by Ria Cantrell
“I am sorry, Liam.”
“Dunna’ be. She is your wife by Ancient Rite. She takes first place in your heart. Go, man, bring her to safety.” That simple statement validated Rory’s fear. Brielle was in danger, it was certain. Liam clapped his brother across the back in a hug.
“Brother, be careful. Dunna’ make her a widow again…” Rory nodded solemnly. “Take great care, as well, Liam. Be sure to meter out justice to these MacDougal raiders.”
Rory leapt onto his great warhorse and began to ride for home. He was easily three days ride from MacCollum land but he knew if he was driven he would shorten the trip by mayhap a day. His focus was on finding Brielle and making sure she was safe. So caught in his thoughts, he barely felt the miles being eaten beneath him. He was unaware of the discomforts of already being tired and the cold highland air settling into his bones. He didn’t seem to notice when branches snagged at his skin or whipped at him through the trees. Like the ancient berserkers, Rory was entranced; his sole purpose was to get to Brielle. He rode like a legion of hell was at his back. He kept trying to feel Brielle, and every time he did, he felt a squeezing around his heart. What in the hell had happened to her? And if something had happened, then was his Da in danger as well? Surely Caleb would have never let any harm come to Brielle. A dreadful foreboding crept into Rory’s heart. He cursed himself for ever leaving her. Something else prickled at his warrior’s instincts. Smoke!
Rory spurred his horse and came upon the smoldering char of a once pristine meadow. More of their land lain to waste! Damn it! Bloody feckin MacDougals! Rory cursed out loud. He felt like his heart was being torn. His beautiful land was being destroyed and his beloved Brielle was in danger. He roared in frustration. Rory didn’t know what to do. As he sat in the midst of the burnt clearing, he knew there was nothing else he could do at this time. What was laid to waste was gone. Now it was more important to get home and see that his Brielle was safe. If she wasn’t, he had to bring her to safety and rescue her. He had to get home. That became his mantra as he spurred his horse to leave the charred remains of the beautiful field. The acrid smell of smoke was strong in his own nostrils but he just had to focus. The fire was out, and just the charred remains of shrubs and grazing land was what had been left. There was nothing he could do to turn back what had been done here. He could join his brothers again once he knew Brielle was safe.
Even as he justified his leaving, and promised to return to help his brothers, he knew he was right. Only, Rory knew in his heart Brielle wasn’t safe. His heart was sick thinking that something had happened to Brielle. He turned his horse from the devastated meadow and sought the road again. Rory felt the weight of despair bearing down upon him once more. It wasn’t so much the darkness, just a sense of ill ease and foreboding.
He sent out a prayer for help for his Brielle, begging God to keep her safe until he could get to her. He fought the fear that it was already too late to have that prayer answered. He hoped he would have the good luck to at least make better time to get home.
Unfortunately, though, Rory’s luck was soon going to turn from bad to worse, for as he turned from the clearing, he found himself surrounded by none other than the MacDougal raiders. Well, he certainly was not going to die without a fight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brielle was stiff from riding bound. She had cried her throat raw and just when she thought she had cried every last tear, fresh ones would surface; tears for Rory; tears for Caleb…oh Caleb…she was sure terrible harm had come to the man who had made her feel like a daughter. How she repaid his kindness was to bring harm to his clan and to him. When she thought of Ruiri, it was like her heart squeezed in her chest and would explode. She could not let Rory come for her. Her brother had planned a trap to kill him. She would rather die herself than let Roderick torture and kill Ruiri. And so she cried…for Caleb and for Ruiri because she knew she would have to convince him that she did not love him. It was the only thing she could do, because she knew he would risk everything just to save her. He had already proven that when he saved her from the accident on the Highland road.
Roderick was capable of great cruelty and she would not let Ruiri suffer at his hands. She knew one thing was bigger than Ruiri’s sense of honor and that was his pride. Brielle knew his pride would never make him beg her to change her mind and besides, once he found that harm had come to his father, he would blame her just for being a Campbell despite his words of love and troth. She would be his enemy again, and she would have to use that to spare him. Only, how could she do such a thing? How could she break his heart and declare she did not love him, when her heart was completely broken because she loved him so much? She never was a good actress or a good liar, but she would have to act as the finest of performers to save Ruiri from Rod’s trap. Silently she said goodbye to Ruiri. And even as she resolved herself to this, she thought, how can I live with out him? She had never loved a man before loving Ruiri and she knew she would never love another. That thought made a fresh bout of sobs choke her.
Jerome cursed and shook her.
“For God’s sake, Bitch, stop that infernal crying! I am past my wit’s end and canna’ take another minute of it.”
But his words had no meaning. His threat of violence had no effect, either. She was numb to it, except for the heart wrenching reality of having lost Ruiri. She continued to feel the sorrow bubble forth as fresh tears welled in her eyes. Through her sobs, she said, “I need…to relieve myself.”
Jerome thought to ignore her but then decided he had better let her. She was such a sniveling weakling, he was sure she would wet herself if he didn’t let her. He halted his horse and jerked her to the ground. Go, and make it fast.”
“Untie me…”
“Ye' don’t give me the orders, whore.”
“I…need my hands…”
Grudgingly, he untied her. She walked a short distance into the woods to give herself a small amount of privacy. Her mind reeled and she thought if she had to give up Ruiri, then she was going to take action against Jerome. She would try to hit him with something and make a dash for it. She knew she could not go back to Ruiri, because Roderick would only come for her again, but she did not want to be delivered into his hands like a lamb lead to slaughter.
Brielle found a large stick that she hoped would be enough to at least send Jerome into unconsciousness so she could gain some time to escape. When, after several minutes passed and there was no sign of the girl returning, Jerome stomped into the direction she had last been seen. What was she up to? Brielle could hear his foot falls getting closer so she crouched low in some under brush. She tried to remain as still as possible, but her heart was thudding so loudly in her own ears, she was certain Jerome would be able to hear it. She held her breath as he grew closer, afraid to even exhale the softest sigh. She saw his legs appear above her as he stopped before the brush she was hiding in and his malignant voice taunted,
“Well, what do we have here?”
Brielle stood and swung with all her might, cracking the branch against his neck. She had hoped it would fell him, but to her horror, he grabbed the stick and roared,
“Bitch!”
He snapped the branch like it was a mere twig. Brielle bolted from her hiding spot like a rabbit roused from a burrow and began running blindly through the trees. She could feel twigs and brush slapping against her face and arms as she ran, knowing he was closing the distance on her. She could not stop; she had to keep running because she knew when he caught her, she was going to suffer for her attempt to harm him.
Her lungs burned in her chest as her legs pumped furiously to take her from Jerome McManus. She felt him crashing behind her and she made the stupid mistake of looking back to see how close he was. Upon seeing that he was closer than she had hoped, Brielle stumbled on a root sticking out of the dirt and she fell. He was on her in an instant. He wrestled her down and slapped her hard, causing her head to jerk back from the force of the blow.
�
�Ye’ filthy whore. Ye’ are going to pay for that.”
He began rucking her plaid up her legs and he leered down at her with a sinister snarl on his lips. She struggled under him, feeling the rocks and twigs cutting into her thighs. She would not let him rape her. She would rather die than be forced to endure him. Before he could grab both her hands, she twisted under him, feeling the strength from something deeper inside her and she grabbed between his legs and squeezed. Her nails dug into the softer part of a man’s anatomy, not even caring if she drew blood. Hatred brimmed in her tear-stained eyes as her nails like talons dug into his privates. His roar of pain did not faze her.
She hissed, “Don’t ye’ dare touch me, ye’ vile monster, for I promise ye’ will wake up with out these if ye’ do.”
She squeezed again to drive her point home. Jerome rolled off of her, cupping his injured parts. He was yowling with pain. Brielle started to roll away from him, but one hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm. He hauled her to her feet and he slapped her hard again. It almost made her reel, as she tasted her own blood from the inside of her mouth.
“I dunna’ want his leavings anyway. Ye' disgust me, wearing his plaid…yer’ brother will have punishment enough fer’ ye’ once ye’ are returned, ye’ worthless chit…and then when the Rabid Wolf comes fer’ ye’, I will stand by and watch as he is finished. Then we shall see who will want ye’.”
Jerome jerked her arms behind her, making her wince in pain. He dragged her back to the horse and tied her more tightly.
“Dunna’ think to stop me again. Ye’ can soil yerself for all I care.”
He tossed her face down over the horse and leapt up behind her. He no longer worried that being seen with her in this position would alert onlookers that she was being forced against her will, but Jerome knew he was only hours away from Castle Campbell and these roads were not well-traveled.
Brielle felt the wind being forced from her lungs as she was slung over the horse in this horrible position. The lurching of the animal beneath her and the rise of the road passing under their ride made her feel queasy. Not to mention the pounding against her newly healed ribs was causing jolts of pain to course through her. After an hour of this, Brielle swallowed her pride and begged,
“Please, I canna’ ride like this. I promise to be still…Please…I am hurt…”
“Do ye think I care for yer’ comforts, you venomous bitch? I shall bear your welt on my neck for weeks to come.”
He didn’t want to add that his manhood was still throbbing with the pain of her squeezing. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to bed a lass for days. He even thought he felt blood had been drawn from her sharp claws. Thinking about that made him angry all over again. He would beg Roderick to let him have her. Then, he would make her pay for what she had done. The ride was not helping the bruising she had inflicted on him.
After a riding a short distance further, Jerome heard the girl retching. She was the most useless chit he had ever had to endure. She spewed the contents of her stomach and then Jerome felt her go very still. He cursed. Roderick had not given him permission to kill her. Roderick would kill him if she died. Jerome checked her and found her pulse was shallow. Cursing an oath again, he grudgingly took her off the horse. She had lost consciousness. She had raised welts on her face from where he had slapped her and from where the branches whipped against her cheek. Hell, she was a mess. He had to do something. He took the skin of water he had with him and he splashed some onto her face, hoping it would bring her to. She sputtered and her eyes opened.
Turning her face from his, she moaned, “Why can’t ye' leave me?”
“I answer to yer brother, wench. Not ye’!” Tears leaked from her eyes and she murmured, “I never did anything to ye'…or to him. He didn’t want me around…he sent me away. I was happy at MacCollum. Why couldn’t he let me be?”
“Ye’ are still a Campbell. Ye’ should have more pride than to whore yerself to one of those…especially to that of the Rabid Wolf.”
“Stop calling him that. He is anything but that. The entire clan is honorable and, yet fierce warriors. They…were kind to me,” she said, weeping. If Jerome had a fiber of decency, he would have almost felt sorry for her, but as he remembered his mission and the anger of Roderick, he hardened his heart and thoughts. He said, “Up!”
“No, please dunna make me ride like that again…” He pretended not to hear her, but as he hoisted her back onto the beast, he had her sit upright. She spoke no more words after that. She seemed to resign herself to her fate. She thought about what she would have to do to prevent Ruiri from coming for her.
Once Brielle got word to Ruiri that she did not love him, she would then plan her escape and go far from the Highlands if she had to, to never be found. She had to try to think clearly to plan her course. She allowed these thoughts to pervade her mind. It quelled the sorrow in her heart, somewhat. The thought of planning an escape, helped take her mind off the horrors she was sure to endure upon the arrival at Campbell. It helped to take her mind off what had befallen Caleb. If she allowed herself to think of that, she thought she would be lost. She did not say another word to Jerome so as to not provoke more violence against her. She wanted to nullify his existence. If he spoke to her, she no longer answered him. She knew this annoyed him all the more, but she did not care. He was like the slime found at the bottom of gutters. Brielle culled her plan to free herself from the clutches of these madmen. So long as she was not thrown in the dungeon, she would somehow be able to leave. She may lose her life trying, but when she thought of her life without Ruiri, she felt her life had little value anyway.
Chapter Twenty- Six
Rory faced his foes, with his claymore drawn. He was ready to take down as many as he could. If he was to die, he would bring as many to the underworld with him. Every muscle was tensed to the ready. The men jeered at him; taunting him. With the absence of Brielle, Rory felt the darkness rising up inside him, like the appearance of an old friend. Only now, he did not try to tamp it back. No, oh no. He would embrace it and let it thrum through him. He almost happily succumbed to its unholy blackness. He felt no fear, only rage and that rage would give him the strength he needed to defend himself. As one of the MacDougal rushed him, he sprung with the agility of the beast he hated giving merit to. Like a cornered wolf, he was primed for the kill. He easily cut the man down with one swing of his great sword. He made another serious cut to the man charging him from the right. Rory’s sword rang against that of another man’s, sending sparks flying and as other fighters started rushing Rory at all angles, he prepared himself for certain death. Still fighting against the swords ringing against his, the MacDougal himself, rode into the clearing.
“Throw down yer’ arms and surrender.”
“Never, MacDougal.”
“Come now, Rory, ye’ canna’ be so stupid to forfeit yer life for pride. Ye’ are surrounded.”
“I plan to take as many of ye’ to hell with me.”
Stephen MacDougal was pretty sure that Rory did not just give that as an idle threat, but that he fully intended to make good that promise.
Pointing an arrow at Rory, the MacDougal said, “Ye’ willna’ get that chance, I am afraid. Throw down yer arms and I will let ye’ live.”
Rory snarled and answered, “I would rather face death fighting than to surrender my life to ye’ anyway.”
Rory still felt the darkness inside him but suddenly, behind MacDougal, he saw her, shimmering before him. Dear God it was Caitlyn! He must be losing his mind for good this time for never had he seen her while awake. She murmured, “Ye must live, Ruiri. There is treachery afoot…She needs ye'…Live Ruiri…”
Almost in a daze, his sword dropped to the ground, and he prepared for death that didn’t come. Stephen MacDougal wondered at that sudden action after Ruiri proclaimed he would never surrender. What the hell was he looking at? The Wolf almost looked spellbound. Finally, he called out, “Bind him. He is worth more to us alive than dead.”
Ransom! MacDougal planned to ransom him. That was more humiliating than death, but he had to endure it, if it meant he could get home to Brielle. Now he knew for sure she was in danger, else Caitlyn would not have come to him.
Ah, Brielle, please be alright. Ye must be alright, my love.
The words screamed in his mind, hoping she could hear his heart over space and time. But he felt that squeezing in his heart again. Bloody Hell…He didn’t have time for this.
“Have our guest ride with me at the front flanks.”
“But he killed…”
“I see that. And he would have taken a lot more of ye’ had I not arrived.” After Rory’s hands were bound in front of him so he could still hold his reigns, MacDougal stripped him of his dirks and short sword and met his eyes, which blazed with unabashed hatred.
“Why would ye’ let them waste the land?” Rory asked boldly.
A look of regret came into Stephen MacDougal’s eyes.
“I will meet out punishments for that. We may be rival clans, but I agree that wasting the land is abhorrent.”
Though his hands were bound and he was the prisoner of the MacDougal, Rory rode, with his head held high, back straight and unwavering. After riding in silence for some time, he spoke.
“How much ransom do ye’ wish to rape my people for my hide?” Stephen MacDougal looked at Rory and frowned.
“While the ransom will help our coffers greatly, there is another reason why I wanted ye’ taken alive. Any of yer’ brothers would have done, but ye’ are by far the best for the task at hand, Wolf.” Rory flinched at that name and confusion played in the expression on Rory’s face.
“Do ye’ mean these raids were a trap? That ye’ wished to trap me or my kin?”
“Well, I couldna’ have just asked ye’ nicely to help my cause, now could I? As ye’ saw, my men are undisciplined; simmering and unpredictable. Our raids are mostly unsuccessful. Now Robert II has given his approval for lowlanders to try to usurp what is rightfully highlanders’. My clan will not stand that test. I need ye’ to train my men to fight like highlanders.” Rory laughed sarcastically.