Highlander's Bride (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 1) (29 page)

He smiled sickeningly, as if at some lurid memory.
"Her message luring you away was indeed clever, as was the bloodied bed
sheet she gave your husband as proof of your infidelity. It seems she was quite
convincing. She assured me of his total lack of interest in getting you
back."

Ja Bier casually picked a piece of lint from his
sleeve and smoothed his ringed hand over the rich fabric. His movements were
slow, almost graceful. The jewels in his rings caught the light and reflected a
glow upward onto his face. But even their sparkle could not lessen the coldness
in his expression. "From what Jules tells me, you were more than happy to
leave your home and husband behind. This is a foolish trait you have inherited
from your mother. Ah, well, it worked to my advantage this time. But you will
find it quite impossible to do again."

He leaned back against the wall and leisurely
crossed his arms in front of him. "The girl, Fiona, was very informative
as to your mother and the sinful life she has led with that Scot dog. Yes, all
in all, the wench was very helpful. She was quite inventive in bed as well. I
enjoyed her body. It is a shame I could not keep her with me, but she would
have proved troublesome later." The Frenchman turned his tight-lipped
smile on his accomplice. "For as worldly as she was in all of our dealings
together, she was quite ignorant in whom she should trust, was she not,
Jules?"

Jules snorted. "
Oui, Monsieur Duc
."

Katherine's glance darted from the cool voiced man
seated before her to the tinker and back again. "You won't get away with
this, Ja Bier. You and your murdering henchman will be caught and punished!
Even if my husband chooses to abandon me, my mother and da will not! They'll
hunt you down and see that you both receive the punishment you deserve. When
they come for me, you'll pay with your lives!"

Ja Bier's few wrinkles and slightly graying hair
masked the strength and physical agility he still possessed. Swiftly, he strode
over to Katherine and slapped her viciously across the face, knocking her to
the floor. "Never again speak of that Scot dog as your father! I am your
sire, not he. He has no right to be called your father. You are issue of my
seed. Remember that."

Her trembling fingers brushed her hair from her
eyes. "No, Ja Bier. 'Tis bitter shamed I am, you sired me. But you'll
never be my father. Angus Gordon raised me with love and kindness. He will
always be my father!" Lifting her chin, she glared at him and fought
against her fear.

The flash of his jeweled rings gave her little
warning before pain hit her again. Ducking her head, she flung her arms over
her face. His fists pummeled her. The right side of her face burned. The skin
grew tight. Already painful swelling was making it difficult to keep her right
eye open. The split in her lip stung and she tasted blood.

Ja Bier grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked
her face close to his. "Foolish chit! I am your sire, and as such, will
decide all that you do and think and say. I control everything about you. Never
forget that or you will suffer worse for it I assure you." He flung her
hair from him and she fell back against the wall. Jules followed him from the
room and she heard the door lock as she lay on the floor in pain.

Ja Bier's voice came as if from a long way off.
"Leave the girl to think on my words today and tomorrow with nothing to
eat or drink. She will soon see who is master here or suffer for her
stubbornness."

"
Oui
,
Duc
Ja Bier."

Jules' voice faded and she lost all feeling of
pain to the blessed blackness that engulfed her.

Chapter Twenty-one

Retreating footsteps sounded in the corridor as
Alexander stared at the empty bed in Katherine's chamber. Emotions flared
inside him. Anger. Resentment. But more than that. Fear. The fear of feeling
truly alone again. He'd just recently realized how much of his thoughts and
feelings she had become a part of. Only when he was with her, did he feel truly
happy.

Now she was gone. She had slipped away before he
could prove his true feelings. But how did she leave? Where did she go? Did she
leave alone? Unprotected? Perhaps she convinced someone to help her escape.
Alexander hung his head, ashamed. Could he really blame her after the cruel way
he'd treated her?

He pressed his fists to his temples. God, what a
fool he'd been. Katherine was as loving and pure in spirit as she looked. He
should have told her the truth. Convinced her of his feelings before she felt
compelled to leave him. By the saints, he must find her. Bring her back.

Alexander turned and ran back to his chamber.
Donning his hauberk, he grabbed his claymore, and vaulted down the stairs to
the main hall. He burst through the doors at the front of the keep. Most of his
men were mounted and ready. Shouting, he ran toward them. "Men of
MacGregor, we ride!"

Malcolm called to him from across the courtyard.
"M'lord, hold. The young laddie, here, may know somethin' of Lady
MacGregor's disappearance." He pointed to a young boy standing beside him.

Alexander turned and ran in their direction. As he
skidded to a halt in front of them, the lad jumped back. Moonlight shone on his
pale young face. "What know you about the Lady MacGregor?"

Obviously frightened, the boy twisted a wee knife
in his hands and inched closer to Malcolm.

Alexander drew a deep breath and knelt down in
front of the boy. Gently, he touched his small shoulder and managed to calm his
voice. "Och, lad, do not fear. My anger isn't with you. Tell me what you
know."

Malcolm nudged the wide-eyed child.

The boy's voice quivered. "My… my laird, I
ken I shouldna been about so late and should have stayed in me bed as I'd been
told. But I had a hae penny and wanted to trade with the tinker." His
trembling fingers held up the small knife. "Fer a bit of leather to make a
sheath." The lad swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbed in his thin throat.
"So, after me mam and me da were abed, I crept out to find the tinker.
'Twas verra dark and nay easy to see me way. I couldna see aught, but heard the
tinker's wagon leavin'."

The boy shifted his feet in the dirt and twisted
his knife in his hands again. "Then the moon came out and I ran to catch
it, but I couldna run fast enough. I saw the tinker had a woman ridin' with
him. I didna see her face. But when I heard just now, of Lady MacGregor being
gone, I thought mayhap 'twas her."

"How long ago was this?"

"Nay so very long. Mayhap an hour or
two." The boy looked up at Alexander and trembled. "I'm verra sorry I
didna run fast enough to catch the tinker's wagon, m'laird." 

Alexander turned and shouted over his shoulder.
"Lewis! Unlock the storeroom. Find this lad leather to make himself the
finest sheath in Ironwood!" He smiled and clapped the young boy on his
back. "Well done, lad." 

Then he ran to his waiting horse. He vaulted into
the saddle, pulled on Tursachan's reins, and shouted to Malcolm. "Mount
and follow with my men. I go to find a tinker and barter for the most precious
prize in all of Scotland!"

**

Alexander and his men followed the tracks of the tinker's
wain. Even when the dense Highland mist surrounded them, they didn't stop.
Dismounting, he led his horse and men by walking in the rut left by the wagon's
heavy wheels. Eventually the mist lifted and the riders covered the distance
quickly as they galloped along the worn path. Even with the fog, they had made
good time. The tinker couldn't be far ahead.

A light drizzle began to fall. Alexander gripped
his reins tighter. The rain would make it harder for them to follow the tracks.
He must find her soon. Turning in his saddle, he shouted over his shoulder,
"Faster, lads!"

Just ahead lay a small grove of trees. Pulling
Tursachan to a quick halt, he stood in the stirrups of his saddle and scanned
the wet moor glistening with the light of dawn. The land was empty for as far
as he could see. As he sat back in his saddle, his gaze returned to the grove.
'Twas the only cover for miles. Motioning his men to follow him, he galloped
for the thicket.

The trees leafy branches obscured most of the
early light. 'Twas difficult to see what lay within. Silently, he held up his
hand, halting his men. All sat motionless and listened. Small sounds of nature
greeted them as a bird twittered and flew from one nearby branch to another.
Leaves rustled in a breeze, adding to the shower of raindrops.

Abruptly, the rain ended. A sense of foreboding
shot through him with the eerie stillness. Drawing his broadsword, he
dismounted and signaled his men to do likewise. They crept forward, their
blades ready. Their leather-clad feet made little noise on the forest floor to
warn of their approach. When they sighted the tinker's wagon, they charged up
and encircled it, only to find it empty. Beside it, a woman's body lay on the
ground partially covered by a shawl.

Alexander dropped to his knees beside the still
form. God! No! Please no! His hands shook as he lifted the tartan away from the
woman's face. Her hair was dark, not golden. "Fiona!" He stared down
at her pallid face and closed eyes. A dark bloodstain spread over the front of
her dress. Her chest scarcely rose and fell. She was still alive. Barely.
Whoever did this couldn't be far.

Alexander's men gathered closer and he shook his
head. "Don't stand there. Spread out. Look for Lady MacGregor!" Fiona
had not been at Ironwood. She couldn't have been the woman that left with the
tinker. He motioned to Malcolm. "Mount up and look for tracks."

Turning his worried gaze back to the woman beside
him, he smoothed her hair from her pale face, lifted her head gently, and
placed it softly in his lap. Her skin was gray and cold, but the movement
caused her eyes to open briefly.

Her voice was weak. "Alexander, I'm so
afeared! I know I will ne'er be allowed entry to Heaven fer the great wrongs I
have done."

"Shh, lass, don't fash. Rest."

He spoke to her soothingly as he cradled her head
in his lap. The wound barely oozed blood, now. He swallowed against the
tightness in his throat. Her wound was fatal. She wouldn't last much longer. He
smoothed the dark hair back from her face again and held one of her cold hands.

She stirred slightly and cried out, her voice
weaker than before. "Alexander! Are ye still there? Everything is so
dark."

"Aye, Fiona, I am here with you, as I have
always been, since you were a wee lassie. I won't leave you."

She stared up into his face as if she could barely
see him.

He slowly passed his hand before her eyes. The
dull black orbs didn't follow his movements. He leaned closer to hear her
words.

"Alexander, I must confess my sins afore I go
to meet God. Ye didna bed me. I made it look so to win your heart. And I have
wronged yer brother and yer wife. Naught that I told ye was true." She
coughed and a trickle of blood ran sluggishly from the corner of her pale lips.
"I sent Lady MacGregor the message telling her to meet ye at Ironwood. She
and yer brother traveled there. But they arena lovers. The sheet… 'twas sheep's
blood."

Alexander's chest knotted. "My God, lass, why
did you do it?"

Her voice was a mere whisper now. "A stranger
paid me to help him find her. He said he was her true da. Come to take her back
to France. I thought if she were gone, ye would grow to love me. I…
uhhhhh."

Fiona's last breath rattled in her throat. Her
eyes stared vacantly and she lay silent in his arms.

He reached out and gently closed her eyes.
"Oh, lass, I did love you. But as a man loves a sister. Forgive me for not
realizing you didn't understand." Bowing his head, he kissed her pale
cheek. "I vow to you, Fiona, I will avenge you." A lump tightened in
his throat and his chest burned with fury. Fiona was dead. Katherine abducted.
Who was this stranger Fiona had spoken of? Angus Gordon was Katherine's sire.
What did the Frenchman want with her?

Looking up, he shouted, his voice carrying through
the trees. The murderer might still be near. God, let his words bring the swine
running at him. Gladly would he kill him here and now. His men hurried over
from all directions. Silently, one relieved him of his burden. Alexander rose
stiffly as the weight of his guilt pressed down on him. He was responsible for
this. He should have known. He should have done so many things differently. 

Walking away from them into the deepest portion of
the thicket, he scanned the area. A small ravine partially filled with rocks
and tree branches ran through one end.  He walked over to it, knelt on the
ground and began to pull the branches from it. His men followed. While one man
held Fiona's body, the rest wordlessly joined him in clearing the sunken patch
of ground.

When the area lay empty, he looked up at the somber
group of men. Guilt and pain made it difficult to meet their gaze. He forced
himself to stand straight and spoke quietly. "We will bury her here and
use the stones to cover the grave. I won't have some forest beast disturbing
her rest." He walked forward and held out his arms. "Give her to
me."

Carrying her body, he returned to the grave.
Dropping to his knees, he lowered her gently into the opening. A spatter of
dirt broke loose and tumbled in, covering part of her shawl. God, he had used
the same one to quiet Tursachan during the storm.

He knelt unmoving beside her for a moment. Then he
scooped up a large handful of dirt and let it fall through his fingers onto her
skirt. He couldn't put it on her face. Leaning down, he pulled the shawl over
her head.

Malcolm rode up and dismounted, his expression
grim. One man glanced in his direction and then at Alexander. "We will
finish while ye speak to him."

Silently, he nodded and walked away. The sounds of
dirt and rocks being pushed back into the ravine dogged his steps as he faced
his man-at-arms. His heart plummeted at the older man's expression. "Did
you find anything?'

"Aye, hoof prints lead away from here. I
followed to a stream in the hills, but the tracks ended there and I couldna
find them again."

Alexander quickly told Malcolm of Fiona's
confession. "The bastards will need a ship. Where is the nearest port from
here?"

"Kirkcaldy is closest. From the direction
they were goin', I vow 'tis where they're headed."

"Then we will follow." Alexander bent,
lifted a large rock and turned. He walked back to the covered grave and placed
his burden on the top. The rain began to fall softly.

His men remained still and silent for a moment
before they drifted back to stand beside their horses. He stood alone by her grave.
'Twas time to say farewell. Kneeling, he spoke quietly. "Fiona, I swear to
you, I will slay the man who did this and bring Katherine back. You will not be
sent from Heaven's gates. I will make aught aright."

 Pulling his dirk from its sheath, he held out his
left hand and sliced the blade across his palm. The stinging throb of his flesh
echoed the painful pounding in his heart. As the blood welled up, he clenched
his fist and held it out over the cairn. The warm sticky fluid coated his palm,
ran between his clenched fingers, and dripped on the stones. The red blood
mingled with the gentle rain, christening the grave. "God keep you, little
sister."

Standing, he ripped the left sleeve from his
shirt, wound it around his hand and strode to his horse. Mounting, he looked at
his men and raised his broadsword into the air. "Men of MacGregor, Lady
Katherine has been taken by the bastard who did this. We go to avenge our
own!"

Thundering hooves shattered the quiet of the thicket
and echoed from the rocks. The sounds reverberated in his head as he and his
men rode off. He would find Katherine. He must.

**

The port city of Kirkcaldy was little more than a
small fishing village. It boasted of one inn, which was poor by most standards.
Half a dozen cottages and crofts dotted the single road through town.

An angry boy chased a dog across the muddy street.
The fleeing animal clenched a mutton joint tightly in its teeth. "Come
back here, ye devil! 'Tis our supper ye're stealin'."

A wrinkled old woman, covered with a faded shawl,
sat in front of a small stone cottage, shelling dried beans into a cracked clay
bowl. A few straggly chickens stirred the dust at her feet for hulls and an
occasional bean that dropped to the ground.

Alexander jumped from his saddle, barely waiting
for Tursachan's hooves to stop. The startled chickens squawked in alarm and
scattered in every direction. "Good day to you mistress. Do you know where
a ship can be found which could sail for France immediately?"

She looked up. Obvious surprise etched her aged
face. "Fie, milord, this be a poor village. We have no ships to sail such
a long voyage. Edinburgh is where ye need travel to find such a one. Mind ye,
'twas a ship such as ye seek, anchored here fer a wee time, but it left on the
mornin' tide. 'Twas strange, fer it nay bartered any wares. It but took on a
few passengers and left."

His heart pounded painfully. "Good woman, do
you know where they were bound?"

"No, milord. But mayhap someone at the dock
would ken." She lifted her blue veined hand and pointed further down the
road, toward a dilapidated pier that stood at the edge of the shore.

He followed her gaze and nodded. "Thank
you."

Pressing several shillings into her hand, he
turned, mounted his horse, and called out to his men to follow.