"Parlan was killed. I don't know about the others."
Neacal nodded. "Guard this gate well. Once the dead and injured are brought inside, lock it again. Sleat could have a larger force ready to invade at any moment, especially if his son turns up dead."
"Aye, chief."
Neacal returned to the center of the barmkin and waited while the dead and injured were being brought inside the walls. Guards stood with torches shining down on five dead men and two captured with minor injuries.
"'Tis Sleat's son, Hamish," Neacal muttered, staring down at one of them. "Is he dead?"
"Aye," Matthew said.
"Sleat will return with a vengeance."
"Aye," Matthew said again.
"Why were they attempting to enter through the postern gate?" Neacal's gaze moved steadily over his clansmen and guards. "Did someone give them a key?"
"We're trying to figure that out," Gegrim said.
Neacal didn't recognize the other two enemies, still living, their hands tied behind their backs. Their plaids were different, but Neacal had seen the design somewhere before. The white, black and red pattern nagged at the back of his mind.
"Who are you?" he demanded of the scraggly, sweating man being restrained by a large guard.
The man spat at him, but missed.
Rage shot through Neacal like a bolt of lightning, and he barely restrained the impulse to punch the bastard in the jaw. "Which clan are you from?" he growled.
The man remained silent.
Neacal turned his attention to the other bound man, asking him the same question, but he kept his mouth shut tight.
"Lock them in the dungeon. I'll question them later. I wager they'll start to talk when they grow hungry."
"Aye, chief." The guards dragged them away.
"In the morn, we'll take the dead bodies out and allow Sleat to reclaim them," Neacal told Matthew. "As for right now, have our men search this island and the surrounding area to make sure no living enemies yet remain."
"Aye," Matthew said. "We'll keep a sharp lookout for Sleat. No doubt he will return soon."
"Indeed. Also, see if you can discover who the traitor is who gave Sleat a key."
***
Just before noon the next day, Neacal carried a lantern and descended the steps into the dungeon. Leith and Dugan accompanied him, one before him and one behind, each carrying torches. 'Twas doubtful the new prisoners were hungry enough as of yet to talk. Neacal didn't condone torture—he'd endured too much of it himself—but he had to find out who these men were and what Sleat's plan was. The lives of his clansmen depended on it. He took his position as his clan's protector very seriously.
He already knew Sleat had wanted to take Bearach for Hamish, but now that Hamish was dead, Sleat's plot was likely simple revenge. Neacal didn't underestimate him. He knew the man would strike back ten times harder, but they would be ready.
One of the guards unlocked the iron-barred door. After it screeched open, Neacal stepped into the cell. The short, stocky prisoner sat propped in the corner. "Get up," Neacal commanded. When he did, Neacal approached and gathered his shirt front into his fist. "What is your name?"
The man smirked. "Go to hell, you mad bastard."
Rage ensnaring him, Neacal punched him in the stomach and the man went down. Lying upon the dirt floor, he groaned.
"Do you think Sleat cares a thing about you? He left you and your comrades for dead. You're nothing to him. You owe him no loyalty. All you have left is your life. 'Tis your decision whether you keep it or lose that, too."
"You'll kill us once we tell you what you want to know." The other man in the opposite corner said.
"Nay. I'll let you live and even have bread and water sent down. But first you must be honest. If you lie, you get naught."
The two men held their silence.
"Do you want to drink your water from a cup? Or do you want to lick it from the damp walls?"
"Nay!" The man he'd knocked down was almost a whimpering mess. "If you'll promise to release me, I'll tell you."
"What makes you think I'll believe you?"
"I'll tell you true. I swear it."
"Keep your mouth shut, Jarvis!" his comrade ordered.
"Jarvis, is it?" Neacal asked. "Go on then, Jarvis. Which clan are you from?"
"Don't do it, you bastard!" the other prisoner yelled.
"Leave me be, Angus!" Jarvis squawked, glaring at his clansman.
"Well, which clan is it you come from?" Neacal asked.
"MacRankin," Jarvis blurted.
Though 'twas a simple answer, hearing that name was like a sharp kick to Neacal's gut. The MacRankin chief was the one who'd tortured him two years prior. Neacal glared at the man, scrutinizing his face in the dimness. He didn't remember him from his association with the clan. Had Sleat told him to say that? Sleat most likely knew of the whole situation.
"Why should I believe you?" Neacal demanded.
"I have nay reason to lie. I want out of here. I have a wife and a wee son, only a few months old."
"Since you're a traitor, their lives will be in danger, you dolt!" Angus grumbled.
"Why were you with Sleat and what is his plan?"
"The MacRankin joined forces with Sleat. I don't ken why. Some sort of deal they worked out."
"Are you talking about the chief? Titus?"
"Aye."
Neacal couldn't believe it. "What does he want with me?"
Jarvis remained silent a long moment.
"Come now. Don't stop singing."
"Revenge."
"What for?" Damn the man. MacRankin already had his revenge. Neacal hadn't even lain with Lady Aislinn. He had kissed her a couple of times but 'twas not worth the torture he got.
"His betrothed. She threw herself from the tower and he said 'twas your fault."
"What?" God's blood. Aislinn had killed herself? Neacal grabbed hold of one of the bars to steady himself. That could not be his fault, could it? "Mayhap Titus pushed her from the tower, or had one of his guards do it."
Jarvis simply stared at him. Both of them knew how malicious and soulless the MacRankin chief was.
"So… now he wants to kill me? Is that it?" Neacal asked.
"Aye. 'Tis what he said."
"And what does Sleat want?"
"He wanted this clan and castle for his son but… he's dead now."
"Exactly."
"He'll be back."
"I'm certain of it. More revenge, aye?"
Jarvis nodded.
"Who met with Sleat in Acharacle and gave him the key to the postern gate?"
"I know not. I was camped out in the wood at the time. I'm naught but a foot soldier."
"Did you see him?"
"Nay. We'd walked for miles and 'twas late. I was asleep."
"Maybe a name was whispered amongst the soldiers," Neacal suggested. "The name of someone from Bearach. One of the MacDonalds. A stranger would've been noticed."
Jarvis shook his head. "Sleat is a MacDonald, too, and I don't ken all his men."
"Damnation," Neacal muttered.
"Will you please let me go now?" Jarvis begged. "I have to get back to my wife and son to take them away so MacRankin will never find me. I told you what you wanted to know."
"I'll think on it. I may have more questions for you. In the meantime, try to recall the traitor's name. I'll return in the morn."
MacRankin likely wouldn't leave the area now. Neacal fully expected him to help Sleat attack Bearach at some point in the near future, so 'twas unlikely Jarvis' family was in danger at the moment. Of course, Neacal would never want to put a woman or child in peril.
After the three of them exited the cell, his guards locked the door and they climbed the steps. "Give the prisoners some bread and clean water," he told one of the guards as he left.
Even if he couldn't find out the traitor's name now, they needed to come up with a plan of action in dealing with another attack.
***
At gloaming, Colin joined Neacal on the ramparts. "Sleat and over two dozen men were in Acharacle at the tavern last night after their failed siege attempt." Colin and his garrison had just returned from scouting the surrounding area. "But they're gone now."
Neacal nodded, his gaze running along the mainland shore. "They must have left their galleys somewhere south of there and come overland. Conniving bastards."
"Aye."
"No doubt they'll be back with more men. What's worse is MacCromar may show up at around the same time."
"The rest of the MacRurys will be here by then, surely," Colin said.
"I certainly hope so or we'll be outnumbered. I doubt the MacKenzies will be here in time. I only just sent for them. I would've done so earlier if I'd known about MacCromar. Or MacRankin" Neacal shook his head. "How did I gain so many enemies?"
"Well, you must admit that ladies are two-thirds of the reason." Colin gave a wry grin.
"You're right." And Neacal had thought no woman would ever want to come near him again after the torture and all his scars. Anna had surprised the hell out of him.
"You've had bad luck with women," Colin observed.
"Aye, but no more. Anna's the only woman I want… and the last. Once I defeat MacCromar, naught will stand between us." Neacal was antsy to get the whole conflict over and done.
"What about the clan council? Will they agree to accept her as lady of this clan?"
Annoyance at the elders made his muscles draw taut. "They'll accept her or find themselves a new chief."
"Well… you're serious then. Willing to give up everything for her."
"Indeed. I've never wanted to marry before now. You ken that. I always had a feeling I would know when I found the right woman. I wasn't sure she existed. But 'tis Anna."
"How do you know she is the right one?" Colin asked.
Neacal eyed him, realizing Colin truly wanted to know the answer and was not teasing him. "Are you looking for a wife?"
Colin let out an audible breath. "As you might expect, my da wishes me to marry forthwith. 'Tis the way of it for a future chief. And I prefer to choose my own bride."
"I don't ken how to find the right woman. Strangely, the best way appears to be to not look for her at all. For me, Anna is like the bright blue sky in spring, or the purple heather on the hills in summer. Looking at her makes me forget the evil and the torture. 'Tis like she reached a hand down and drew me effortlessly from the dark abyss."
Smiling, Colin shook his head. "Och! Love has turned you into a bard."
Neacal felt his lips quirk with amusement.
"And you're even smiling? Saints! The lass is a miracle worker."
She was, indeed, and he was prepared to fight for her.
***
Later that night, Neacal entered his chamber to find Anna sleeping in the dim glow of the low-burning fire. He removed his clothes and crawled into bed with her. 'Twas an indulgence he could not resist. He snuggled close to her, absorbing her sleepy warmth.
She stirred. "Neacal?"
He snorted. "Who else?"
"I just wanted to be sure," she said, the smile in her voice evident. "Is everything all right?"
"Aye. The men are prepared for a surprise attack. All guards are on duty. I should be out there with them but I couldn't stop thinking about you." Although she wore a thin smock, he could easily feel her luscious curves through the material. "You feel so good."
Reaching back, she placed her hand on his thigh. "Are you naked?"
"Of course."
Wriggling, she turned to face him and pressed her lips against his bare chest. "Mmm. Nice."
Arousal bolted through him. "Why aren't you naked?"
"I could be in a matter of seconds if you help me."
He quickly tugged her smock upward and helped her slip it from her arms and head, then flung it aside.
"Ahh." He pulled her closer and absorbed the decadent feel of her heated breasts pressing against his chest. 'Twas one of the best feelings in the world. He slid his hand down over the small of her back to the sweet curve of her hips. So perfect.
The punch of arousal made him lightheaded. He trailed his hand down her thigh and lifted it over his.
Her lips moved over his chest, placing little kisses. She flicked her tongue against his nipple. He growled, drawing her closer and slipping his fingers upward between her thighs. She arched her back and drew her knee higher on his hip, giving him access to her heated center.
"Saints," he hissed. "You're so luscious. So wet."
"'Tis your own fault."
He grinned. "I love taking the blame for that."
Before he knew what she was about, she wrapped her hand around his shaft and squeezed. At the renewed streak of arousal, he growled and ground his teeth.
"I need you, Neacal."
"Not as much as I need you, my sweet Anna."
He moved between her thighs and stroked himself through her heat.
"Aye." She dug her fingers into his arse, urging him on. "Please."
He slipped inside, the sublime feel of her spurring him to slide to the hilt. Absorbing the glorious feeling, he paused, pressing his forehead against hers. After the perfect moment, she flicked her tongue against his lips. Instinct taking over, he withdrew and thrust again.
She gasped loudly, then whispered, "So good, Neacal. More."
"With pleasure." Aye, he wished to give all she wanted. His only goal in life now was to protect her, please her, and make her happy.
He drove himself into her, over and over again, watching the beautiful expressions of passion and joy move over her features. The moments when she chanced to open her eyes, love gleamed there… a love such as he never could've imagined. A love that his own heart reflected. Now, he knew what a soulmate was. Now, he knew why love could heal all wounds—because it was the most powerful force on earth.
"I love you, Anna," he breathed against her ear, not stopping. With his body, with his soul, he wanted her to feel how much he loved her.
"And I love you." Her words were broken, heated, passionate. A moment later, she grasped him in a tight embrace, her legs around his hips. Everything in her pulled at him, demanding he give her everything. And he did. An explosive pleasure burst through him and he poured himself into her.
***
At breakfast the next morn, a guard entered and ran across the great hall between the long tables. "A large force of men is approaching overland, m'laird," he said.
Neacal and Colin arose from the table and, once Neacal retrieved his bow and arrows, hastened up the stairs to the ramparts and the wall-walk.
"Damnation," Colin muttered as they watched around four dozen men, some on horses and some on foot, cross the wet sand toward the island on which Bearach Castle sat.
Narrowing his eyes, Neacal scanned the various plaids worn by the men. "That's Blackburn MacCromar. Not Sleat."
A woman screamed in the distance.
"Who is that?" Colin asked. "Why would a woman be traveling with them?"
Ice slid through Neacal's veins. "God's blood, that can't be…"
"Who?"
"Anna's sister."
Chapter Seventeen
"Anna's sister? Do you mean the blind lass?" Colin asked.
"Aye, if 'tis her." Neacal squinted into the distance at the well-armed soldiers approaching. Finally, he saw the female, resting facedown across the lap of one of the men on horseback, her hands and feet bound. He did not know what Lady Kristina looked like. He saw a bit of long blond hair, the same color as Anna's, escaping her arisaid. That didn't mean 'twas Anna's sister, but still, he felt gored.
Had to be her. Why would they bring anyone else?
The approaching forces fanned out. The archers took position and nocked their arrows.
Neacal gave the command for his own archers on the wall-walk to follow suit.
A large, ginger-haired man dragged the woman off the horse and she screamed again.
"Who is the lady?"
Neacal yelled.
"I'm sure you must have guessed!" a man with shoulder-length black hair returned, a grin on his face. "Send my wife out to me and Lady Kristina will not be harmed."
Someone scrambled between Neacal and Colin.
He glanced around to find Anna, her face ashen.
"Kristina?" she yelled, her panicked breath coming hard and fast.
"Anna, is it really you?" her sister called.
"Aye. Release her at once, you blackguard!" Anna demanded, her voice hard with fury.
Blackburn laughed. "Lady Kristina wanted to travel with us to get you, my sweet. She misses her sister."
"Oh dear God," Anna whispered, tears in her eyes. "I'll have to go with him. I won't have a choice."
"Nay," Neacal growled. He would die before he'd give her up now.
"Blackburn will kill her, don't you see? He cares naught for her. He already blinded her and cut her face."
"We'll come out!" Neacal called out to the enemies. "Let's go," he murmured to Anna and Colin.
They followed him down the narrow winding steps inside the keep to the great hall.
"Damn the man," Anna muttered, wiping angry tears from her eyes. "When Kristina is away from him and safe again, I'll kill him."
"Nay, I'll do it," Neacal said, trying to keep his fury under control so he could think clearly. "And you're not going out to him."
"I have to! He'll kill her." Her anguished eyes pleaded with him.
"And what makes you think he won't beat you to within an inch of your life as punishment for running away and evading him all this time?"
She squeezed her eyes closed, a tear trailing down her face. "Regardless, I can't simply leave Kristina in his clutches."
"You won't have to," Colin said, a calculating look in his eyes.
"Do you have an idea?" Neacal asked.
"Someone disguised as me won't work, if that's what you're thinking," Anna said. "He likely won't even release Kristina. If I go with him, he'll bring her back with us to use as leverage against me for as long as I live."
"Saints!" Neacal said, grinding his teeth. What the hell were they going to do? If Colin had a plan, he wished he would spit it out.
Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8) Page 25