Dark Side of the Laird (Highland Bound) (17 page)

Still, I tried to drag it out. Tried to make it last forever.

“Dinna make me wait, lass. Give me
everything
.”

As always, my body was his to command.
An orgasm ripped through me, likely the strongest I’d ever felt. I jolted, a deep shudder taking over, thighs clenching tight to his hips as I ground my pelvis against his. I clutched at one of my breasts, imagining it was Logan’s grip on my flesh, and kept my other hand tightly squeezed with his. Wave after luscious wave lapped at my senses. Every nerve-ending sang with pleasure, and I cried out, unable to keep my pleasure hidden. Riding out my carnal bliss, I tried to keep some shred of control in order not to hurt Logan, but he bucked with frenzy upward, his cock spearing me deep as he trembled violently and called out his own cry of release.

I smiled, opening
my eyes to look down on him, but all I saw was the dewy grass of dawn beneath my knees and the sacred stones surrounding me.

“No!” I cried out, leaping to my feet, turning in frantic, dreary circles. “Logan!”

But the only answering call was that of a bird cawing from a nearby tree.

“No!” I collapsed to my knees again,
allowing myself a moment to grieve the loss of Logan.

I cried into my hands and prayed hard that whatever forces had helped us to be together, helped him to stay alive, too.

Dragging myself to my feet, I found my discarded garments and slowly pulled them on. Mourning the emptiness of my life without Logan readily in it.

What we’d shared was magical, spiritual, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for its happening
. But I didn’t want it to end.

And I feared going back to Gealach.

I stared through the circle toward the pathway I’d need to take to get there. What horrors would await me upon my return?

Chapter Eighteen

Logan

A
gasp tore into my mouth with painful clarity. Parched, cracked lips. Swollen tongue. Raw, sore throat. I was severely dehydrated.

And completely fucking aware.

A flash of memory. Isabella shoving me to the ground, her vicious smile as she loomed over me, tore at my clothes. Me trying to push her away, but limbs so heavy, I barely got them off the floor. Her frowning at my cock and murmuring about how it wouldn’t work. Numbness, tugging. She cursed, then she wrenched the dagger from the loop on her belt, the blade catching the light of the candle. I thought she was going to stab me. Tried to tell her not to, but no words came. The blade came down, ending on her finger, drawing blood. She smeared it on me, then stood, and hissed that she’d seem me hang. Then she faded away.

I clenched my fists, barely able to make my fingertips touch my palms.
Thank God, I’d not fucked her. It was all a ruse. One she and the king had fashioned. How deep was their bond? I shivered. But not from relief or fear. My body was on fire. Fever most likely, in addition to being nude in the dank, bowels of a dungeon in the middle of winter.

But there was hope! I’d not betrayed Emma!

Puffs of steam rose from my mouth, showing just how frigid it was. The only time I’d felt warmth was when I’d envisioned Emma, an exquisite life-giving dream. Though, she wasn’t here, I could still feel the warmth of her breath on my face, the light touch of her fingers on my shoulder, the heated silk of her body as she pleasured me.

Was it real?

It felt so real… and in my vision, Emma had thought it real. Even I’d convinced her that we were together in spirit. Or was it just a fantasy? The mad imaginings of a man in chains? A man with no hope of escape? Was I retreating into the recesses of my mind in order to maintain some semblance of humanity and hope?

Hope had been restored with the discovery that Isabella had not been able to fornicate with me. Oh, what vile trickery that was! She’d known I’d not remember. Knew that it would tear at my insides and had hoped that I would give in. Well, I wouldn’t! Strength penetrated the dullness of my body, the power that had been stripped from me. But I knew that without help, healing, food, warmth, I’d not last many more days.

I prayed I could survive however long it would take for Emma to open the door in the secret chamber and bring the evidence of my birth to the castle. Prayed that offering up such a treasure in exchange for my life was worth it in James’ eyes. Aye, James had been the one to give it to me. A test. A way to keep me close. But I’d discovered what was in there. Evidence of my birth could be the only thing.

If he wanted it opened upon his death, it could only mean that it was so I could succeed him. And now that he
’d had a child born to him, I was of no use, for his line would continue even if it was daughter, and he’d not want to see it taken away from him and his blood by me—the rightful king.

A frustrated growl passed through my lips and I tightened my muscles, wrenching hard at the bindings, wishing I’d the power of the supernatural and could break free with a mere tug. But the tight straps held firm and I only succeeded in further injuring myself.

The door to the dungeon creaked open and the shuffling of feet moved slowly from where it stood ajar and out of my vision. Slow-moving, as though the person were sneaking in. There was no way it could be Emma, my jailor or James.

I wanted to shout, to ask who was there, but doing so would show my fear, my need to know. Instead, I looked up at the ceiling, and listened.

These steps were different than the rest. Slower, less agile.

“My laird,” came the cooing of an older woman. Her voice was scratchy, unearthly.

Gooseflesh rose upon my limbs and I gritted my teeth. The devil’s demons were upon me. He’d sent a witch to torment me and drag me down to hell.

“My laird, dinna fear me,” she crooned.

I kept my teeth clenched so tight the muscle in my jaw started to spasm.

She drew nearer and I waited for the scythe to raise and gut me, but it didn’t come. Instead she set something down and loomed her old, wrinkled face over mine.

“Ye’re still alive, then.”

“Aye,” I ground out. “Have done with it and end me.”

She chuckled and clucked her tongue. “Och, such a brave laird ye are, but stupid nonetheless.”

“What?” I asked, staring into her dark, droopy eyes.

“I’ve not come to kill ye, my laird, but to save ye.”

“Save me?” I was sincerely skeptical. How was an old crone g
oing to save me? Unless she was, in fact, a witch as I’d suspected and she’d laid a sleeping spell on all who remained within the castle.

Before
I’d met Emma, I might have raised a brow at such a notion as magic, but as it was, my love had traveled back in time. It was entirely possible witches were a thing of truth.

“Before ye get your hopes up, lad, I canna take ye out now. But I can feed ye and tend your wounds. Ye must remain strong, else there is nothing I can do.”

“How do I know what ye feed me is nay poisoned?”

“Ye dinna. Ye must trust me. I know your secret.” She hissed the last word on a whispered breath, and what was left of the blood in my body seemed to drain to somewhere, or simply evaporate.

And even though she scared the shite out of me, I wanted to trust her. Had no other choice really, for I’d no way of knowing whether or not Emma was going to succeed. If my vision had been real, I believed she would try. But there was that doubt, that it had only been the ravings of a mind gone mad.

“Ye know nothing,” I insisted.

“Aye, my laird, but I do. For ye see, I was a maid to your mother. She oft told me of the two babes swirling in her belly. No one believed her, thought she was crazy, but she could feel each pair of feet. When the childbed called, she bade me hide in the wardrobe, for she was certain something afoul would happen when her two princes were born. She was right. She made me swear never to tell, but to make certain that one did not harm the other.”

I couldn’t respond. My jaw clamped tight. I’d known it was true, having heard so from my brother, my foster mother, but to hear it from a witness was…a blow to the gut. I swallowed and steadied my breath before answering.
“Did ye know where they took me?”

She shook her head. “Nay, lad. But when I heard whisperings of ye here, I knew I had to come to ye. We’ve not much time now. Will ye trust me?”

“I trust ye,” I said, knowing I had to do whatever it took to get out of here alive.

“Good. Now open your mouth and lift your head.”

I did as she instructed, and she poured a nasty tasty elixir into my mouth. My immediate reaction was to spit it out. The last time I’d taken a drink from a woman I barely knew I’d ended up nude and unconscious. Well, I was already nude, and barely conscious as it was. What could it hurt?

Noticing my hesitation, s
he tsk-tsked me until I swallowed.

“That’s it, my laird, drink up.”

“What is that?”

“It will make ye strong. Help ye to feel no pain, for they are certain to beat ye once more.”

“Why? How do ye know this?”

“The queen
has birthed a daughter. They will want to silence ye and all ye know forever.”

“More,” I croaked. I drank down the cup of brew and then sipped at spoon after spoon of broth. My stomach threatened to recoil, to spew it all out
, it had been so long since I’d eaten, but mind over matter won, and I kept it down, feeling energy renew itself in my veins.

“I’m going to put some salve on these wounds. I can do no more than that now. If I stitch ye, they’ll only rip them out. The vicious hounds.”

I nodded.

“Close your eyes and rest while I work. Ye’re likely to be wakened soon.”

I nodded again, closed my eyes, and took mental note of every part of my body, every pang. Within in moments, the pain ebbed, though my mind remained sound.

“Concentrate on healing yourself. The mind can do powerful things,” she whispered as she rubbed a smelly, greasy concoction into the wounds at my wrists.

The woman worked from head to toe, rubbing one smelly ointment after another as she whispered things I didn’t entirely understand. I felt myself growing stronger. Concentrated on binding the lashes in my skin back together. Healing the bruises and mending the broken ribs.

I felt better, stronger. Not whole at all, but at least I didn’t feel as though death might claim me at any moment.

All the sudden, the women’s hands stilled and she took in an audible breath. “They come. I must go, but I will return. I will help ye, give ye back your birthright.”

“Nay! Dinna say that,” I growled. By the time I opened my eyes, she was gone.

But the boot heels clicking on the floor were unmistakable. Sounded like the king’s man, the one who strapped me down and implemented my brother’s cruel wishes.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, not willing to show weakness by feigning sleep, and not willing to show this arsehole a lick of respect.

His welcome was a brutal lash of a whip across my belly. I couldn’t even double over in pain, the straps that bound me kept me still. And thank the saints, the potion the old woman had given me dulled the pain of the lash.

“Where’s the key?” he asked, rushing forwa
rd, over excited it would seem as he hovered above me, smiling and drooling like a hound who taunted his prey.

I sneered with disgust. “What key?”

He wrenched back his arm, slapping the whip down onto my thighs, only inches from my cock. Again, he received no reaction from me.

“Next one’s going to hurt even more ye cock bastard, now where is it?”

“I have many keys.” I closed my eyes, pretty certain of the man’s reaction.

“I warned ye.” The leather strap came down hard on my cock and ballocks.

I gasped, choked. Not sure if it was because I felt it or because I knew what he’d just done.

He laughed.
“Told ye it would hurt. Now give me a better answer, or I’ll see your ballocks pummeled until they fall off. I’ll only ask ye once more. Where is the key to the secret door?”

“Gone,” I forced out, proud of how strong my voice sounded.

“Gone where?” He loomed over me, the leather whip coiled around his fist and poised over my nose.

“Stolen.”

“By who?”

“If I knew that, I’d have gotten it back.”

God, I hated the way he cocked his fist back, threatening, as if I’d never been punched before. I wouldn’t beg for him to stop. I was no coward. I’d let him beat me into the earth before I ever cowed.

“A clue, then?”

I smiled, excitement at being able to cause some manner of mischief making me feel a fleeting moment of control. “’Twas when MacDonald was at the castle. All of the Highlands knows he wants to rule, that he’s been seeking the answer to secrets I hold. I’d wager my life he stole it.”

“Would ye now?”

“Aye.”

“
Too bad I’m nay going to take your wager. The king’s already ordered ye to die, ye son of a bitch.”

I grinned. “And he was too much a coward to come give me the good news himself?”

I was momentarily stunned by a crack to my jaw, the bones in my face rattling and a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of my lip.

“He said I could kill ye anyway I want.”
My tormenter came down close, his breath fetid. “And I want to kill ye slowly.”

“Will ye jerk your cock while ye do it?” I
jeered.

That earned me another
mind-shuddering blow. My vision blurred, and I blinked away the black dots, willing myself not to lose consciousness.

“I just might.” He cackled. “And then I’ll spew it in your face.”

I fought the rush of nausea, and held my lips firmly in place, refusing to say another word, or show how he affected me.

“As it i
s, I’m a fan of twenty-two cuts,” he said. “Though, in your case I’m going to add in a few extra slices, like your cock and ballocks.” The metal of his blade touched my left eyebrow. “I’ll start here. Take both brows off, and then the blood will drain into your eyes. ’Twill sting, I imagine. And make it hard to see where the blade goes next. But I’ve no shame in telling ye. I’ll roll ye over and slice off the skin right here on both sides.” He dragged the knife hard, cutting into my skin, along the side of my back where my shoulder blades were. “After that, I’ll lop off your chest muscles, the skin on your forearms—”