Not a one of Kieran’s men spoke, but the glint in their eyes said it all. They were impressed.
Now she had to make her way into the manor undetected to secure a clear path for them to enter. To surprise or to be ambushed as Hamish had suggested. Regardless, there would be a fight and they would win. They had to.
Having Mariel in the bowels of the manor alone left Kieran on edge. Time ticked by in slow increments until it seemed to have stopped completely. He glanced at the rising sun, measuring her absence by its ascent. If she was not back before it met the juncture between two mountains in the distance, he and his men would charge in without her.
They would lose the element of surprise if they rushed in before she returned, but the sacrifice would be worth the protection it might offer Mariel.
The blood turned to ice in his veins. The profession of her love and the heartfelt apology had been said with purpose. What she spoke had been her final confession.
She did not plan to live through this day.
He glanced toward the door, all the more anxious to see her. Damn it, what was taking so long?
His body tensed with the preparation to order his men to attack when a side door eased open and a slender hand waved them forward. Kieran did a final visual sweep of the area, ensuring no remaining guards lurked. Mariel had done her job well. All mercenaries remained unconscious where they lay.
He nodded and his men moved silently across the grass and slipped into the door one by one until they were crowded in a narrow hallway.
The door closed soundlessly behind them and plunged them into darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Mariel stood before them with her hand pressed against the wall. It pushed in with apparent ease and revealed a hidden staircase on the other side.
He followed behind his men, bringing up the rear of their small group. The musty scent of disuse stung his nostrils, and the wooden floor groaned in protest beneath his weight. He trod lightly and curled his way down the winding stairs in an effort to keep them from making too much noise—a feat not easily done. From what he could see below, the stairs appeared to run abruptly into a wall. Another hidden door.
Mariel stopped and turned around to face them once more. Her face was serious, her mouth drawn in a tight line. Her sharp stare met his. Ready? She mouthed.
Energy shot through Kieran’s body and his breathing intensified. He would win this fight and Mariel would remain safe. He gave a swift nod, and she shoved the trap door open.
Light flooded the small stairwell along with the heavy scent of fried eggs and thick slab pork. After days of oatcakes and hard cheese, Kieran’s stomach loosed a frustrated growl of protest. He quashed his hunger. Food would come later.
The sound of clattering dishes and surprised cries swept into the stairwell as his men filtered out.
Kieran followed closely behind, dashing out into the brilliant chaos of a large dining hall. A long table stood in the center with its contents in total disarray, the diners locked in various stages of battle. Some were engaged in combat, some crouched beneath the table, and some already lay dead.
Though caught off guard, they were hardly defenseless. Blades were flicked out of hidden pockets and pistols were drawn from vests and belts. Of those still alive, Kieran guessed there were at least thirty men against his ten. Regardless, the battle would be quick against the poorly trained mercenaries.
Kieran disarmed a man beside him before the offensive weapon could be fired. The heavy weapon clattered uselessly to the ground, and the man was easily dispatched. As they all would be.
Mariel moved among his men, slowly distancing herself from the others. Kieran narrowed his eyes, keeping close watch of her.
She swung her leg at a short bald man’s head, and he crumpled to the floor. She slipped something from her pocket and tucked it into the fallen man’s mouth, her gaze locked on the wall opposite her. She flicked a glance around the room before she rose and slid silently against the back wall.
Kieran stalked closer. One final look behind her and she slipped inside a false door, leaving his men to fight her battle.
A low frustrated growl vibrated in Kieran’s throat, all but choking him with the bitterness of disappointment. For all her heartfelt words, she had lied to them all.
• • •
Mariel crept along the hallway, her steps silent upon the lush carpet. How foolish she had once been to think herself fortunate to live in so rich a home.
A movement caught her eye and her heart leapt. Was it him? She forced down the frantic burn of hatred.
He had eased from the battle almost before it began, not that he’d be difficult to miss in his sunshine yellow silk suit. How like Aaron to be a coward to the end.
Today he would pay for the lives he’d ruined with his greed and manipulation.
Another movement flickered to her left around the corner. She drew a deep breath to calm her racing heart. Her hands trembled. She couldn’t have that. No, she needed to be calm, focused. The blue silk wallpaper whispered against her back as she approached. She turned the corner, her body tense in preparation for what she must do.
A force slammed against her forehead and suddenly she was on her back. Her mind reeled in a fog of confusion. She tried to pull herself into a sitting position, but her limbs were too heavy. A meaty fist snagged the front of her shirt and lifted her so high her feet dangled above the ground. Pain squeezed her wrist and the dagger she held was easily plucked from her fist.
Then the smell hit her. Oh God, the smell of him…death and sweat.
Mariel felt the scream rip from her throat and heard it echo off the walls around her. Her clawed hands raked against him, but to no avail.
A grin spread over his rubbery lips. “I see you remember me.” Laughter wheezed from his chest and crested into a thundering cough.
Her feet kicked against him, but his soft body absorbed the blows. Desperation and disgust fueled her need for escape and set her heart pounding. Her teeth sank against the grittiness of his hand until the putrid sting of his sweat on her tongue mingled with the taste of blood.
He howled in rage and loosened his grip.
She didn’t waste time to see his reaction. Once her feet landed solid on the floor, she sprinted down the hall. His footsteps thundered behind her, but she dared not pause to look back.
She turned a corner and felt her foot yanked from beneath her. Her body slammed to the floor and sent her world spinning once more. A viselike grip caught her ankle, but she was still not done fighting. She turned toward the man who haunted her dreams and slammed her free foot against his face. The sickening crunch of his nose beneath her heel was a fleeting moment of victory.
Blood exploded from his nose and his grip tightened.
“You bitch,” he snarled. “You’ll pay for that when Aaron is done with you.”
He grabbed her free foot and flipped her onto her stomach before he lumbered to a standing position. With a great tug, he pulled her down the hall toward a large door. Her shirt slid against the floor and rose up her back. Mariel’s palms skimmed over the silky fibers of the rug with futile effort in an attempt to grasp at anything to still her forward progress. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest. She knew that door well and pictured in her mind’s eye the overstuffed leather chairs and dark wood furnishings of Aaron’s office.
The door banged open and the familiar, pungent scent of Aaron’s heavy perfume hit her nostrils, bringing with it a wave of memories best left forgotten. Thick, soft arms wrapped around her and warmth ran down her shoulder where his broken nose trickled with fresh blood.
Aaron rose from behind a glossy wooden desk and opened his hands toward her as though he were welcoming an old friend. “Ah, Mariel…I see you’ve returned after all.” He plucked a piece of fuzz from his brilliant yellow jacket and frowned. “Not only are you late, you’ve brought friends without asking. I would expect that level of rudeness from my whores, but never from you.”
Mariel struggled against the solid grasp that pinned her arms uselessly against her sides. “Where is Jack? What have you done to him?”
Aaron ignored her question. “I hope you’ve at least brought me what I asked.”
When she did not answer, he moved from around his desk and studied her with his cold gaze. But she was no longer a confused girl, helpless and broken. Her time on Skye had restored the strength she had once possessed, and she would use every last bit of that to fight back.
Aaron smirked. “Don’t think yourself a hero for your silence, chit. You’ve brought Kieran MacDonald here. Once he is apprehended, I’m sure he can be persuaded to tell us everything we need. Your mission was still a success, all things considered.”
“You were planning on killing him anyway, weren’t you?” Mariel’s cheeks were hot despite her attempt to curb her temper.
Aaron cocked his head, his expression one of boredom. “I figured you’d probably realize that eventually. It didn’t matter if you knew or not, so long as you got the job done.” A grin spread over his thin lips. “As it appears you did—in your own roundabout way.”
He clasped his hands behind the small of his back and walked around her. “Perhaps it might interest you to know that the one who paid so handsomely for your time is here as well. And he’s desperate to get his hands on the man you think yourself in love with.”
Panic buzzed beneath Mariel’s calm exterior. Aaron leaned forward, a smile hovering at the corners of his lips as though he could smell her anxiety. “Yes, I know all about your affection for the barbarian. Jane reported it well before you got rid of her.”
“She was killed by an attacking clan.” Mariel gave him a hard look. “She died in her service to you.”
Aaron’s thin shoulders lifted in a shrug of disinterest. “Many do.” He leaned closer, and the heavy spice of his perfume assaulted her senses. “Would it please you to know that after all this time, you and your dear brother are under the same roof? I thought you would appreciate the comfort of knowing you were together before you died.”
“No!” Mariel gasped and struggled in earnest against the man holding her.
He grunted as her elbow jabbed into his gut, but still he did not release her.
“His finger,” she howled in wounded anger, no longer careful of shielding her emotions. “How could you cut off his finger? After all the money I’ve earned you, all the years I’ve been so compliant…”
“Don’t be foolish, girl,” Aaron said with obvious contempt. “Do you really think I’d remove a finger from my best pick pocket?”
Her stomach churned with rage as she digested what she’d been told. To have her brother’s finger removed was a grievous act indeed, but to subject him to the darkness of a crime ridden life, to place him in harm’s way…
Her body burned with energy, and she exploded from her captor’s arms. All her focus honed in on Aaron’s surprised face, and her fist connected with his brow. She would have landed another blow if the foul beast behind her had not managed to restrain her once more.
Aaron’s hand flew to his face, cradling the injury. Blood trickled between his fingers and blossomed against the yellow silk sleeve of his jacket. “Kill her.” Aaron said to the mass of flesh behind Mariel. “And I don’t care what you do to her before you end her miserable life.”
The large chest behind her rose, and an excited pant wheezed into her ear. Aaron burst from the room and slammed the solid door behind him. The man released his hold on her and let her fall onto the hard floor. Mariel choked in a mouthful of clean air and lunged for the door. The effort was futile, something her captor doubtlessly knew she would attempt. It was a game of cat and mouse, sick and twisted. Her fingers stretched toward the polished brass when a pressure gripped her ankle. She was jerked backward before she even had a chance to turn the smooth knob.
She kicked at him and managed to writhe free of his grasp. Desperation spurred her onward, forcing her to scramble up the shelves of books lining the back wall.
The hollow sound of a whip slapping free gave her pause. A low whistle filled the air and jerked memories from the pit of her mind. Her ears remembered that sound. Her flesh remembered its singeing bite. She clawed with a frenzy, desperate to reach higher ground.
Books fluttered to the ground below in her haste to remove herself from the whip’s path, but her efforts were in vain. Pain ripped like fire around her waist where it curled her in its wicked embrace.
Her fingernails bent backward against the smooth surface of the shelves in her attempt to stay aloft. Despite her efforts, she succumbed to the second wrench and dropped into an uncontrolled fall before the hard edge of the desk cracked against the base of her skull.
His stench filled her nostrils and the world around her went black.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
A scream tore down the hallway and raised the hairs on the back of Kieran’s neck. Mariel.
His footsteps pounded against the thick carpet as he sprinted down the corridor and slammed his shoulder against the door. He acted on foolish impulse, not bothering to form a plan or analyze what might lay on the other side. All he knew was that she was there and she needed him. Solid wood splintered beneath his weight, and the barrier between them flew open.
Mariel lay sprawled on her back, her arms bound over her head. A stout man knelt beside her and turned toward Kieran. A whip lay coiled at his side.
Kieran never gave him a chance to grab it. His foot connected with the man’s stained shirt and sent him to the floor. Away from Mariel. Before the man could flounder to his knees, Kieran plunged his blade into the massive chest. A brilliant red stain spread against filthy linen, and the man’s body relaxed into death.
Kieran pulled his sword free and knelt beside Mariel. The fabric of her shirt was torn around her waist and revealed tattered flesh beneath. Blood smeared the white carpet beneath her, but the wounds did not appear to be mortal.
Her gaze was bright and determined despite her pallid skin. She had offered her confession of love before the battle and like a fool he had denied her. No longer did she want his comfort.
She wanted revenge.
He loosened the rope that bound her wrists and eased her to a sitting position.
“I can still smell him.” Her lip curled. “Are you sure he’s…”
Her fingers rubbed against one another, their trembling subtle yet unmistakable.
He placed his hand atop hers. “He can never hurt you again.”
“Thank you.” She refused to meet his eyes as she pulled her hand from his and rose to her feet.
“Are ye well, Mariel?”
She drew a deep breath and pulled a dagger from the man’s belt. Resolve lined the stubborn set of her mouth. “Lord Hampton is here. As is Jack. We’ve already wasted too much time.” She moved as she spoke, darting into the hall. “I have a strong idea where to find Aaron, and I suspect the other two will be nearby.”
Kieran followed her down a maze of stairs and false walls before stopping at a pair of polished doors. His grip tightened on the hilt of his blade until the worn leather burned his palm. Primal energy coursed through his veins and roared in his ears. Blair’s wrongs would be righted with the edge of Kieran’s sword. His family would be safe once more.
Mariel shoved the doors open to a smaller version of the lavish room they had come from. A man clad in yellow silk stood out from the rich, dark furnishings. There was a frown evident on his thin lips. His narrow shoulders and wiry frame were hardly a source to contend with, but Kieran had seen enough on the battlefield to know how deceiving appearances could be.
Mariel stepped forward with her blade locked in her hand. “Lord Hampton and Jack—where are they?”
The man dropped a fistful of coins into the leather satchel on the table in front of him.
“I’m unarmed.” The man’s voice was smooth, and a look of calm settled the initial shock in his gaze.
“I didn’t ask if you were armed, Aaro
n.” She caught him by the shirt and shoved him against the wall. “You told me they were here, now where are they?”
Kieran stepped forward and then stopped himself. Mariel had sought revenge for two long years. He would not take that from her. Unless, of course, the bastard didn’t divulge Hampton’s location soon. Kieran’s muscles burned with his own need to exact vengeance.
“My guards will be here in a moment,” Aaron said with nonchalance in an obvious attempt to brush her off.
Kieran stepped forward and raised the blade of his sword. “Yer guards are all dead. I suggest ye answer the lady.”
The man’s eyes widened, and he turned to Mariel as if seeking confirmation.
She pressed the dagger to his neck. “Tell me where they are.”
Her body was rigid, her face smooth and expressionless with a cold gaze Kieran had never seen before.
A thin line of blood trickled down Aaron’s neck as Mariel tightened her hold on him. “You have one last chance to tell me where Jack is.”
He leaned away from her, his thin face twisted in a tortured grimace. “In your old room.”
Mariel shoved him away from her. He backed into the corner with a hand to his neck, the beginnings of a bruise forming around his eye. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” he snarled. “He won’t stop until he finds Blair Hampton.” Aaron turned his pale blue gaze to Kieran. “The barbarian will be dead by then. Just like his brother.”
Kieran’s heart lurched in his chest. “Brennan.” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken the name out loud until Aaron’s lip slid into a wicked sneer.
“Yes, your precious brother. He took almost a year to kill. When he was finally disposed of, we hadn’t expected you to cease your barbaric ways and settle as laird in his stead. Not that your presence matters at this point. Soon you will join Brennan and your land will belong to that daft sister of yours once more. Your land is priceless, you know? Once Lord Hampton reclaims his wife, his newly inherited wife, he will have access to the wealth of your lands. You should hear how easy it was to seduce that bitch into marrying Lord Hampton in the first pl—”
Deception of a Highlander Page 26