Highland Wolf (20 page)

Resting his chin against his chest for a moment, James peeked over at the guards and nearly cursed aloud in surprise. They were gone. Since he was sure no one but him and Annora knew the secrets of Dunncraig, he knew they had not slipped away down one of the passages. Just as he was about to return to making MacKay confess all of his clever plans, the whip struck him across his belly and he gasped, surprise making it impossible to hide all signs of the pain he felt.

“Growing weary of listening to my triumphs?” sneered MacKay.

“Mayhap ye shouldnae be telling him so much,” said Egan.

“Why not? Who is he going to tell? He will be feeding the worms verra soon and dead men can tell no tales, eh?”

Egan grimaced. “I have always felt that the fewer who ken one’s secrets the better.”

“The fewer living, breathing people, Egan. This fool is a dead mon; he just hasnae had the sense to stop breathing.”

“Just where did Mary hide, then?” James asked as soon as he felt he could talk in a calm voice that revealed none of his pain.

“Here and there,” replied MacKay. “I made her move from place to place so that no one would discover her. But she wouldnae do as she was told. She kept coming round and then she began to demand I marry her. The stupid woman did not seem to understand that she could ne’er come back to Dunncraig. She had gotten it into her foolish head that once I held Dunncraig, she could be the lady of it again, be my wife. I tried to get her to leave the area for months and then she told me she carried my child. Weel, ye dinnae need to ken why I was sure it wasnae mine, but it wasnae. It was then verra obvious to me that she was taking lovers and running the risk of being recognized. If she was e’er caught I kenned full weel that she wouldnae protect me. That is when I killed her, nearly a year after ye had run away accused of her murder.”

“Where is she buried, MacKay?”

“Why do ye care where her bones are?”

“I am nay sure I care but Mary was Meggie’s mother and thus she deserves the respect of a proper burial. And I am surprised that ye didnae make sure she had a proper grave so that ye could visit her now and then.”

“Why should I wish to do that?”

“Because if she hadnae been such a foolish, blind woman, ye would ne’er have gotten your fat arse into my great hall.”

“Ye just dinnae have the sense to be quiet, do ye?” MacKay hit him with the whip across his right hip.

James ignored the sting and the feel of warm blood running down his thigh and kept his gaze fixed upon MacKay. “Where is she buried?”

“
Why
do ye care?” demanded MacKay again.

“Someday Meggie might ask and I would like to show her where her blood mother is buried.”

“Show Margaret? Are ye sure ye arenae mad? How can ye show the child anything when ye will be dead? I ought to bury ye right next to Mary and let her whine ye into hell. Ye are a dead mon, fool. Ye. Are. A. Dead. Mon.”

A fleeting glimpse of his brother Tormand told James that the loss of the guards was only the beginning. He wondered if it was Annora who had brought someone to get him out of the dungeons. Knowing that any moment the attack would begin, James looked at MacKay and smiled.

“Nay, actually, I believe ye are.”

The attack began so quickly, Annora nearly missed it. She had been sitting right where Tormand had put her, feeling stunned by all the confessions pouring out of Donnell. As the truth had rolled out of the man, pauses in his ramblings coming only when he felt James needed to be humiliated a little more, she had tried to find Simon in the shadows. The moment she saw him crouched against the opposite wall of the passage and closer to James than she was, he briefly turned his head and winked at her as if he had felt her looking for him. Relieved that the king’s man was hearing every foul word Donnell said, she returned to listening to her cousin dig his own grave.

Even though she had a fierce greed for the answers Donnell was so blithely giving her, Annora soon found it difficult to stay awake. Her body was demanding that she rest so that it could begin to heal. Annora snapped herself out of one of those half sleeps just in time to see Edmund carrying away the body of one of the guards. Wide-awake again, she looked toward where the guards had been sitting and realized that Edmund had been taking away the last one.

She watched as Simon, Tormand, and the other men began to inch closer to Donnell and Egan. Her cousin was so busy showing James how thoroughly he had fooled him that he did not notice six of his men had been killed and a group of armed men was slowly advancing on him. Yet again she had to wonder how Donnell had accomplished all he had thus far. She then heard an odd note in James’ voice and eased herself around the corner to get a better look at him.

It was difficult to bite back a cry of outrage. James was chained to the wall and almost naked. His fine, strong body was covered in welts from Donnell’s whip. From what she could see, James was not yet seriously injured. The pain of those whip slashes was undoubtedly great and hard to bear, but he would heal quickly if he was freed before Donnell could inflict any real harm.

Then suddenly Egan looked her way. Annora was certain she could not be seen, but some of the men creeping toward Donnell were no longer hidden in the shadows. Egan abruptly drew his sword and Tormand’s men rose up with a battle cry. The noise filled the passageway she was in and she lightly placed her hands over her ears in an attempt to dim it. As the yelling and the running continued, she kept her gaze fixed upon James, praying that nothing happened to him when his rescue was so close at hand.

James watched the shock on Donnell’s face as Tormand, Simon, and half a dozen armed men ran into the dungeon a heartbeat after Egan’s warning cry. The man was no doubt thinking of all he had confessed in his orgy of gloating. James tensed, wondering how he could defend himself, when Donnell drew his sword and glared at him. But then he simply shoved Egan toward the men and raced up the steps into the keep. A cursing Egan did not wait to see if he could defend himself or surrender; he chased his cowardly laird up the stairs.

“God’s tears, get me out of these chains,” James bellowed when it looked as if everyone was about to race up the stairs after Donnell and Egan and just leave him hanging there.

“Aye, aye,” said Tormand. “I am just trying to find the key to those chains.”

“Here,” said Edmund as he came out of the shadows of the passageway and handed the keys to Tormand. “That last guard had them on him. Are ye going to tend to him, then?”

“Aye, the rest of ye get up there and see if any of the others need help. We need those gates opened.” As the men ran off, Tormand hurried to James’ side and began to unlock his chains.

“Do ye have an army with ye?” James asked and then cursed when he was finally set firmly on his feet and found that hours of hanging in chains had left him a little unsteady.

“A small one,” replied Tormand as he supported James while his brother tried to regain his ability to move with some semblance of grace.

“Where did ye get one?”

“A few villagers who had some skill with a sword. About a half dozen of your old guard who ne’er lost their loyalty to ye. Oh, and a few MacLarens.”

“MacLarens? We are feuding with them. Donnell’s last raid cost that laird his son.”

“Simon convinced them that ye and most of the people of Dunncraig werenae responsible for that and if they truly wanted the one who was they had best become your closest, most loyal allies. To swear a form of fealty to ye in front of Simon is much akin to swearing it to the king himself. They want Donnell.”

“So do I. Did ye hear all he said?” Feeling steady on his feet, James searched for his clothes and then began to dress, eager to join in whatever battle was going on upstairs.

“Och, aye, and Simon was listening verra carefully. I think he would like Donnell to be captured and nay killed, for he wants the names of those in power who helped him condemn an innocent mon.”

As he buckled on his sword, James said, “I want him alive so that others can hear his confessions. Now, how did ye find the way in here? I hadn’t yet given ye the directions or a map when I had to flee Dunncraig, and no one else here kens where they are.”

“That is nay exactly true,” said Tormand. “Your lass does.”

“Annora? But she only came through the passage the one time.”

“It seems it is all it takes for her to recall every step.”

“Astonishing. So, where is she now? I think Egan beat her and I would like to be sure she is all right.”

“Weel, she is here.” Tormand shrugged when James glared at him. “She couldnae tell us how to get here or draw a map, for she recalls only how to get where she is going when she can see it.”

“That makes no sense.”

Hearing those words, Annora sighed and, putting her hand on the wall, attempted to stand up. “I have heard that said quite a bit tonight,” she said.

“Annora?”

James hurried over to her and then hesitated. Even in the shadowed corner she stood in she did not look well. Gently taking her by the arm, he led her into the brighter light of a torch-lit dungeon. He gaped when he finally got a good look at her and then a hard, cold rage began to fill him.

“Your poor wee face,” he said softly as he lightly touched one of her more livid bruises on her high cheeks. “Egan did this to ye, didnae he?”

“Aye. I wasnae giving him or Donnell the answers they wanted,” She touched his equally bruised cheek. “Ye arenae looking so verra much better yourself.”

“T’will heal.”

“As will mine.”

“Are ye sure ye are all right?”

She smiled and nodded. Annora could feel his eagerness to go and join in the battle to regain his home and she was not going to hold him back. She did her best to hide the fact that she could barely stand up, locking her knees in place when her legs wobbled from the pain and weakness she no longer had the strength to fight. She had to get James to go and fight before she fell down and he felt compelled to help her instead.

“Go, James,” she said. “Go and save Dunncraig.”

“If ye need help—” he began.

“Nay, I got this far without your help.” He did not need to know that she had had to get a lot of help to get this far. “I ken ye truly want, e’en need to be a part of this fight, so go and fight. But do try nay to kill Donnell as Simon thinks he will be more use alive, at least for a little while.”

“I will try, but can I kill Egan?”

There was such a boyish look on his face despite the grim request he was making that she had to smile. “Aye, I dinnae think anyone wants or needs him alive.”

He gave her a brief, gentle kiss on her bruised mouth and then bounded up the stairs. Annora looked at Tormand, who was studying her closely. She tried to stand up a little straighter, but his crooked smile told her she was failing.

“He needs to be in on the battle,” she said.

“Aye, he does. And ye need to be in bed,” he said.

“I can make my way there. James needs ye to watch his back, doesnae he?”

Tormand took her by the arm and started to help her up the stairs. “Edmund and Simon will see to that duty until I can join them.”

Annora needed to go up only one step to know that she badly needed his help. He had to give her more and more of his support and strength as they climbed the stairs. By the time he led them through the doorway at the top of the stairs, she was shaking from pain and weakness so badly he was nearly carrying her.

Once in the great hall they saw that a confrontation had begun among Simon, Donnell, James, and Egan. Tormand set Annora on a bench near the doors that led to the kitchens and moved to stand near James. Annora felt a movement at her side and looked to find Big Marta there, Meggie hiding behind her but peeking out from behind her skirts. Meggie looked horrified by Annora’s wounds, so she forced her mouth into a smile to reassure the child. A soft grunt from Big Marta told her that that woman did not believe her act in the slightest.

“Shall I help ye to your bed, lass?” asked Big Marta.

“In a wee bit,” Annora replied, knowing she was going to have to be carried but not wanting to admit to that much in front of Meggie. “I think I need to see this.”

Big Marta stared at her bruised face for a moment and then nodded. “Aye, I think ye do.”

“Ye brought MacLarens into Dunncraig!” yelled Donnell as if James was the one who was in the wrong.

They arenae my enemies,” said James. “’Tis ye they want to fight and I think they deserved the opportunity to avenge the death of their laird’s eldest son.” James looked at Egan and saw Annora’s battered face. “As for ye, I mean to cut off a piece of ye for every bruise ye inflicted upon Annora.”

“So I was right,” said Egan, facing James squarely as Donnell stepped back. “Ye have made her your whore.”

He knew it was wrong to allow his anger to interfere in a battle, but James heard himself growl in fury and he attacked Egan. It took him just a few swings of his sword to regain the calm that was needed to fight a mon with a sword. Once he did gain control of his emotions he began to coldly and precisely back Egan into a corner.

Egan’s style of fighting was rash and consisted mostly of trying to cut a man’s head off. James knew he had the skill to beat this man and he began to use it. Within minutes Egan was sweating and bleeding from a dozen small wounds, but he had managed to keep James from striking a death blow.

“Are ye going to surrender?” James asked the man, feeling honor-bound to offer the man that choice.

“For what? To hang beside the fool that confessed all in front of a king’s man?”

“Ye might be able to buy yourself some leniency by offering to tell of all the crimes your laird is guilty of.”

“I think not.”

Egan’s sudden attack caught James by surprise and he paid for that with a large gash in his side and a smaller one in his leg. However, Egan did not have the skill to take advantage of that. The moment he regained his balance, James attacked Egan. The resulting battle was quick. Within minutes Egan was faltering so badly that James barely had to think about the swing of his sword that finally cut the man down. As soon as Egan fell to the floor, his life’s blood rushing out of a clean cut to his throat, James turned his attention back to Donnell.

“Do ye surrender?” he asked.

To his surprise, Donnell did, throwing his sword at Simon’s feet and allowing that man to bind his hands. James staggered, a weakness from a loss of blood and the time he had spent hanging in chains briefly overwhelming him a little, and Tormand was immediately at his side to help him stand and face Donnell one last time. Before he had his wounds tended to, he needed to be certain that this was the end, that he would soon be a free man and have his lands returned to him.

“Did ye hear all ye needed to, Simon?” he asked the man.

“Oh, aye, more than enough. That and the journal and the witnesses we have will be enough to clear your name,” Simon replied.

“What journal?” demanded Donnell.

“Mary wrote a journal in which she said a lot about all of your crimes,” replied James.

The look on Donnell’s face told James that he was rethinking his surrender. It was clear that the man had thought to use his friends or blackmail of important men to get himself out of the dangerous tangle he found himself in. It was not going to work this time. In fact, James would not be surprised if some of the ones Donnell had blackmailed into helping him last time would be eager to see the man hanged for his crimes.

As Simon and Edmund dragged Donnell away, James went over to the bench Annora sat on and waited as Big Marta fetched her simples bag so that she could tend to his wound. When Meggie cautiously approached him James mustered up a smile but it did little to lessen the concern in her brown eyes. There was curiosity there and James had the feeling he was about to be pressed with a lot of hard questions.

“Who are ye?” asked Meggie. “Ye arenae the wood-carver, are ye?”

“Nay, lass, I am Sir James Drummond, the former laird of Dunncraig.”

“That was my father’s name, ye ken. He was the mon who was married to my mother when she had me and that makes him my father. Doesnae it?”

“Aye, that makes him your father.” James saw no sense in trying to avoid this conversation or turn the child’s thoughts elsewhere. He suspected Meggie was not a child who would be put off a subject she was interested in or deterred from getting answers to her questions.

Annora watched the different expressions on Meggie’s face and felt a little uneasy when she saw a flash of anger in her brown eyes. Ever since Meggie had confessed that she did not believe Donnell was her real father she had sometimes mentioned the previous laird. Since he had been married to her mother, Meggie had already begun to suspect that he had been her father. Annora had offered no opinions, for she knew James had wanted to tell the little girl the truth himself. What James did not know was that Meggie had sometimes thought that her real father had left because of her. Annora regretted not telling him about that, for she feared he was about to be confronted with the fury of a child who thought she had been tossed aside, deserted and unloved.

“So if ye are Sir James Drummond, then ye are my father.”

“Aye, I am.”

“Why did ye go away?” Meggie demanded.

“Because MacKay had everyone believing I killed your mother and I was declared an outlaw. Have ye not heard that tale?”