Angus: A Highlander Romance (The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Book 34)

by Jo Jones

  “Make one move or a single sound, and you’ll be food for the worms.”

  Brinley!

  Lucy struggled, her heart skidding in her chest, until she felt a sharp sting and a trickle of warm blood ooze down her neck, across her collarbone, and into the neckline of her shirt. She stilled, frantically evaluating her options. The knife was clearly razor-sharp, and he was strong enough to use it if she fought back. She’d have to wait for a better opportunity.

  “I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth, but the knife stays. Nothing you can do is faster than this blade will be, slicing your throat. No noise. Got that?”

  She barely nodded. The tip of his knife was already painfully pressed against her skin.

  “No noise,” he whispered, twisting the knife a little as he slid his hand from her mouth and wrapped his forearm across her chest.

  She winced, fighting the impulse to squirm away from his body. “How did you get here? I thought Nate arrested you.”

  He laid his cheek beside hers, and she shuddered. “You thought you were rid of me, didn’t you? Nate tried to play tough, but he couldn’t find much to charge me with. No proof, you see. Oh, he’s still working on it, but you know how slow the wheels of justice are. By the time he figures something out, it will be too late.”

  His low chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “Even if he had arrested me, I was all set with bail money. Isn’t that rich? Your money bailing me out of jail?” He laughed again, his sour breath fanning her cheek. He pulled her backward, deeper into the orchard, away from any chance of help. “I’ll bet you figured that money you sent every month, paltry as it was, could buy you forgiveness for what you and yours have done to me. Well, it didn’t. You destroyed my future. Took it all away, and now I’m here to return the favor.”

  “You won’t get away with this!” She could smell the gasoline on the ground, on the trees, on him, and wished she could be more confident. The deeper he took her into the orchard, the stronger the odor became. Her throat burned and her eyes watered.

  “Mmmm, it’s going to be beautiful. Spectacular! Worth all the effort to douse this whole place.” He dragged her farther back, the knife pricking her, with every misstep, until her entire neck felt like it was on fire. “Even the breeze cooperated, blowing the gasoline smell away from the café. I worried you’d go there, before it caught fire.”

  “No! Please. Grif is in there!”

  “So what? Serves him right for throwing in with you. You can think about that while he burns.” Brinley’s spittle sprayed her cheek and Lucy shuddered, realizing this wasn’t just about revenge. George Brinley was completely mad.

  Between his grip, tight across her chest, and gasoline fumes constricting her lungs, she could barely breathe. Gathering her strength, she tried to twist away, and tangled her feet with his. They both went down. She landed on her back with a jolt and received another when his bulk hit the top of her, taking what little air she had left. She raised her arms to fight but the blade scraping a wide fiery path across her neck stopped her cold.

  “Uh-uh-uh,” Brinley warned, as she gasped and cried out. It felt like he’d taken the top layer of skin.

  “Didn’t I warn you not to move? You almost sliced your own throat!” He leaned down until his mouth touched her ear. “We don’t want you to miss the party.”

  He slid off her, keeping the knife point beneath her jaw. “Get up. Real careful. You’re beginning to try my patience and that’s never been healthy. Ask Lettie. She was a slow learner at first, too, but she soon caught on.”

  No wonder Lettie never stood up to him, Lucy realized, struggling to get to her feet and stay ahead of the knife tip. She couldn’t imagine living with this madman every day.

  Brinley moved behind her, wrapping his arm across her chest again. “Now, let’s try this one more time. And for the sake of that pretty neck, don’t try anything stupid again.”

  They hadn’t gone far when Lucy realized they were almost to the far corner of the orchard, and far enough from the house or cafe, a scream would never be heard. “Where are you taking me?”

  “My truck’s over here. I left this corner alone, so we’d have a front row seat. You’re going to sit and watch everything be taken from you, and not be able to do anything about it. Just like it happened to me.” He yanked his arm tighter across her chest. “You think you’re better than me. That your handouts made you something special. Well, you’ll be beggin’ on the streets when I’m done with you. If you’re still able to.” He sniggered. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

  Nausea gripped Lucy’s stomach and she stumbled on the uneven ground, earning another nick from Brinley’s blade. She sucked in her breath, gritting her teeth from the pain.

  “Easy does it,” he said, pulling her against him. “Remember, you don’t want to bleed out just yet. The fun hasn’t even started.”

  Lucy knew then he’d never leave her alive as a witness. Not after everything he’d said and what he planned to do. He just wanted her to watch the devastation and know what she’d lost, before she killed her. She’d have to pretend to play along and not force his temper. As unbalanced as he was, her only chance of helping Blake and Grif, was to stay alert, and alive.

  When they’d cleared the trees, and moved close enough to make out Brinley’s truck, Lucy saw a lawn chair set up like they’d come to watch the fireworks on the fourth-of-July.

  Light-headed and nauseous from all the fumes, and lack of air, Lucy stumbled as Brinley shoved her into the chair. Beside her, on the ground was a roll of duct-tape. He kept the knife at her throat as he handed her the roll. “Put your left wrist on that chair arm and wrap it, several times. Do it tight. I’m going to check.” She kicked out at him and got another prick of the knife for her trouble.

  She taped her wrist to the chair, anger building inside her with each wrap. “Now, tear off a long strip and hand it to me,” he ordered. “Use your teeth if you have to, but the knife stays right where it is in case you get any ideas.” She did as he asked, knowing that if she made any real effort to resist, he would slit her throat, but she focused on every move he made, looking for her opportunity to break free while she still had the use of at least one hand. “Put your other wrist here.” He indicated the other chair arm.

  Brinley changed knife positions several times, but the tip always remained in contact with her neck. She had enough pricks and scrapes by now to know he meant what he said. Finally, satisfied that he had both wrists immobile, he removed the knife. Free of the blade tip pressing her skin, she took a big breath to scream when he slapped a wide strip of tape over her mouth.

  She kicked and fought the tape at her wrists as he tore off two more strips, then pressed the knife tip to her belly. She kicked again and felt the sharp sting of the tip piercing her skin.

  He half-muttered, half-laughed, as he taped her ankles to the chair legs. After double-checking all her restraints, he surveyed his work and smiled, leaning in close, to whisper in her ear. “Sit still now, and watch the show. I promise you’ll see something this town will never forget.”

  He started back into the orchard. “I’ll be right back,” he said over his shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere.” His crazed laugh hung on the air as he disappeared.

  Lucy yanked and pulled at her restraints, screaming futilely against the gag, while squinting desperately into the darkness for the terrifying sign of flames.

  ~ ~ ~

  Angus’ listened to Brinley’s demented laugh from the edge of the trees, fighting to hold back the cough that would give him away. The strange, unpleasant odor burned his throat and eyes and made it difficult to take a full breath. ’Twas the first thing he’d noticed when entering the orchard.

  He’d followed Lucy, even though she’d told him no’ to. Leaving her wasna an option, but leaving her the way they’d parted was. He needed every available second, to help her understand that if the choice were his, nothing in life could take him from her. ’Twas his ghostl
y state that brought them together. And ’twas his ghostly state that would pull them apart.

  When Lucy walked away, he’d been heart-sick and worried, but when he got to the orchard, smelled the horrible stench that dinna belong there, his gut tightened, and he knew something was terribly wrong. And whatever it was, Lucy was in there wi’ it.

  Locating her had been difficult and time-consuming in the darkness. Picking his way through the trees wi’out making a sound, had slowed him down. The trees had diffused the sounds, making it difficult to follow the occasional faint murmurs he detected. Someone was with her, and he knew ’twas no’ Blake or Grif. He’d grown more anxious and fearful by the moment as he searched for Lucy, but ’twas when he finally got close enough to recognize Brinley’s voice that full terror struck.

  Angus had moved to where he thought the voices were, but he lost them again in the inky darkness. For a time, it seemed he went in circles, until he heard Lucy’s voice along with pieces of Brinley’s deranged plan. Angus’ instinct was to attack hard and fast, take the blackguard down and pummel the life from him, but he’d heard Brinley speak about the knife at Lucy’s throat and he couldna risk it.

  But he’d found them now, just beyond the trees. He could see the dim outline of a lorry, and hear Brinley’s voice as he restrained Lucy. He must feel safer here, since he wasn’t making any attempt to remain quiet. Angus had heard enough to know Brinley had to come back to the orchard to start the fire. He could release Lucy and pull her to safety, once Brinley had reentered the orchard, but the fire would no’ only wipe Lucy out, it may endanger both Blake and Grif. He couldna take a chance on letting Brinley light that fire. He had to stop him, first. And if something happened that he couldna stop him before the fire was set, Lucy may be safer where she was.

  As soon as Brinley approached the trees, he pulled something from his pocket and manipulated it wi’ his fingers. A flame erupted, casting an eerie glow beneath Brinley’s face. Then the flame was gone. Then it came again. Over and over, he magically turned the flame on an off as he snickered to himself.

  Whatever he’d doused the orchard with that burned Angus’ eyes and lungs just by the smellin’ o’ it, must be powerful indeed. Whatever happened, Angus couldna allow the flame to touch the ground, or so much as a low hanging branch.

  Brinley dinna go far. He kept the flame on, while he appeared to search for a certain spot in the orchard. Angus came up behind him, trying to breathe as shallowly as possible, careful not to step on any twigs, or brush any branches. He couldna take a chance on warning the scoundrel of his presence, afraid he’d toss the flame before Angus could stop him.

  Just before Angus reached him, Brinley pulled something small and twisted from his pocket and lit it with his contraption. It flared for a moment, then settled to a steady, flame. “Payback time,” Brinley chortled, as he tossed the flame into the air.

  Angus dove, reaching, stretching for the flame with both hands. He hit the ground with a jarring thud, as his hands closed around the burning object. His only thought was to keep it from touching the ground. Instinct and searing pain told him to let go, but he fought it. Rolling to his back, he snuffed it against his plaid, pressing it down with one hand as he pulled folds of his wool around it to smother the flame. The scent of burning wool engulfed him at the same time he heard Brinley’s howl of rage.

  “Noooo! It has to burn!” He sounded crazed.

  Terrified he’d use his wee device again to start another flame, Angus swung into a half crouch and tackled Brinley around the legs, dropping him to the ground. Brinley’s rage gave him surprising strength, and ’twas all Angus could do, to keep him down. ’Twas a moment, as they wrestled, that Angus worried he wouldna prevail. Brinley’s howls of rage mixed with Angus’ growls as they rolled and scrabbled across the ground, some of it slick with the foul-smelling material.

  With a last heave of strength, Angus swung his fist and caught the side of Brinley’s head. The blow dazed the blackguard enough for Angus to roll him onto his belly and twist both arms behind his back. Before Brinley could gather more strength, Angus, breathing heavily himself, jerked Brinley to his feet and marched him, stumbling and cursing, toward where he’d restrained Lucy.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lucy’s eyes burned from the fumes and squinting into the darkness, terrified of seeing a glow or anything that resembled fire. She couldn’t believe Brinley would ever go this far.

  She heard curses and mumblings before she saw the dim shape appear from the tree line. She looked again at the orchard for a glow of any kind. Nothing. Had something gone wrong? As crazed as he was, she couldn’t imagine Brinley changing his mind. Or, were the flames far enough away she just couldn’t see them yet?

  Terrified and enraged, she continued to fight her restraints, almost tipping the chair over. Maybe she should. Maybe she could get hold of a rock, or anything that might help her.

  “….not over!” She heard Brinley say. Was he talking to himself? Her? Maybe the voices in his head. He was that crazy. Her pulse raced, and she couldn’t seem to suck enough air through her nose. As soon as his show was over, he’d kill her.

  A terrified moan gurgled in her throat. What about Blake and Grif? What if they… Her chest tightened and what little breath she’d had, seemed to disappear.

  “You’ll see! You’ll pay, along with the rest of them!”

  Lucy stilled. Was he speaking to her?

  “Och! If ye dinna stop threatenin’ and whinin’, I’ll stuff somethin’ in yer gob so I dinna have tae listen tae ye anymore.”

  Angus?

  She strained to make the out the figure coming toward her. Finally, as they came closer, she could distinguish two figures. One tall. One shorter.

  A cry tangled in her throat and she blinked the moisture from her eyes as piercing relief coursed through her, leaving her feeling weak and shaky.

  Waiting for him to reach her, were the longest moments she’d ever endured.

  ~ ~ ~

  Lucy shivered in Angus’ arms. She burrowed deeper, searching for the security she still couldn’t feel. She’d come so close to losing everything, everyone she loved. Her neck still burned beneath the makeshift bandage, and she couldn’t help wondering just how far Brinley would have gone.

  Thankfully, he was securely bound with his own duct-tape and tossed, like the bundle of trash he was, in the back of his truck. They’d drive him into town and turn him over to Nate. She doubted he’d spend much time in jail. More than likely, he’d end up in an institution. She didn’t really care which, as long as he was put away.

  “I love ye, Lucy.” Angus whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I was so afraid ye’d—”

  “So was I,” she admitted, raising her face to his, trying in the dim light to memorize every line, every nuance of his face.

  Angus seemed to be doing the same. Then he lowered his head and captured her mouth. At first his kiss was soft, light, tender. Then he deepened the kiss as they both tried to convey their fear, relief, and love in the way their words couldna express.

  This, she thought, was the moment she would always remember, when nothing but their truth and their love for each other, existed between them. He drew her tight against him, encasing her in the safety of his embrace. He loved her. She knew it as intimately as her own breath.

  Lucy buried her face in his neck, wondering what promise pulled at him so powerfully, that it meant more than what they shared. She sighed, already knowing the answer. It wasn’t the promise at all, but the essence of who Angus was. A man of honor. How could she ask him to compromise that?

  Turning in his arms, Lucy rested her back against his chest, feeling his warmth surround her. The stars were brighter out here, away from the house lights and they spark…

  “Angus! Look!” Terror shot through her. “Fire!” An eerie green light flickered through the trees, seeming to become brighter by the moment. “The orchard. It’s burning!” There must be something in the gaso
line that made it burn green, she thought, pulling out of his arms. “Hurry! There’s so much fuel out there, we’ll never be able to stop it. We have to get Blake and Grif to safety.”

  “No, Lucy. Wait.” He grabbed her arm to stop her, but she pulled away. “Angus, there’s no time!”

  “The orchard isna burning, lass.” He captured her shoulders, holding her in place. “ ’Tis Soncerae.”

  “What?” She couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. “What’s a soncerae?”

  “ ’Tis a she, not an it.” He said, keeping her close. “ ’Tis who I made my pledge to. See? ’Tis no’ a flame, but the light that is always wi’ her.”

  Lucy watched the green glow move toward them, struggling to grasp what Angus was saying. It wasn’t wide spread as she first thought, but contained in circle that moved, but left nothing in its wake. Confusion replaced the adrenalin flowing in her system leaving her feeling nervous and disoriented.

  Then came sorrow and annoyance. Why would his Soncerae come here? Lucy didn’t want a face to put with the promise Angus had made. It was bad enough that he would leave with her. And what was up with the green light?

  “She’s your…who you’ve made your pledge to?”

  “Aye.”

  Lucy swallowed the stab of pain. “Why is she in my orchard? How did she know to…? Is that a green flashlight?”

  “Nae,” Angus replied. “ ’Tis a protective light from her ancestors.”

  Okay. Enough! That was ridiculous. She turned on him. “What are you doing? What’s this really about?

  “This is what I tried tae explain tae ye earlier,” Angus reasoned.

  “That she was coming?” Her eyes burned with unshed tears she could no longer fight. They slid down her cheeks, betraying the depth of her heartbreak.