Mary Reed McCall (25 page)

D
uncan reined Glendragon to a halt and dismounted near the edge of the pine copse. Kinnon and Robert followed his lead, tethering their mounts to nearby branches.

“What news from the men?”

“My scouts have not returned yet,” Robert answered.

“Nor mine,” Kinnon said. “Though I saw a glimpse of Ewen through the trees not far back. They should be meeting with us here shortly.”

Duncan nodded. “It will be none too soon. Morgana’s path leads straight through this bit of woodland, and beyond it rest the ruins of Carlisle. She’s chosen a noble place to hide herself and any followers she may have gathered.” He uncorked his water pouch, tipping his head for a long draught before giving the skin to Kinnon. “We’ll remain here long enough to make final plans, but I want to move against her before the sun reaches its peak.”

Kinnon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tossed the water sack to Robert. “The men will welcome an hour’s rest. It is wise to hold off the attack until then.”

Duncan looked around, searching the barren woodland for any sign of life. He found none. Only the wind, wailing its forlorn song through the black, wet trees. Peering straight ahead, he imagined that he could already see the ruin where Morgana was hiding, concealed there like a rat in a trap. He wouldn’t allow himself to think too deeply on Aileana and her condition—or even whether or not she was still alive. He couldn’t; not if he wanted to be able to concentrate on what needed to be done next. He burned with a need to finish this, to bring Morgana to justice, but he knew that he couldn’t rush. They needed a strategy. He would not fail in bringing the witch down this time, not if his very life depended on it.

He glanced at Kinnon. “The attack must be undertaken secretly. Once we’re inside you must find Aileana. I will lead another group to overpower Morgana and Colin. After she’s cornered, I’ll give her the option of surrender.”

A scowl darkened his cousin’s face. “And if she refuses?”

“Then I will be compelled to try to take her by force—though I will have to do what I can to prevent her death.”

“Why? What care we if Morgana MacDonell dies in the fighting that’s to come? Her death is our only hope for true justice,” Kinnon scoffed.

“Aye, and yet it will not be at my hand if I can help it. We’ll find our satisfaction by bringing her back to face the Council for her reckoning.”

Robert had remained quiet throughout the exchange.
Now he stepped forward, murmuring, “MacRae, I’ve something to say to you. Alone.”

Duncan nodded, and Kinnon cast a cautious glance at them before moving away to check their horses. When they stood apart, Robert spoke again. “I want to give you my thanks.”

Surprise tingled through Duncan. “Thanks? It’s strange to hear you say it, considering what Kinnon and I were just discussing.”

Robert’s expression twisted with his clearly conflicting feelings as he admitted, “I’ll not pretend that this has been easy, but I can see that it is the just thing to do. Morgana has hurt and coerced too many, including even Aileana, it seems.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “And so I’m thanking you for the restraint you’ve shown. Knowing what happened those years ago, most men wouldn’t blame you if you charged into that ruin and took her life without blinking. I’m grateful that you’ve chosen to do this with honor—with mercy, even.”

Duncan’s jaw tightened. “I’ve no mercy where Morgana is concerned, MacDonell, make no mistake. But I’ll not risk losing a drop of Aileana’s blood—or her respect—because of Morgana if I can help it.”

“Whatever your reasons, I’m thankful.”

Their gazes connected for an instant, and Duncan nodded before his attention was drawn away by the activity occurring near the horses. Some of the men had returned, and they looked none too happy as they gestured and talked with Kinnon. Robert followed close behind as Duncan approached the group.

“What is it? What news?”

Gil stood with his arms folded across his chest, a little behind Ewen, whose face was flushed and strained.

“A message was tied to an arrow and shot into the
flank of Hamish’s horse.” Ewen glanced away and shifted uneasily. “It demands that a single messenger from our group be sent, unarmed, to the gates of the ruin to receive further information concerning Aileana.”

Duncan fisted his hands and burst into motion, pacing toward the edge of the clearing to look at the castle ruin, just visible through the trees.

“Are you going to comply with the demand?” Kinnon asked, his face pale. “Any message from the witch cannot be trusted. We cannot even know for certain that Aileana is there.”

“And yet I have little choice,” Duncan answered grimly. “We’ll do as she asks. Perhaps we can strike a deal with her—learn what she wants. We’ll sort out the rest of it later.”

“I’ll go as messenger,” Gil offered. His chest expanded in anticipation of the important task, and he fixed his gaze on Duncan with an intensity that made him look older than his eighteen years.

Kinnon gestured toward the ruin. “Hold for a minute, Gil. How far do you think to bend in bargaining with Morgana, Duncan?”

Duncan’s heart thudded heavy and slow in his chest, and he felt an expansion of the burning sensation that had lodged in his gut ever since he’d first realized Aileana was in danger. “I’m willing to do anything, Kinnon, including letting Morgana go for now, to prevent Aileana coming to harm. I do not like it, but it is what I must do.”

Kinnon looked like he’d swallowed something bitter, but he remained silent for a moment before finally nodding, “So be it.” Kinnon looked round to the others, calling, “Did everyone hear that? Any mistake can be deadly.” The men called out their agreement, and at
Duncan’s signal, they fell into place behind him, riding into the clearing near the gate. Gil tied a white flag onto his spear, and with one last look to Duncan, kicked his horse to a gallop.

Duncan watched, back stiff, as Gil approached the crumbled wall of the castle. A sudden movement flashed behind the rotted portcullis gate, and instinctively, Duncan reached for his claymore. The others followed suit, the air hissing with the sound of swords clearing their sheaths.

A moment later a tiny bundle was thrust through the opening, fastened to the tip of a spear. Gil took it, then wheeled his mount around to come riding back to them.

“Someone was waiting for me.” Gil pulled his horse to a halt beside Duncan. “But he wouldn’t exchange words. He only handed this over, then disappeared round the corner, into a dark passageway beyond the inner court.” Gil held out the offering to Duncan.

The linen square felt weighted. It was more than a simple message, sure. Duncan unfolded the fabric so quickly that he almost dropped the object that fell from its creases. With a jerk, he caught the token and then opened his gloved hand to view it. Cold sliced through him, followed by a shock so deep that his hand froze in its outstretched position. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the object in his palm.

Kinnon cursed softly as he too caught sight of it.

“What is it?” Robert asked, pulling his mount in closer.

“It’s the MacRae betrothal ring. The one Duncan gave to Aileana not two weeks ago.”

Robert grabbed at something that fluttered from the linen that had encased it. Unfolding the parchment, he said, “It’s a message, instructing you to come to the gate
and enter alone, MacRae. The rest of us are to go back to the forest and forego an attack of the ruin for three days.”

Kinnon made a scoffing sound. “Not likely, that.”

Robert looked at him, his expression grim. “Aye, well it also says that if these conditions are not met, Aileana will die. The ring has been offered as a token of Morgana’s esteem—and as a reminder of what will be sacrificed if you do not heed her will.”

Duncan heard each of Robert’s words as if from a distance, though every syllable fell on his ears with the weight of death. He felt a grinding in his gut that he hadn’t experienced since that night many years ago, when he’d woken after the massacre to find Mairi so still and silent beside him. “I’m going after her. Now,” he said hoarsely, shifting Glendragon toward the gate and preparing to dig his heels into the stallion’s sides.

“Wait!” Kinnon grasped his bridle. “You can’t go in there, Duncan. It’s suicide to go alone.”

The muscles in Duncan’s arms twitched, and he wrenched Glendragon free of his cousin’s grip. “I’m going.”

“What can it serve, if this be nothing more than a ploy to entrap you?”

“It
is
a trap, about that there is no doubt, but I’d rather face it and die than not try at all and have Aileana suffer for it.”

“And what if—” Kinnon paused, his eyes shadowed with pain. “I hate even to think it, and yet if I did not voice the possibility I would be remiss as your kinsman…and as your friend.”

He shook his head, his expression grim. “God forgive me, Duncan, but what if Aileana herself is working with Morgana for some reason? What if this ploy is the one
she knows will be most likely to bring you in—the one that will leave you most completely at their mercy?”

Duncan scowled and steadied Glendragon, who seemed to sense his master’s leashed fury, pawing and wheeling about as if to break into stride. “If Aileana is that corrupt of heart and I am so mistaken in my belief of her, Kinnon, then I would rather be dead, for never again would I be able to trust my own judgment in anything or anyone,” he said, all the force of his passion and love for her filling his voice. “But she is true, man; I know she is. And I cannot stand idly by while her devil of a sister destroys her in order to get to me.”

Robert broke in. “If you’ve a mind to go in after her, MacRae, I say do it.”

“It is my intent.” Duncan loosened his hold on Glendragon’s bridle a fraction; the stallion felt the change and lunged forward, prancing in a circle as Duncan issued his final command to Kinnon, Robert, and the others. “Do as the message dictates, up to one point. If I haven’t returned with Aileana by nightfall, don’t wait. Attack and take the castle. By that time I’ll have succeeded in gaining our freedom or else it will be over.”

His gaze locked with Kinnon’s for an instant before he nodded and let Glendragon have full rein. With a whinnying cry, the stallion broke into a gallop, crossing the outer courtyard and approaching the gate. The wind whipped Duncan’s cheeks, and he clenched his jaw with impatience and anxiety. Before long he reached the portcullis. Dismounting, he dropped Glendragon’s reins to the earth to keep him still and peered into the courtyard.

Nothing. All looked overgrown. Were it not for the messenger who’d given Gil the ring, he might have believed himself mistaken in thinking the place a home for
naught but daws and spiders. He leaned in further, searching for signs of life. Out of the corner of his gaze he saw the movement an instant before a hand darted from an alcove in the castle wall to grip him by the plaid on his chest. As he was yanked into the courtyard, he caught a glimpse of the man’s arm.

In reflex, Duncan shifted his gaze to his attacker’s face. Golden-brown hair and a scowling mouth flickered into his conscious mind, then an image of an eye patch and a stare that was hard and remorseless…

Recognition slammed home, making Duncan suck in his breath.
Colin. He should have known his brother would be the one to greet him.
But before he could voice a word, a fist hurtled at his face, connecting with a sickening thud and dropping him into a darkness that was as all-encompassing as the flat chill of his bastard brother’s gaze.

D
uncan awoke, gasping, and snapped up to a sitting position. His arms lashed out as he tried to fight his way from the fetid, black hole that had been swallowing him again. It had been the same as always. Darkness. Pain. The hell of the chamber they’d kept him in. Only this time there’d been something different. This time others besides the guards tormented and tortured him…

Colin
.
Morgana
.

As their names uncoiled into his conscious memory, the remaining fog of his nightmare lifted. He became aware of his surroundings and of the throbbing ache in his head. Rubbing his sore jaw, Duncan looked around the dim contours of the room that confined him. If nothing else, it was cold and damp. No wonder, then, that he’d had the dream…

He blinked, and as he lifted his hand to rub his forehead, he brushed against something warm and soft.
Time seemed to stand still, and all movement ceased. His chest ached with tightness, as his gaze focused on what lay next to him on the pallet. She was stretched out in graceful repose, her fiery hair accentuating the pallor of her skin with unearthly contrast.

Sweet Jesus, Aileana…

Frantic, Duncan twisted to kneel beside her, a groan of agony welling in his throat.
Just like Mairi
. Holy God, she lay just as Mairi had in the moments before she’d died in his arms, so still and silent, with her life’s warmth seeping from her like blood. His vision clouded and his hands trembled as he reached toward Aileana, the past and present colliding horribly in his mind. Tensing, he tried to prepare himself to stroke the hair from her brow, to see if a mottled bruise marked her tenuous hold on life as it had with Mairi.
God, no…

Pleas that seemed locked in Duncan’s own mind spilled from his lips in a litany of anguish and grief. He couldn’t bear losing Aileana. Not now. And especially not like this.

“I see you’ve found my surprise, Duncan,” a voice purred from behind him.

Half turning, he tensed as she continued, “I must confess that this little scene is almost as entertaining as the first time I arranged it for you. My sister’s imminent recovery, however, is an unfortunate change that mars my enjoyment a bit.” Morgana stepped from the shadows of the corner, a smile flirting over her lips.

Duncan spared her less than an instant before leaning over to cup his hand over Aileana’s neck. The witch had said she’d recover, but he wanted proof. Hope and a kind of harrowing joy jolted to the ends of his fingers as they encountered the warmth of Aileana’s skin, the steady beat of her pulse against his palm. No bruise hid
beneath the sweep of hair at her brow. But she didn’t wake.

“Damn you, Morgana. What have you done to her?”

Morgana’s laughter tinkled through the chamber, piercing him. “Don’t fret so, Duncan. It is nothing that will harm her. Only a sleeping potion to keep her quiet until your arrival. She’ll come to herself soon.”

Rage caught up to the shock that had stilled Duncan earlier. It coursed from a deep well inside of him, slashing through his body like a cannon shot. In one fluid motion he lurched to his feet and grasped Morgana by the throat. “Your lackeys made sure that I never got my hands on you thirteen years ago, Morgana MacDonell, but there’s nothing to stop me from taking my vengeance now.”

He watched her expression waver. But her eyes spoke the truth, showing him that she had no fear, though his grip was tight enough to prevent her from speaking and to force her toes from the floor. It was pure physical reflex that made her dig her fingernails into his hand and kick her feet against his shin. Yet he knew that only a few more seconds of this and she would be senseless from lack of air.

He had to make his decision. Unless he wanted to kill her right here, he’d have to let her go. Anger pulsed through him, making him shake. The need to strangle the life from her was so strong that he felt it in every fiber of his being.

“Release her,” a low voice rumbled from behind him. “Or I’ll run you through.”

Colin. No wonder she’d had no fear.

Stiffening, Duncan calculated the possibility of taking on his brother and Morgana both, with no weapon and while trying to protect Aileana in her senseless state. It
wasn’t promising. With a growl, he shoved Morgana away from him, deciding to bide his time until he could find the chance to finish both of them for good. Morgana staggered against the wall, gasping for breath, and he turned slowly, coming face-to-face with the razor-sharp edge of his bastard brother’s claymore. Colin lowered the point, leveling it directly at Duncan’s heart and adding, “A good decision. I would have hated to waste the chance to have you look me in the eye and know who it was that was killing you.”

Duncan arched his brow. “Why? Stabbing me in the back never seemed to trouble you before.”

Colin’s gaze darkened, and his blade sliced into Duncan’s skin with a sting that drew blood. But Morgana stepped up and knocked the sword away, hissing, “You waited long enough to stop him, Colin.”

He shrugged. “I enjoyed seeing your tender reunion after all of these years. But I have to say it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as this is going to be.”

Duncan sensed a tensing in Colin’s arm an instant before his brother pulled back and slammed a fist in his gut. Too late to stiffen against the blow or deflect its force. Every scrap of air rushed from his lungs and pain ripped through his belly, making him fall to his knees. Shaking away the black spots swirling in front of his eyes, he coughed and willed himself to his feet. Raw anger made him start forward, but the tip of Colin’s claymore dug into him again, forcing him to pull up short.

“You’ll be moving when I tell you to, little brother.”

“Issuing commands does not ensure obedience, Colin,” Duncan answered hoarsely. “A lesson you’ve clearly yet to learn.”

“Enough of this bickering,” Morgana snapped, push
ing Colin aside. “I didn’t arrange for your being here only as entertainment, Duncan. I brought you here to give you a choice.”

“A choice?” He had trouble focusing on what she was saying; he kept glancing in worry to Aileana. He had to come up with a plan to overpower Colin and Morgana so that he could get her out of here and to safety.

“I suggest that you listen carefully.”

Something in Morgana’s voice pierced him. He met her gaze, struck anew by the emptiness in her eyes, and wondered how he could ever have allowed himself to think that Aileana resembled her in any way.

“It seems that you’ve been stupid enough to fall in love with my sister.”

Morgana offered her tight comment almost in the form of a question, but Duncan sensed the underlying bitterness in it and remained silent, unwilling to give her any more ammunition to use against him or Aileana.

“Your refusal to answer will not save either one of you,” Morgana continued, as if she’d read his thoughts. “Aileana admitted to your betrothal—and of course the presence of your ring confirmed it.” Morgana’s mouth twitched then and she wrapped a length of her own red-gold hair round her finger.

“I was going to finish you both once I got you here. I’d already decided, even, on how it should happen.” She glanced to the cot. “But I kept bumping into the realization that killing my own sister might be less difficult, if someone else bore the true responsibility for her death.” She smiled. “And that’s where you come in.”

Duncan kept his gaze neutral, not asking her to explain. He knew he’d hear her plans soon enough, and the less he revealed about the depth of his fear for Aileana, the safer he might be able to keep her.

Morgana tipped her head to one side, fingering the tendril of her hair once more. “Aren’t you curious about your role in killing or saving the woman you love?”

A sick feeling rolled in his gut, but he kept quiet, refusing to give in to her manipulations. Clenching his fists, he mentally calculated the distance between himself and Colin. His brother stood a few paces away, partly blocking his view of Aileana. If he could reach him in time to kick the claymore from his grip, he might find means to disable him before Morgana could…

“I understand that your stay in London Tower was a memorable one, Duncan. My spies tell me your recollections of the place are so vivid that even little reminders bring back a sense of…coming home, so to speak?”

Duncan snapped his gaze to her, reading the twisted satisfaction she was feeling as she spun her web of hate and vengeance around him. At the mention of the Tower, the sickness in his belly intensified, billowing into an ache. He tightened his jaw, refusing to answer.
Christ. She was enjoying this the way his torturers had relished each new victim brought to their keeping.

“Aye, Duncan. I see that you remember. And that—” She flicked her gaze to his scarred hand, which was exposed he realized suddenly to her view, his gauntlets having been removed while he was unconscious. “That must be a delightful memory in and of itself.”

He felt rooted to the spot as she turned her attention from him to walk with measured steps toward Aileana. After staring down at her sister for a moment, she fixed her gaze on him again. “Since you will not ask, I will simply tell you. Your choice is this. You will submit to
imprisonment in my dungeon, or Aileana will die right now in front of your eyes. Painfully.”

Her ultimatum ripped through him, shredding his protective cloak of silence. “You’re a murderous bitch, Morgana.”

“I am only what you and your kind have made me,” she answered smoothly. “But come, come. The decision is yours, and we haven’t much time to waste. Prove your love for Aileana by sacrificing yourself to my mercy, or condemn her to death.”

“Damn you,” Duncan rasped, his throat aching and tight. He clenched his fists, wanting to destroy this evil creature who dared to play with their lives. Who dared to taunt him with the hell she’d condemned him to for thirteen horrifying years.

Before he could react, the hissing arc of Colin’s claymore swung through the air, its point veering to within a hairsbreadth of Aileana’s neck. “Don’t try to do anything stupid, brother. Not unless you want me to sever the lass’s head from her pretty neck.”

Impotent rage coursed down Duncan’s arms, making them tingle. Every fiber of his body strained to shield Aileana, to protect her from the filth and danger she faced in this viper’s den. He took a moment to steady his breathing, resisting the weight of fear for her that bore down on him. Finally, he looked at Morgana. “You cannot think me fool enough to take you at your word. Even if I agreed to go into your cursed dungeon, what assurance would I have that you’d not kill Aileana anyway, once I was safely imprisoned?”

“None,” she said, “other than my oath that I’ll let her live.” She arched one brow, her smile wicked. “Then again, if you do not submit to me, you can rest assured
that she will die. And I will arrange for you to watch, chained to the wall like an animal and knowing all the while that you could have stopped it if only you’d chosen differently.”

A war raged within Duncan, a struggle with no outcome. His own safety didn’t concern him, but allowing himself to be imprisoned would leave Aileana exposed to Morgana’s treachery. And yet, if he could occupy Morgana’s perverse imagination with torturing him, she might leave Aileana alone. She might live long enough to escape or to await rescue when Kinnon and the others launched their attack at nightfall.

Temporary surrender seemed to be his only option.

Duncan’s muscles relaxed as he accepted his fate. He tried to resist thoughts of what was to come, of the horrors he would know again once Morgana interred him in the bowels of her ruined keep.

Once she began to play with him as a cat does a mouse.

He knew that his first breath of fetid air would send him spinning back into hellish memories of the Tower, and it would take all of his strength to stave off the madness that was sure to follow. He shifted his gaze to Aileana, soaking in her beauty, the purity that shone from her, even though she slept with almost unnatural stillness. If he held on to that, if he kept this and the thousand other cherished memories of their time together in his thoughts, he might survive. He had to survive, to save Aileana.

Slowly, Duncan looked up. He nodded. “I’ll go where you bid me, Morgana, if you give me your vow that Aileana will not be harmed.”

“She’ll live. You have my oath.” Morgana moistened her lips, her pink tongue darting out, and her eyes
sparkling. “And I’m pleased with your decision. It will be far more entertaining this way.” She nodded to Colin and soon Duncan felt the sting of rope as his brother yanked his wrists behind him to bind him. “A necessary precaution,” Morgana added when she read the question in his eyes. “Though you’ve agreed to go, I’d hate to have instinct take over once you reach your destination.”

“Nay, we wouldn’t want that,” Duncan answered in a voice thick with sarcasm. “Your lover might end up dead if it does.”

Colin jerked up hard on his bonds, making Duncan grit his teeth. Without further remark, Colin dragged him toward the door, slamming him into the stone wall that flanked the entry before pulling him around to face Morgana one last time.

She stood poised in the mellow light, looking wistful, and he couldn’t help but acknowledge that, though she was of an age with him, she wore her years well. She was still beautiful. But her proximity to Aileana only called attention to the qualities she lacked, traits that bloomed from a deeper source than physical beauty. They were attributes she’d never know, of a soul unsullied, sprung from the kindness and love that colored Aileana’s spirit.

As if she’d seen the slant of his thoughts, Morgana flinched, and a tiny scowl marked the smooth line of her brow.

“Memories are powerful things, Duncan.” She stood quiet, her presence almost otherworldly. “Those we wish most to forget are very often the ones that will not cease.” She leveled her gaze at him, and he saw that her eyes held no light. A shock went through him. They looked like the eyes of a corpse. Lifeless and evil.

Her soft voice billowed across the chamber, winding around him, suffocating him with tendrils of hate. “You’ll be learning that lesson as thoroughly as I have before I’m finished with you.”