“I could hear it in the laird’s voice, see it in the wariness in your kinsmen’s eyes whenever it was mentioned. If I had kenned it all, no one would have had to look so wary, as if weighing every word spoken on the matter.”
It annoyed him that he would have to tell her the truth so soon, but he could not try to talk her away from the truth. She would soon guess what he had done and see it as lying. He had won her trust and it was precious to him. He would not destroy it because he was too great a coward to face her reaction to the truth.
“There is something else our blood can do for people,” he said, watching her very carefully. “What it does for us is to help us live for a verra long time. The laird’s wife is the one who realized that it could help our mates live as long as we do. Something ye told me the laird said makes me think he suspects it, too.”
For a moment she just stared at him, and then Una slowly sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. “Live a long time? I suspicion that since it makes ye healthier and stronger than most that it would make ye live longer, but that isnae really what ye mean, is it?”
“Nay. How long do ye think the laird and his wife have been wed?”
“I dinnae ken. A few years. Five?”
“Eight and thirty.”
She blinked. “Dinnae be ridiculous. She is my age, mayhap a wee bit older, and she is carrying a bairn.”
“Eight and thirty years. We live a verra, verra long time, Una.”
“But, if they have been married for so long, she should be past the age where she can carry a bairn.”
“Una.” He grasped her by her upper arms and gave her a little shake. “Ne’er mind that.”
“How old are you?”
Raibeart winced, wishing she had not asked that question but, now that he had begun this, he had to finish it. “One hundred and five.”
“Ye tease me,” she whispered, but something in his eyes told her that he was telling her the truth. “Nay. Ye would be long dead and buried.”
“Nay, Una, I wouldnae. To some of the Purebloods in the great hall tonight I am nay but a bairn.”
“So anyone who makes a potion of your blood could live, weel, forever?”
“We are nay sure how long we can live. ’Tis a verra long time, but if a mate is lost or a time comes when one of us feels the long years like a weight upon his shoulders, he will do whate’er is necessary to die without committing the sin of dying by his own hand. Aye, ’tis a miraculous gift but it can also be a curse.”
She thought about that for a moment as she battled her fear and could see the truth of it so clearly. Long, unending years of life, especially if there was no one to share it with, could be a torture. The last of her fear faded as she began to realize that Raibeart would be around for a very long time. Her happiness over that died abruptly as she thought on what else such a strange gift meant. If anyone discovered that secret, the MacNachtons would become a besieged people, everyone eager to bleed them dry. It was a chilling thought and she flung her arms around him.
“That madmon has guessed the truth,” she said.
“I think he suspects, aye.” He stroked her back, wondering if it was the fact that MacNachtons could live so long or that Dunmorton may have guessed the truth that was making her tremble. “That is why he and the ones he keeps close have to die.”
“Aye, but are ye sure a mon as ancient as ye can do it?”
Raibeart stared at the top of her head for a moment in shock and then laughed, both with humor and a heady relief, as he pushed her onto her back. “Wretch. Ancient, am I?”
“ ’Tis naught to fret over, Raibeart. Ye do weel enough for one of your great age.”
“Weel enough? I intend to show ye that I can do a great deal better than just weel enough.”
And he did.
Chapter Nine
“’Tis such an ordinary place,” murmured Raibeart as he looked at Dunmorton. “Looking at it, ye would ne’er think that some madmon is holding eight innocent people in cages set in the dungeon and is taking their blood to make potions.”
Una looked at him and then returned her gaze to the keep. It chilled her to even look at the place. She was outside, lying on the ground beside Raibeart, with a dozen armed MacNachtons but a few feet away, and yet she was still suffering the bitter taste of fear. It was going to take a long time to recover from what had been done to her at Dunmorton, and she had not suffered as badly as some of the others.
“My friends are going to need a long time to heal from this,” she whispered and reached out to clasp Raibeart’s hand.
“They will have it,” he promised. “They will be kept safe. Ready?”
“Aye.” She studied the walls for another moment. “If Angus has returned already, then the laird didnae consider anything the mon said worthy of changing his guard in any way. ’Tis just as it was when I left here.”
“Cathal and Jankyn will already ken the pace of the watch so that we can cross the open space unseen,” Raibeart said as they both wriggled backward until they could stand up without being seen by the guards on the walls. “We dinnae want to spill too much blood. ’Tis just the ones who . . .” He frowned when she pressed her fingers against his lips.
“Ye dinnae need to explain, Raibeart. ’Tis a matter of survival. Nay more, nay less.”
He wanted to kiss her and almost pulled her into his arms when they stood up. She understood what needed to be done, and it was a great weight off his heart. He doubted a day went by that there was not a battle somewhere, man against man, army against army. This fight would not be with only fists or swords but with stealth, teeth, and claws, as well. Speed and silence were important if they were to keep to the plan of killing only those who had committed crimes against his clan or knew the secrets of MacNachton blood. If all went as planned, it would be no battle such as the troubadours sung of but predators taking down a threat to their pack with swift savagery, and he had feared that she would be appalled. Instead there was a look on Una’s face that told she not only understood; she would join them if necessary.
“Ye are here only to soothe and free the prisoners,” he said as they rejoined the others.
Una smiled with such sweet innocence Raibeart was immediately suspicious. He had no time to repeat his command or get her to promise to stay far away from the fighting, however. Jankyn asked her about the guards, and moments later, everyone but the two youngest left to watch the horses was headed toward the tunnel entrance near the burn.
Raibeart, Una, and two MacNachtons were the first to cross the open land, slip down the rocky bank of the burn, and enter the tunnel. They had not gone far when he heard others behind them and knew they would have enough men to take down the guards. By the time they reached the opening into the dungeon, Raibeart had decided that he hated tunnels, especially ones so cluttered with debris he had been expecting the roof of the tunnel to collapse on top of them the whole way along.
“They have increased the guard down here,” Una whispered so softly only a MacNachton could hear her. “The side of one of the cages will hide ye as ye step out of here. Stay close to the wall to the left and the old ale barrels will then hide you. There are also abundant shadows in the dungeon.”
One by one, the men crept out of the tunnel while Raibeart stayed next to her. “Ye stay here until I call for you.”
The moment the last of the other men slipped away, Una gave him a quick hard kiss. “Thank ye for wishing me to be safe, but that willnae work. Remember, two of the prisoners are wee lassies that can make a lot of noise if they are frightened. So, too, are there women who may think they are about to be stolen away and taken to an even worse fate. I will be careful and stay near the cages, but I must let them see me so that they dinnae set up a cry that brings others rushing down here. Toss the keys to me when ye get them.”
He cursed softly, having no good argument to weaken the truth of her words, so he followed the other men. When Cathal and Jankyn looked to him for the signal to proceed,
he held up his hand. When he saw Una glide through the shadows and reach the children’s cage, he signaled the attack with one sharp movement of his hand.
The MacNachtons attacked the guards, and Una hastily stepped out of the shadows. She noticed no one was surprised to see her, their ability to see in the dark as keen as hers. Little Joan and Alma huddled at the back of their cage closest to her.
“Dinnae fear,” she said, loud enough for the prisoners to hear her but not so loud that it would attract the attention of one of the guards. “These men are here to free you.”
“And from what I can see, that will happen verra soon,” said Allana as she watched Jankyn hurl a guard against the wall, picking the man up and throwing him as if he weighed nothing. “Jesu, they are like us,” she whispered in shock a heartbeat later as she watched Cathal sink his fangs into another guard’s throat.
“Aye,” said Una. “There is so much I need to tell you.”
“Una,” Raibeart called as he took a ring of keys off a dead guard’s body. “Catch.”
She easily caught the keys tossed her way. It was not until she turned to start unlocking the cages that she realized one was empty. Una feared she had returned too late to save all of them.
“Where is Madeleine?” she asked as she opened Allana’s cage and moved on to the next one.
“The laird’s fools took her away,” replied Nan as she darted out of her cage as if she feared she could lose the chance to escape if she moved too slowly. “She swooned as she always does, but I heard one of them say it didnae matter this time, that Angus would enjoy his reward whether she was awake or nay. They believed that would be a fine entertainment.”
“He is giving Madeleine to Angus? But, he ne’er shares the women.”
“I dinnae think he sees it as such a great gift he is giving Angus.”
Una let the little girls out last and they both rushed to wrap their arms around her legs and bury their faces in her skirts. The three women stood together, watching the MacNachtons closely. The two youths, Bartram and Colla, flanked the women. They looked prepared to protect the women, but the faint tremor in their hands revealed their fear. Una did not blame them for being afraid, for the MacNachtons had quickly and savagely killed all eight guards, and she did not see that a single MacNachton had been harmed in the doing of it.
“These are the allies we needed,” Una said. “They are the MacNachtons and ’tis their blood in us that makes us what we are. They are going to take us to Cambrun where we will be safe among our own.”
Allana studied her for a moment. “Ye certainly look much healthier than ye did when ye left here.”
Raibeart stepped up to Una. “There are only three women. Are we too late to save them all then?”
“Nay, they have taken Madeleine to the laird’s chambers,” replied Una. “It appears that Angus has returned, and whatever he told the laird pleased the madmon enough to reward him. Angus gets to have Madeleine, awake or no.” She nodded in approval when all the men’s faces hardened with fury and then told them how to get to the laird’s rooms.
“Einar, I want you, Skelli, Erik, Ranald, and Filib to get these people out and to the horses,” Cathal ordered and then he looked at the cages, his rage at the sight of them easy to see. “Put the guards’ bodies in the cages. Let them rot there. The rest of ye come with me.” He strode away, Raibeart and the others close at his heels.
Una handed Einar the keys before standing back with her friends as the MacNachtons tossed the bodies of the guards into the cages and locked them. She pushed aside the pang of guilt that tried to settle into her heart. The guards had not been terribly cruel, but they had not been kind, either. They had allied with the laird in imprisoning innocents and ignoring the abuses heaped upon them. She suspected they had not been entirely ignorant of what the laird was doing to the women and children he held. When she saw Einar pocket the keys, she knew the man intended to see that his laird got exactly what he wanted. The guards would rot where they were.
As Einar and the other men helped her get her friends out through the tunnel, Una fought the urge to run back to be with Raibeart. She knew, if only from watching the MacNachtons take down the guards, that the men were all capable of taking care of themselves. It did not stop her from worrying about Raibeart, however. She silently prayed that he would return to her unharmed.
Raibeart was surprised at the lack of a guard as they made their way to the laird’s rooms. Even though they were approaching through the man’s escape route, there should have been someone on guard. The ease with which they were advancing on their prey made him wary. When he stood by Cathal outside the door that would take them into the laird’s rooms, he pushed aside that unease and fixed his mind on the battle to come.
“There is a spy hole,” said Cathal in the low whisper that only his men could hear. “Looks to be a tapestry over the door with the hole cut through it as weel. Why would he put one into his own chambers?”
“Una said this room used to be his wife’s bedchamber,” Raibeart reminded him.
“Ah, of course.” Cathal made use of the spy hole. “The woman is on the bed and all the men are looking at her or that redheaded fool, but none are right at the bedside. Seven men so that bastard Angus is there. They are all armed but their backs are to us.” He moved back a little and began to cautiously open the door. “Let us pray no one sees the tapestry move outward. Slip in if ye can but attack immediately if someone sees you.”
Sword in hand, Raibeart was eager to cut these men down and not just because of the helpless woman on the bed, one who had MacNachton blood in her veins. When he had seen the cages Una and the others had been held in, seen the two frightened children huddled inside one, rage had nearly blinded him. The killing of the guards had not been enough. He wanted to kill the man who had put those innocents in a cage and fed off them.
The men in the room were so intent upon the woman, eagerly awaiting her rape, they never saw the MacNachtons slip through the door and into the shadows. Raibeart looked at Angus as he moved toward the man. Angus’s hard face was flushed with lust, but he was obviously hesitant to take the woman in front of six leering men. It would not be long, however, before the crude taunts of the others pushed the man to act, and Raibeart tensed, ready to stop him if he put one hand on the woman.
Then Angus tensed and looked around. Raibeart silently cursed. Una had said that the man was a skilled hunter. Raibeart should have anticipated that Angus could scent the death that was encircling them all. He moved quickly and grabbed the man. A sharp pain in his side told Raibeart that Angus had already prepared for an attack and had armed himself. Ignoring the pain and the damp warmth of blood soaking his shirt, he smiled at Angus. The way the man paled, his eyes widening, gave Raibeart pleasure. This man was responsible for hunting down Lost Ones and sending them to their death or a living hell. Raibeart let Angus see his beast in its full feral glory and then sank his fangs into the man’s neck.
Once he had drunk his fill, Raibeart snapped Angus’s neck and tossed the man’s body aside. A quick glance around told him that only the laird still lived with his throat caught tight in Cathal’s grasp. The ones that knew the secret of MacNachton blood were all dead save for the laird, and Cathal would soon end that man’s miserable life. Others at Dunmorton had undoubtedly aided in sending Lost Ones to the leader of the hunter, but although slaughtering them all had a certain appeal, Raibeart believed that the real threat of Dunmorton would die with its laird.
“To whom and to where did ye send the others ye captured?” Cathal demanded of the terrified man he held captive.
Thomas MacKay, laird of Dunmorton, no longer looked like the brutal man he had been. He was sweating, shaking, and had soiled himself. Raibeart shook his head. It was hard to believe that such a coward had done so much harm.
“I dinnae ken!” The man’s voice was high and tremulous. “Ne’er met him and wasnae told anything about him.”
“Then how did ye send him the o
nes ye captured?”
“Took the prisoners north to a wee cottage and his men came and took them away.”
MacKay told Cathal every step taken, from holding the prisoners while a message was placed in that cottage to meeting the laird’s men and the coin he was paid for each prisoner. The laird who had turned the hunters from a few groups of superstitious men into a true threat was very careful to keep his name and his whereabouts a deep secret. The only thing MacKay said about the man that might prove useful was the fact that every message and every prisoner was sent north of Dunmorton. Raibeart leaned against the wall, pressed his hand over his wound, and tried not to be too disappointed at the lack of information as he watched Cathal sink his fangs into the man’s throat, drink his fill, and then snap MacKay’s neck.
He watched the laird toss the body aside and then joined the others in looking at the unconscious woman on the bed. Raibeart hoped they decided what to do with the woman soon for his legs were trembling with a growing weakness. Although he had fed on Angus and the wound the man had inflicted before dying had ceased to bleed, Raibeart decided he had lost more blood than he had realized. Either that or Angus’s blade had done more than pierce his skin, injuring something inside him that could require more blood and more time to heal. It pinched at his pride that he appeared to be the only one who had suffered a serious wound, but he told himself not to be an idiot. They had saved the Lost Ones and killed the ones who knew the secret of MacNachton blood. His wound and even his pride was a small price to pay.
Cathal moved to the side of the bed and said, “Your enemies are dead. Ye are safe now. Una and Allana sent us to get you.”
Raibeart nearly laughed when the woman opened her eyes, sat up, and looked around. “Una said ye could swoon beautifully whene’er ye wanted, but I hadnae realized how verra skilled ye were at it,” Raibeart said and smiled when the woman looked at him, a sharp intelligence clear to see in her light green eyes.
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