Awaiting the Wolf Killer Highlander by Alisa Adams

16

Ryan McKenna slammed his gloved fist against the table of his study. “Damn you, there were three of you worthless buggers and only one of him, and he still took her from you?!”

“My men could not see him to shoot him, sir!” Currie protested. “The way he moved around us…he was like some sort of bloody spirit of the wood, confounding and bewildering us as he did!”

“You are all too easily easily ‘confounded and bewildered,’ Currie, as are the drunkards you employ as your guards.” McKenna threw himself into his chair with a frustrated grunt. “This ‘Malcolm’ who accompanies her is no more than a raggle-taggle wanderer who sells his swordsmans’ skills to pay his tavern bill. He is no tactical genius, no valiant warrior or master assassin so far as we know. Why, then, does he stymie us so? What goes on between them that he would take such pains to rescue her from you?”

“They are having improper relations, no doubt!” Currie chortled.

“Aye, ‘tis likely enough,” Ryan conceded with a nod. “And when it comes to the people of this clan and what they choose to believe, a bit of lurid gossip is every bit as a proven truth, eh? Even so, I do not care for the fact that the girl is out of my sight and free to do as she pleases out there beyond our walls.”

“What harm can she possibly do us now, though, eh? Is she likely to raise an army of wild animals against us, like some forest princess in a fairy tale?”

McKenna glared at him. “Your florid flights of imagination do not amuse me, Currie. No, if there were any justice to the world, the wench would be rotting in the dungeons beneath us this very day.”

Suddenly, the door flew open, and one of McKenna’s sentries burst in, out of breath.

“Damn you armored clods of the ramparts!” McKenna snarled. “Do you not know how to knock? I should think a guard, of all people, might understand the concept of not intruding on one’s privacy unannounced!”

“My apologies, sir!” the hapless sentry panted. “However, she said you would wish to know at once. That is, we already knew you would wish to know at once, of course we did, anyone would, but she also said it, you see, and so—”

“What in God’s name are you blathering about?” Ryan demanded.

“Lady Sorcha! She walked right up to the front gates of your estate, sir, bold as brass! Says she demands to speak to you at once!”

Ryan’s eyes lit up as he leaped out of the chair. “Aha! So there is justice in the world, after all, Currie! You are witness to it!”

Currie blinked, stunned, looking like a man who had just received a sharp blow to the head. “But why would she do that? Just show up, like, when she had already been freed by that ghostly bastard?”

“Oh, no doubt ‘tis all part of some cunning scheme on their part!” McKenna said jovially, heading for the door. “They seek to outthink me, to put me off my guard!”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir,” the guard said, scratching his head, “but why would such a thing put you off me? I’m quite a likable fellow, I am! Ask anyone!”

“Do be quiet, you fool!” Ryan snapped. “No one was speaking of you! Now then, let us see how Lady Sorcha plans to bedevil us, eh? This should be most amusing!”

He strode out to the gates of his estate with Currie struggling to keep up. Sure enough, Sorcha stood just outside the walls of his abode, her pale and pointed chin lifted in casual defiance. She was surrounded by five sentries, all with their swords drawn and pointed at her from every direction.

Her composure is to be commended, Ryan thought wryly. God help me, part of me almost hopes I do end up marrying her.

“So, then!” McKenna laughed as he approached her. “I dearly wish that I might believe you were led here by a sudden and burning desire to become my wife, but somehow, I suspect that you have other inclinations!”

“Indeed, Ryan McKenna, I have no intention of marrying you,” she snapped.

“Have you forgotten our pact, little one? You agreed that if you did not marry Laird Nathan, you would marry me!”

“If I chose not to marry Laird Nathan,” she corrected him primly, “or if he chose not to marry me. That was our accord, sir. And he and I did indeed pledge ourselves to each other, your shameless intervention notwithstanding.”

McKenna shrugged. “I have no memory of such specific language to our agreement. But no matter. One way or the other, this clan shall be mine. The people are on my side. You stand alone.” He smirked. “Not for long, though. Indeed, I imagine you will not lack for company in the dungeons beneath your own damned castle.”

The sentries closed in upon her, taking her by the arms and leading her toward Castle Campbell.

“Do let the guards know, won’t you, when you change your mind and choose to be my bride?” McKenna called out mockingly. “I suspect it won’t take more than a day or two for you to decide you’d rather have that lovely body nibbled by me instead of the rats!”

Sorcha felt a shudder travel the entire length of her body at the thought of either option, but she still remained docile as the sentries escorted her to the castle.

It had been easy enough for her to believe in Malcolm’s plan when they had been standing in a sun-dappled clearing, just inches apart, taking comfort in each other’s presence.

Now she offered up silent prayers that it would all work out.

Otherwise, she dared not imagine what sorts of horrors might be in her future.

To her dismay, as she was led past farms and shops and taverns, she could hear the rumbles of disapproval all around her. These people—her clansmen, families who had pledged their fealty to hers for many generations—did not believe in her. They did not trust her.

They were grieving for loved ones who were infected or dead, and they blamed her.

But she did not blame herself.

I tried, damn it,she thought fiercely as she was marched through the streets of the village. I did all the prophecy bade me to do, yet I was still foiled. So be it. Now I shall reclaim my clan upon my own terms…mine and Malcolm’s.

And once that is done? Once McKenna has been driven off like the squealing pig he is? Then Ishall find a way to be with Malcolm, I am certain of it. He is my destiny. I have felt it, and I will achieve it, so help me.

It was a good thought to cling to as she was shoved through the gates of the castle that had been her home. The servants all stared as she passed…some with sympathy, others with scorn.

She mentally cataloged which ones fell into each category and hoped that she would find the strength within herself to forgive the ones who had thought the worst of her once this nightmare had all been settled.

Even so, those faces included so many she had thought better of. So many she had believed loyal to her.

The steps down to the dungeon were rough and slimy, causing the sentries to slip and stumble in the dark, and Sorcha along with them. There was a split second when she even considered taking advantage of their momentary loss of balance to turn and flee. The stink of the stone cells was enough to drive her mad with panic, even after a handful of moments.

But no. She had told Malcolm she would have faith in him and see this through. And so she would.

She was led to the farthest corner of the dungeons, no doubt so that there was even less chance of escape for her than there would be for the rest of the prisoners (and the chance for them was already less than naught).

Then she heard the sound of a baby crying and knew that they had chosen this section of the dungeons for another reason as well.

“Sorcha?” It was Dand’s voice coming from the gloom ahead of her. “Dear God, Sister, tell me they did not get you too!”

“They did.”

She saw Dand then, and her heart felt like it would collapse in upon itself with woe.

He was dreadfully thin, his face smeared with grime, his eyes haunted and afraid from days of staring into nothing but pitch darkness. Maisie was next to him, and Sorcha hugged her, feeling her sister-in-law’s ribs through her dress.

The baby continued to shriek horribly, and Sorcha could scarcely blame her. It was the sound her own soul was making as well, at the prospect of being confined to this ghastly and godforsaken hole indefinitely.

“What dreadful business has transpired here, Sister?” Dand demanded.

“I shall tell you all,” she promised. “But first, is there any news of Aodh or Freya?”

“None yet,” Maisie said. “With any luck, even if they are healed from their ailments, they will keep their distance from this place lest they suffer our fate.”

Sorcha turned to Dand, and in the retreating light of the torches, she saw tears shining in his eyes. “Brother, have no fear,” she reassured him. “We will be free soon enough.”

“I was merely looking at the blue flowers in your hair,” he replied, choking back a sob. “You always wore them, ever since we were children.”

“Yes, because their familiar scent has always given me comfort,” Sorcha told him, beginning to cry as well. “Here, perhaps you might take comfort from them as well.”

She carefully plucked a few of the dried buds from her hair, giving them to her brother, her sister-in-law, and even her infant niece.