Fraser 02 - Highland Quest (17 page)

“They’re gone.” Bryce threw his hands up in frustration and stomped toward his brother.

Alasdair jumped from the saddle. “How long ago did they leave? This could be a ruse. The blackguards might be waiting in the bushes, prepared to strike at any moment.” He glanced over his shoulder and scanned the periphery of the clearing.

“The cook-fire is still smoldering, but has burned down to ash. My guess is they broke camp several hours ago. Likely while we were dallying. I should have gone with my gut and left immediately.”

“You canna be certain.” Alasdair scratched his head. “I was positive they’d still be here. They had wounded who needed tending and rest. Most would assume this spot was located far enough from the battleground to be secure.”

“Dungal is not like most men.” Bryce motioned for everyone to dismount. “Search the area. We need to determine when they left and in which direction.”

The men scoured the surrounding area, while Alasdair and Bryce approached what appeared to be a row of freshly dug graves.

Bryce lowered his head and crossed his chest. “It appears many of the wounded dinna live long enough to make the journey.” A knot formed in his stomach. Was Fallon buried in one of these mounds of unhallowed ground?

As if he knew Bryce’s thoughts, Alasdair spoke. “You must believe Fallon is alive. If what the messenger told James during the interrogation is true, Dungal forbid his men to touch her. He plans to hold her hostage until you come for her.”

“He also said Dungal intended to claim her as his prize following the battle.” Nausea churned in Bryce’s belly and his pulse pounded in his ears. He had to find Fallon before Dungal had a chance to make good on his threats, if he hadn’t already. He’d experienced these feelings of fear and uncertainty before and they mounted with each passing minute.

Bryce turned when one of the men approached. “Did you find anything?”

“Aye. Horse tracks lead out of camp in all directions, but the majority of them depart from the south end of the clearing. We also noted the imprint of cart wheels in the mud.”

Bryce and Alasdair accompanied the man to the southern edge of the clearing.

Alasdair squatted and examined the tracks. “They are heading toward Galloway as we suspected. Mayhap they’ve gone to Dunstaffnage Castle in Argyll. It has been a MacDougall stronghold for many years. Their action is a logical choice given their losses and casualties.”

“It also stands to reason that Dungal would try to return to his own land and kin.” Bryce climbed onto his horse’s back and shouted to his companions. “Mount up and head south. If we make haste, we can overtake the bastards before nightfall.”

Chapter 17

“My brother remains unconscious. You claim to be a healer. Do something.” Dungal paced beside the pallet.

“I warned you he was too weak to travel, but you insisted on moving the camp. With the constant jarring of the cart over bumpy roads, I’m stunned his wound dinna open and start to bleed again.” Fallon lifted the linen dressing to examine the injury. “Fortunately, there is no festering, but I’d not be moving him again. At least until he is stronger.”

“I’m certain you would like it if we stayed here and waited for Bryce Fraser to find us. Fortunately, I make the decisions for my men, not you. Keith has always been as strong as an ox. If he dies, I’ll know who to blame.” Dungal stared at the ground and rubbed his temples.

“He’s your brother and concern is natural, but I have done all I can for him. His fate is in the hands of the Almighty.”

“The arrow was meant for me,” Dungal blurted out. “The damned fool stepped in the way, taking it in my stead.” His voice cracked with raw emotion he’d manage to hide until now.

“You owe your brother your life.” Fallon was taken aback by his momentary show of compassion, but refused to believe the sentiment would last.

“I am beholden to no one,” Dungal snapped.

Keith wheezed and coughed, rolling his head from side-to-side.

“A fever is brewing.” Fallon dipped a rag in cool water then placed it on Keith’s brow. “I noticed the men were setting up your tent. I take that to mean we are spending the night in this spot.” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Mayhap we could move Keith inside for the night. Keeping him warm and dry will be beneficial to his recovery. I’ll also need some herbs. Will you allow me to gather them?”

“After your attempt to escape, you canna possibly think I would let you out of my sight to go pick wild flowers.”

“How I acquire them is not important, as long as I get what is necessary to make my tonic. Your brother lost a lot of blood and must drink to replenish. An herbal tea will also ease the pain and aid in healing.” She pointed to the thick ropes around her ankles. “You keep me tied to a tree when I am not tending the wounded. The rest of the time, you have me hobbled like a horse.”

“You were bound when I left you in my brother’s care, but that dinna stop you from escaping. Besides, what guarantee do I have that you won’t poison him?”

She shrugged. “I suppose that is a chance you must take. You ordered me to care for him.”

Dungal glanced at his brother then at her. “Tell me what you need. I will send one of my men to gather the items.”

Fallon slid her hands down the front of her gown. “Have you something I can write on?”

“A verbal list will suffice.”

“Very well. Instruct your man to collect foxcote, tansy, comfrey, willow bark, and henbane. I also require some clean water and a pot for boiling. Once I’ve taken care of Keith, I will check on the others who were injured.” Treating the enemy might be considered treason by some, but she forced herself to view them as men who needed her help and nothing more.

“I’ll see it done.” Dungal summoned one of his clansmen and repeated her list. “Fetch these things at once.” He returned his attentions to Fallon and cocked a brow. “You can write?”

“Aye. I can read and write. Despite the fact I was born a lass, my parents believed it was important for me to learn all I could.”

“You are full of surprises, lass. Most women possess neither the interest nor the need for such skills, and I agree, the less they know the better.”

“You are as crude and archaic as the men who believe woman hold no value and consider them nothing more than chattel.”

“Women are good for two things—bedding and bartering. If we dinna need them for breeding and pleasure, we could do away with them all together.” Dungal lifted a strand of her hair and rubbed the lock between his fingers. “The educated women I’ve met are usually of noble blood. With your raven locks and mysterious sapphire eyes, you put me more in mind of a gypsy.”

“I have no royal ties. My parents were both born in Scotland and were proud of their heritage.” Fallon inclined her head and raised her chin. “Unlike some people I’ve had the misfortune of meeting.” She had nothing to lose by speaking her mind. “I canna understand how you can turn your back on your country and betray your heritage.”

“Scotland is and will always be my homeland. I dinna turn my back on my country. I chose to oppose a murderer and a scoundrel. Robert the Bruce is no more the King of Scotland than I am.” He spat on the ground. “He killed John Comyn, my kinsman, and the only man who stood in his way. For that crime, he will never be accepted by all of the clans. Those who remain loyal to the heirs of King John Balliol will always contest the Bruce’s claim to the throne.”

“You may have reason to oppose the Bruce’s right to govern Scotland, yet you kill innocent people and persecute your countrymen in the name of the English King. The same man who has kept his oppressive thumb on this country for so many years.”

“When the Bruce is defeated, I will take my stand against the English. For now, it serves me well to keep them at my side. Best you curb your tongue,” Dungal growled and grabbed her chin between his fingers.

“I speak the truth and am not afraid to do so.”

Dungal laughed. “Nothing appears to frighten you, does it? Your spirit and temerity intrigue me.”

“I have nothing to fear but the wrath of God and what might happen if I dinna live in the kind and decent way He intended.”

“Mayhap you should worry about what I have in mind for you when I finally get you alone. I have no doubt you’ll be a wildcat when bedded.” Dungal grabbed the crotch of his trews and thrust his hips. “It’s been a while since I rutted with a whore.”

Rather than cower, Fallon met his stare with equal intensity. “I’m no whore, and I dinna dread something that is never destined to happen. Bryce will come for me, and you’ll not have a chance to do anything more than to beg for your life.”

Anger flared in his dark eyes. “I grow tired of your belligerence.” Dungal’s glower spoke volumes. “Dinna challenge me, or you’ll regret the result. When I am finished with you, the name Bryce Fraser will be stripped from your mind like the clothes from your back.”

“I would rather be hanged. You will never be half the man Bryce is in thought or deed. You—”

Dungal’s fingers snaked around her throat, cutting off her air. “I could snap your neck like a twig if I so choose. But I think the time has come for me to teach you a well-deserved lesson in obedience and servitude.” Dungal tossed her over his shoulder and carried her across the camp.

“Put me down!” With her feet tethered, she was unable to kick, but that didn’t stop her from flailing in his arms or from pounding her fists on his back. She’d not go easily.

“
Haud yer wheest
or I’ll cut out your tongue.” Dungal tightened his grasp. “Get out of my way,” he growled at a man who stood in their path. He threw back the flap of his tent, placed her feet on the ground, then shoved her inside. “I am not to be disturbed.”

Bryce crouched in the bracken and watched the activity going on in the MacDougall encampment. His heart leapt at the sight of Fallon engaged in a verbal battle with Dungal, but rage clawed at his chest when the blackguard carried her to his tent.

Fallon was in danger, but he had to keep his wits about him. Drawing on every ounce of self-control, he refrained from rushing headlong into the midst of his enemy with his sword drawn, demanding her release.

He had to do something to help her, but the wrong decision might get her killed and put the entire rescue party in jeopardy. His strength of will waning, he reluctantly backed away and rejoined his comrades.

“Did you spot Fallon?” Alasdair kept his voice low, even though they were well out of their enemy’s earshot.

“Aye. Dungal holds her prisoner in a tent at the north end of the clearing. I say we storm the camp now.” On edge, Bryce tensely shifted his weight and clenched his hands into tight fists.

“I know you’re anxious, brother, but if we hope to free Fallon, we must exercise caution. How many men does Dungal have? I fear if we dinna make haste, the bastard will violate her.” Memories of Ashlen flashed before his mind’s eye, her screams echoing in his head.

Alasdair was the voice of reason. But Bryce’s concern for Fallon threatened to override all logic. “There are fifty, mayhap sixty armed warriors. Less than I expected. They suffered more casualties in the battle than we thought, or he has sent some of clansmen on to Galloway ahead of them.”

Alasdair’s brow furrowed. “Either way, they outnumber us five to one.”

“Aye, but one Scot is better than a dozen ordinary men,” Bryce responded quickly.

“That would be so if we were confronting the English. Don’t forget we are dealing with the MacDougalls, a Scottish clan who have struck fear in the hearts of those who oppose them for centuries. Fallon is also Dungal’s captive, which complicates things.”

“I dinna need you to remind me.” The mention of Dungal’s name in conjunction with Fallon’s caused Bryce’s blood to boil. “What do you suggest we do? We canna stand by and let him have his way with her.”

“Darkness will be upon us within the hour. I propose we wait and—”

“We canna delay that long. There is no telling what might happen to Fallon if we wait. If you won’t help me, I will go after her alone.” Bryce threw his hands in the air and began to roam like a cornered animal. “For all we know, he might be ravaging her as we speak.”

“Then we are already too late to stop the vile deed. But we can still save her life.” Alasdair placed his hand on Bryce’s shoulder. “Calm yourself and hear me out, brother, before you run off and get yourself killed. Once I’ve stationed the men in the forest, I will ride to the edge of the encampment and shout out a war cry. The MacDougalls won’t be able to resist the challenge. When they give chase, I will lead them into the woods to be picked off by our waiting archers. The light of full moon will prove beneficial to the task.”

“What will I be doing while you lead this fool’s mission?”

“You’ll take up a position in the brush behind the tent and when the time is right, cut through the back and rescue Fallon. We will kill as many of Dungal’s men as possible and keep the rest busy so you and Fallon can escape.”

Bryce shook his head in frustration. “I just hope we are not too late.”

“Take off your gown.” The expression on Dungal's face was lethal and his words ripped through Fallon like a blade.

“I willna.” She brought her hand to her throat.

“You heard me. Do as I instructed.”

“And if I refuse?” She raised her chin in defiance.

“Then I will do it for you.” Dungal took a menacing step forward. “Take it off now, or I will rip it from your body and take you where you stand.”

In spite of her desire to resist, Fallon reached for the laces of her gown with shaky fingers. Better to buy herself some time rather than to anger him further and invite the inevitable. Dungal would not go easy on her.

“Now!”

Fallon pulled the gown over her head and dropped it onto the floor beside her. A fine linen kirtle was all that kept her from standing naked before him. Heat rose in her cheeks and she refused to look him in the eye. She jumped when he grabbed her wrists, secured them with a rope, then tied the ends to the rafter of the tent.

Without saying a word, Dungal went to his trunk, pulled out a clay jug, and drank deeply. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth then retrieved a tin cup and filled it to the brim.

He returned to her side and held her head steady. “Drink.” He pressed the rim of the small tankard to her mouth. “The whiskey will relax you and make you more agreeable.”

Fallon sputtered. “I have no taste for spirits, and I’ll agree to naught.” She pursed her lips, the liquid dribbling down her chin.

“Why must you torment me? I cared for your brother and the wounded as you requested, I’ve committed no crime, yet you continue to hold me captive.”

“Dinna
fash
. I’ll not keep you much longer. Once I take Bryce Fraser into custody and have sated my needs with you, I plan to turn you both over to Longshanks.”

Stretched above her head, her wrists and arms ached, the circulation cut off by the ropes that bit into her flesh. Already well into his cups, and beginning to stumble on his feet, Dungal downed the contents of the tankard for the third time. At this rate, she could only hope he’d be too drunk to follow through with his threat to bed her.

“You can make this easy on yourself and come to me willingly, or I can take you with force. The choice is yours.” Dungal removed his tunic and loosened the cord at the top of his trews.

“Please me,” he said, “and I will request that King Edward forgo the ritual of purification by pain routinely done prior to the execution of traitors.”

Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.

Grinning, Dungal added, “Have you ever attended a hanging? The more you struggle, the tighter the noose becomes. Robbed of air, your lungs burn until you are certain your chest is about to burst.” He paused to pour another drink before he continued.

“However, if the Almighty is merciful, your neck will snap when you drop from the gallows. Being hanged is a terrible way to die.” Dungal concluded his macabre tirade, and pinched her chin between his finger and thumb, forcing her to look at him. “Beg me to bed you, and mayhap I’ll ask the king to give you to me for service rendered. I’m sure you could bear me many fine sons. For Fraser to go to his death knowing you warm my bed and grow round with my bairn is a fitting punishment.”

Fallon lowered her head and her gaze trailed the ground. The thought of a slow and agonizing death sent chills down her spine. Longshanks’ reputation for heartless and cruel forms of punishment was well known, but despite her fear, she refused to surrender. She would endure the torture Dungal described, and if the Almighty deemed it so, go willingly to her grave. But she’d not go willingly to his bed.