Ruthless (34 page)

"Whore! You'll wish you were Esa. I'll enjoy
swiving you until you are dead."

Esa's arms and hands weakened until they fell
limply beside her. He shifted his body and rose up on his knees.
Unthinking, he exposed his nether parts.

Seeing her chance, Muriel steadied herself,
drew back her right leg and kicked out as hard as she could...her
foot struck his balls with a goodly force. She felt their hard
roundness smash upward.

Feradoch gave an eerie, high-pitched howl. He
bent in half and released Esa to clutch his sex, gasping and
puking. Blue eyes wide with shock, his gaze clashed with hers.

They silently promised her death would be
long and slow.

Muriele shook her head at him, denying him.
She caught sight of the large earthenware pitcher on the washstand.
Jumping to the middle of the bed, she reached for it and scrambled
back.

Feradoch released one hand from cupping his
sex and lunged at her. He grabbed for her foot as she jumped off
the bed. She was too agile for him. She circled him, fast. Still
gasping for breath and puking, he couldn't keep up with her twists
and turns.

Holding the pitcher above her head, she used
all her body to crash it down on the back of his skull.

"Ye slimy bastard from Satan's privy! Go back
to Hell!"

He stilled as if frozen. Blood seeped from
his scalp and turned his sun-gold locks a dull red. He didn't
speak, didn't look to be breathing. He crumpled beside Esa.

Muriele hoped she'd killed him.

She stared at the man she had once thought as
caring and loving. Never would she have believed him to be so evil.
She should have known. 'Twas said Lucifer had been the most
beautiful of God's angels.

Crying, she held Esa's head cradled on her
lap, her tears falling on the lovely, dark-skinned face.

Something alerted her. The door opened with a
light rasp.

God help her! The guard had returned. He
would run her though with his sword. She wrapped her arms around
Esa's head to protect her from further damage.

"Love, dinna fear. Only I noted the guard run
out the back of the keep like the devil was after him. Once he
left, I seized my chance to come up."

"Oh, Grunda. He killed Esa because she tried
to help me." Muriele clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the
wail threatening to rip her throat apart.

"Come. Let me see. She may not be dead."

Muriele carefully slid from beneath Esa and
tenderly laid her head on the floor before she scrambled to her
knees.

Kneeling, Grunda put her ear to Esa's chest
and listened. "She yet lives. Come. Hold her head up for me."

While Grunda took a small vial from her
pocket, Muriele carefully lifted Esa's head and shoulders.

"What is it?" she asked, eyeing the vial.

"If he mistreated ye, I thought to use it on
ye." Grunda shook her head. "She will sleep so soundly as to appear
dead until I give her another potion to arouse her."

"It willna harm her?" Muriele wrung her
hands.

"Nae." Grunda looked around at the bloody
belt, the overturned furniture, the clothing strewn on the floor
and the linens trailing off the bed. "Olaf will want to keep this
quiet for 'tis obvious Feradoch intended to murder ye both. He will
simply discard her in the woods and pretend she met her fate there.
I will watch for her."

She took the hem of her cloak and blotted
away the potion drooling from the sides of Esa's mouth.

"What will I do? They will hang me."

"Ye must get far from here. Yer blade did
little damage. 'It will be days afore we know if his head is badly
injured."

Grunda grinned and looked questioningly at
Muriele when she saw Feradoch had frozen with one hand clutching
his balls.

"It'll be some while afore he uses his tarse
to again bedevil another girl." She grinned at Muriele. "Ye look to
have had a good aim."

"It seemed the fastest way to stop him."

"And the most fitting." Her face took on a
worried frown. "Let me see yer back."

"Tis not too bad. Baldor did much worse."

She turned and kept from flinching when
Grunda's fingers touched her swollen skin.

The spaewife grabbed a small jar of cream
they'd made for keeping Muriele's face smooth and healthy. She
spread a generous portion on her back.

"We must hurry now. Ye'll need to wear yer
hunting clothes. They will last the longest."

Muriele flung open her chest and pulled out
the sturdy clothes. Grunda helped her ease on the oversized shirt
then settled it gently against her back. She helped her finish
dressing then tossed a pillowcase at her. Muriele shoved two extra
garments in it.

"Dinna forget yer warm cloak." Grunda grabbed
it off the wooden peg and eased it around her shoulders.

The old seer searched through Feradoch's
clothing. Finding a small bag of coins tied to his belt, she shoved
it inside the heavy cloak's pocket.

"Tell Esa it was my fault when she comes to."
Muriele took one last look at her friend, reluctant to leave
her.

"Come!"

They slipped out of the room and quietly
closed the door.

"Luck is with us. The Alewife's brother
stands guard at the postern gate this night," Grunda whispered.
They stood in the shadows beneath a tree as she eyed the wall walk
above the gate. "While ye were getting Bolt, I told him to take his
time relieving himself behind the stables. He didna ask questions.
And he will never speak of it."

She shoved a bundle filled with provisions
into Bolt's old saddlebag and tied a rolled up blanket, plaid and
Muriele's clothes behind the saddle.

"Ye are well-armed." She was so quiet she was
near silent. She'd brought Muriele's weapons from her hut.

Muriele nodded and patted the full quiver of
arrows slung across her back and the bow hanging from her shoulder.
She quickly flipped up her skirts to assure the old woman she was
again carrying a sheathed knife attached to each thigh.

Grunda kissed her cheek then opened the
postern gate as Muriele mounted.

"Go quietly, love. Once ye make the woods,
ride like that Devil in the room is after ye."

Muriele nodded. Hate bubbled in her heart for
all Magnus and Feradoch had destroyed in her life. She vowed never
again to believe another Highlander. She would make her way south
to the border country. Her spine stiffened as she eased Bolt
through the opening. She glanced back with a quick wave at Grunda
who silently closed the gate.

Muriele kept the horse to the shadows of the
castle wall until she came to a dark area nearest the woods. She
patiently waited until a cloud covered the moon then silently
walked the horse in the shadows until they disappeared in the line
of trees.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the silence
from the wall walk.

No one had seen her.

Though it was a cold day, Magnus was clothed
in naught but the kilt bunched at his waist and boots. Even so, one
thought caused sweat to slide down his backbone. He refused to give
words to it in his mind.

On the landing outside the Chief's solar,
Magnus listened to the clatter of Sweyn and Sir Hakon's boots as
they jogged through the great hall and up the staircase.

Was an army attacking Kinbrace and gained
access? Had Chief Olaf met with an accident or been killed? Why did
they not send Feradoch instead? Sweyn and Olaf's commander cleared
the last step.

"Hakon."

The commander nodded solemnly as they grasped
each other's arms in greeting.

Chief Angus and Graemme stood awaiting them
in the solar. Servants had brought pitchers of wine, cheeses and
bannocks from the servants' stairwell to refresh the travelers.

Hakon was dressed in the old ways, much as
Magnus as a lad had first laid eyes on him. Animal pelts covered
his torso. A massive leather belt anchored a heavy wool plaid
gathered at his waist, and brown leather boots covered staunch,
muscled legs up to his knees. He had also armed himself to the
teeth. A short sword and a dagger hung from his belt, two protruded
from his boot tops and a Claymore rode across his back.

His heavy brows lifted asking permission as
his hand gripped the hilt of the Claymore.

"Of course. Ye have no need of it here,"
Chief Angus said.

Sweyn brought over a small table and placed
it beside the commander. Hakon propped the long sword against it,
then removed his other weapons and laid them on the table's top
with a sigh. They were not his only means of defense. If the man
stripped himself bare, no doubt they would find other weapons
hidden on his person.

Magnus couldn't stand the tension any longer.
Better to know what it was than speculate on every gruesome detail
crossing his mind.

"What tragedy has befallen Kinbrace?" Magnus
pulled a chair close so he could watch the man's face.

Olaf's commander retrieved a rolled missive
from beneath his animal pelts and somberly handed it to him.

When Magnus' fingers folded around the
parchment, he felt a crushing foreboding. He stared at it and took
a deep breath. Still he didn't open it. He grasped a full goblet of
wine and drained it then slammed it back on the table.

He stiffened and wiped all expression from
his face as he untied the roll then broke Olaf's seal. He leaned
forward and spread the missive on the table.

He read aloud. The first sentence made his
heart sink. The next required him to dredge up all of his years of
hard-earned battle skills to show no emotion. His voice faltered
but a heartbeat.

"Magnus of Clibrick, I call on ye to
honor yer blood oath with my son, Feradoch of Kinbrace.

Feradoch and Lady Muriele of Blackbriar
were handfast in a ceremony on September 10. The same night, she
stabbed Feradoch in the back and felled him with a heavy pitcher
against his head. By the time ye read this, he will likely be dead.
His leman, Esa, was also murdered. She was lying beside him. I ken
Muriele killed them in a jealous rage then disappeared.

'Tis time to call on ye to honor yer
oath. Find her and bring her to Kinbrace.

'Tis fitting she be hung and her body
left for the vultures.

Magnus couldn't move. He stared at the
writing, thinking he couldn't have read it correctly.

"Where did this killing take place?"

"In your former bedchamber. Feradoch took it
as his at the handfast."

"Muriele would not have wanted anyone there
when they sealed the handfast. Why was Esa in the room?"

"Shortly after they retired, Feradoch ordered
a guard to fetch Esa." Hakon frowned. "When we questioned him, he
stammered and wouldna say anything other than Esa resisted
entering."

"Did he hear anything while he stood
guard?"

"He said his master was in a fury and ordered
him to leave." Hakon shifted in his seat. He wouldn't meet Magnus'
eyes.

Magnus blurted out, "Muriele was a warrior
woman who could defend herself, but never would she kill without
reason. And Esa? She treated her as a sister!"

"I dinna ken it." Graemme blurted out.

Magnus took hope at an idea. "If Muriele is
missing, 'tis possible someone entered the room and committed the
murders then kidnapped her. Not even Muriele could get the better
of Feradoch." He frowned and thought some more. "How was Esa
killed?"

"Throttled."

"Throttled?" Chief Angus looked puzzled. "Was
this Esa a small woman? I canna believe a woman strong enough to
choke another."

Magnus picked up his argument. "They both are
tall. And Esa was every bit as muscled as Muriele. How could
Muriele have overpowered her and held her down long enough to kill
her?"

"Aye," Hakon said. "I voiced the same
questions. Feradoch came to long enough to say Muriele had done it
all."

"Came to?"

"The old spaewife tended him. Stitched the
wound in his back and the flesh on his head. Then she, too,
disappeared."

Chief Angus scowled. "This spaewife? Did she
examine the lady also?"

"She had no chance. Chief Olaf had Esa's body
tossed in the midst of the forest. He claimed she belonged to some
witch cult for she had a strange brand above her, uh, nether
parts." He blushed and cleared his throat. "I didna see it."

"'Twas
his
doing!" Incensed, Chief
Angus surged up from his chair. "By all that is Godlike! Do the
Gunn's not believe in burying the dead?"

"Nay, Chief, only ones they consider
deserving
," Sweyn said. He made a wry face. "They dinna
bury many. They made much fun of Magnus and me for putting them all
beneath the ground."

Hakon looked at Magnus then down at his feet.
'Twas apparent to Magnus he disliked his duty.

"Chief Olaf ordered I rest but one night and
return with word ye have already set out to capture the lady
Muriele."

Magnus frowned. "She can't have traveled far
afoot."

"Och! She isna afoot. She took old Bolt from
the stable, since he is also missing."

Magnus' brow rose at this. Why would she take
the old gelding instead of a warhorse in his prime? "Sweyn will see
to your comfort for the night."

Graemme slapped both hands on the table as
he, too, bolted up from his chair. He looked at his father, his
face determined. "I go with Hakon back to Kinbrace. Something
doesna feel right. Lady Muriel is a woman of breeding, not some
common slut who would kill over a man having had a leman. Afore my
brother hunts her down to hang, he must have proof she murdered
without reason."

"Aye." Chief Angus sighed and nodded. "I
would not have an innocent woman's death heavy on my son's
heart."

"Father, ye canna stop this. I have been
honor bound since the day ye and Olaf had us swear a blood oath
together. If the happenings prove true, I must fulfill it no matter
the cost."