Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8) (30 page)

She twisted about, hoping he wouldn't notice as she dislodged the blanket. Finally, she could see him and the turbulent gray and black sky overhead. Good heavens, 'twould be a fearsome storm and this was only the front edge of it. A cold wind and icy raindrops stung her face.

She couldn't see the shore or the castle from her position in the bottom of the boat. Where was Neacal? He obviously thought she was still safe inside the castle. She would have to depend on her own wits to survive this time. It would not be the first time.

The craft pitched up and down violently upon the waves, making her nauseous. Moments later, it bumped roughly against sand or rocks. Blackburn leapt off, splashed into the water and lugged the boat onto the shore. Where were they? He lifted her and when the blanket slipped away, she saw that they were on a small island not too far from the castle. She had observed the bush-covered island many times from the ramparts.

Blackburn carried her over his shoulder while the storm lashed at them. Was there a cottage or building on this island that she didn't know about? At least it was safer than a boat.

Moments later, Blackburn carried her into a windowless structure and lay her down on old, moldering straw. It appeared to be a byre. Although the stone building contained no door, it sheltered them from the wind and rain.

"Since we're far from the others, I'm going to remove your gag. No one will hear you if you scream."

She nodded.

He cut the gag loose.

"What on earth are you doing bringing me out here?" Anna asked.

"Once the storm passes, I'll take you further along the loch. We'll disembark on the bank of the mainland and walk up toward Loch Shiel. There, I'll hire a galley to take us further inland."

"You're a madman. You'll never get away with it."

"Get away with it?" he growled. "You're my wife and I have every right to take you home. Anyone who stands in my way will be cut down!" He threw off his sodden cloak and pulled at his belt buckle.

A prickle of warning went through her. "What are you doing?"

"I've waited too long to consummate this marriage."

Revulsion shook her. "Nay! I am not your wife."

He smirked. "I have a certificate that says otherwise. It contains your signature."

"A forced marriage is not a legal one," she declared.

"'Tis also signed by a priest." He raised his brows smugly.

"A corrupt one you paid a great deal of money."

"Do you think that matters? In the eyes of the law and the church, 'tis legal."

Anna had to focus on what mattered, the whole reason she'd been forced to sign the damnable document. "Where is my sister?"

"Would you cease about her for a quarter hour?" Blackburn said through clenched teeth.

"Nay, I will not! Did you hurt her?"

"Not yet. But I will if you don't hold your tongue and submit to me." He leaned toward her. "I'd much rather have your tongue twined around mine."

She grimaced, not caring if he saw. "Keep your hands off me!"

"As your husband, I have every right to put my hands on you anywhere, anyway and anytime I wish."

Bastard. She had to think of something fast to prevent him from carrying through with his plans. She forced herself to speak in a docile tone. "At least untie me… so I can enjoy myself."

His eyes widened, then searched her face. "Ha. If only I believed you. I ken you will fight me."

She dropped still, pretending to be submissive. "I won't fight you. If you promise not to harm my sister, I'll do my wifely duty."

He cut the rope from her ankles. "Have you lain with that Neacal bastard?"

"Nay. How many more times will you ask me this?" She had no choice but to lie if she wished to live. Now, she only need convince him to cut the rope from her hands and she could grab the knife on her ankle, hopefully before he saw it. The building was dark and that would work in her favor.

"I didn't think so… once I saw his face while you two were on the ramparts. He's scarred so hideously, I'm certain no woman will go near him. Unless he forced you." His eyes narrowed. "Did he?"

"Nay, of course not!"

Blackburn nodded. "If you birth a bairn which is not mine, I'll know it."

She frowned, wondering if he was insane and arrogant enough to think he would know such a thing.

"I won't harm your sister, if you cooperate with me. We both ken you're no virgin, so there is no need for me to be gentle, aye?" He laughed.

Nausea consumed her. "On second thought, I prefer to wait until we have a bed to officially consummate our marriage. 'Twould only be fitting for a chief and his wife. We are not peasants. 'Twould be beneath us for our first time to be in a byre like animals."

"You're right, but I suddenly feel animal-like." He gave a nasty grin. "You've stirred my lusts to boiling. And I find I'm an impatient man. I've waited long enough for you. I can wait no longer."

Anna ground her teeth. "Then surely you will untie my hands, aye?" she asked in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. "'Tis uncomfortable with them behind my back."

He observed her for a long moment. "I'm thinking you could be a good wife. You're far calmer than you used to be. Mayhap our marriage could work."

Saints. The man had a grand imagination if he thought she would willingly accept him as a husband after all the horrid things he had done to her and her family. All she had to do was pretend amiability for a few more minutes, until he untied her hands. If she didn't succeed in her plan, then so be it. She would rather die than submit to him and his lusts.

She forced her lips to curve upward the slightest bit, watching him with what she hoped was a friendly expression.

"If you'll behave yourself, m'lady, I'll cut the ropes off your hands. Do you promise?"

"Aye, of course." She knew exactly how to
behave
toward him. Much in the same way he'd always treated her. With ruthless calculation. She had to, if she ever wanted to see Neacal again.

"Murderer!" Sleat yelled over the harsh gale wind bombarding the mainland. He thrust his sword.

Neacal dodged out of the way. "'Tis on your own head!" Spiked targe on his left forearm and dirk in his left hand, Neacal shoved the targe toward his opponent's face, but Sleat leapt back. "You brought him here to sneak in and ambush us during the night."

The cold rain blew in sideways from the loch. Neacal traversed until the wind was at his back, giving him an advantage. Sleat turned to face him, squinting and blinking against the rain pelting his eyes.

Neacal made a feinted slice toward the other man's shoulder. When Sleat lifted his targe to block the blow, Neacal switched direction, his blade cutting into Sleat's thigh. The man howled out in pain and gritted his teeth. His next thrust was clumsy. Neacal easily blocked it with his targe and feinted another strike to Sleat's injured thigh. When his targe came down, Neacal shifted, his blade flying toward his opponent's shoulder. Sleat was too slow on the defense and Neacal's blade met its mark, but the leather armor prevented it from going deep.

Neacal lunged, his left leg propelling his body forward. Landing on his right foot, he aimed his blade arrow-quick toward Sleat's gut. It penetrated the leather armor and drove deep. Sleat struck out with his blade but Neacal caught the blow with his targe. Withdrawing his sword, he pulled back. Sleat dropped to his knees, his teeth bared.

Well out of reach of his opponent, Neacal surveyed the fighting going on around him, but a small boat out on the loch caught his attention. Blackburn was the man rowing it away from the castle. Why the devil was he leaving? Wait… someone lay in the boat in front of him, wrapped in a plaid, twisting and squirming. Who was that? Could it be Anna? "Nay," Neacal growled in denial, even though he knew it must be. How had Blackburn gotten inside the castle to her?

Running footsteps reached his ears. Neacal forced his gaze toward the person approaching. Sword raised over his head, Titus MacRankin advanced, shouting a war cry. His wet, blood-spattered face pulled into a snarl, he leapt forward and chopped his blade downward. Neacal dodged out of his path and, in the same motion, swung his sword around to slice it across MacRankin's abdomen as he turned.

Neacal had to defeat this bastard quickly if he intended to see who Blackburn was rowing away with and stop him. He blocked every thrust of his opponent's blade. He feinted a slice toward his enemy's ear, then swiftly switched direction to cut the man's calf. He yowled and limped back.

Breathing hard, MacRankin bared his teeth in a vicious grin. "This is for Lady Aislinn!" He struck out with his sword.

Neacal caught the blade on his targe. "I didn't cause her death," he shouted over the wind.

"I couldn't marry a woman who had been used by you, Scots traitor," he spat. "No doubt she carried your bastard!"

Neacal shook his head, for he hadn't lain with the lass. 'Twas just as he'd suspected. "You killed her! You shoved her from the tower!"

Several more strikes were delivered and blocked by both men.

"No choice!" MacRankin said, breathing hard. "She betrayed me! Tried to convince me you were nay a spy for the crown."

What?
Neacal was momentarily thrown off-kilter. "She did?"

"Of course. You bastard! You turned her against me. She wanted naught to do with me after you finished with her."

Aislinn had been highly intelligent; she'd figured out what Neacal was about, spying for King James. And he'd always thought Aislinn had betrayed him to MacRankin.

"Who told you I was a spy?" Neacal asked.

"He did." MacRankin nodded to where Sleat lay unmoving in the mud and rain.

Damnation! All this time he'd blamed the wrong person for his capture.

"You didn't have to kill Lady Aislinn. She was an innocent."

"Ha! I trust your word about as much as that of a viper. And I couldn't break the betrothal contract." MacRankin lowered his body and charged, blade directed forward.

At the last second, Neacal jumped out of the way. MacRankin barreled forward, tripped over a large rock and fell. Neacal quickly returned for a counter attack while the man was down. He got in two slices before his opponent leapt to his feet.

The sideways rain drove harder against Neacal, the water in his eyes making it difficult to see. The ground had become muddy and slippery. Moving again, he put the rain at his back so his opponent would be forced to change position to face him. MacRankin charged him again and Neacal blocked several of his blows.

"Neacal!" a female shouted from several yards away.

"What the devil?" Neacal glanced briefly toward the castle to see who approached. He hardly recognized Constance with the cowl of her dark cloak over her head. "Get back inside, lass! 'Tis too dangerous out here!"

MacRankin rushed toward her, surprising Neacal. Realizing the danger his cousin was in, he raced after MacRankin.

"Run!" Neacal yelled to her.

But 'twas too late. MacRankin ran her through with his sword and sliced her throat with his dirk. He kicked her to the muddy ground.

Heart in his throat, Neacal growled, "Nay!"

MacRankin turned, bloody blades raised. Neacal thrust his broadsword through the leather armor and into his gut. With the dirk in his other hand, he cut the man's throat, giving him the same death he'd given Constance. Only inches away, MacRankin's icy gray eyes stared into Neacal's as he realized he was a dead man.

"Why the hell did you kill my cousin?" Neacal snarled. Constance had been a menace, but she was still his kin and he would've never wished her dead.

"Cousin?" MacRankin gasped as his eyes rolled back. He dropped to the ground beside Constance.

MacRankin must have thought Constance was Anna. 'Twas the only explanation that made sense.

Why the devil had the idiot lass run out in the midst of a battle? Feeling gored, Neacal shook his head.

Damnation, he had to find out if Anna had been on that boat with Blackburn. He raced down the beach, the pounding rain and wind trying to shove him backward, stinging his skin and eyes. He ran past the large galleys toward the end where two small boats clunked together in the wind. After sheathing his weapons and tossing his targe into a two-oared wherry, he untied it, pushed it into the water and jumped aboard.

The loch was as rough as the sea, but he had no time to worry over it. Something told him Anna had been wrapped in that plaid. There was no one else Blackburn would abduct and try to escape with… unless it was Kristina. But he was near certain Colin had spirited Kristina away some time ago, at the beginning of the fighting. Either way, whether Blackburn's captive was Anna or Kristina, Neacal had to rescue her.

In this weather, Blackburn couldn't have gone far. What if the other boat had already capsized? Saints! Neacal glanced around over the rough surface of the water but saw no sign of another craft.

He rowed more forcefully than he'd ever rowed before, ignoring his cuts and injuries. At the moment, he felt no pain. To save Anna, he would fight until his last breath.

The small vessel rocked and tossed about upon the loch's turbulent water. The ferocious wind, blowing in off the ocean from the west and along the length of the loch, made gaining any distance difficult. Gritting his teeth, he focused on the two oars propelling the boat through the water. He glanced back, squinting against the wind.

A fearsome wave approached. Damnation! He held his breath as the wave smashed into him, toppling the boat sideways. Neacal flew overboard into the water. Letting go of the oars, he pushed himself through the water using his arms and legs. His plaid and weapons were a slight hindrance but there was no time to remove them now. Besides, he would need his sword and dirk soon.

Glad now for all the swimming he'd done over the past several months, he quickly reached the small island. Once his feet were on solid ground, he hurried along the shore.

The boat Blackburn had used sat ashore on the back side of the island. A surge of triumph blasted through Neacal, quickening his steps. Anna was still alive; she had to be. He was glad Blackburn had enough sense to know to get off the loch and out of the gale. No doubt he'd planned to hide out here until the storm was over, then take the boat further along the loch, until he was out of sight of the castle, and go ashore on the mainland at some point.

Neacal raced toward the only structure on the island, an old byre, left from when sheep and cattle used to graze here. Trying to stay out of sight, he slipped to the side of the doorway and peered through. The high winds prevented him from hearing anything and 'twas dark inside.

Knowing the byre was too tight of a space to effectively use a sword, he took out his dirk and rushed in, hoping to surprise Blackburn. A tall, dark form advanced on him. Neacal kicked him in the stomach, sending him sprawling against the stone wall. He wanted to make sure the knave was Blackburn, and that Anna was his captive, before he knifed him.

A string of growling curses erupted from the man's mouth as he shoved to his feet. Neacal recognized his voice.

"Who's your hostage, Blackburn?"

"She is not a hostage. She's my wife! You're the one who steals other men's wives and fiancées."

Neacal's eyes gradually adjusted to the dimness, allowing him to see the dirk the other man held at the ready.

"Do you want me to recite the atrocious deeds you've done to her? You murdered her first husband." Neacal slashed with his dirk.

"A lie!" Blackburn leapt out of the way and countered.

Neacal dodged back. "You murdered her unborn child. You beat and abused her." Neacal kicked toward the back of the other man's ankle, causing him to stumble. "You blinded and scarred her sister." He sliced the other man's arm. "If you think I'm going to let you take her from here, you're daft. In a matter of moments, you're going to be dead and she's going to be a free woman."

Blackburn, now closer to the exit, turned tail and ran out into the storm. What the devil? Was this some kind of trick? "Anna? Where are you?" Neacal glanced around the tiny one room structure.

Silence.

"Anna! Damnation!" He searched through the darkness at the back corner of the byre. His hand traced over wool material and someone lying still. 'Twas her. "Anna?" He touched her face and placed his finger beneath her nose. When he felt her warm breath puffing against him, his eyes burned. "Thank God." Leaning closer, he stroked her face gently. "Anna, my love. How badly are you hurt?" He needed to move her into the light but was afraid he would worsen her injuries. He kissed her forehead. "Anna, please wake up."

"Hmm?" She turned her head. "Neacal?"

Relief surged through him. "Aye, talk to me. Did you hit your head?"

"Aye… hurts," she breathed.

"That bastard Blackburn," he growled low.

"Where is he?"

"He ran." Neacal needed to chase him down and kill him but Anna was far more important to him. He hoped Blackburn's boat would capsize in the loch. "What did he do to you?" Neacal asked.

"We fought. He knocked me down and I hit my head on a stone."

"Whoreson," Neacal said through clenched teeth. "Are you going to be all right?"

"I think so… but it hurts."

"I'll be right back. Stay hidden. I'm going to see where he went."

"Nay!"

"I have to."

"Please be careful! Promise me."

"Aye. I'll be back in a few minutes." Neacal rushed to the doorway. Outside, the bushes shifting in the wind blocked his view of the shore, the loch and the castle. He ran out, headed for the shore, when a sword blade arched at him. He dove to the ground and stabbed Blackburn in the thigh with his dirk. Rising again, Neacal withdrew his broadsword from the scabbard.

The severe wind and rain slamming him, he whipped around and lashed out at Blackburn. Their swords clanged. Neacal blocked several of his strikes, giving Blackburn time to tire himself. He sent a feinted slash toward Blackburn's injured thigh. When he lowered his blade to block it, Neacal stabbed the man's upper chest with the dirk. Though the studded leather armor absorbed some of the force, the blade slid into muscle. Blackburn roared in pain and staggered back. He turned and ran back toward the byre.

"Nay, you bastard!" Neacal chased after and dove for him, barely catching the other man's plaid as he entered the doorway. Both of them fell. Neacal stabbed his dirk into the man's calf. Blackburn kicked, connecting with Neacal's jaw, jarring his head and sending him rolling.

Muttering curses, his head dazed, Neacal pushed to his feet, but Blackburn had disappeared. He picked up the sword he'd dropped and rushed into the byre. He made out the gleam of a sword blade and halted.

Blackburn squalled and growled like a wild animal, then dropped his sword. "I'll kill you, bitch!"

What the hell was going on? Neacal rushed forward, running Blackburn through. But he saw this was unnecessary as Blackburn fell to the ground. The man's throat had been cut and blood gushed from the wound. Neacal watched him for a moment to make sure he would not move again.

"Anna?" Neacal glanced around to find her kneeling upon the dirt floor, a small bloody knife lying in front of her. He knelt beside her and drew her into his arms.