In truth, he was unsure who the telling action astonished more—him or the gaping fool behind her.
Weapons drawn, Liam, Patrick, and Fraser rushed inside the chamber, filling the cramped confines. Before Calum reacted, the arse grabbed Mairi and shoved her behind him once more.
“Mairi,” he bellowed. “Move away. Now.”
The man spread his arms wider, as if to shield Mairi from a threat.
“You think I would harm my sister?” Calum spat as he took a step forward. “’Tis your head I’m after.”
Mairi slapped away the man’s arm and shot around him to plant herself in Calum’s path again. She pressed her fists into the sides of her waist and glared at him. “Calum, please. Hear Aaron out first.”
He gaped at her. Christ, had she taken a knock to the head and lost her senses?
“Are you mad?”
“’Tis the least you can do,” she insisted.
“The least I could do?”
The ridiculous statement infuriated him more. He grabbed her forearm and snatched her away, pushing her into Liam’s waiting arms. Lifting his sword, he pointed the tip at the base of Aaron’s neck.
“Where the hell is my wife?”
Calm and subdued, Aaron nodded toward the broken door. “In the chamber Longford placed her, at the other end of the landing. Unless Connor has already made it to her, in which case she’ll be at the beach.”
Calum thrust his sword a fraction, scoring Aaron’s bare skin. Blood trickled from the small cut.
Mairi sprang forward and wrapped her hands around his arm, attempting to pull his blade away. “Stop, Calum.”
He cast her a quick scowl. “Stay back.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she hung on to his arm. “Please, do not hurt him. He only took us to save his brother.”
This was the damned whoreson who’d stolen his family away? And his sister thought to defend the arse? Fury, swift and searing, swelled inside him. He shook off Mairi’s hold.
“Hold her,” he shouted at Liam.
Calum directed the force of his glare at Aaron. The man had not moved an inch, nor did he cower from the tip of Calum’s blade. He met the warrior’s gaze with equal measure, anticipating the sword thrust that would end his life.
“No,” Mairi sobbed and grabbed on to him again, practically hanging from his arm with her full weight. “Please, no. I beg you. You would’ve done the same for me.”
“Damn it, Liam.” Glancing over his shoulder, he shot an annoyed scowl at his cousin, who shrugged in response.
Growling out a curse, he lowered his blade but warned Aaron with a long, hard stare. The man wisely chose to ease back until his shoulders rested against the chamber’s stone wall. Then he shifted his attention to Mairi.
Calum grabbed her shoulder and shook. “By the Saints, what the devil is the matter with you?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks and she hiccupped to catch her breath. Her distraught features tugged at his heart.
“He was setting us free, Calum.” Sniffling, she swiped at her eyes. “I’ve never asked you for a thing, except this. Just listen to him.”
Nay, she’d not asked him for anything. Hell, there’d been no need. He’d given her anything he could to reconcile the loss of their mother and father. How could she not understand his need to punish Aaron for his foul deeds? His desire to exact revenge on a man who thought to rip their family apart?
Internally screaming, he raked a hand down his face in exasperation. Lord above, the females in his life would be the death of him!
He glared Aaron. “Christ, just speak and be done with it.”
On command, the man opened his mouth and words poured out of him. His solemn gaze remained locked on the floor as he spoke of Longford killing his father and imprisoning his younger brother. At the end, Calum merely stared at him, while Liam muttered a curse.
Damn it, he did not wish to pity the man, but he did. In some perverse way, he understood Aaron’s actions. Though, Calum would never admit such.
He shook his head and relented. “Take me to my wife, and I’ll spare you and your kin.”
Aaron bowed his head. “Thank you, Laird MacGregor.”
“Know this, though. I never want to cross paths with you as long as I draw breath.”
Mairi huffed. “But Calum—”
He motioned to Patrick. “Get her out of here.”
Despite her protests, Patrick removed her from the chamber. Calum ground his teeth at the parting glance she aimed at Aaron. He stepped in the other man’s line of sight. “Now take me to my wife.”
Nodding, Aaron stepped around him and strode outside the chamber without a backward glance. Calum trailed close on his heels with Liam and Fraser behind him. Crossing the landing, he followed Aaron down the passageway, turning right at the end. Aaron slowed his step as they passed an opened chamber. He glanced inside, but carried on until he came to an abrupt halt in front of a second opened chamber.
Calum nearly slammed into the man. “What is it?”
Aaron ignored the question and dashed inside the bedchamber. The next instant, he stood at the threshold, gripping the doorframe for support. His wide gaze met Calum’s.
“We have to hurry.” Aaron’s voice faltered. “Lady MacGregor’s in danger.”
*
“Not much further, my lady. We’re almost there.”
Connor attempted to reassure her, but fear gripped Arabella’s chest in a tight squeeze. Darkness devoured them in the narrowed tunnel. Several times, she’d tread on the back of Connor’s heels, pressing him to walk faster. As soon as light broke through the consuming blackness, she breathed a sigh a relief. The low, amplified hum of the sea carried on the breeze as the passageway widened into a cavern. Soon, the dim light of an overcast day filled the rock chamber.
Arabella measured each step on the slick, rock bottom as she held on to the back of Connor’s shirt in a death grip. He led her to the mouth of the cave, and she almost slid off in her haste to step away from the ledge of the cliff face. A long drop below, the angry sea churned in discord.
“Saints, you could’ve warned me.” She yanked at his shirt.
His low chuckle filled the cavern.
Wary, she peeked over the edge. Several jagged rock formations, resembling sharp talons, jutted up from the water, as if waiting to snatch their prey from the heavens. White-capped waves rolled and crashed over the sea’s rock garden of death.
She shuddered. “How are we to get down?”
He leaned closer and pointed to their left. “There’s a narrow path that leads to the beach. ’Tis treacherous, but there’s no other way down unless we jump.”
Arabella glanced at him in alarm.
Connor laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Concern shone in his deep, brown eyes. “Trust me. I’ll be in front of you the entire way. I shall not let you fall, my lady.”
His gentle, caring nature warmed Arabella’s heart. Unable to resist, she wrapped her uninjured arm around his middle, hugging him close. “You’ll make a fine man someday soon, Connor MacRae.”
Crimson bloomed on his cheeks and he stood immobile for a moment, as if he had no notion how to respond to her praise.
“How touching.”
That voice, she knew all too well.
She and Connor sprang apart and spun to face the darkened cavern. Flanked by two men, Longford stood several feet away. His face split with a faint smile and his gaze narrowed a fraction.
“Do you fear me, Arabella?” Longford’s smooth voice sent chills down her spine.
“Aye,” she confessed. The pulse in her neck sprinted as dread settled in a tight knot in her chest, pressing the air from her body.
Longford nodded as he paced a step closer. “You should.”
In a flurry of movement that surprised her, Connor launched himself forward, head first into Longford’s middle, catching the three men unaware. Connor shouted at her to run and she snapped into action.
She spun on her heel and ran for the narrow path alongside the cave’s mouth leading to the beach below. Her feet slipped on the craggy surface, but she righted her step before she fell off the cliff. Heedless of her injured wrist, she dug her fingers into the side of the wall for purchase. She cast a hurried glance over her shoulder just as one of the men tossed Connor against the cave wall. His head smacked against the rock with a sickening thud and he collapsed on the cave floor in a heap.
Gripped by terror, Arabella inched along the slick, narrow pathway, struggling to keep her balance. She managed a few feet when a hand wrapped around the base of her neck and hauled her backward into the mouth of the cavern. She landed on her hands and knees. The sharp rock dug into her flesh and she cried out in pain.
“You foolish bitch,” Longford spat at her.
Cringing at the harsh words, she sought out Connor’s still form across the cave and her heart plummeted. Blood ran from a wound on his temple to pool beneath his head.
Rough fingers gripped her hair, tugging her to her feet. Tears flooded her eyes as Longford grasped her neck, crushing her windpipe. His cruel, golden features filled her blurry gaze.
“Over and over, you’ve caused me naught but trouble.”
He tightened his grip, and she clawed at his hand, thrashing for air. Spots swam before vision. She raked the tips of her feet over the rock floor, scrambling for solid ground.
“Drop her. Now.”
Calum’s enraged voice boomed throughout the cavern, filling her ringing ears.
At once, Longford’s hand fell away. She dropped on the bottoms of her feet and sucked in a lungful of precious, fresh air. Staggering a step, she coughed and sputtered. The next instant, Longford wrenched her in front of him as he swung to face her husband with the sharpened tip of a dagger pressed against her neck.
Strong, proud, and furious, Calum stood a short distance away, his hands clenched around the hilt of his sword. Flanking him, her uncle and Liam held battle stances, feet braced apart and weapons drawn. At their feet lay the prone bodies of Longford’s two soldiers. Paces away, Aaron knelt beside his brother, cradling the young man’s head in his lap and tending to Connor’s wound.
Despite everything—the blade against her skin, the constant crash of waves, Longford’s heavy breath in her ear—she focused on her husband. The harsh set of his countenance, the rigid set of his shoulders, the sturdy flex of his arms conveyed a depth of power and strength.
A low growl slid from Calum’s throat. “Release her.”
The old wounds on his face and neck paled against the deep flush of his cheeks.
Longford tightened his arm around her ribs. “Do you think I would just hand her over?”
Calum took a menacing step forward, and Longford inched closer to the edge of the cliff.
“Know this.” Calum narrowed his gaze. “You shall meet your death on this day.”
Longford bit out a harsh laugh. “Not before she meets hers.”
He wrenched Arabella aside and shoved her backward. The ground beneath her feet fell away. Calum’s ear-splitting bellow followed her over the edge as she plummeted toward the churning sea.
Chapter Thirty-One
For a single, horrifying moment, shock held Calum suspended in disbelief. That crushing final glimpse of Arabella’s pale face before she toppled over the edge flared in his mind as fury seared a hole in his gut. He launched himself at Longford, slamming the arse onto the hard rock floor. He hurled punch after punch, pummeling the cursed fiend’s face.
The sharp bite of a blade caught him beneath the arm, licking fire down his side, and he grunted. Longford pressed his advantage, tossing Calum off onto his back. Hovering over him, Longford thrust the dagger at his face. Calum grabbed his wrist, fighting to turn the weapon on the bastard. Back and forth, they rolled across the cavern floor near the cliff’s ledge, wrestling for control.
Too late, Fraser and Liam’s warning shouts filtered through the sounds of his and Longford’s struggles and the roaring drum in his chest. He kneed Longford in the thigh and attempted to fling him off, but the wretched cur snagged hold of Calum’s tunic, sending them both over the edge of the cliff.
By the sheer grace of God, Calum cleared the rocks jutting up from the waves and slammed into the frigid water, stomach first. The mind-numbing cold jolted his body, and he kicked for the surface. The sea’s current pitched him to and fro as swells crashed over his head. With no trace of Longford above the surf, Calum shifted his focus to saving Arabella.
Sucking in a deep breath, he dove beneath the white-capped water in search of his wife. Salt stung his eyes and the wound at his side. Heedless of the burn, he searched the gloomy depths, swinging his arms, hoping to snag on to something—anything—that would lead him to her.
Desperate for air, he surged to the agitated surface and emerged with a gasp. Cold air singed an icy trail from his throat down to his lungs, but determination goaded him onward. Frantically scanning between the crashing waves, he caught a glimmer of ruby and his heart leaped in his chest.
Arabella’s head dipped beneath the surface several yards away. Far too close for his peace of mind, a blond head bobbed above the water, moving closer to her.
Despite the encumbering cold, a wellspring of renewed strength hurtled through Calum’s weary body. Dragging in a deep pull of air, he lunged beneath the foaming surface and surged against the strong current. Mindless to the ache in his limbs, he kicked his legs with furious strokes, propelling himself forward. Arms extended in front of him, he stretched for Longford’s clothing, latching on and dragging the man beneath the waves, away from Arabella.
Each of them managed a glancing blow, but the sea absorbed the force, rendering their struggles useless. The steady roll of waves, coupled with the unforgiving current, pushed them deeper underwater. Longford lashed out with the dagger, grazing Calum’s forearm. Too soon, his starved lungs demanded air. He lifted his knees and thrust his feet into Longford’s stomach, shoving the bastard toward the sea bottom. Calum broke the surface gasping for breath.
He seized ahold of a nearby outcropping of stone and skimmed the waves until he found Arabella, who struggled to keep her head above the swells.
“Get to the rocks,” he bellowed over the crash of waves.
Longford burst from the depths and launched himself forward, but the push of the current shoved Calum aside just as the dagger nicked his shoulder. He kicked away from the protruding rocks and grabbed for Longford, gripping the fool by the throat. With his free hand, he crushed Longford’s cold hand wrapped around the dagger, grappling for control of the blade. Digging his fingers into Longford’s neck, Calum managed to extract the weapon from Longford’s hold.
Consumed with vengeance, Calum stared into the face of his enemy as an unquenchable wrath guided his actions. Treading the water, he constricted his clasp around Longford’s throat and slammed the bastard against the pile of stone, smashing his head on the jagged rock. Calum yanked a dazed Longford closer and wedged the sharp point of the blade beneath his chin.
“Rot in hell,” Calum spat.
Longford’s bloodshot eyes widened as Calum flexed his arm, thrusting the dagger through flesh and sinew. With a jerk upward, he embedded the blade to the hilt. Blood spilled from the wound, running over his hand, leaching into the push and pull of the current around him. He released his hold of Longford’s throat and watched as the sea swept the lifeless eyes of his enemy beneath the waves.
’Twas done. No one would threaten Arabella again.
Relinquishing his grip on the dagger, he spun in the water, searching for her over the rise and fall of the waves, where he’d last seen her fighting against the unrelenting current. With no sign of her red hair, dread swamped his short-lived relief, inflaming his alarm. Christ, the weight of her gown must’ve dragged her under.
Struck by a feverish panic, he inhaled a massive breath and dove into the water’s depths. Salt pricked his eyes, while the frigid water seeped into his
bones, slowing him down. Despite the weariness in his aching limbs, he forced his body to withstand the punishing cold long enough to find her.
By the Saints, he had to.
Calum raked his fingers through swaying seaweed, swimming around rock formations as he searched the area over. The barest flutter of light fabric caught his eye, a sight he would’ve missed had the sun not chosen that moment to pierce the murky depths. Kicking wildly, he surged ahead and snagged the cloth, tugging Arabella’s motionless form toward him. He wrapped his arm around her middle and raced to the surface.
Ravenous for air, he panted to catch his breath, filling his greedy lungs. Arabella hung limp against his chest, her head lolled atop his shoulder. Fear clutched his chest and his vision blurred as he fought the roiling surf, desperate to reach the shore.
“Just a bit further, love. Hang on,” he croaked against her cold cheek.
The roar of the sea pounded in his ears, mocking his struggles. As soon as his feet touched the rocky seafloor, he lifted her motionless body in his arms, trudging through the heavy push and pull of the current. He slipped on the unsteady rocks and a shout of frustration tore from his throat. With the last of his strength, he strained to rise to his feet, but failed, dropping them both into the swelling tide once more.
Suddenly, the weight of Arabella vanished from his grasp and strong arms tugged him above water, dragging him onto shore. His bearings lost in the sea, Calum thrashed against the hold, unwilling to let her go.
“Damn it! Cease your nonsense, boy,” Fraser growled within an inch of his face.
Dropped on his back on the pebbled shore, Calum sucked in breath after breath. He blinked to clear his cloudy vision. Tremors racked his frame and his teeth chattered. Fraser and Patrick hauled him into a sitting position, stripped off his sodden tunic, and wrapped him in warm furs.
Clearing his raw throat, he reached for Fraser’s wrist and rasped, “Arabella?”
Brows furrowed, Fraser stared down at him. Marked concern darkened his solemn gaze. After a hesitant moment, the older man nodded at Patrick, and they lifted Calum onto his sore, unsteady legs. All but carrying him a few yards across the beach, they deposited Calum on his knees beside Arabella’s prone body.
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