by Wend Petzler
Tara watched the tall knights organize around her, especially afraid of the tall one named Michael. Another man approached Isabella and pulled her into his embrace, hugging her fiercely. Tears could be seen shining in his eyes from the glow of the small fire.
Gabriel held Isabella, reluctant to release her. “You gave us one hell of a scare! Your absence nearly brought Drago to the brink of madness from missing you,” he teasingly admonished her.
"Apparently William has powerful friends, English friends.” Isabella faced her husband. “Alison is in the dungeons. We can't leave without her.” She took his big hand in hers.
He curled his other hand around her slender neck, her pulse beat frantically in his palm. Nicolas pulled her to him, savagely kissing her, assuring himself she was indeed well. “We will deal with Alison later. First, we need to get you out of here.” Isabella opened her mouth to protest, closing it when Nicolas turned to the young woman.
"How many guards are outside the door?” Nicolas asked as the men readied for a fight.
"Just the one. William figured Lady Isabella not to be much of a problem.” Tara giggled as Drago snorted at McLeod's stupidity.
"Ask him to come in. Say the lady is ill and you need his help.” He frowned at Tara when she bust up laughing, covering her mouth before she was heard by the guard. His eyebrow shot upward as he looked down at his wife whose blush could be seen in the single candle's glow. “You're going to tell me later of your escapades, right?” Isabella grinned impishly and blew out the candle.
The knights melted in the shadows as Tara opened the door.
A man sat asleep in a wooden chair outside the door, his bearded chin resting on his chest, jerking upward when the door opened. Tara stuck her head out to see him better. “I need some help with the woman. She appears to be ill, and I canna make sense of it."
Grumbling about the uselessness of women, the guard got up and trudged inside the chamber. “What's the matter with the Englishwoman?” he barked, peering into the inky darkness.
Nicolas stepped from the shadows, snarling at the man, “Nothing her husband can't fix!” He slammed his fist into the man's nose, the sound of bones breaking followed. The man crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap. He smiled in satisfaction as Michael nodded his approval.
"Michael, go downstairs and see if the feast is over. If possible, we will go out the front door. We will come back later for Alison.” Nicolas strode over to the boy who helped them, ignoring the mutinous flattening of Isabella's mouth.
"Philip, does McLeod keep guards downstairs?” Nicolas asked the boy.
"No, just outside."
"Good. Isabella.... “Gone! She and Gabriel were gone. “Damn it!” What the hell was he suppose to do? Wait? Yanking up his hood over his head, he drew his sword and ordered, “Tara, lead the way.” He was going to have a lengthy chat with his wife about obeying him, he swore as they exited the chamber.
Below in the great hall, sleeping men and women were sprawled everywhere as the remnants of a feast lay wasting on long tables. Philip tugged on Nicolas’ sleeve and mouthed the words, ‘dungeon', pointing to a door on the far side of the hall.
Gritting his teeth, Nicolas motioned for the Demons to fan out, motioning for Tara and Philip to stay by the front door. Careful, he made his way alone through the maze of sleeping bodies, sweat beaded on his brow. Nicolas finally made it to the other side without waking anyone along the way. Peering down into the pitch black stairwell, where the hell was his wife?
* * * *
"Michael, I order you to help me rescue her,” Isabella hissed, determined to find Alison.
Michael looked to Gabriel for help, scowling when he shrugged his broad shoulders, grinning unaffected. Rolling his eyes, Michael finally nodded, outnumbered. Flipping their hoods up, the trio appeared as wraiths in the gloomy interior, stepping carefully through the sprawled bodies amongst the musty rushes. Isabella took the lead. They held their noses from the overwhelming stench of unwashed bodies.
At the door, Isabella signaled for Michael to guard the exit, wishing not to get trapped below in the dungeons. Gabriel followed her. When they heard a woman crying below, they crept stealthily down the steep steps. A circular room lit with bright torches could be seen. Water trickled somewhere in the dark recesses of the gloom, giving the chilled chamber a clammy dampness. Alison! Her arms and legs were tied to the table she laid on, her gown ripped to pieces. Quicker than Gabriel, Isabella bodily blocked him when he made to rush into the chamber. A short, squat man moved into the dim light.
William!
Holding a dagger loosely in his hand, William trailed the sharp tip along her pale, quivering flesh. William leered down at her tear streaked face, fondling her bare breasts. The dagger flashed, the sharp tip was driven into the wood dangerously close to her ear. Laughing when she screamed, he undid the laces of his kilt and let the garment fall to the ground. William made to leap up on the table when a sharp dagger caressed his throat, stopping him short. His startled eyes stared into the dark folds of a hooded specter, unable to see the face hidden within.
"Now, it that any way to treat a guest?” Isabella purred softly. William's eyes bulged with terror, recognizing her voice. “Move to the wall, please.” He woodenly obeyed, backing away as she gracefully followed, pressing the tip of her sword to his heart. When William had his back to the wall, Gabriel rushed to Alison's aid.
Shedding his cloak, he covered Alison before cutting her bonds. She surprised him when she launched into his arms, crying uncontrollably. Gabriel picked her up, holding her frail body close to him.
Isabella smiled sympathetically. “Take her upstairs and send Michael to me."
Shaking her head sadly, Isabella sighed dramatically. “You really disappoint me, Willie. I thought a man of your status would at least be a little bit more endowed. Well, I must admit, it makes sense why you rape defenseless women. How else could you convince a woman to bed you when all you have to offer is that bitty thing?” Isabella sneered, enjoying his discomfort as his face mottled red with rage.
William was about to retort angrily when another wraith came down. He nearly soiled himself when the tall figure flipped back the hood, revealing the most brutal and feared man of the Demon Lord's army, Michael! Coal black eyes appraised William's naked person, brightening in amusement.
"So, here we have the great William McLeod. Kind of puny, is he not?” Michael chuckled wickedly. The smaller man opened his mouth to scream, silenced when he quickly stuffed a cloth in the man's mouth. Wrapping a huge hand around William's throat, Michael lifted the smaller man off the ground. “What shall we do with Wee Willie, here?” A dark eyebrow arched with the question.
Laughing softly, Isabella fastened the iron clasps around William's wrists and ankles, restraining the man. She tossed her hood back as Michael released the man's throat. Emerald eyes burned coldly into William's. Deftly flipping the sword over, she held the hilt up for William to see better the screaming she-demon with emerald eyes.
A snarl curled her soft lips, whispering in his ear, “You seek the Demon Lord in vain. For you see, you had him all along.” Isabella stood face to face with the border lord. “I tire of these games you play. I warn you, if you persist in invoking my wrath I shall come hunting you. Death is standing before you. Heed my words, forget about Blood Keep. Stay on your side of the border, and I shall mine. Cross it once more and I vow, I will burn all you possess! I, the Demon Lord, will destroy you!"
William stared uncomprehending at the woman. Staring into emerald eyes of raw fury, he knew without a doubt he was the first to look upon the face of the Demon Lord! A woman! Shaken and terrified beyond rational thoughts, sweat stung his eyes. Trembling, he gazed at the stairs, noticing another wraith entered the chamber, sword drawn. The figure flipped back his hood, revealing none other than the Red Dragon!
Her sword flashed, clashing with a steely rasp against Nicolas', his eyes glaring at her. Isabella gasped, fearful of his
sudden appearance. Had he heard her confession?
Nicolas inquired, “William McLeod?"
"We've renamed him Wee Willie. What do you think?” Isabella grinned evilly at the struggling laird.
She stepped back, crossing her arms. Nicolas copied her. They tilted their heads to one side, observing the shriveled flesh between William's hairy thighs. Nicolas glanced down at her. “Wee Willie does appear to fit him. Dawn is coming, we need to ride."
Grim, Isabella strode after Michael, halting when Nicolas paused, his handsome visage contorted into cold fury. He growled, “I feel I should make myself absolutely clear where my wife is concerned. Come near us again and I swear you're a dead man. Do you understand?"
William's head bobbed frantically, terrified beyond reason. Nicolas made to leave then hesitated. “This is for touching my wife!” He rammed his mailed fist in William's face, knocking the man out cold. Satisfied, he walked up the stairs, halting when his wife parted from the shadows. A delicate eyebrow rose in question at his actions, he just shrugged his broad shoulders, unabashed.
Shaking her head, Isabella reached up and curved her gloved hand along his strong jaw, desperate to tell she loved him. Nicolas wrapped his arm around her, drawing her off her feet, his mouth swooped down to capture her lush lips, kissing her with a fury borne of desire and hunger for Isabella. Desire struck like lightening, flames coursed through their blood. Reluctant, he set her down. Emerald eyes stared helplessly into amber one glowing with pride and passion, two powerful emotions combined.
Breathless, Isabella reached to pull his hood up, covering his sinfully handsome face from view. She led the way up the stairs, her hips swaying with each step. He couldn't resist the urge and slapped her bottom hard. He leered at her good-naturedly and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. The look she gave him promised retribution.
Michael grew impatient, alert for any signs of the occupants waking. Gabriel had already gone ahead, waiting with Alison by the front doors. Swords held ready, Isabella and Drago exited the dark stairway. Michael took the lead and very carefully, they stepped amongst the confused maze of entwined bodies.
Isabella concentrated on where she placed her feet, flinching when a hand whipped out to latch onto her ankle. The wild-haired man peered upward, his blood shot eyes squinting to better see who he held. His eyes grew wide, bulging in terror.
He stared at the black-cloaked figure, entranced by the ghostly beautiful face framed within the deep folds of the hood. “Almighty God, be merciful,” he screamed hysterically. “Death is in our midst!” The man scrambled backward, making the sign of the Cross, believing the Dark Specter had sent an angel for him.
People all around them stirred, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Nicolas swept Isabella behind him, readying for battle. Another man shouted, calling to arms. In a flash, the Scotsmen grabbed whatever weapons were at hand. Shoving her in front of him, they ran after Michael. Shadowy figures detached from the walls, swords flashing. The fight was on!
Gabriel cursed vehemently, watching the Demons cut down the enemy, working their way to Isabella and Drago as they in turn fought their attackers, cut off from Michael. He grabbed Michael who was about to run back into the fight. “Get the gate open!” Gabriel shouted, laying the terrified Alison on the stairs. Drawing his own sword, he yelled at Philip, “Protect her! I need to help Drago and Isabella.” Gabriel pressed a quick kiss on Alison's parted lips before jumping into the fray.
Michael grabbed Tara's arm, shoving her out the door. The gate was farther than he thought, and yet it could work for their benefit. He looked down at the young woman beside him and whispered roughly, “We need the gate opened!"
She understood. “Stay to the shadows, I'll distract the guard.” Tara picked up her skirts and screamed as if the Devil was on her heels.
"Help! Ye must help! We be under attack,” Tara screamed, drawing the guard's attention.
The man glared at her, looking around disgusted. “Attacked by who? I see no one.” A dark figure rose behind the lass.
Michael growled, “Does this help?” And rammed his fist in the man's surprised face, knocking him unconscious.
Tara chuckled. “The man was always a bit of a skeptic."
Michael threw her a lopsided grin as he pulled the rope, releasing the gate. It crashed to the ground and hooves thundered across the wooden blanks, admitting the Demons leading the warhorses. Leaping onto his horse, Michael held his hand out for Tara who gripped it firmly as he swung her up behind him. He could not help smiling as Tara wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on for dear life. Michael looked up in time to see Lucifer leap up the steps, bursting through the open doors of the hall and inside.
Nicolas fought two swords at once. When he spared a glance to his right he saw Isabella holding her own. She pointed to the table as she effortlessly met the clumsy swing of the Scot in front of her. He nodded. They leapt on top of it, getting above the rushing enemy. Her booted foot savagely kicked a man in the face who was attempting to climb up only to be replaced by another. He was momentarily astonished as Isabella fought viciously, protecting his back. A savage snarl on her lips, she punched the man she fought with her left hand, cutting another down with the evil-looking sword held in her right. Pride arose in him at her considerable skill.
An unearthly scream echoed in the hall, deafening over the clash of swords and screams of pain. Lucifer reared, pawing the air with his sharp hooves. A high pitched whistle caught the stallion's attention, his ears pricked forward. Lucifer bit and kicked his way through the Scotsmen, working his way to his mistress.
"Demons, we are out of here!” Isabella shouted when Lucifer reached the table where she stood.
Nicolas sheathed his sword and leapt on the wildly snorting warhorse, reaching for Isabella's outstretched hand. Isabella barely had time to grab his waist as the stallion wheeled around, heading for the exit. The giant stallion leapt down the steps, racing across the downed gate, easily gaining on the fleeing Demons. Gabriel was ahead of them with Alison securely in front of him as Tara clung to Michael.
Isabella sheathed her sword, wrapping her arms around her husband's lean waist. Elated, Isabella rested her cheek on his broad back as they raced after the others. They were together again! She was in heaven when he squeezed her hands, reassuring Isabella he felt the same.
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Chapter Sixteen
Several miles later, Michael signaled for the riders to halt. The horses’ heavy breathing sounded like bellows in the quiet forest. “How is everyone? Injuries to report?” Everyone shook their heads, all remarkably unhurt from the battle.
Nicolas helped Isabella off the stallion and followed. “Let us walk our horses, in case we need to make a dash over the border."
Walking beside the tired warhorse, Nicolas’ thoughts turned to Isabella fighting skills. Never had he seen a woman or even a man fight with such fierceness and determination as she against the Scots.
"Isabella, who taught you how to fight?"
The question took her by surprise. She should have known he would ask. Her men stared as she frantically thought of something to tell Nicolas. “The Demon.” She swallowed hard, hoping he would be satisfied with the answer.
Frowning, he glanced back at her. “Why would the Demon teach you to fight when he and Otto could easily take care of you?"
A dark shadow passed over her vibrant green eyes. “To be blunt, growing up a bastard in a castle where your stepfather hated you was rather rough.” To say the least, she thought morosely, remembering the beatings. “The Demon gave me the weapons to defend myself from a tyrant bent on making me pay for my mother's sins."
Taken back by her admission, he squeezed her hand, a tightening in his chest at what she left unsaid. Her childhood must have been hell if the Demon and Otto were forced to teach a young girl how to use the sword in order to survive. “I'm sorry. I, for one, am grateful you are so adept. Without you, we would have had a bad t
ime getting out of McLeod's castle tonight."
Michael and Gabriel exchanged worried looks at the story she gave Drago. It wasn't a complete lie, she tried to justify, but in the end it will prove more difficult tell him the truth. She was thankful when he fell silent, and the rest of the ride was met with no more questions.
The thick, high wall surrounding Blood Keep's lands was spotted. The exhausted riders sighed in relief. As they neared, the gate crashed down allowing the weary knights through. The closer to Blood Keep they rode, Nicolas glanced behind him to see his wife's reaction. Isabella's eyes were radiant as she pressed a warm kiss on his mouth. A welcoming roar of cheers from the people gathered along the ramparts and the courtyard made his eyes mist. For the first time in years, he felt he was truly home.
She waved enthusiastically at her people who rushed to help the weary knights. With aid of his arm, she swung off Lucifer and gave the great horse a fierce hug. Miles ran to take the exhausted horse's reins, leading the animal to the stables as did other squires. The warhorses would receive special treatment today for their strength and courage in rescuing Isabella.
Aggie's face was mottled red from crying. Brandon patted her shoulder comfortingly as they welcomed Isabella and Drago who tiredly climbed the steps. The Demons who rode to her rescue were surrounded by the Black Knights and the rest of the Demons, congratulated them on their successful mission.
Dodging past the gathered knights, Gabriel carried Alison inside the Keep. Isabella motioned for Aggie to follow him. Smiling at the tender way Gabriel held Alison, Isabella felt certain her golden knight was in love. A heated argument distracted her attention as Michael verbally clashed with Tara. Her eyebrows shot upward as the fight grew louder when the slip of a girl refused to obey the swarthy knight.
"Careful Michael,” Isabella warned with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Tara has potential to become a Demon. I just might have you personally train her."