He thrust the end of the iron into her face. “Do ye see this?”
She jerked her head in a nod as she made out the letters CRC.
He thrust the iron into the fire and curled his fingers into her shoulder until a whimper of pain burst from her lips. After a short spell, he brought the iron out, released the hand that held her shoulder, and yanked up the sleeve of her dress. Fear gave her more strength. She shoved backward, but he lunged at her, caught her by the wrist, and flipped her arm over to reveal its underside. His eyes met hers, and the cruelty she saw there made her heart stutter.
The scorching iron met the flesh above her wrist before she could do more than blink. Agony shot from where the iron was burning her and spread outward like a sweeping flame. Tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. It seemed like forever that he left the iron against her arm, but finally he pulled it away and tossed the iron into the fire. He pulled her wrist up in front of her face. “Colin Rory Campbell,” he growled, squeezing her wrist. “Ye are mine.”
Her gaze fastened on the letters burned into her flesh. The ugliness of the raw skin made her stomach turn, but from somewhere within, cold hatred sprang and swept through her.
She held his gaze, unblinking, and parted her numb lips. “I will nae ever be yers.”
The brutal blow that met her left cheek sent her flying to the ground. Before she could rise to her knees, Colin clasped her under the arms and yanked her to her feet, only to rip off the gown she wore. When she stood bare, he turned her to him and gripped her chin. “Before this night is over, ye will ken that I own ye.”
She had long since lost her bow and arrows—her weapon to defend herself—but she now was stripped of clothing and worse than that—hope. Colin had taken everything from her that could possibly be taken. All she had left was the ability to enrage him with her laugher. So she opened her mouth and did the only thing she could: she laughed at him.
His face became a glowing mask of rage. He threw her on the bed and met her defiance with pain like she had never known. Each time he touched her roughly, covered her defiant laughter with his mouth, she died a little more, but when he invaded her, her outward rebellion stopped and she feared she really would die. Her foggy mind entreated her to survive for Marion, to help Marion escape. Marion had a bairn on the way and a husband who loved her.
Tears flowed down Bridgette’s face as Colin abused her body, and shame like she had never known settled deep within her. She squeezed her eyes shut and began to plan his death. Was there a weapon in here she could use? She tried to picture the room and all the things it contained. So engrossed was she that when Colin’s weight finally left her body, she was startled. She blinked and turned her head to find he had rolled on his side and his back was turned to her.
She did not move. She waited, counting the pulsing throbs of her seared arm. He would have to sleep, and then…then she would kill him. Since she did not dare move yet, she roamed the room with her eyes, searching for a weapon.
As she swept her gaze over a chest, something yellow caught her eye and she froze. She’d seen the Fairy Flag once as a child, and she remembered being enchanted by the bright yellow silk. Surely Colin was not such a fool to steal the flag, bring it here, and then not keep it guarded. She felt a grin twist her lips, and she knew it to be one of hatred and triumph. Colin was most assuredly a fool, and the more she stared at that yellow silk, the surer she became that it was the Fairy Flag.
It did not take long before the sounds of Colin’s slumber filled the bedchamber. With great care, she crept out of the bed, went straight to the chest, and moved the cloak that had been lying over the silk. She began to shake as she stared down at the MacLeod Clan’s sacred flag. With trembling hands, she picked up the flag and turned to find something with which to end Colin’s life. Her mind was as numb as her body while she searched for a weapon in the darkness, but no weapon was to be found. Then she thought of the iron and scurried toward the fire, but the flames burned so steadily that she could not even see the iron.
The need to fell Colin burned fiercely inside her, yet so did the desire to escape, save Marion, and return the Fairy Flag to the MacLeods. There was no more desire to save herself. It was too late for that. She finally forced herself to cease the futile search. She stood in the bedchamber and stared down at Colin.
“I will kill ye one day soon,” she vowed in a whisper.
With that promise, she turned and hurriedly donned her tattered gown and wound the flag around her ankle. She tied it there and dropped her skirt over it to hide it. She slipped quietly out of the bedchamber and down the corridor in search of Marion. She had no notion where Marion was being kept, but then the sound of racking sobs reached her, and she knew it was Marion.
Bridgette crept toward the bedchamber door, but it was locked. “Marion,” she said as low as she could. Three more times she called out to Marion thusly, not daring to raise her voice.
“Bridgette!” Marion finally responded.
Bridgette immediately shushed Marion, afraid her friend would alert someone. “Do ye ken who has a key to this room?”
“Nay,” Marion replied, her misery weighing her words heavily.
Bridgette stifled a curse and pressed a hand to the thick wooden door and dug her nails into the wood. A storm of despair swirled inside of her. She inhaled a long, fortifying breath. She would hold back the misery that wanted to sweep her away. She had to.
“Dunnae fash yerself,” she whispered, hoping she did not sound as worried as she felt. “I will get us out of here.”
Suddenly, the air behind Bridgette shifted and gooseflesh covered her body. She turned swiftly to find Jamie’s daughter standing behind her, staring at her. Dark lashes veiled her slanted eyes, but when the woman raised them, her gaze swam with wariness. In one hand, the woman held a large iron key, and in the other, she held a dagger.
Apprehension trickled inside Bridgette. Was the woman friend or foe? Bridgette shuffled backward, smacking into the door.
The woman’s gaze moved swiftly over Bridgette, and she felt as if the woman could see the marks Colin had left upon her body. It was foolish. Though they pulsed with pain, they were hidden.
The stranger’s lips pressed into a thin line, and disgust washed over her face. “Give way,” she commanded in an urgent whisper.
“Give way?” Bridgette echoed, a thick fog blanketing her mind. Was the woman going to try to kill her or help her?
“Aye. Colin is much like my husband, his younger brother, Findlay. Neither devil sleeps verra long. I kinnae stand by and watch ye be mistreated as I have been. If ye’re to have any hope of escaping this hell, give way now and I’ll unlock the door.” The woman waved a slender, pale hand at Bridgette and the door. When she did, her gown slid up her arm to reveal a cauterized imprint much like the one on Bridgette’s arm but with initials that started with F.
Bile rose in Bridgette’s throat as her fingers moved to her own raw wound. Her gaze locked with the woman’s. Defiance and shame glittered there. “All the Campbell men brand their women. They are beasts,” she hissed.
Bridgette frowned. “Does Jamie ken all this?”
The woman smirked at Bridgette. “Jamie MacLeod is nae my father. He just likes to call himself such. He’s my uncle. My father was his brother, Monroe MacLeod.”
Bridgette gaped at the woman. That was Lachlan’s father! But how could that be so? A horrid suspicion hit Bridgette. “What is yer name?” she demanded, her heart racing.
“Lena,” the woman answered without guile, and continued to speak. “My father was a great man, but he was killed, along with my brothers, by Robert the Bruce. My uncle says the Bruce’s son, King David, has returned to take back his throne. My uncle means to stop him, but I dunnae trust a word that man mutters. He has proven himself a bad man in this last sennight.”
Thoughts raced through Bridgette’s head as she battled back her astonishment. “Where have ye been all these years?” Lena could not have bee
n with Jamie if she was only now realizing he was not good and if she had no notion that her brothers were alive at Dunvegan, which was still her family’s home.
Lena’s eyebrows drew together, and Bridgette realized how odd her question must seem, but Lena slowly answered. “I lived with a priest in England from the time I was saved from drowning in a loch near Dunvegan by my father’s closest friend, Atholl, until a sennight ago when my uncle came in the dark of night and said I was to be married to Findlay. He said the Campbells and the MacLeods have joined to strike down King David, and my uncle wanted an alliance. Did ye ken Iain when he was alive?”
“Iain is nae dead, Lena! Ye have been lied to! Marion, whom Colin and Jamie hold behind this door, is his wife.”
Lena’s lips parted, and her face grew pale. “What say ye? Iain is nae dead?” Her hand fluttered to her neck. “What of my other brothers?” she asked, her voice shaking.
The bang of a door being thrown open somewhere down the corridor made both women jump.
“Lena, please!” Bridgette rushed out. “I’ll tell ye all, but we must get Marion and escape.”
Offering no reply, Lena moved to open the door, but her hand shook so badly it took several attempts. When she finally opened it, Marion rushed past her to Bridgette. Marion’s eyes rounded as she looked at Bridgette, and pity filled her eyes.
“Dunnae look at me so,” Bridgette commanded, her stomach clenching. Numbness had settled on her, and she wished to keep the cloak as long as she could. She feared what allowing her emotions to return would mean.
Marion nodded and moved her glance to Lena, as did Bridgette. She didn’t know how much Marion had heard, if any of it, but there was no time to explain. “Ye must come with us! We must away! Will ye lead us?”
Lena shook her head, and Bridgette’s heart plummeted. “I kinnae leave, but I’ll tell ye how to escape.”
“Why can ye nae leave, Lena?” Bridgette demanded. “Dunnae be scairt! Ye are a MacLeod despite yer marriage! Iain and—”
“Lena MacLeod?” Marion interrupted, the surprise in her voice telling Bridgette that Marion recognized the name but could not yet grasp the truth.
“Aye, I’m Lena MacLeod,” she responded.
“Later!” Bridgette said harshly. They had precious little time. “Why can ye nae come with us?”
“Jamie holds a boy prisoner, a child I vowed to protect,” she said. “Please, send Iain to me. Tell my brother that I live! Tell him I was married by threat!”
“I cannot believe this,” Marion mumbled as she gawked at Lena.
Before Bridgette could respond to either woman, Colin roared, “Bridgette!” The sound of his voice echoed down the long hall.
Fear blew through her like a strong wind. When Lena’s hand came to Bridgette’s arm, her skin crawled from the simple touch. She jerked away with the sudden need to wash herself clean.
Understanding eyes met Bridgette’s. “Make haste down this hall,” Lena said. “Go right. It will lead outside. Head across the keep to the far tower that stands alone overlooking the loch. The tower has a tunnel underneath the floor that will take ye all the way down to the shore of the loch. Now away!”
“Where are ye, Bridgette?” Colin roared. His voice did not sound closer, but Bridgette’s heart raced faster as Marion tugged at her. She wanted to shove Marion’s hand off her, the touch near impossible to tolerate once more, but she forced herself not to.
“Lena, we must away!” Marion cried in a low whisper. “We can try to rescue the boy as well!”
Lena shook her head. “I dunnae ken where Jamie holds him prisoner. Away with ye both before Colin sees ye talking to me. He’ll kill the boy if he thinks I helped ye, just to punish me.”
Bridgette and Marion nodded, and when Marion gripped her hand, Bridgette’s belly filled with revulsion. God’s teeth, she could not stand the contact. It made images of Colin and what he had done to her flash in her head. With a strangled moan, she tugged her hand away to a look of surprise from Marion, but thankfully, there was no time for her to question Bridgette.
Bridgette locked gazes with Lena. “I will send all yer brothers back to rescue ye.”
“They all live?” Lena asked on a choked whisper.
“Yes, they all live,” Marion said, her expression baffled at why Lena would think otherwise.
“Marion speaks the truth,” Bridgette said hurriedly. “They are verra well. Iain, Graham, Cameron, and Lachlan…whom I love.”
“I will kill my uncle for deceiving me,” Lena said in a hard voice that reminded Bridgette of Lachlan.
The sudden sound of footsteps pounding toward them made Bridgette flinch. She jerked her head in a nod. “I’ll gladly help ye.”
“We’ll help you,” Marion added before she tugged on Bridgette’s arm, and they turned as one to race away. When they got several lengths down the hall, Bridgette glanced back and was astounded to see Lena plunge her dagger into her leg.
Bridgette came to a stuttering halt, and Marion knocked into her. “What?” Marion gasped, but before Bridgette could answer, Colin appeared at the end of the corridor near Lena.
“My lord,” Lena exclaimed. “Yer lady stole into my room, took the key, and stabbed me when I tried to stop her from fleeing.” Bridgette watched only long enough to see Lena raise her hand and point toward where she and Marion stood. Bridgette yanked on Marion’s arm as she rushed through the darkness and hopefully to freedom.
“I kinnae believe Lena is alive,” Bridgette said in a whisper as they ran.
Whatever Marion’s reply was, shouting voices behind them drowned it out. The vibration of heavy footsteps pounding against the ground tingled Bridgette’s bare feet and made her run faster.
“They’re coming!” Marion cried.
“Aye,” Bridgette responded. “Pray to God we escape!”
Twenty-Two
Rain poured down upon Lachlan and his men, making the progress up the rock to the tower much slower than he had hoped. His awareness of the time passing was an acute pain. Each step, each breath, each pull and grunt from one sharp rock to the other, offered more time for Bridgette and Marion to be hurt.
He glanced to the dark sky as he grasped rocks above him. His muscles bunched and sweat covered his brow as he hefted himself up. Soon the cover of darkness would be gone, but the light would not stop him. Nothing would stop him.
He could now see the tower in the moonlight. Relief filled his belly. “Almost there,” he hissed to Graham, who climbed below him.
The rest of the men were far back, not nearly as adept at climbing as Lachlan and even Graham who seemed to be conquering his leg injury. Lachlan increased the pace. Rocks cut into his palms, but the pain did not deter him. It spurred him on. He would endure a thousand cuts to prevent a moment’s harm to Bridgette. As he reached the top of the ledge, he gripped the side of it and propelled himself over, then rolled onto the grass, out of the way for Graham to do the same.
Lachlan scrambled to his feet and rushed toward the tower, his heart thudding in his ears. Above him, from the tower, a scream rent the moonlit darkness, and his breath ceased in his lungs. Bridgette.
“Bridgette!” Marion screamed from the top of the tower, confirming Lachlan’s guess.
He heard Graham grunt as he appeared by Lachlan’s side upon reaching the tower. “They live,” Graham said, relief filling his voice.
“Aye,” Lachlan acknowledged, entering the tower, which was lit with the warm glow of torches. He knew the tunnel was below his feet and that it would be their likely escape. He didn’t know how many men he and Graham were about to face, but as he drew his sword and Graham did the same, he felt as if he could kill a hundred men with the rage inside him.
He took the stairs three at a time, spiraling upward. His breathing quickened along with his heartbeat, and as he reached the top, he could hear the wind whistling outside. He leaned around the corner as quietly as he could, and when his gaze came to Bridgette, his heart stopped beating al
together. She had climbed up on the ledge of the tower!
The wind blew her hair around her face, drawn tight with fear that he could clearly see in the bright moonlight. Colin stood on the opposite side of the tower, bare chested and with his sword pressed to Marion’s throat.
“Come down now, or I will kill Marion,” he snarled.
Bridgette shook her head. “Release her and let her go, or I will jump.”
Lachlan’s gut tightened in fear, even as he flicked his gaze to Graham and silently motioned toward Marion. Lachlan would go to Bridgette. The moment Graham inclined his head in acknowledgment, Lachlan surged forward, but as he did, a gust of strong wind blew. Bridgette screamed, her foot slipped, and suddenly she was gone.
With a roar, he surged across the tower, as Graham rushed toward Colin. Behind him, Lachlan heard the clanking of swords meeting. He set his hands to the ledge, and a shock of heat met his fingertips.
“Bridgette!” he cried out, grazing her fingertips where she clung to the ledge but not grasping them for fear he would cause her grip to slip. He needed to climb onto the ledge, grasp her wrists, and pull her up.
“To your right, Graham,” Marion screamed, and Lachlan glanced over his shoulder as he climbed the ledge. Graham was holding Colin back, but barely.
Lachlan howled in anguished rage at the choice before him: save Bridgette or Graham?
The thought of losing Bridgette knifed across his heart with a pain so intense he cried out again. But he could not lose his brother, either. Yet he could not help them both.
Bridgette would die if she slipped, but Graham could hopefully hold Colin off for long enough that Lachlan could help.
He dropped to his knees on the ledge, the cold stone cutting into his skin and the wind blowing across his face and howling in his ear. Rain drizzled down from the dark sky but illuminated it like flashes of white against black. “Bridgette!” he called, reaching blindly into the darkness for her.
Wicked Highland Wishes (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 2) Page 25