The sounds were just outside the door. His body tensed and his stance widened in preparation for hand-to-hand combat. The flat of a blade pressed into his palm. Brianna’s warm body against his back broke through the haze of his light-headedness.
Her hand closed over his, forcing him to curl his fingers around the hilt. Forcing him to accept her means of protection.
The door slammed open and reverberated against the stone wall.
Three of Lindsay’s hired guards barreled into the room, blades raised for attack. Jonathan’s sword hissed from its scabbard. He lunged in front of the first man and blocked his path toward Colin and Brianna. His opponent whipped his blade with a careless swipe, which Jonathan evaded with a low dip before popping up to deliver his own attack.
The other two guards charged at Colin. Their movements matched one another in perfect unison. Together their swords lifted, and together they fell.
Colin knocked the first blade aside with Brianna’s slender dagger. The second man’s strike nicked his shoulder. A flesh wound that would bleed little.
Colin’s fist slammed into the elbow of the second man and sent the guard’s sword clattering to the floor.
The first man drove forward, the cut of his blade aggressive. Colin jerked to the right and buried Brianna’s dagger into the man’s neck.
Pain exploded in the back of Colin’s head, and the room swam in a dizzying rush of pulsing embers and glinting metal.
He turned toward the guard, ready to attack. The floor wavered beneath him, and a heavy sweat broke out on his brow. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, but the unsteadiness did not pass. Muscles that had once fired with energy now slackened with exhaustion.
Damn it, he was weaker than he realized. A wild look shone in his opponent’s eyes.
Bile scalded the back of Colin’s throat with the threat of vomit.
For the first time since he was a lad, he did not know if he could win a fight.
• • •
Brianna’s fists pressed against her mouth in her effort to keep from screaming. The guard Colin had stabbed lay face down on the foul carpet. A puddle of blood swelled beneath his torso and crept toward her. No bubbles rippled the surface of the smooth, crimson puddle.
Oh God.
He was dead.
The open hearth spit hot breath against the back of her legs, preventing her from taking another step away. There was nowhere to go.
A panting breath heaved in the room. Not from the body. Of course, not from the body.
Her mind fogged with horror.
Something clattered to the floor. Not a sword. Smaller.
A dagger.
Colin.
She tore her gaze from the body and watched Colin tip toward the floor in a slow, steady lean.
Her stomach plummeted. The man he fought lifted a thick club over his head.
Brianna’s pulse raced to life. Her eyes scanned the crowded room for anything that she could use to help her husband. A long pole rested beside the fireplace, like a spear absent its blade.
Consequences did not matter. There was no panic, only action. She grabbed the pole and raced toward the guard, her weapon lowered before her like a lance.
Aim toward the center of the chest.
She adjusted the tip’s path.
Jab with arms only.
She shifted her hold.
Keep the torso flat.
Her shoulders squared.
The dull end of the pole caught the guard in the chest and thrust him back against the wall. His head snapped with an unnerving crack and he melted to the floor. The rise and fall of his hunched back indicated he still lived, yet he did not rise.
She spun around to where Colin knelt beside the desk, his eyes squinted with confusion. Jonathan stood unharmed beside him, mouth hanging open.
Only then did she realize what she’d actually done.
A rush of pride swelled her chest. “I told you I read Di Grassi.”
Truth be told, she’d fantasized about applying the methods of defense after reading his book, but she never thought to actually put them to use.
She pursed her lips to suppress a cocky smile.
Colin pitched forward, and all vestiges of humor fled. Blood soaked the back of his leine and turned his golden auburn hair a deep red.
The pole slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a wooden clatter.
There was so much blood.
Before she could run to him, he staggered to his knees and planted his hand on the corner of the desk.
Jonathan grabbed Colin under the arm and helped pull him to his feet. “Laird, are you well?”
Colin grunted in an ornery, Alec-like way. “Fine.” The word dragged from his mouth, slow and slurred.
As if to prove his point, Colin straightened upright and held his hands out, palms up in demonstration. He took a step forward, his footing sure. Relief eased the tension from Brianna’s shoulders.
But then he stopped. His body wavered like a drunkard, and he crashed to the floor once more.
This time, he did not rise.
Chapter Forty-Three
Brianna shifted the position of Colin’s arm across her back, but the action did little to ease the steady burn between her shoulder blades. If Jonathan weren’t assisting, she would not have been able to move.
Colin’s feet staggered with slow, halting steps. The effort did little to ease his burden. “Where are we?” He winced and his head sagged forward.
She made a quiet shushing sound in an effort to keep his slurring protests from ringing out again. Blood glistened against his hair and dotted the floor, trailing their path. They did not need him drawing further attention to their escape.
The door to the exit stood in sight.
Together, she and Jonathan eased Colin’s weight from their shoulders and propped him against a wall. Jonathan’s dagger slid free from his boot with a menacing gleam, and he nodded sharply at Brianna before opening the door.
She crouched in front of Colin, her own dagger locked against her palm.
She would kill for her husband.
Her ears strained in the silence to hear over her own racing heart. There was no sound of struggle outside, no grunt of battle or gurgle of death.
Jonathan appeared through the door, his jaw tight. “We need to go. Now.”
“What happened?”
“No one was there.”
The hair along the back of her neck prickled. “What?”
Jonathan hefted Colin’s weight across his back, shouldering the burden on his own. “They know.”
• • •
Something soft and warm moved beneath Colin. His body swayed, rocked. Started to fall.
His hands tightened around the thick threads tangling his fingers. He squinted his eyes open and found the moon shining down on him with all the brilliance of the sun. So bright it sent daggers through his skull.
Something furry pressed against his cheek. A musty scent hit his nose. Horse?
His left leg dangled into nothing, and his torso tilted sideways.
“Jonathan, he’s slipping from his horse.” A woman’s hushed voice rose with concern.
No, not just a woman’s. Colin’s lips quirked up in a whisper of a smile. Brianna’s.
The world dipped and rose around him, and his teeth clacked in time with each wild sway. His weight shifted off something.
Where was he?
A low curse sounded from somewhere. “I knew we shouldn’t have let him ride on his own.”
That wasn’t Brianna. Where was she?
Nausea churched in his stomach and left cold sweat prickling his brow.
Where the hell was he?
He wanted to see Brianna. Feel her. Smell her. Lay his head in her lap and sleep.
Sleep would be nice. His eyes closed against the overly bright moon.
Everything stopped moving. Lavender surrounded him. He was warm.
• • •
Brianna
sat in a sea of heart-shaped leaves layering the forest floor. Mist hovered over the ground like fine gauze and tangled in the branches overhead. The moon shone full and bright through a veil of clouds.
The romantic in her recognized the setting as a place where lovers met for moonlit trysts.
She looked into her lap where Colin had collapsed, his face pale, his lips locked tight. This was no romantic interlude.
Her lover lay dying.
Her fingers were slick with his blood, and the metallic scent of it clung to the moist air. His chest rose and fell with even breath. He was alive. For now.
The baying of a dog stalked them from a distance, the same howl that had haunted them for the last several minutes.
Colin blinked up at her, his gaze bleary, confused. “Brianna.”
She silenced him with the slightest pressure of her fingertip against his soft lips.
“My lady, we must go.” Urgency hummed around them, yet Jonathan’s voice was calm as he spoke.
Brianna nodded. There was no time, yet there was so much she wanted to say. Colin’s eyes fluttered closed. Even if she could speak around the lump in her throat, he would not be able to hear her. She nuzzled close to his face and reveled in the scrape of his whiskers against her cheek. “I love you, Colin.”
He gave a soft groan, and his breathing drew slow and steady once more. He was asleep, or unconscious. Either way, his lack of awareness was necessary if her plan was going to work.
“I’m not strong enough to hold him as we ride.” She looked up at Jonathan’s shadowed face. “You’ll have to take him on your horse.”
As expected, Jonathan did not disagree with Brianna’s suggestion. She waited until both he and Colin were on the horse before advancing with the second part of her plan. “You ride ahead, and I’ll lead the guards on a chase through the woods.”
The drumming of horses’ hooves sounded in the distance.
“I can’t allow that, my lady.”
She glanced over her shoulder to ensure her uncle’s men were not already breaking the tree line. “You are weighted down with Colin and I am a fast rider. I’ll meet you at Edzell later.” Her gaze returned to Jonathan, and she gave him a smile she hoped appeared more certain than it felt. “I’ll be fine.”
The dog’s howl was close this time. So close, it sent fear skittering across her nerves.
“Go,” she hissed with urgency. She gazed one last time at Colin’s handsome face, relaxed now in slumber. In that one glance, she committed every line, every sweet curve to memory. “Please. Save him.”
Reluctance crossed Jonathan’s young features even as he gathered his arms beneath Colin’s slumping chest. “I will see you at Edzell.”
She knew his words were validation for himself more than for her. She knew he questioned her intent, and with good reason.
He snapped the reins and his horse galloped into the cover of the forest. Into the protection of darkness.
She swung up on her horse and eased toward the edge of the forest, where her uncle’s men would see her and give chase.
They drew near. Their presence vibrated the air with the excitement of a hunt and stirred the languid mist.
The flanks of Brianna’s horse flexed and flicked with uncertainty. She ran a soothing hand down his strong neck.
The clatter of armor and weapons assaulted the eerie silence, and her heart slammed in unsteady beats.
Her sacrifice would not be in vain.
Jonathan would escape safely to Edzell, and her people would be warned of the possibility of battle. Pray God the healer could aid Colin.
Her horse pranced with anxious energy beneath her.
“I see one of them!” The shout came from the opposite end of the glen.
Her horse did not need the snap of the reins. He darted forward and wound his way through the trees, his movements sharp, determined.
No matter how hard the poor beast fought for their freedom, they would be captured. Their defeat in sacrifice for the safety of those she loved.
The guards pressed closer. Their exerted breath hissed behind her, the musk of their sweaty horses tainting the air. There was no escape.
And that was exactly what she wanted.
• • •
Brianna had thought she would feel more panicked. Her heartbeat was steady and her palms dry. Even her breathing was normal.
Colin was safe.
Her hands were bound in front of her with manacles similar to those he had worn. The great entryway to her uncle’s manor opened wide above her, as if intending to swallow her up.
Her chin lifted with the pride of a queen. She would not buckle beneath the press of intimidation. She was a MacKinnon.
Her uncle waddled down the hallway, his gait slow in the absence of his cane. “For all that I trusted her, it is my niece who betrays me.”
Despite the late hour, he did not appear to have been roused from bed. His stiff jacket still creased across his midsection, and his hair was perfectly slicked back.
He staggered toward her, and the scent of overly sweet perfume and alcohol compressed around her in a dizzying fog.
His forefinger pointed in her direction and waggled. “You have disappointed me.” The breath whooshed from his chest like a great wind through a narrow tunnel.
Brianna did not bow beneath his criticism. Her heart was callused to his disappointment, hardened by years of resentment and bitterness. If anything, his words fed her contempt. She had nothing to lose. “You arrested my husband with no regard for Scottish law. If anything, I am disappointed in you.”
His flushed face deepened to a shade of purple, and a slow sigh rattled from his gaping lips.
The whisper of silk sounded behind him.
“What do we have here?” The feminine voice was rich, warm, and laced with a French purr.
Brianna went stiff, and her steady heartbeat bounced inside her chest.
She knew that voice.
Marie D’Aubigne.
Chapter Forty-Four
Brianna froze, her manacled hands held in front of her. “Marie?”
The Frenchwoman stepped forward, and her indifferent gaze swung to Brianna. “It would appear you’ve caught yourself a mouse,” Marie said.
Colin had been betrayed.
Brianna’s hands flexed and fisted until the heavy iron cuffs chaffed the skin of her wrists. She welcomed the pain. Anything to distract her from the sting of Marie’s treachery.
Her uncle’s disdainful glare settled on Brianna. “Either I have underestimated your bravery or overestimated your intelligence.” His words slurred slightly. “I’m inclined to go with the latter. Interesting-I had never assumed you to be so naïve.”
Brianna stared hard at Marie. “How could you do this to Colin? You betrayed us.” She was no longer cool and emotionless. “He was down in the dungeon, sleeping on filthy rushes in the dark.” Her lip curled with disdain. “You slept above him while he suffered.”
A dark look shot through the Frenchwoman’s eyes, hard and mean. “You’ll get your punishment soon enough, little scholar. And then Edzell will be seeking a new mistress.”
Brianna bit her tongue to keep from asking what they intended to do with her. Her sacrifice had afforded Colin a chance at life where he would otherwise die. She focused on that thought, clung to it.
Marie leaned toward Brianna’s uncle. “I think we deserve a victory drink.”
His gaze slithered down the Frenchwoman’s body, in full view of Brianna and all the guards. “I’d prefer to go to bed.”
Brianna winced in revulsion, but Marie’s expression did not lose its sultry welcome.
“One more drink.” Her voice was low, enticing.
Brianna’s uncle swayed where he stood, as if he were adjusting to the rock of a boat. She knew him well enough to know he could not handle one more drink. And she was willing to bet Marie knew that as well.
“Very well,” he slurred. “But just one more.” He glanced back at
Brianna, and a smug grin pulled at his jowls. “In celebration.”
Marie slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and together they disappeared, leaving Brianna in the company of armed guards and her impending fate.
• • •
Brianna had expected a dungeon for her captivity.
Heavy silk lined the walls of her chamber. A bed sat in the small room, un-extraordinary in any other sense than it covered almost the entire floor and scraped Brianna’s ankles as she tried to pass.
She hadn’t slept through the remainder of the night, nor during the day. She edged past the foot of the bed to the window, if the slender arrow-loop could be called such. The narrow gap in the wall was meant for shooting at enemies, not providing light.
The moon rose bright against the inky night outside, and her eyes felt fat with exhaustion.
Colin had been so still in her arms when she held him in the glen. Too still. His breathing unnaturally deep. There had been too much blood. The underside of her fingernails still bore the stains.
She’d been given a fresh gown with her midday meal, and the previously soiled dress now lay in a pile beside the bed. The food she had not touched, but the dress had been a welcome comfort in an otherwise futile predicament.
The house had long since gone still, and the settling creaks and groans of age blew cold beneath her door. Such sounds had frightened her as a child, the petty angst of a girl who did not yet understand true fear.
A key turned in the lock. Brianna’s head snapped toward the sound to find Marie slipping through the door. The Frenchwoman’s face trained toward the hallway before she quietly locked them in together.
She motioned for Brianna to approach.
Brianna did not move.
“Quickly, come.” Marie’s voice was so soft, Brianna had to strain to hear it. “Do you want to stay here?”
She eyed Marie, uncertain. “I don’t understand.”
“Lower your voice, please.” The woman paused and pressed her ear to the door. “I am not with your uncle, I’ve been spying on him for Colin.”
Possession of a Highlander Page 24