Devil in a Kilt by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

Chapter 39

“‘Twould not be wise to bite Gilbert’s hand,” Kenneth warned, falsely guessing Linnet’s intent. “His manners are crude, and he would not handle you as gently as I’d prefer should you sink your teeth into him.”

Linnet shuddered, almost gagging. The hand clamped across her mouth reeked far too much like rotting fish for her to dare attempt such a deed.

The stench was bad enough. She wouldn’t torture herself further by tasting the lout’s stinking flesh.

She did narrow her eyes to glare at the smug bastard still reposed atop her bed. He’d crossed his feet at the ankles, folded his arms behind his head, and it was obvious someone had tended and dressed his injured thigh.

“It will do you no good to shoot daggers at me with your eyes, lovely though they may be,” he said, his voice low and silky, rife with amusement.

His dark blue eyes, so like Duncan’s, gleamed as he slid his gaze over her breasts, then to her feet and back again. “On my honor, lady, I vow you are possessed of many, ah, lovely attributes. I shall enjoy savoring them all.”

Wresting herself free of Gilbert’s meaty hand, Linnet fumed. “You will burn in hell before you lay a hand on me! And dinnae speak of honor, for you do not know what it is. I would hear what you’ve done with Rob-” the fishy hand clapped over her mouth again, cutting off her protests.

“The lad is unharmed. You think I’d hurt my own son?” Kenneth affected a look of mock astonishment as she struggled against the bear of a man who held her captive.

“You will soon be reunited with the child, my sweeting,” he crooned, Duncan’s pet name for her a travesty on the bastard’s lips. “If you would becalm yourself, we can be gone from here. Indeed, your resistance surprises me. I thought you desired my attentions?”

His lips curving into an arrogant smirk, Kenneth brought one hand from behind his head. A lock of glossy black hair dangled from his fingers. “Why else would you have let this token of my admiration fall upon the woodland path? Lest you hoped I would happen upon it and be honor-bound to return it to you?”

Outrage made Linnet’s heart race and her cheeks flame. Even the tops of her ears burned with seething anger.

She shook, too.

Only her fury and concern for Robbie kept her standing. Rarely had she been so riled. Likely never. Indeed, she pushed past her repugnance and bit deeply into Gilbert’s grime-covered hand.

“Oooooow!” he howled, letting go of her to bring his foul-smelling appendage to his own mouth.

Whipping up her gown, Linnet grabbed for her dagger, but steely fingers curled around her arm, staying her hand. Despite his wounded leg, Kenneth had sprung from the bed with a speed and agility she’d hitherto seen only in her husband and the Sassunach.

Breathing hard, her heart pounding, she had no course but to watch helplessly as her captor plucked the dirk from her boot.

“My most humble thanks, lady. I was about to insist you surrender your weapon.” Still smirking, he tucked her blade beneath his belt, then drew her flush against the broad expanse of his chest. “Now stop squirming,” he instructed, covering her mouth with his own hand. “And dinnae scream or I shall silence you with my lips and hold you still by mounting you.”

Linnet promptly swallowed the cry she’d been about to let loose.

She froze, too, standing perfectly still, as if carved from stone, in the miscreant bastard’s unyielding arms.

“That is better. Much better.” He smoothed a hand down her back as he spoke. “Do not make a sound as we leave here,” he advised her, hooking the fingers of his other hand under her chin and forcing her face to within inches of his own. His hot breath grazed her skin and soured her stomach.

“Should you choose not to heed my warning, I shall cast you to the ground where we stand and have you just to spite my brother.” His mouth came so close to hers she feared he’d plunder her lips any moment. “Have I made myself understood?”

Linnet nodded, fighting off the waves of revulsion washing over her at his nearness, the feel of his vile hands touching her. She could not be sick. She had to keep her strength and wits about her until she was rejoined with Robbie and could plot their escape.

“Good,” Kenneth replied to her nod. Then he loosened his hold on her and stepped back. Folding his well-muscled arms across his chest, he arched one brow and ran his gaze over her breasts again. “Dinnae think I would not do as I’ve said. It would be an act I’d relish under any circumstances, and partaking of your sweetness before my brother’s affronted eyes would only heighten the pleasure.”

Still ogling her breasts, he motioned toward the tapestried wall next to the hearth. “Free the passage, Gilbert. If we do not leave now, I will need to explore the lady’s treasures here, and I wouldn’t deprive myself of the bliss of anticipation.”

To Linnet’s amazement, the brigand named Gilbert strode to the wall, pushed aside the hanging tapestry, and exposed a half-opened door in the stone wall.

At her sharp intake of breath, Kenneth chuckled. “So you dinnae know of the secret passage?” he breathed just above her ear, nudging the door with his foot until it swung fully open to expose a dank-smelling set of stone steps spiraling downward into blackness.

He leaned closer still, pressing heavily against her as he forced her into the darkness and they began a slow, circular descent. “You mustn’t feel alone for not being aware of the passage. I am not supposed to know of it either,” he boasted, his voice full of barely suppressed mirth. “But, alas, my brother was e’er the fool. The dullard ne’er guessed I’d often seen him slipping in and out of it in our youth.”

Her eyes not yet accustomed to the dark, Linnet slipped on one of the slick, moss-covered steps. “Ho, lady,” Kenneth chided, his arm snaking about her waist, his iron grip preventing her from tumbling down the stairs.

“Slow and cautious if you will, fair one. The bolt you fired into my leg has left me a wee bit unsteady on my feet. I may not be able to catch you should you slip again.”

Lifting his hand, he let his fingers glide through the loose strands of her hair. Linnet shuddered and tried to pull away, but he only tightened his hold on her. Even without seeing his face, she could sense his gloating.

As if her ill ease pleased him.

“Aye, so is better, lass. Nice and slow,” he said and she knew he did not mean her hesitant steps on the curving stone steps. “I would not wish to see you battered and bruised. Such an unfortunate state would spoil my pleasure later on.”

His tone, so smooth and easy, made Linnet cringe. He’d spoken as if they sat across from each other in a finely appointed solar sharing a platter of delicacies and a jug of good wine.

Like lovers.

Bile rose in her throat at the thought.

He chuckled again, surely aware of her discomfiture, relishing it. His low laughter echoed off the cold, dank walls of the secret passage. “Nae, I dinnae care to see you marred,” he said again. “I mean to enjoy your favors.”

Of a sudden, he took a handful of her hair, twisting the strands, then pulling until she gasped from the pain. “Afterward…” He let his voice trail off and released her hair. “Ah, well, then we shall see.”

Linnet said nothing even though his unspoken threat struck terror through her. She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from flinging angry words at him.

And to keep from crying.

Tears and bursts of temper would not help her now.

She needed to think, not provoke him. Her mind raced, frantically seeking a way to get herself and Robbie away from him and back to safety.

At her silence, he plunged on, taunting her with apparent glee. “Is it not amusing I am snatching you from beneath my brother’s self-righteous nose, and by way of a passage he thought none but his arrogant self knew existed?”

Duncan. Her heart screamed out his name as they descended ever deeper into the cold, dark bowels of Eilean Creag. They passed several low-ceilinged passages leading off from the curving stairwell, and Kenneth must’ve sensed her wish to flee, for he paused briefly beside one of them.

“This tunnel leads to your husband’s solar and onward, ending in the chapel,” he told her, nodding toward the impenetrable blackness looming beyond the passage’s arched entrance. “There is nary a stone of this castle I dinnae ken, no matter how well my brother thought to keep its secrets to himself.

“A man can move unseen throughout the entire holding, and disappear before a soul is missed. Long before a soul is missed,” he finished in a sinister tone surely meant to frighten her.

But Linnet kept her tongue, glancing about her as they passed several other tunnels on their winding way downward. Each one smelled ranker than the last. A cold, damp smell that settled in the bones. Unpleasant, and reeking with the stench of rotting sea kelp and dead fish, all blended with the sharp tang of brine and the musty odor of stale air.

Gooseflesh rose on Linnet’s arms. Had Duncan used these secret passages to appear so unexpectedly in her chamber at times? Aye, she supposed he had, making use of them to gain entry when she would ne’er have unbolted the door to him.

Now…

Searing, stabbing heat, like the pricks of a hundred tiny needles jabbed into the backs of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, chasing away the tears she didn’t want to shed. Instead, she dwelt on her memories of Duncan coming upon her, seemingly out of nowhere.

How often had he surprised her awake with tender kisses and gentle hands?

More times than she could count.

A fierce surge of longing and regret rose within her, nigh robbing her of breath in its intensity. How could she not have known he meant to court her, woo her?

Saints forgive her, she hadn’t. Not truly, not till now, this very moment.

In the darkness of the stairwell, his face flashed before her: his deep blue eyes stormy with passion, then with the skin around them crinkled in merriment, and yet again, this time his proud brow furrowed in frustration as he sought to put his feelings into words and couldn’t.

Without warning, a strong gust of cold, briny air swept up the stairwell from below, its bone-deep chill sending shivers down her spine.

A chill slid over her heart, too. And it grew colder with each downward step. Its icy fingers seized her in a grip tighter, more inescapable, than Kenneth’s firm hold on her arm.

Holy Mother of God, would she ever see her husband again?

E’er be able to tell him she didn’t care that he fair stumbled over his tongue whenever he attempted to speak his heart? Would she ever have the chance to assure him it mattered naught?

That she finally realized he cared?

Would she ever have the chance to reveal she found his bumbling way with words endearing? Sweeter even than the bonniest prose an accomplished bard could sing?

A hot lump rose in her throat, and she pressed her lips together, willing the constriction to dissolve. When it did, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

She had to be strong. If not for herself, for Robbie.

She had no other choice.

* * *

The cold wind increased then,accompanied by a hollow wail and the sound of waves washing over rocks, then receding. Kenneth hurried their steps, practically dragging her around the last few curves of the stairs until they emerged in a good-sized cave.

Deep shadows and flickering light from a small brazier cast eerie, shifting images on the glistening walls and domed ceiling. The sea wind was stronger here, whistling through a tall crevice-like opening on the far side of the cavern, the chill gusts whipping her cloak against her legs and tangling her unbound hair.

Sea spray dampened her skin and burned her eyes, while cold from the wet, sandy floor seeped through the leather soles of her shoes until her toes felt like clumps of ice.

Rubbing her hands together to keep warm, she glanced around. Two men guarded the narrow entrance, each one holding a sputtering, smoke-spewing torch. Gilbert, the smelly giant who’d seized her when she’d stepped into her chamber, remained hulking on the bottom step of the stairwell.

His towering bulk dashed all hope of snatching Robbie and disappearing into one of the secret passages, ruined any chance of escape.

Even worse, Robbie was nowhere to be seen.

Straining her eyes for a glimpse of him, Linnet tried to peer past the two men lurking near the cave’s entrance. She hoped to see the child somewhere on the rock-strewn shore beyond, but she saw nothing except whitish curtains of fog drifting across the jagged boulders and the choppy, pewter-gray surface of the loch.

“What have you done with Robbie?” She whirled to face Kenneth. Fear curled through her, settling in the pit of her stomach like a coiled, venomous snake. “Where is he?”

“I would have thought your special talent would’ve taken you straight to his side.” Kenneth cocked a brow, his tone full of mockery. “Or is your sight as false as my brother’s supposed valor?” he added, releasing her to limp toward the two men guarding the entrance.

Linnet ignored the insult to her husband for Kenneth’s taunting words about Robbie, and his orders for his men to ready boats for a swift departure, sent alarm coursing through her.

She must find the lad.

Frantic, she scanned the cave, peering deeply into its shadows, desperately searching for some sign of her stepson, half-afraid of what she’d find.

Her sight was no help. She’d attempted to look inside herself, but had glimpsed only darkness and cold.

Then her gaze fell upon a dark, rounded lump in the farthest corner of the cave, and her worst fears were confirmed.

Almost hidden behind a cluster of black, glistening rocks jutting out from the cave’s sloping wall, the wee lad huddled, knees drawn to his chest, his wooden sword clenched tightly in his hands.

Linnet ran to him, dropping to her knees on the wet sand. “Robbie, lad, praise God you are not hurt,” she cried, hugging him to her breast. “They will take us from here, laddie,” she whispered, holding him close, “but dinnae you worry. I will find a way for us to escape, and your da will surely come looking for us.”

Robbie twisted in her arms, turning away from her. “I won’t go,” he sniffed.

“You must, we both must – we don’t have a choice,” Linnet said, taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger, turning him to face her.

She drew a sharp breath at her first good look at him. Pale and drawn, his cheeks streaked with tears, his eyes filled with pain, the lad appeared to have aged years. His lower lip trembled, and the hands clutching his toy sword shook.

His usual hardy spirit was gone.

Thoroughly vanquished, the bold bravery she’d admired so much.

A fresh burst of tears spilled down his cheeks, and he tore away from her grasp, lowering his head to stare at the cave’s sandy floor.

“Robbie, lad, you mustn’t be afraid,” Linnet crooned, smoothing a hand over the warm silkiness of his bowed head. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

He looked up then and a spark of his old self flared in his dark blue eyes. “I’m not crying for myself, lady,” he said, his voice breaking as if a world of sadness bore down on his small shoulders. “’Tis Mauger” – he sobbed then – “the bad men killed him.”

“Oh, Robbie.” Only then did she notice the old dog, barely discernible in the deep shadows behind Robbie. Silent and unmoving, nothing more than a heap of fur and bones, his dome-shaped head matted with blood, his ever-trusting eyes, closed. “Oh, laddie, nae. I am so sorry,” she breathed, now spilling tears of her own. “I know how much you loved him.”

“Uncle Kenneth kicked him.”

“Aye, and he deserved to be kicked,” Kenneth said, closing his fingers around Linnet’s arm and yanking her to her feet. “The mangy beast meant to bite me.”

“I hate you, you’re bad!” Robbie sprang to his feet and began thwacking at Kenneth’s legs with his wooden sword.

Kenneth laughed. He grabbed the neck of Robbie’s tunic and hoisted the boy high above the ground so his spindly legs dangled loosely in midair. Robbie’s toy sword slipped from his hands as he thrashed about, now trying to strike his uncle with his balled fists.

“Take him – I grow weary of the pesky brat.” Kenneth tossed the child into Gilbert’s arms. “We must be on our way.”

The foul-reeking giant slung Robbie over one shoulder, crossed the cave with a few long strides, then disappeared through the narrow opening.

Kenneth gave Linnet’s arm a sharp tug. “Your boat awaits you, my lady.”

“You will not live to savor this foul deed. My husband will come for us.”

“Think you?” Kenneth shot her a wolfish grin, then shoved her through the mouth of the cave. “Did you not say the man is gravely wounded?” he taunted, stepping through the opening. “Men on their last legs do not ride out to rescue anyone.”

“That will not stop him,” Linnet swore as Kenneth pulled her across the rocky shore toward one of the tiny coracles.

“We shall see, lady, we shall see.”

Then he shoved her into the small boat, climbed in after her, and began rowing them from shore. Nearby, Gilbert practically flung the still-struggling Robbie into another of the round, little boats, while Kenneth’s remaining men followed close behind them.

Thick curtains of fog pressed in all around them, swallowing Robbie’s high-pitched squeals of protest and eventually closing in around the solid bulk of Eilean Creag’s thick gray walls.

Soon the forbidding MacKenzie stronghold vanished from view, slipping behind the enveloping swirls of mist, disappearing as thoroughly as if it’d never been there.

And all Linnet heard was Kenneth’s heavy breathing as he rowed them farther and farther away, the rhythmic slapping of the oars hitting the water, and the overly loud beating of her anxious heart.