by Paula Quinn
“Papa?” his son said, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Is all well?”
“Aye, son,” Lachlan reassured him on a tender whisper. “I was just checking on ye.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I wanted to tell ye that I think ye’re verra brave. Ye give me more reasons to be proud of ye every day.”
“Thank ye, Papa.” Will beamed.
Lachlan nodded and then stood up again, his heart overflowing with love. “Today we’ll start up reading again. Aye?”
“And hunting?” Will chanced.
“Aye, and hunting,” Lachlan gave in. He’d be here for them. He made the promise, and he would keep it if he had to take down a hundred men to do it. He kissed his lad’s head and left the room.
He stepped outside and listened to the world just before dawn broke over the horizon. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary. He continued on to the yard to fetch his ax, shoved it into his belt, and then started running.
He reached the forest as light drenched the treetops and filtered down through the canopy. He remained just inside the tree line, at a vantage point from which he could see the castle. He found a tree of a good size and gave it a powerful chop with his ax. He yanked it free and swung again and again until his arms burned.
How long would he wait before hunting down the Earl of Caithness? He’d find the damned emissary and beat Sinclair’s whereabouts out of him. He thought of Sinclair’s throat and sent splinters flying.
He knew the MacGregors hadn’t found the earl and killed him because there was no word of it—and word traveled quickly from village to village. Sinclair was alive and Lachlan was thankful, since he was the only one who possessed knowledge of Lachlan’s alleged daughter’s whereabouts. If Annabel was alive, Lachlan wanted to find Sinclair before the MacGregors did.
He stopped chopping for a moment and wiped his brow. Briefly he wondered if pounding his head against the tree would help get Mailie out of his thoughts.
Did she know her kin were here? Did she give a damn? How had she laughed with him, made love to him, promised to marry him…and then just left? Was she that cruel? Didn’t she know what it would do to him—to Lily and Will?
Where was she?
He swung his ax, this time with a groan that shook the tree and his entire body from the unleashed power of it. The sound grew into a roar of regret so mournful it drowned out the sound of the tree falling.
The insects around him grew silent—along with the hearts of fourteen men rising from their slumber a mile away.
“What the hell was that?” Darach Grant leaped to his feet and cast the others a worried look.
“An animal,” Colin guessed, belting his plaid. He’d returned from Wick a few days ago with no new information on the identity of Mailie’s captor. Robert Graham was nowhere to be found. “A wolf, mayhap.”
“I’ve never heard a wolf sound like that before.” Daniel shook his head, loading his two pistols.
Staring into the trees with Goliath at his heel, Adam agreed, which was odd since he and his brother-in-law rarely agreed on anything. “Unless it were caught in a trap,” he said, just to keep things feeling normal.
Because they didn’t. Something was amiss. The hair along his nape rose off his skin at the ensuing silence of the forest. His nerve endings tingled, his blood rushed through his veins as if preparing him for something that was about to happen. He looked down at his dog. “What is it?”
Goliath whined and sprang forward through the trees.
Adam didn’t wait for the others but sprang to his horse and followed.
Less than a mile away in the opposite direction, Robert Graham’s blood went cold at the sound of a beastly wail coming from the direction of Avoch. The kind of terrifying howl some spoke about hearing the morning Lachlan MacKenzie found his home in ashes.
Graham paused his horse and cursed Sinclair for setting him toward the Black Isle without a man at his side to protect him.
He’d never received word from MacKenzie that he’d had the MacGregor lass in his custody. No word needed to be sent though. Word that the MacGregors were searching for her had reached even the tiniest corners of Scotland. He cursed his lord doubly for his having to hide from them and for putting him to this impossible task of killing MacKenzie and taking Miss MacGregor before her family found her. It wasn’t the original plan, but they hadn’t bargained on the MacGregors getting close to Avoch so quickly. Sinclair, as mad in the head as he was, had armed him with a pistol and ordered him to his task. Bring Miss MacGregor back or suffer his wrath. And no one who knew the Earl of Caithness wanted any part of his wrath. The man was utterly ruthless and would go to any lengths to exact revenge.
Graham was afraid of him, even more than he feared Lachlan MacKenzie.
He remembered when he met the Dragon, covered in blood, a butchering knife in his hand…and that hideous scar. MacKenzie had nearly frightened the shite right out of him. And now Sinclair was sending him back to kill him! How the hell was he supposed to kill a man double his size, triple his strength? Would a single pistol ball stop him? Graham felt ill just thinking of it. And what had that unholy sound been?
All this for a woman. Sinclair didn’t love Miss MacGregor. He desired her—and her father had refused him. Now her father was paying for it and would continue to pay until Sinclair tired of the game. It was what he did. He played games of chance with people’s family members, using them to further his mad endeavors.
Graham would do as he was told, as he always had.
He continued onward, shaking in his boots and reaching for his pistol for reassurance. Just shoot him.
Just shoot him and get the gel.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lachlan didn’t want to waste time chopping branches from the fallen tree, so he left it intact, tied it to his waist and shoulders, and dragged it behind him while he headed home. The trek back was taxing but he was accustomed to heavy work and continued on toward the hill.
He spotted the rider as he grew closer to the castle. Lachlan recognized him. Graham! What the hell was he doing here? Wasting no time to find out, he cut loose the ropes securing him to the tree and ran for home.
He was halfway there when he saw Graham take a pistol from a fold in his plaid, look at it, and then return it to its hiding place.
When Lachlan heard the sound of distant thunder, he turned to look behind him. There was nothing but the trees, still, quiet but for his own breath.
Graham had a pistol. He’d come to kill Lachlan and take Mailie to Sinclair.
Sinclair was afraid of the MacGregors. That’s why he hadn’t kidnapped Mailie himself. Did he think Lachlan MacKenzie to be any less deadly than the MacGregors? He smiled. Good. Let him think it and let him send worms like Robert Graham to do his work.
He came over the hill like the wind, pushing off his feet to sail over the ground and land just inches from the trembling emissary.
Graham fumbled for his pistol but Lachlan rushed at him and ripped him from his saddle. He watched the emissary crash to the hard ground and roll away.
The thunder grew louder, closer. When Lachlan looked out over the hill, he saw them coming. He recognized Adam MacGregor, pale and dark. Goliath at his side. No, damn it. Not now!
He had information to get. He stormed toward the emissary, who was rising to his knees. Lachlan snatched the pistol from his shaking hand and pointed the barrel under Graham’s chin. “Where is he?” he growled through his teeth.
They were closer, about to come over the hill. This was how they were going to see him. Dangerous and desperate.
He spotted Ruth at the door. “Stay inside!” he shouted at her.
He pressed the barrel into Graham’s neck and cocked the flint, ready to shoot. “Ye have an instant to tell me,” he warned on a low growl, “or I’m going to blow yer face off.”
“Put doun the pistol!” someone shouted, approaching.
“Where’s my daughter?” Lachlan held the pistol steady, keeping his cold gaze on Graham�
��s.
“That’s Sinclair’s emissary!” he heard one of them tell the others.
“Ye’re not getting oot of this alive.”
Lachlan turned to face the man whose promise almost made him believe it.
He looked to be in his late forties with closely trimmed hair that was gray at the temples. His eyes were a mixture of gold and green, and pitiless. His face was carved in ruthless, rugged angles with a nose that looked to have been broken more than once. “’Tis likely that neither one of ye is.”
“He has Miss MacGregor!” the bastard emissary shouted to them.
“You were told to lower yer pistol,” General Marlow told Lachlan on a low, warning tone.
Mailie had told the truth about them, then; they still hadn’t killed him.
“The pistol is his,” Lachlan pressed on boldly. “If ye will just allow me to question him—”
“Last warning,” the warrior said. “And drop the ax as well.”
“My daughter is—”
The sound of pistols being locked and swords being drawn finally kept him silent. Getting shot in front of his castle wasn’t something he was trying to do.
He tossed the pistol and the ax away and held up his hands. He stared at Graham while both of them were forced to their knees. He didn’t fight going down while four beefy Highlanders secured his wrists behind him.
“Lachlan MacKenzie.” Adam strode up to him and spread his amused gaze over him. “Ye fooled us good. But no’ Goliath. He knew who ye were. Aye?”
“Aye.” Lachlan flicked his gaze to the hound. Goliath wagged his tail. He thought of Ettarre…Mailie. She wasn’t with them. He wished she were.
“Are ye Tristan MacGregor?” he asked the warrior watching him.
“Ye’re bold to ask fer my brother,” the Highlander replied, looking genuinely surprised. “I’m Colin MacGregor, but I will kill ye in Tristan’s name.” He swung his long claymore in Graham’s direction, stopping the blade just before it cut through the emissary’s throat. “But ye first. Where’s Sinclair?”
Graham whimpered something that wasn’t an answer.
“Fine,” MacGregor said, pulling the blade back over his shoulder and preparing to swing. “I’ll find him myself.” The metal flashed in the sunlight as it came down.
“Invergordon!” the emissary cried out. “He’s in Invergordon!”
“There now,” the warrior said, easing off his blade, his hard expression unchanging. “That was not so difficult, was it?”
He turned back to Lachlan. “Yer turn. Ye’re the bastard who kidnapped Mailie.”
“Aye,” Lachlan admitted. He’d done it. He wasn’t going to cower.
Adam MacGregor squinted his sharp gaze on him, over his scarred face. “Why did ye do it?”
“Tristan said no questions,” General Marlow reminded him.
Adam shrugged and kept his voice light, his gaze cool. “My faither is chief. My question stands.” He held out his hands to Lachlan. “What did Sinclair pay ye?”
“Nothing,” Lachlan told him, grateful to him for giving him the chance to speak. “Sinclair claims to know the whereabouts of my daughter, whom I have believed dead fer two years. He offered her whereaboots in exchange for Mailie—”
Graham shook his head. “No! No! That’s not the truth! He’s deceiving you!”
“What’s the truth, then?” Adam went to him and knelt down to give him a level stare. “Tell it to me.”
“Laird MacKenzie—”
Adam tossed Lachlan another look of amusement. “Ye’re laird?”
Lachlan nodded. “And Earl of Cromartie. Colonel in the Scots Greys Royal North British Dragoons 4th Division.”
Dismounting, General Marlow swore an oath. “Stop!” he called out to the MacGregors. “We need to talk this over.”
“Fine, we’ll talk later,” Colin shouted back, and turned to Graham. “Ye were saying? And make it quick. My mood is beginning to sour, and that will go poorly fer ye.”
The emissary visibly paled but continued. “Laird MacKenzie thinks my lord has information about his daughter. He heard about the earl’s affinity for Miss MacGregor and took her to use as ransom for this information.”
“Ye lying bastard,” Lachlan bit out.
Adam held up his index finger. “But why does Laird MacKenzie believe the earl has information on his daughter? Does he?”
Graham shook his head. “Only that she is dead, my lord.” He stopped shaking for an instant and met Lachlan’s murderous glare. “He’s mad. He, himself, gathered her ashes from the rubble.”
“Hell,” Lachlan heard Adam swear. That was all he heard.
He was going to kill Graham for telling him his daughter was scarred from refusing to let go of her mother. None of it was true. Annabel was truly gone. He had to fight the desire to break free and rip Graham’s throat out with his bare hands.
Annabel was dead. He had known it someplace deep in his guts. But he’d allowed himself to hope. That was the beginning of his downfall. Hope had compelled him to do the unthinkable and do to Tristan MacGregor what had been done to him. It was all for nothing. Taking Mailie from her kin, making enemies of her family, when he could have saved her from their true enemy.
He felt someone’s eyes on him and looked up at Adam staring back at him with curiosity and something else softening his inscrutable gaze.
“Ye’ve been tricked.”
“Aye,” Lachlan answered quietly, and looked away.
“Well?” Colin moved forward and elbowed Adam in the guts. “Who is telling the truth?”
“Ah! Now ye believe me?”
The older warrior’s eyes seemed to turn more golden in color as he set them on his nephew like flames about to consume. “Adam.”
“He is.” Adam pointed to Lachlan and walked back to the others, seemingly unruffled.
Lachlan breathed, thankful that they all seemed to take Adam’s word for it.
“Still,” Colin said, his fingers to his chin as he stood before Lachlan. “Ye took her and my brother wants ye dead.”
“I would speak with him,” Lachlan said. Did Mailie know they were coming to kill him? “Did Mailie not tell him aboot me?”
“What is there to tell?” her uncle asked impatiently. “That ye lost yer daughter? We’re all sorry fer that, but what makes her life more important than the daughter of another man?”
“Colin,” General Marlow interrupted. “This will be difficult to explain to the queen. He’s one of hers. Let his punishment be decided in her court.”
“I do not care aboot the queen—”
“She is the chief’s sister-in-law,” Marlow boldly argued. “Did Rob agree to this?”
Colin cast his unblinking gaze at him. “Rob isn’t here.”
Lachlan thought Colin might take a swing at Marlow, but he was still reeling that the queen was related by marriage to the MacGregors.
“Adam’s here,” Marlow forged on. “He’s to be chief, aye? Let him decide.”
Standing off to the side, Adam looked up from beneath locks of raven hair. “‘He’s to be chief’?” He repeated the general’s words with a widening grin. “Abby would kill ye where ye stood if she heard ye say that. I shall enjoy holdin’ it over yer head when ye irritate me.”
“Adam, for hell’s sake, does he die or not?”
Damn it, the general was placing a lot of faith in a seemingly careless rogue, Lachlan thought. Or, mayhap, Marlow knew something about Adam MacGregor the others overlooked.
“He lives. Fer now,” he added when his uncle objected. “We’ll take them both back home and let my faither and Tristan decide his fate.”
Lachlan closed his eyes and blew out a relieved breath. He owed this man much. General Marlow as well.
“In the meantime,” Adam said, moving toward him again, “let him fight a few of us. I’ve a feeling he might have something to prove.”
No. No, Lachlan didn’t want to fight them. “Fer the sake of yer kin,” he told
Adam, their gazes locked as MacGregor bent to him, “’tis best if I fight ye all. Ye will have a better chance against me by tiring me oot. I dinna want to hurt anyone she loves.”
Adam blinked his frosty eyes and quirked his mouth, as if he doubted the good of his ears. He turned to glance at his uncle standing over them. “He wants to fight us all.”
“I heard,” Colin said. “Fool.”
“Or courageous,” General Marlow added.
“Or pitifully in love with our Mailie,” Adam concluded. “Ye were searchin’ for her the day we met ye in Urquhart, aye?”
“Where is she?” The question spilled from Lachlan’s lips on a whisper before he could stop them. He could get through to Adam. He could find out—
“She is home with her faither,” Adam told him in an equally quiet voice.
The last shred of Lachlan’s hope faded. She’d gone home to Camlochlin.
“He was searching fer her,” Colin pointed out gravely, “because she had escaped him. Whether he loves her is not important. She obviously does not share his sentiments.”
Lachlan closed his eyes. He didn’t want to hear this.
“Let’s get these two mounted then and get our arses home. I’m eager to see my wife and daughter,” Colin said, turning to go. “And search the castle for any of his guardsmen hiding inside.”
“If they are hidin’,” Adam laughed, straightening, “we need no’ worry aboot them.”
Lachlan watched in horror as four of them took off toward the castle doors, swords and pistols held before them. The sky went dark and the land bloodred. No one was getting near his children. Not this time.
“My children are inside!”
And finally, the beast he thought he’d conquered returned.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mailie’s heart battered. She fought to stay alert. The journey to the Black Isle had been taxing on her body, but thoughts of what she’d find there had done the most harm to her heart. Was he dead? Had he been buried?