She felt the last vestiges of her clothing pull away and she looked up in horror at Nigel's gawking stare. Nigel palmed her full breast, and then ran a slow hand over her injured side, bringing it to rest on her hip bone.

  "Stop," Devon moaned through cracked lips. He ignored her. As she looked down at his hand, she saw an ugly bruise discolored one side of her ribs.

  She lay motionless under his exploration, unable to move of her own will. Tenderly, his fingers probed her black and blue side, tracing circles around each small imperfection. She moaned when he touched her ribs and jumped back guiltily.

  "Please stop," she repeated, using every ounce of energy she could muster.

  "Bryce would kill me for touching you," he said softly. "The sad part is that your fairness can't stir my poor, limp member to action."

  The man who had been fondling her began to weep openly, devastated by his impotence in his singular hour of opportunity. After a few minutes, he collected himself and patted her head gently.

  "You have nothing to fear from me, Lady Devon," he said softly.

  Nigel slid a heavy, flannel nightdress over her and tucked her under the covers, carefully brushing her hair out of her face. He tore his gaze from her, went over, and stoked the fire, bringing it to a blaze. With one backward glance, he left the room, locking the door securely behind him.

  ***

  The snow faded into a light, driving spray by the time Liam reached the outskirts of Corran Ferry. Most residents were holed up in their homes, but he saw a livery man getting ready to close the door to his stable and rode up to him. The man motioned Liam in the barn, then shut the door and ran over to assist him with the pack horse.

  "Bad day to be travelin'."

  "Aye," Liam agreed. "Tell me is there an inn in town?"

  "Aye Milord, over by the ferry across from Loch Linnhe. Pretty full though, what with the Duchess of Rothbury and her attendants."

  "The duchess is here?"

  "Yes Milord, got here jus' before the snow."

  "Is there a woman with fiery auburn hair?"

  "Only her guardsmen, no other women…. Are ye a friend of the duchess?"

  "Laird Liam MacLean of Dunsmore Heath," Liam introduced himself. "I guess you could call me an old friend of the duchess."

  The man's face lit with a smile. "Mad Lady Devon's new husband… sorry Laird, I should no' o' let that slip." He hung his head in embarrassment. "We all loved little Devon when she was growin' up, but after she married Frazer Forbes, well, she was a changed person."

  "Tend my horses, I'll be back shortly." Liam tossed the man a gold coin. "Do a good job; Devon's life may depend on it." Liam smiled at the man's startled look. "I have to rescue her from Bryce Forbes."

  The man's chest puffed out in indignation. "I'll ride with you," he offered. "It's high time those bastard Forbes brothers were stopped."

  "I appreciate your offer, friend. Just get my horses fed, I'll do the rest." The man nodded and began his duties as Liam strode out into the snow.

  He had no trouble locating the inn. Claire looked up from her dinner in wide-eyed fear when he burst into the large common room. She rose from the table trembling and started for the door. Three of her guardsmen moved to block Liam. Shoving the men aside, he grabbed Claire's arm. Her men started to object, but Claire turned and ordered them away. She stared up into Liam dark eyes.

  "Forgive me," she pleaded.

  "Where are they?"

  "He's taking her to the Gailbraith Manor."

  "Why, Claire? Why did you help him?" His eyes searched hers for the answer.

  "Because I love you, and I would have done anything to have you." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "The morning you left for Glenfinnan I began to realize my mistake. I should have told you then."

  "If you've allowed that monster to destroy her, I'll never forgive you."

  "I'm sorry," Claire sobbed. "I'm sorry for everything."

  "What is everything, Claire? Was it you who came through the secret passage to my room and stabbed me?"

  "To your room? No! Durwin showed me how to reach the dungeon, nothing else!"

  Liam wheeled on his heel and headed back to the stable, leaving the duchess to cry after him.

  ***

  The door to the room opened with a creaking sound. Devon sat bolt upright in bed. A malevolent grin slid across Bryce's face as he eyed her.

  "You are mine now. Mine until I punish you for what you did to my brother."

  He crossed the room and plopped down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to run his hand down her still-swollen cheek. Devon jerked away and he slapped her. She screamed in pain and hid her head in her hands sobbing.

  "Look at me!" Bryce demanded.

  When she made no move to obey, he grasped her hair and jerked her tear-streaked face up to his.

  "Bastard," Devon choked.

  He started to hit her again, but thought better of it and dropped his hand to his lap. "Are you trying to get me to kill you before we can be together?"

  His hands clamped over her wrists and he leaned over and kissed her breast, laughing when she tried to roll away from his unwanted attentions. "Devon, Devon," he murmured, shaking his head. "Do you know how long I've waited to make you mine? If you had just held off a little longer killing my brother, you'd have known the joy of me that night."

  "What do you mean?" she asked shakily, distant memories threatening to assault her with his reminder.

  "You don't have to pretend with me. I was in the next room, waiting my turn."

  "No!" Devon clamped her hands over her ears, but he pried them away.

  "You watched him with Els
peth, and then he was going to watch you with me. I didn't really want him to watch us together, but I wanted you so badly, I would have agreed to anything."

  Bile rose up in Devon's throat as a bitter vision assailed her. Her husband tied her to the bedpost and she watched while he raped poor Elspeth before her eyes. Frazer was vicious with the girl, as vicious as he had been with Devon on their wedding night.

  She had come to him full of love and wanting, only to discover the dark pleasures he sought behind closed doors. He wanted her to be afraid of him—wanted to hurt her—and he had certainly succeeded. Her body began to tremble involuntarily.

  She could hear Bryce's voice off way in the distance… or was it Frazer's voice. "Stop that, Devon. Come here, I won't hurt you anymore." How empty those promises had been.

  "Devon," Bryce growled. "Did you hear me? I want your confession. Tell me how you killed my brother."

  "I… I don't remember."

  "Liar!"

  "I can't." She broke off sobbing.

  "He came to your room. It was the first time he had bothered you since you lost the baby. Come on, start there," Bryce urged.

  "No! I won't talk about it!" she shrieked.

  "Fine," Bryce quipped, rising from the bed and starting to unbutton his shirt. "If you won't talk, we'll do something else, something I've waited four long years to do."

  His meaning all to clear, Devon struggled to form the words he wanted to hear. "Wait," she gasped. "I'll tell you what I remember."

  His eyes hardened and he sat back down on the bed beside her. "I want the truth, and I want it now," he said sternly. "And after you've told me you can write your confession and sign it."

  "I was devastated by the loss of my son," Devon said quietly. "I was so thankful Frazer let me take my own room when I got pregnant, then let me stay there after the baby." She sighed. "I thought it meant I didn't have to be with him anymore."

  "Did you enjoy being with my brother?"

  "What?" Devon stared at Bryce. "No woman could enjoy Frazer's preferences in the bedroom, but I was young and innocent. I didn't know how perverse he was until I was with Liam." Her beloved Liam would come after her. She knew it deep in her soul. Would he be too late?

  "Go on," Bryce said. He seemed to hang on her every word.

  "It had been eight weeks since I had the baby." Devon's hands traveled unconsciously to her stomach, remembering the feel of the child moving within her womb. Her eyes filled with tears. The movements stopped after Frazer beat her and threw her down the steps. She knew something was amiss, then she went into labor, and her hope was renewed, but the perfect, little boy was stillborn, dead by his father's hand. She hadn't cared anymore whether she lived or died.

  "Devon." Bryce's voice reminded her to continue.

  "He rapped on the door."

  "Come along, Devon. Your time of rest is over," Frazer said cheerfully.

  She backed away from him in horror, but he followed her retreat across the room and groped her through her nightdress.

  "You got your figure back quick," he commented. She froze beneath his touch.

  "I can't go with you. I'm not healed yet. It was a very difficult birth."

  "You'll do fine. If you don't, your father won't live to see morning."

  "Father is in London."

  "I just received word he's at Corran Ferry. If you don't cooperate, he'll die before he gets home."

  She stood like a statue while Frazer slid her robe over her. He took her hand and led her into the hall. She didn't know how she managed to put one foot before the other. Frazer made a point of going the long way around to his chamber in the new wing. Every time they passed a servant, he spoke and gave Devon a hug as if she was going willingly back to his bed.

  The length of the walk seemed interminable as she tried to steel herself for his assault. I have lived through this before she kept telling herself.

  Garyth appeared and tried to block their path, but Frazer called the guards and had him beaten for his insolence, forcing her to watch. She saw the blood trickling from his lips when they dragged him away.

  When Frazer opened the door to his room, Elspeth cowered in the corner. The beautiful, young girl had an absent, wild-eyed look about her, and Devon wondered what atrocities he had visited on her flesh over the last five months. It was well-known Frazer took her for his mistress early on in their marriage. Devon felt no jealousy, only pity for anyone who had to bear Frazer's tortures.

  "What's she doing here?" Devon asked.

  "She's part of the show."

  Devon's eyes narrowed and she tried to back out the door. Frazer threw her roughly in a chair by the fire and explained his game.

  "You will watch me with Elspeth," he directed.

  "You sick bastard! Why don't you just kill me? I cannot live like this anymore."

  "Devon, you haven't heard the whole game. After you've watched me, I'm going to watch you. I want to see how you do with another man."

  Devon sat in stunned shock, but a rap on the door interrupted them. It was Archie and he was insisting on seeing her. Frazer shot her a warning glance when she went to the door. She was so deadly calm. She felt as if she was sleepwalking. One word to Archie and he would fall victim to Frazer's wrath as well. In shock, she sent him away.

  Her mind blocked the nightmare that followed for years. The systematic brutalization of Elspeth while she stood tied in helpless agony. Devon was sobbing hysterically.

  "What happened then?" Bryce asked, but his question fell on deaf ears. "Devon!"

  It was no use. She was catatonic, lost in the world he had forced her to recall. Bryce studied her a moment. Maybe this was his chance to take her without a struggle. She lay on the bed, still and compliant, motionless in her other world.

  Cautiously he lifted her nightdress. When she made no move to stop him, he eased it off of her, standing back to admire the beauty he had unveiled. The creamy skin drew his hands, to touch, to caress, but she was cold like a marble statue. He told himself he didn't care. Undoing his stock, he dropped to the bed beside her, stroking her perfect body. His body was ready—hers lay like a corpse in a coffin. He tried to mount her, but her deathlike repose made his dream into a nightmare.

  In disgust, he rose from the bed and hurriedly donned his clothes. Jerking back the covers, he shoved her under. If he came back later, she might come around. Why did he have to hear the story from her? He should have taken her first, and then forced the confession. Well, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. If she was in her right mind later, she was his.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The snow had stopped and the moonlight left a pale trail across the glimmering white of the winter world. Liam could see Gailbraith Manor silhouetted against the horizon. His eyes scanned the nearby terrain hunting for a place to hide the horses.

  There was a narrow, winding trail leading around to the back of the manor. He decided to try it, slowly making his way down the steep incline. A cluster of trees clung to a sheltered ledge about half way down the precipice. Dismounting, Liam tied the horses there and looked back up at the wall surrounding the main house. On this side, the slope fell away to a cliff that looked over Loch Linnhe.

  Liam was sure he picked the right approach. The wall above was crumbling, giving him an opening into the inner courtyard. Although steep, the slope wasn't overly treacherous and he had no trouble reaching the edge of the wall.

  Glancing around, Liam walked into the enclosure and headed for the stable. A quick check told him there were three horses. If his estimation was correct, he should only have Bryce and Nigel to deal with. Apparently, Bryce hadn't had the forethought to hire guards.

  The brightness of the snow made Liam an easy target when he moved toward the main entrance. He kept to the shadows as much as possible. Pressing his body flat against the wall beside the door, he paused listening for any sound inside. Gingerly he reached across and checked the door. The bolt was in place.

  Liam cursed his luc
k. Breaking it down would make too much noise. The manor was a fortress. He would have to scale the wall if he couldn't find an open entrance. Stealthily he crept around the side, searching for a way in. He had to find Devon and make sure she was safe before Bryce got wind of his arrival.

  ***

  Devon tossed restlessly in a terror-filled sleep; the demons of her past assaulted her. First Frazer smiled while he tied her to the bedpost, then he ravaged the young girl quivering in his bed. Devon closed her eyes. He stopped and slapped her, repeating whatever torture he'd just performed on the cowering figure of Elspeth. The girl screamed at Devon to help her, but Devon was as powerless as Elspeth.

  Finally he was done. He rose from the bed in a sweat from his performance. Poor Elspeth laid sobbing and bleeding from his ill use. Devon felt his hands travel down her, exploring beneath her nightgown. She tried to scream, but no sound would issue from her parched throat.

  She could hear his voice, eerily calm. "It's almost time for your turn, but not with me. Did you feel jealous when I was inside her?"

  "Jealous of a madman?" Devon spat back at him in a hoarse voice.

  A stinging slap answered her rebuttal. He grabbed her hair and turned her head around close to his face. "I'll call your partner."

  "Frazer," she cried. "Wait!"

  "I'm sure he is impatient, why do you delay? There's no escape."

  Devon's eyes searched the room for some excuse. "Elspeth," she choked. "Untie me and let me help Elspeth out of here."

  She was surprised when he complied with her request, cutting the ropes that kept her weak knees from crumbling under the shock of his display. He observed while she helped Elspeth from the bed and wrapped a robe around her torn flesh.

  "So nice to see you helping your sister," he commented, his eyes gleaming at her startled expression.

  "What do you mean my sister?"

  "After your mother's death, your father sought solace with a servant girl. Elspeth is the product of their union."

  Devon began to shake when she looked back and forth between Frazer and Elspeth. "That's not true. He would never leave his child to be raised as a servant."