Tyler, Lynn - For Her Honor [For Her] (Siren Publishing Classic) (29 page)

He held the dagger in his palm and noted the trembling of his hands. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he had never been so out of control of his body, something he had hated all his life. But it didn’t matter now. All that mattered now was Jocelyn.

Robbie whirled around from the sight and began praying as he had never prayed before. His sweet, fierce wife. He would rip the head off anyone who harmed her. Good glory, when he found her, he would never let her out of his sight again. He would tie her to his side if he had to.

Colin’s voice broke through his pain. “Dear God,” he whispered.

He hurried to Colin’s side and looked down at what Colin was staring at. His wife’s tartan had been removed and discarded carelessly. He dropped to his knees and picked up the tartan, cradling it to his chest. The scent of her hair still clung to it, and he dropped his face to bury it in the plaid. A fury like he had never known tore through him. He vowed he would not only rip the head off the man who had done this, he would dance on his entrails before this was over.

He rose and knotted the strip of plaid around his waist. His men stood still, swords drawn, while they awaited orders. “We give chase,” he said. “And we kill.”

He reeled around and strode back to the keep, hollering for the stable lads to mount the horses.

The news of their lady’s situation sped through the keep, and maids bustled around, readying oatcakes and dried strips of meat for the journey. Men of all ages, and even some women, stood to volunteer to fight for their lady.

Robbie knew Jocelyn would be touched at this outpouring of support, but all he could think about was finding his wife and telling her how much he loved her. Well, that and how he was going to murder that bastard Henry Campbell.

He grabbed a pot of paint his warriors kept by the great hearth and painted his face blue. Working quickly, he weaved a braid at each temple and strapped his wife’s dagger to his hip. He would make sure she got it back as soon as he saw her. Hell, he would even strap it to her thigh himself.

Once ready, he chose ten of his best warriors, including Colin and Jamie, and then he did the unthinkable. “Garret,” he barked. The lad came over, looking slightly angry he hadn’t been chosen to ride with the men. “You are the oldest left with any blood tie to the position of laird. You are to be in charge until I, Jamie, or Will come back. Understand, you?”

The younger man nodded and offered Robbie his arm. “Godspeed,” he said. Robbie nodded and shook the lad’s arm. Without a backward glance, he led the men out the door.

He had a wife to fetch.

Chapter
18

Jocelyn grimaced as her womb cramped painfully. She fought to keep her last meal in her stomach as the saddle pounded into her stomach. She lost the battle and emptied her belly over the side of the horse.

“I am sorry, my lady,” the warrior said again in a low voice. He had been saying the same thing since she’d been tossed on to his horse, just kept muttering apologies under his breath.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

“He is my laird,” he answered simply. “I have sworn a blood oath to follow him and to do as he says.”

Jocelyn heaved again, but there was nothing left in her stomach. She pushed against the horse’s heaving side so she could look the warrior in the face. It was an awkward position but she wanted to look the man in the eye when she spoke. “Does your oath include killing an innocent woman and her unborn child?”

The warrior paled but held her firmly in place. “He is my laird,” he repeated. “You are a Highlander. You know that if you go against your laird, the clan will cast you out.”

Her belly cramped again, and she felt something thick and warm flow down her thighs. It had begun. “You would have a place in my clan,” she whispered urgently.

The man shook his head and stared straight ahead, refusing to meet her gaze. She dropped her head down to rest on her folded arms, trying desperately to think of something other than the pain ripping through her abdomen.

Her troubled gaze fell to the dirk that was sheathed at the top of his woolen sock. If only she could grab it without him noticing. She moved her hand slowly toward the knife and unsheathed it as stealthily as possible.

The warrior’s breath caught in his throat, and she looked up to find him staring at her. He smiled slightly. “I was hoping you would find that. Will that give you a fighting chance?” he whispered.

Jocelyn nodded imperceptibly, and the warrior slowed, allowing her to ease off his horse. He shouted something, and she whirled around, stabbing blindly at the giant shape moving toward her. At the last minute she realized the shape was that of Henry’s horse, and she caught it in the flanks, her dirk slicing in deeply.

The horse reared dangerously, and the dirk slid through his flesh leaving a wide gash. She held on as the horse screamed and reared again, flinging its load to the ground.

Blood pooled around her wrist as she tried to free the dirk. The hilt was slippery, but she managed to wrench the knife free of the horse’s side just as the animal screamed one final time and lunged into the woods, crashing away through the trees.

Jocelyn stood in an exaggerated attack pose, ready for whatever might come her way. Her knees bent, the dirk held aloft by an arm that didn’t waver, she made what she hoped a fearsome sight.

Blood ran down her arm in rivers, dripping off the end of her elbow. She knew the blood painted her front and splattered her face. Her hair had come free of its short braid and was hanging in waves around her face. She heard the men begin to whisper.

“Witch!”

“Demon!”

The names kept flying, and she ignored them until one brave man whispered, “Valkyrie!” She smiled at the reference to the ancient Norse beings that were charged with escorting warriors into Valhalla. Whatever they thought, it was clear that none of them wanted to go up against her. Hope started to shimmer within Jocelyn. Perhaps she could walk away. Perhaps she could find Robbie and wrap herself up in him and never come out again.

“No!” Henry screeched indignantly. “She is not a witch or a demon or whatever else you are saying. She is but a woman. One small, insignificant woman.”

She laughed with a humor she did not feel and waved the dirk threateningly. “Are you so sure about that, Campbell?” she taunted. “How do you know I cannot curse you or drag your soul to the Devil himself? You will feel the flames of Hell when I am through!”

Just as she began to see the flicker of doubt light his eyes, her abdomen contracted and sent a wave of pain through her. She doubled over, the dirk clattering to her feet, and clutched at her stomach. Warm, wet fluid dripped down her thighs, and she heaved once more.

“See!” Henry screamed joyously. “She is merely a woman. Take her!”

The warrior she had been riding with lifted her gently into his arms. “My laird,” he said softly. “She is miscarrying her babe. She needs a midwife quickly.”

“As I said before!” he bellowed, his face dark with rage, “it is merely another MacGillivray, one whom I do not have to slaughter later.”

“Aye, my laird. I fear it is too late to save the child. But if she dies, Robbie MacGillivray will bring the whole weight of his clan down on our heads. The MacKenna clan will also have reason to begin a blood feud.”

The laird rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps you are right, Ian. The midwife will see to her after we get back to the keep. I want Robbie MacGillivray to know she suffered and she must be alive for what I have planned for her.”

Elizabeth frowned and touched his arm. “She may not live that long, my laird,” she said gently.

He shook her off him and ordered one of his men off his horse. Helping Elizabeth to mount before him, he commanded the man to walk the rest of the way. “If she does not, we will all have the satisfaction of seeing the MacGillivray weep as we hand him her body. From what you have said, he is very much in love with her and will truly be distraught at her death. If only he had as much respect for my sister…or what is rightfully mine.”

She was eased much more gently on to the same horse she had just jumped from. The large warrior held her securely to his front, his grip almost tender. Jocelyn stared at the ground, noting numbly that the stallion’s blood was growing cold and thick on the ground. Only a couple of hours had passed, and she wondered if Robbie was out looking for her.

She relaxed reluctantly into the body of the warrior behind her. It brought her strangely back to the time when she had first met her husband. She closed her eyes and brought a memory of him to the forefront of her mind. She tried to recreate the strong feel of his arms around her, the warmth of his body against hers, and the smell of him on her skin.

She missed him terribly, and she had to swallow hard to get rid of the lump growing in her throat.

She meant what she said. She would see Henry in Hell before she was done with him.

* * * *

Robbie gave his stallion his head and tore off through the woods as if Satan himself was nipping at his heels. Behind him, his men struggled to keep up. It wasn’t until Colin drew to his side and yanked on his reins that Robbie took his focus off the land before him. Drawing his sword, Robbie prepared to run the man who was keeping him from his wife through.

“Robbie, think!” Colin shouted desperately. “It is dangerous to ride this quickly in a forest. The horses could come up lame or throw one of us. You cannot save Jocelyn if you are trapped under your horse.”

Though he growled, Robbie slowed his horse to a trot and allowed the others to catch up with him. They followed the tracks left by the kidnappers as they wound south toward the Campbell boundary. “If that bastard has hurt Jocelyn, I will rip out his heart and feed it to him,” he vowed.

“And we will hold him still for you,” Jamie agreed. The rode on in silence until one of the men called for Robbie’s attention.

On the ground was a trail of blood, thick and cold. Robbie slipped from his horse and held onto the saddle to maintain his balance. The whole world seemed to spin around him, and his brother’s voice was faint. “Robbie? Hold yourself together, man.”

Every muscle in his body cramped, his stomach soured, and his vision faded behind a haze of black. Dear God, what had they done to his Jocelyn?

Rage, deep soul-stealing rage, tore through him. His vision cleared, and he was left with a newly sharpened focus. Get his wife and kill the bastard who had taken her. Shouting his fury and pain to the heavens, Robbie unsheathed his sword and impaled it into the nearest tree.

The men hung back, clearly unsure about what they should do.

Wrenching his sword free of the tree, and wishing it were Henry Campbell’s chest, he remounted his warhorse and started after the kidnappers again. He rode with an icy calm, a new purpose settling over him. He would succeed in this, or God help him, he would spend the rest of his life in Hell.

They passed the border and traveled on hostile Campbell land for the first time since Eileen had died. The trail of blood ended, and Robbie could only hope Jocelyn was still alive.

Darkness fell around them, and Robbie called the men to a halt. It was far too perilous to travel at night at such a brisk pace. Besides, following a trail in the darkness was nearly impossible. While the evidence that Jocelyn had been taken by Henry Campbell was damning, he couldn’t afford to waste time travelling to the Campbell keep if that wasn’t where Henry had taken his wife.

He paced as his men gathered wood to make a fire. Colin and Jamie stood together a little ways apart from the rest of the group, talking quietly. They were so absorbed in their conversation, they allowed him to approach unheeded.

“I think we need to prepare him for the worst,” Jamie said.

“Nay, Jamie. It will kill him,” Colin answered, his face pale under the moonlight.

“But, Colin! The blood…” Jamie trailed off.

“May not be hers,” Colin finished vehemently. “We cannot afford to have him go berserker right now, and well you know it. And he already has the devil in his eye.”

Robbie cleared his throat and almost smiled as the two men jumped and flushed guiltily. “You are right, Jamie. No one could survive losing that much blood. However, I also know in my heart that she is still alive. I feel it, and I will move Heaven and Hell to get her back.”

“We will help you,” Colin vowed.

The three men made their way over to the fire. Robbie shook his head at his men when they offered him some roast hare. While it smelled delicious, his stomach rebelled at the thought of eating when God only knew what the Campbell was doing to his wife.

After offering to take the first watch, he settled a fair distance away from his men.

Robbie looked up in surprise when Colin joined him. The man looked awkward and nervous. His face was pale, and he was sweating despite the cool night. He shifted anxiously and cleared his throat.

He knew this behavior well. Colin only acted this way when he had something weighing on his mind. “What is the problem, Colin?” Robbie asked, his heart leaping into his throat. If Colin told Robbie he had anything to do with Jocelyn’s disappearance, he would kill him.