Angelique screamed, the deafening sound intense in the confined space. "I've killed him! I've killed him!"
"What the devil is going on?" The guard growled from the passage.
"I've killed my own husband! But he deserved it! The unfaithful swine."
That was a bit much. Lachlan watched the door through eyes narrowed to slits. One guard entered, halting just inside the door, a torch in one hand, a dagger in the other, and his sword still in the scabbard. Angelique crouched in a corner, pretending to weep. "I did not mean to kill him. I shoved him. He fell and cracked his skull on the wall."
After wedging the torch between two rocks in the wall, the guard inched closer and nudged Lachlan with his foot. When Lachlan didn't move or even breathe, the man bent over him. Lachlan grabbed the guard's knife hand, shoving the blade toward his chest, and grasped the hilt of his sword at the same time. The guard jerked back, cursing, and dropped the knife. Lachlan took possession of both weapons.
"What's happening?" A second guard entered the cell.
Angelique sprang from behind the door and bashed the empty chamber pot against his head. He slumped to the floor.
The first guard backed toward the exit.
"Halt!" Rising, Lachlan motioned with the tip of the sword toward the back corner. "Over there."
When the man obeyed, Lachlan leapt over the other guard and joined Angelique in the corridor. She locked the cell door.
The first guard yelled. Lachlan closed the small opening at the top of the door, muffling his cries.
Footsteps and voices advanced toward them down the dim corridor lit by a lone torch.
"Hell. Kormad's men," Lachlan said.
"I am ready." Angelique held a dagger.
"Where did you get that?"
"From the second guard."
"Have a care." Damnation, what if he couldn't kill them all and protect her? Nausea clutched at him when he imagined the horrors she would endure if he died. Rape, torture, death. He simply could not fail.
Wielding the sword in one hand and the knife in the other, Lachlan confronted the first of Kormad's men. The large, leather-clad bastard charged him, sword slamming against Lachlan's. The impact traveled up his arm, clashing steel deafening in the confined space. Fortunately, the passage was so narrow two men could not fight abreast. He knocked the sword from the man's hand and quickly ran him through. Battle fury raced hot through his veins.
The second man stepped over the body and attacked. Once he fell, Lachlan turned his attention to the next in line. He and two others hung back, their eyes wide in the dimness.
Someone charged in from outside, behind the men. A battle cry arose.
Rebbie? Indeed it was. And Dirk backed him. Clanging blades were a blur of motion.
Lachlan engaged the enemy closest to him. The man stumbled and fell. Lachlan smashed the sword's basket hilt against his head, knocking him out.
"Lachlan! You live." Rebbie slapped him on the shoulder. "Come!"
"How many outside?"
"None. We dispensed with them."
"I thank you." Lachlan took Angelique's hand, keeping her close by his side. "Where are the rest of our men?"
"Two or three were killed," Rebbie said. "The others, we know not what happened to them. 'Twas chaos. When we saw Fingall and the other man bring Angelique through the gates, we knew we had to act quickly."
Outside, Dirk held three of Kormad's horses.
Another guard charged around the corner. "Help her mount," Lachlan said to Dirk, then engaged in swordplay with the last man. He was fast and skilled.
More of Kormad's men poured down the distant castle steps. Where the hell did he get so many men?
"We must go now, Lachlan!" Dirk threw a stone at the man. It bounced off his shoulder, but that was enough to distract him. Lachlan's blade sliced his arm. Yelling curses, the enemy retreated.
Lachlan leapt onto the bareback horse behind Angelique and followed Rebbie's and Dirk's mounts at a fast gallop out the unmanned, open gates.
"Follow them!" someone shouted from behind.
***
Hoof beats thundered behind them on the race toward Draughon.
"Damned whoresons!" Lachlan held Angelique tightly before him on the horse and glanced back. Two of Kormad's men gave chase.
Draughon's iron gates came into view. "Open the gates!" Lachlan yelled.
The guards moved quickly, obeying his orders. The horses galloped through and into the empty bailey. The gates clanged shut behind them.
"Where is everyone? Were all the men killed?" Lachlan leapt down and helped Angelique dismount.
"I don't know," Rebbie said. "We took a dozen to Burnglen with us."
Since the secret passageways had been breached, Lachlan didn't know what to expect. Drawing his sword, he ran up the steps and yanked open the door to the crowded great hall.
Kormad and Girard jerked around to face him, their eyes bulging.
"What the hell are you two doing here?" Lachlan's first instinct was to gut Girard, then Kormad. But caution froze him to the spot. "Who allowed them entrance?" This was his and Angelique's home, and these knaves stood here as if they owned the place.
"Get Lady Angelique out of here!" one of his guards yelled. "They have turned everyone against you." He sat in the corner, his face bloody, hands behind his back.
Kormad smashed the man in the jaw with his fist, and he keeled over. "Well, that's one of your last loyal men, MacGrath. I'll let you guess who the other one is." Kormad chuckled.
Another guard in the room, apparently unharmed and free, averted his gaze. What about the guard at the gate outside…also a traitor? Or loyal? Several Drummagan clansmen, guards, and those holding other positions, stared at him with hard, accusing eyes. Where was Bryson, his sword-bearer and war leader? And Heckie? How many had turned traitor?
Lachlan glanced behind himself to find Angelique standing before Rebbie and Dirk, safe for now, but wide-eyed and pale.
"You will leave now!" Lachlan commanded his enemies.
Kormad laughed. "The Drummagan clan kens of your misdeeds, MacGrath. 'Haps your wife doesn't know the whole of it yet. Murder. Rape."
"You thrice cursed whoreson!" Lachlan forced himself not to act on his impulses. He wanted to launch himself at Kormad, sword slicing. But they were greatly outnumbered. He backed toward Angelique.
"MacGrath raped these two women." Kormad indicated Fingall's wife, mock weeping, and Neilina, who glared.
"You are insane!" Lachlan said. "I did not touch either of them."
"We have witnesses. Several, in fact. We know you killed the French lad, Philippe. We have proof."
Behind him, Angelique gasped. "Philippe is dead?"
"Aye, ask your husband about it."
"I know naught of it," Lachlan said.
"We found your dagger in his back," Kormad said.
"You took my weapons when you knocked me on the head and captured me."
"Angelique murdered a man in France last year," Girard said.
"More lies," Lachlan seethed, his hatred of Girard raged. It took all his strength not to lop the man's head from his body. "You are the rapist and I intend to see you pay."
"Not to worry, my friends." Kormad addressed the Drummagan clan. "I have sent one of my men to report their crimes to the constable and magistrate. Seize them!"
Lachlan stepped back, shielding Angelique. "Protect her."
Dirk and Rebbie raised their swords. Standing back to back, the three of them formed a triangle with Angelique at the center. Lachlan held her hand in his left.
"You wish to kill more innocent people, I see," Kormad said. "Things will go easier if you give yourselves up and admit to your crimes."
"We have committed no crimes. You and this damned Frenchman are the criminals—rapist, murderer and thief."
"'Twill do you no good to fight. I have already shown the clan the legal papers," Kormad said. "The former chief, John Drummagan, married my sister in secret
and they had a son. Timothy, as the sole legitimate male heir of John Drummagan, is the rightful earl. I am his guardian and therefore will serve as chief until he comes of age."
"'Tis lunacy! Are you telling me you believe this man's lies?" Lachlan asked the Drummagan clan, men he thought loyal. Men he trusted. "You swore your allegiance to me. And yet you believe this outlaw's lies over your own chief?"
Several men of the clan dropped their gazes. Others glared at him, eye to eye.
"False papers are easy to draw up. False witnesses are easy to find if you pay them enough, aye, Kormad? I wager constructing this web of lies has cost you a large sum."
"It has cost naught, because 'tis all true."
"Oui, and I come to take this murderess back to France. She will have a trial." Girard's gaze on Angelique held an unholy gleam. Lust combined with deep hatred. Lachlan could not allow Angelique to fall into his hands at all costs. She would suffer more than death. The three of them could not fight Kormad, Girard, their men, and the whole Drummagan clan—not and keep Angelique safe. He should've kept the king's retainers a few more weeks. Now, aside from his two good friends, he had no men to help him fight.
"Rebbie, Dirk, we are going out the way we came in," Lachlan said.
"Stand aside!" Dirk yelled.
Slowly, they retreated through the front door. Lachlan and Dirk barricaded the castle door from the outside with several large stones they rolled from the side. "Hurry! To the stables. They'll follow."
Two of Kormad's warriors on foot rushed them, swords drawn—the men who'd chased them on the road. Rebbie engaged one; swords clanged. Dirk ran the other through on the second strike, then helped Rebbie.
"After you kill him, make sure the gates are open," Lachlan yelled. Angelique in his arms, he carried her toward the stables.
"I cannot believe how my kin has betrayed us," she said. "What must we do?"
"Angelique!" Camille trotted from the kitchen garden. "Grâce à Dieu!"
"Where have you been?"
"Hiding. Girard would see me dead."
"Saddle five fresh horses," Lachlan ordered the stable lad and set Angelique on her feet.
"I already have, m'laird." He led one from a stall. "I knew you'd be needing them when you arrived."
"Where will we go?" Angelique asked. She looked so small and pale, her big green eyes trusting, depending on him to keep her safe. Lachlan had failed so miserably, he didn't deserve her trust anymore, but he was glad for it nonetheless.
Determined to make up for his faults, he set about testing the saddles and strength of the girth straps. He would save her life if he did naught else.
"I wouldn't sabotage your saddles, m'laird. I ken Kormad is the biggest liar in all of Scotland. I shall be your eyes and ears whilst you are gone."
"I thank you. Stay safe." Lachlan turned to Angelique. "Can you ride alone?"
"Oui."
He helped the two women mount, then did so himself. Once Rebbie and Dirk took to their horses in the bailey, they all galloped through the gates. He glanced back to see the clan pouring from the doors.
***
"Where are we going?" Angelique asked Lachlan two hours later when they stopped, dismounted and allowed the horses to drink at a stream. Rolling fields and a few bushes surrounded them. All she knew was they were riding north toward the Highlands, toward the brown, rounded peaks of the Cairngorms she could see in the distance.
"MacGrath holdings. Kintalon Castle," he said. "The clan of my birth won't turn on us so quickly." Dried blood and golden brown stubble covered Lachlan's jaw. Dirt and blood smeared his shirt and plaid. But his expression bothered her most; the playful charmer had vanished, and in his place was this frowning warrior with a hard mouth and fierce eyes.
"Why did you not ask the nearby clans we have alliances with for their help?"
"If the Drummagan clan can turn on us so easily, so can any of the other clans if they believe Kormad's lies and false papers. But I trust my brother with my life and yours. 'Tis the only place I know with certainty you'll be safe."
He was most concerned with her safety? She could not look him in the eye after that. Her clan shamed her. She could not believe they had betrayed her and Lachlan so easily.
"Kormad and Girard are the most malicious men I have seen," she said. "I know one of them killed Philippe." He'd been her friend when few others had, and she would miss him. But he'd never possessed a piece of her heart as Lachlan did. Nevertheless, Philippe had never hurt anyone and didn't deserve to be murdered in cold blood. If not for her, he wouldn't have been in Scotland. So in some small way, she blamed herself.
Lachlan observed her closely, his gaze almost cutting. "Greed, revenge—they are powerful motivators."
"What shall we do? We cannot simply allow Kormad to keep Draughon."
"And I won't. But first I must make certain you're safe. I cannot protect you and fight those two and their men at the same time. Besides, now that the clan is on his side, I have no fighting men. I am bright enough to ken when to retreat and gather forces. The MacGrath clan is larger than the Drummagan clan, and I wager, will be willing to come to our aid."
"I thank you for protecting me," she said in a low voice.
"You don't have to thank me for that." He strode away to wash his face and arms in the peat-tinged water of the nearby stream.
She was thankful they'd escaped Kormad's clutches, but what if she and Lachlan could never go home to Draughon?
***
Before dusk, they arrived at a small derelict castle where, Angelique learned, an acquaintance of Lachlan and Rebbie, from their academy days, lived. This jovial baron fed them well, then Camille and Angelique stayed the night in a private bedchamber.
Lachlan, Rebbie and Dirk slept on the great hall floor with the rest of the men of the household. Though her bed was comfortable, she missed Lachlan's hard, hot body spooned against her back. They might never lie that way again. Sleep was elusive, and nightmares of Girard and Kormad plentiful.
Before daybreak the next morn, they quickly ate and set out on their journey, before Kormad and his men could catch up to them…if they were following. The baron provided supplies—blankets, tents and food—to see them through should they not have anywhere to stay the next night.
Lachlan looked a mite better this morn, having washed up and borrowed clean clothing from his friend. Still, his expression remained shuttered, determined.
All that day, they rode hard. The mountains of the Cairngorm rose up around them. Through the mist, she glimpsed patches of snow at the tops of some mountains. She had never been this far north into Scotland and found the landscape both stark and beautiful. Black clouds gathered overhead and the north wind blew chilly.
Lachlan stopped and dismounted. He pulled a woolen plaid blanket from the collection of supplies, wrapped it around Angelique and covered her head. His touch was gentle but efficient, his mood distant.
"Merci," she said.
"Tell me if you get cold."
She nodded.
"Can you wrap a blanket around Camille?" Lachlan asked Rebbie and returned to his horse.
Suddenly, she missed that intimate, lingering gaze Lachlan used to bestow on her. She did not even know why she wished to see it again from a man of his sort. This was just one more thing reminding her that her dreams of love were indeed foolish.
Once they commenced riding again, a thin misty rain sprayed through the air, making Angelique doubly thankful for the tightly woven blanket keeping out most of the dampness. Clearly, she was not a Highland lass, but Lachlan seemed in his element.
At sundown, the rain stopped but the cold remained. They dismounted in a sheltered area beneath trees, no castles or crofts in evidence anywhere.
The men unloaded supplies. In the dusky light, she and Camille gazed out toward mountains that seemed somehow welcoming but gloomy. Low, brown vegetation covered them, heather perhaps, but no trees. This was such a different world from the green, bushy Lowlan
ds.
Footsteps approached. "Lady Angelique, could I have a word?" Dirk asked.
"Oui." How unusual. He rarely said anything to her beyond a greeting.
Camille sauntered away.
Dirk's sharp blue gaze sliced through a person. He appeared most serious, but his cheeks were ruddy. "In truth, 'twas me with Neilina that evening in the south tower. Lachlan wouldn't be unfaithful to you."
Angelique had no response to that. Had Lachlan told him to say this, or had she indeed spied on this man in carnal relations with a woman? Her face burned. She wished he spoke sincerely, but she knew better than to take any man at his word. No, now her naiveté and innocence were dead. "I have no proof of that. Whoever I saw looked exactly like Lachlan and…my cousin said his name."
Dirk frowned. "She did call me Lachlan, but I didn't correct her because I was pretending to be him. It was my duty to see if she was Kormad's spy. 'Tis clear she was. I've known Lachlan more than ten years and he has never taken to a lass as he's taken to you."
"He's married to me so he has to maintain a credible façade."
"God's truth, he is smitten with you, though likely he'll never tell you that. 'Tis all I wished to say. I bid you good eve." He gave a shallow bow and strode away.
That was the most Dirk had ever spoken to her. She didn't know whether to believe him or not. Lachlan smitten? How was such a thing possible?
Dirk joined Lachlan where he was setting up a tent, and spoke a few words to him. Lachlan then moved toward her, a solemn expression on his face. What were they scheming?
"I need to tell you something, Angelique." He pulled the plaid more tightly about his shoulders. "This is a hell of a time and place to do it, but I have little choice."
Panic rose within her. Was he going to confess his infidelity only minutes after Dirk tried to convince her otherwise? "What is it?"
He inhaled deeply, hesitated, then looked her in the eye. "I have two sons."
"What? Sons?" Surely she'd misheard.
"Aye, two wee lads. Orin and Kean. They live with the MacGrath clan at Kintalon."
"Mère de Dieu." The soggy Scottish soil had surely dropped from beneath her. "Are you sure that is all? Such a man as yourself probably has twenty children in every country you have visited."
My Wild Highlander Page 25