My Wild Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  Neilina and Lachlan went their separate ways. Pushing herself up, Angelique forced her trembling legs to carry her to her bedchamber, where she blocked the door with two chests, crawled into bed and covered her head. Oh, Mère de Dieu, she could not breathe. Her corset compressed her lungs. Her throat felt as if a rope tightened around it. Slowly, she drew air in and the force of the devastation struck her. Lachlan. No. A sob tore from her body. No. Do not! You are mine. You do not touch her!

  What was this horrid emotion devouring her from the inside out, like a vicious lion? Crushing her and sucking away her life like a great wave smashing upon her?

  I do not love him. No!

  But she did. Nothing else could be so painful.

  "I am so stupid. Stupid, stupid!" She pounded fists against her pillow, hot tears gushing from her eyes.

  She would kill Neilina…or confront her and send her away. But if she did that, Lachlan would only find another woman.

  I will not go to the tower. I will not go there to witness his betrayal.

  But she had to. She had to have proof. She had to confront him and tell him, see, you are not capable of fidelity, as I told you.

  And her life would end in that moment.

  ***

  Lachlan met Rebbie and Dirk in the solar and closed the door.

  "I have problems and I need your help," Lachlan said in a low voice. "I'm riding out this morn to Robertson Clan holdings to purchase a couple of white mares for Angelique as a wedding gift. Chief Robertson has another buyer interested, so I need to make haste. 'Tis a surprise and I want her to know nothing about it ahead of time. I'll take six clansmen with me to ride as guard. I want both of you to stay here and keep Angelique from knowing where I've gone and protect her in the event there's an attack. Also, I'm suspicious of Lady Neilina. She's just offered herself to me."

  "What's so unusual about that?" Rebbie lifted a brow.

  "I don't trust her. I'm thinking she may be Kormad's spy."

  "But Kormad attacked her party, did he not?" Dirk asked.

  "Supposedly. Or it could be a grand cover story so we would welcome her more openly."

  "Ah. You may be right," Rebbie said.

  "In any case, I'm not interested in her. I intend to be faithful to Angelique." Besides, he simply didn't desire any other woman now. Angelique had captured his attention completely, and he took his marriage vows seriously. "Dirk, I have a job for you, which I'm thinking you'll enjoy."

  His friend scowled. "What?"

  "I want you to pretend to be me, put on one of my kilts and meet Lady Neilina in the south tower chamber just before sunset. Make sure the room is dark so she can't see your face. We are of about the same size, and since she doesn't know either of us well, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference.

  "Hmm, you're right. I could see myself enjoying that." Dirk grinned.

  "Most importantly, find out what information you can from her," Lachlan said.

  "Of course. 'Twill be my pleasure."

  ***

  Hands shaking, Angelique slipped along the passage and up the narrow steps of the south tower. She hadn't seen Lachlan all day. Undoubtedly, he was avoiding her because he had in mind to bed another woman. Whoremonger! The man had no ability to feel guilt. Her stomach ached from hunger and disgust. She hadn't been able to eat all day. Her world was about to shatter yet again. She sensed the impending doom. Why had she dared to dream?

  She had waited too long and sunset had come and gone.

  Pausing outside the door, she listened. Rustling came from within. Then a male groan. The bastard. I will kill him and my whore of a cousin.

  Covered with cold sweat, Angelique quietly pushed the door and inched it open. He had been so stupid as to not even lock it, likely too excited to remember. A thick cloth covered the narrow window in the round stone room, further dimming the twilight. Their silhouettes were clear—a tall kilted man with long hair stood behind a woman, bent over a table, her skirts hiked. Gripping her hips, he serviced her from the back, moaning. The woman gasped and whimpered. "Oh, Lachlan. Yes!"

  Severe nausea tore through Angelique. She fled down the steps, tripped at the bottom and crashed to her knees. Though she knew not how she found the strength, she shoved herself up and ran to her room. Once inside, she again sank to her knees and retched. But nothing came up.

  I will not feel. I will not feel! He is dead to me.

  Once her stomach settled, she arose.

  "I cannot stay here." Her whole body trembling, she flipped open a trunk lid and crammed clothing into it.

  "What are you doing?"

  Angelique jumped, turning to face Camille in the doorway. "Leaving."

  "Why?"

  "Lachlan is swiving my cousin as we speak. The bastard! I knew he could not change."

  "What? You saw this?"

  "Yes, with mine own eyes. This morn, I heard him tell her where to meet him. Then, they were there when I arrived."

  "The swine. I did not think he would do such a thing. He seemed besotted with you, cousin."

  "Oh, he is most charming and deceptive, more so than Girard." Even Girard had not hurt her as much as Lachlan now did.

  "Where are we going?" Camille asked.

  "You are willing to come with me?"

  "Of course. I go with you everywhere. How could you think otherwise?"

  She had one true friend—Camille—whom she believed would never betray her or let her down.

  "We go to London. I will seek a divorce."

  "On what grounds? Clearly, the marriage has been consummated. Not impotence."

  "That is not amusing. Incest."

  "What?

  "He is having sex with my second cousin who is now also his second cousin by marriage. Therefore, incest by affinity. If that doesn't work, I'll use the impotence plea. I'd love to see him prove his virility before the court."

  Ha. She would love nothing. She was dead inside and never wanted to see Lachlan again.

  "Where will you go after that?" Camille asked.

  "I have not yet decided. If he leaves here, I may come back. If not, then France. We will go to Uncle Louis in the south of France. My mother and I visited him once a few years ago."

  "But what of your castle here? Your clan?"

  "What do I care?" Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out. "I do not even want to live. My clan hates me. They love Lachlan. He is their leader as I will never be. I do not fit in here as I had hoped. And I cannot abide an unfaithful husband and his whores."

  "At least talk to him first. Angelique, I know you love him."

  "No! I will never speak to him again. Have the grooms ready the coach in the stables so no one will know it's us within when we leave. Send some servants up to carry our trunks. And have them keep their mouths shut. No one will know we have left for a great while."

  A half hour later, they slipped out the side door and to the stables under the cover of darkness. The coach was waiting with their trunks already loaded.

  "We go into Perth," she told the driver and her two armed bodyguards. They nodded and climbed on board. One guard sat up front with the driver, and the other on the back. They needed protection passing Kormad's estate, and she was not so stupid as to forgo that.

  The driver whipped the horses into motion and they rumbled through the gate which he'd had the guards open moments ago.

  Sitting beside Camille, Angelique gazed back through the blackness at the glow in the windows of Draughon and the torches lighting the bailey. Her gaze found the south tower. Inside it, Lachlan had broken her heart a thousand times over.

  I am just like my mother. Running from a heartache she would never escape. Though other men had loved her mother, she had loved none of them back. Not the way she'd loved Angelique's father.

  Her throat constricted. "I shall never love again," she whispered. "I swear it."

  "Oh, Ange." Camille moved to the seat beside her and pulled her into a warm embrace. "I knew you loved him. Y
ou should have confronted him."

  Angelique shook her head. "No. I might kill him or his whore if given the least opportunity."

  The lane became rougher. The driver slowed but they bounced back and forth. Outside the window, the night grew darker as clouds hid the moon and stars.

  Nearby, riders on horseback, the many hooves thudding against the ground, startled Angelique.

  "Whoa!" someone yelled. The coach slowed.

  "Where are we?" Angelique asked.

  "The village?"

  "No, we've not had time."

  Angelique had forgotten to load her pistol. She drew a dagger instead.

  ***

  Halfway home from the Robertson estate, Lachlan glanced back at the two white mares glowing in the twilight. Aye, indeed Angelique would love them. They were beauties, strong and spirited. Two of his clansmen led them. He had hoped to be home before dark, but the Robertson clan's hospitality knew no bounds. They had shared food, drink and lively talk too long.

  A war cry sounded from the bushes. Horses galloped at Lachlan and his party of six.

  "What the hell?" Lachlan drew his sword and charged them on horseback. Kormad again? The bastard!

  His blade struck one of the attackers.

  Pistol fire exploded, lighting the gloom for a second. A man cried out. Horses neighed and reared. In the melee and low light, it was hard to identify anyone. The men released the white mares and they galloped away.

  "Don't kill him yet!" someone yelled. Kormad.

  One man on foot grabbed Lachlan's horse's bridle, while two more came at him from the side. Before he could strike either, one latched onto his sword arm. A fist punched him in the stomach.

  He struck out but could not free his arm from the clinging leech who near wrung his shoulder from its socket. Pain sliced through him. The bastards dragged him from the saddle. Once on the ground, Lachlan dropped the sword and closed his hand around the hilt of the dagger on his belt, better for close combat. Before he could withdraw it, something bashed into his head and blackness descended.

  ***

  "If that is Kormad, why are my guards not shooting them?" Angelique whispered inside the coach.

  "I don't know," Camille said. "What if it is Girard?"

  Dread sank like a stone in Angelique's stomach.

  "M'lady." One of her bodyguards opened the door. "Laird Rebbinglen is here. He must speak with you." He moved back and Rebbie, holding a torch, took his place.

  "Lady Angelique, what are you doing so far from Draughon this late?" Frowning, he ran his midnight gaze over her and Camille.

  Angelique's lips seemed sewn shut. How could she speak the words, the truth, of Lachlan's betrayal?

  "Lachlan has been captured," Rebbie said. "Kormad took him on his way back from the Robertson's."

  "Robertson's? What do you mean?"

  "Lachlan took a few Drummagan men, including the steward, and went to the Robertson's holdings this morn. On the way back, Kormad and his men attacked their party, killing one man. They knocked Lachlan out, made off with him, and sent word by the other men that they would hold him hostage until they had what they wanted. If they didn't receive it within a day, they would kill him."

  "Mère de Dieu." Angelique's thoughts were a jumble. How could Lachlan have been gone to the Robertson's? She had seen him with her own eyes in the tower. Was this some kind of trick to get her to come back?

  "The stable lad told us you'd left. I don't know what you're doing out here, or how you slipped past us, but you must come back to Draughon with us."

  "Yes. We go back." No matter what Lachlan had done, she would not abandon him to Kormad. If he was indeed captured, she would help him.

  The driver turned the coach, though it took several minutes. A short time later, they arrived back at Draughon.

  "Where were you going?" Rebbie asked, once they, along with Dirk, Camille and Fingall, were in the solar.

  "I do not wish to speak of it. It is between Lachlan and me," Angelique said, her stomach feeling queasy when she remembered what she'd witnessed in the south tower.

  The room was silent for a long, tense moment.

  "Why was Lachlan supposedly gone to the Robertson's?" she asked.

  Rebbie and Dirk exchanged a glance. The sort of silent communication men do when they don't wish a woman to know a secret.

  "He went to buy you a white mare as a wedding gift," Rebbie finally said.

  "Two white mares," Dirk added.

  "Is that so?" How long had it taken them to think up that story? And they couldn't even get it straight. Lachlan's two friends would lie and cover for him no matter what. They were loyal unto death and she didn't trust them to tell the truth any more than she trusted Lachlan.

  "Indeed."

  "So, Kormad has him. How do we get him freed?" she asked, trying to stay focused on the task at hand and not her mangled emotions.

  "Kormad does not work alone. I believe you ken who Girard is."

  The sensation of a chilling wind blew over her. "Mon Dieu. Not Girard. He is there, helping Kormad?"

  "Aye."

  She stared into Camille's terrified eyes. "God help us all. He will kill him."

  "We're going to make sure that doesn't happen," Rebbie said, his voice stern. "Girard wants something he believes you have. Some sort of diamond pendant."

  The diamond now hung suspended from a chain around her neck, the large icy stone lying between her breasts. It was no comfort at all. The thing was more like a noose.

  "Yes, I will give it to him…if he will release Lachlan unharmed." She tugged the necklace from beneath her bodice and slipped it over her head.

  "Very good. He also demanded that you deliver it in person, but we cannot put your life in danger. We'll dress up one of the smaller clansmen as a woman and he'll stand in for you."

  She shook her head. "That will not work. Girard will know the difference. He is not an imbecile."

  "Lachlan would never forgive us if we put your life in danger. We cannot allow you to be involved in this part."

  "I will. I make my own decisions about my life."

  "You are to stay here…with all due respect, m'lady." Dirk's tone was commanding, his expression fierce. "Lachlan will have our heads if you're injured."

  "Aye," Rebbie said. "That he will."

  Feeling powerless, she struggled for an answer. "But…I must help."

  "You are helping by giving up the pendant. If you would allow me…" Rebbie held out his hand, palm up. She clasped the large diamond to her chest for a moment. The precious stone now represented two people she'd loved most in the world—her mother who'd gifted her with it and Lachlan whom she must relinquish it for.

  She dropped the diamond into Rebbie's hand. "Very well," she said. "Bring him back alive…to me. Please."

  ***

  Lachlan has to live. "So I can strangle him myself," Angelique muttered to her cold, empty sitting room. He effectively knew how to rip out her heart.

  She paced from one side of the room to the other, then stared out the window toward the River Tay. Burnglen was too distant to see because of the trees and the thick white mist that drifted like clouds fallen from the sky.

  As a child, she had seen Burnglen Castle once and knew it was a hateful-looking ancient castle. Small as compared to Draughon, but gloomy and dark gray. She imagined Lachlan, in pain, perhaps unconscious deep in the bowels of the dungeon. Tears stung her scratchy eyes.

  Mère de Dieu, protect him.

  Rebbie carried her diamond in his pocket. He, along with Dirk and a dozen men, would make the exchange. What would happen when Girard and Kormad realized the young man dressed as a woman was not Angelique? She should have insisted on going.

  When would they return with Lachlan? Two hours or more had passed.

  Camille was asleep in her room. Angelique feared she would never eat or sleep again.

  A thump sounded in the corridor and she approached the door. A man's groan. Metal clashed and mo
re thumps. Someone had breached the gates and was taking out her guards? A chill slid through her. She ran into the bedchamber, threw on her thick cloak for protection, and armed herself with every weapon she possessed, hiding them in her secret pockets. She could not bar the door and the trunks were not heavy enough to block it shut.

  The sounds of her sitting room door splintering reached her ears. "Mother Mary, save us," she prayed in French, crossed herself, and drew a loaded pistol.

  She peered around the edge of the doorway.

  "I've killed the intruders, m'lady!"

  "Fingall? Is that you?" A bit of relief swept through her.

  "Aye." Her steward's voice echoed from the corridor. "Two masked men broke in and killed your guards. But I took care of 'em good."

  "Mère de Dieu! My guards are dead?" She crossed herself again. Though she rarely thought of them by name, they had been her constant shadows for the past weeks and had protected her well. She hated for them to come to such a horrific end.

  "I shall protect you myself, m'lady." Fingall stepped through the ruined door and into the room, a bloody dagger at his side.

  "Do you think more will come?" Angelique kept her pistol pointed, not at Fingall, but at the doorway beside him. She still didn't know if the steward had stolen from them or whether he was trustworthy.

  "I cannot rightly say if there are more. I hope not." He glanced from her to the door and back again, seeming jittery.

  "What of the guards manning the gates?"

  "I've not been out there. Lay down the pistol, m'lady, afore you hurt yourself."

  "I will not hurt myself. I am well-trained with a pistol."

  Running footsteps sounded in the corridor. Fingall rushed toward her. "Go into the chamber, m'lady! You'll be safe there!"

  "Non! Do not touch me." She would take care of this problem herself.

  The footfalls pounded closer. Her finger teased the trigger. Fingall grasped her right arm, shoved the gun upward and plucked it from her hand. His other arm went around her, capturing her.

  "Non!" She kicked back into his shins, tried to twist away and escape, but he was stronger.

  A giant, dark-haired stranger wearing leather armor appeared in the doorway. Who was he? Not one of her staff.