Kate Robbins - The Highland Chiefs Series 03 (16 page)

“Why do you address me so?” he asked. If anyone overheard the man, he would be flogged.

“No matter to me who is in charge, my lord. You shall always be the master here in my eyes.”

“I was usurped and am no longer lord here.  You would do well to remember that,” he said. It would not take much for an example to be made out of the man.

Rob laughed. “I do not know the way of lords and usurpers,” he said. “I only know how to mend broken wings and train unruly hunters.”

Ronan gazed at the man as though he saw him for the first time. As though he saw everything for the first time. Did the man purposely speak in double truths or did Ronan simply need to find meaning in any form he could?

“Would you like to take him out, my lord?”

Ronan’s gaze drifted from the falconer to the injured bird. Its leather cap prevented it from getting spooked and yet it darted its head from side to side. Seeking. Searching.

“Aye, Rob. I would like that very much. Do you think he is ready?”

“Aye. I do. His wing was well enough a sennight ago, but he would not budge. Like he is afraid to try to become what he was meant to be.”

Again the double truth struck Ronan like a blow. Was he afraid to become the man he wanted to be? Or was he more afraid to discover the man he was destined to become—evil, like his family?

Ronan strapped leather to his forearm and waited until Rob placed the hawk there. It shifted on its feet and dug fast into his arm.

“There you go, strong one,” Rob said. “Talk him through it, my lord. ’Twill help him.”

Ronan had taken birds out many times so was more than familiar with how a soothing voice helped them. He stepped away from the other squawking birds and spoke in low tones to the hawk.

“You are a brave, strong lad aren’t you?”

When they had moved far enough away, Ronan stroked the bird’s chest. “Shhhh. You shall have your freedom soon enough. Hold still now.”

Ronan untied the straps and gently lifted the cap from the bird’s head. It fluttered its wings and shifted nervously on his arm.

“Hush now. You are doing fine. You can do this, great one,” he said. “For there is no finer hunter in all the land than you.”

The bird quieted and cocked its head toward Ronan.

“Oh, you like that praise do you?” Ronan chuckled and the hawk turned his head sharp left. “What do you see? Are you ready?”

The bird was fixated on something in the distance. Now was as good a time as any to see if he would ever get over the injury. Sadly, not all of them did.

Ronan dropped his arm a couple inches and then pushed upward. The bird spread its wings wide and leapt off his arm. Wings flapping, the bird rose higher and higher, taking Ronan’s spirits with it.

It circled around a few times and then dove straight down mere feet from where Ronan stood, capturing a small rodent in its beak. The bird’s high pitched call on its descent was music to Ronan’s ears.

Once the rodent was consumed, the bird continued its hunt for the next half an hour before returning to Ronan’s arm and pitching without hesitation.

“Such a great hunter you are,” he said. “Did you enjoy your spoils, ya great greedy thing? You need to save some of those mice for the other birds, you know?”

Ronan’s heart felt light. He was practically giddy when he returned the hawk to Rob.

“He did well,” Rob said.

“Well?” Ronan smoothed the bird’s chest again, surprised that it did not appear to mind. “He did marvellous. He just needed the chance to prove himself worthy of the task.”

As though a lightning bolt raced through him, clarity emerged. He was so like the hawk, injured supposedly beyond repair. But the damage to his outside was not so much as to the self-inflicted damage to his insides. He did not need to wait to see if he would become evil like his father and uncle. He already knew who he was. Now, he just needed to show everyone else.

They would be in for a surprise—Freya especially. She would not marry Alexander. She would not endure one more moment of pain and suffering at the hands of anyone.

Ronan strode back to the castle with renewed vigour. The sun was still low on the horizon and he had time to plot and plan; time to make sure he saved those he loved, and bring those to justice who deserved it most.

Chapter Sixteen

Clasping her fingers together to keep from trembling, Freya sat near the crackling fire while Morag brushed her hair. Sutherland had ordered her below and given her one hour to prepare. It appeared he was anxious to wed her after all.

“You will make your lip bleed, lass,” Morag said.

Freya had not even realized she worried it. She let her lip be for the moment, but still wrung her hands.

Morag stopped what she was doing and sat in front of Freya, grasping her hands.

“Look at me,” she said.

Freya looked into the woman’s eyes. Steely determination lay in them. Her lips were pressed into a straight line and her jaw was clenched.

“Even if he makes you marry him today, nothing will happen until tonight. That gives us plenty of time to find a way to get you out.”

“Just me? No. I am not leaving here without you and Muren as well. With me gone, he will only focus his attentions on you instead. Better me to bear the brunt of his cruelty than either of you.”

Morag shook her head. “You are brave but foolish, Freya. You cannot imagine the tortures he plans for you. I have heard the maids talking about the unfortunate few bidden to his bed only to be brought to the healer in the morn.”

Bile rose in Freya’s throat. Could she endure it? For the sake of those she loved, she would risk her life without question, but how much torture could she really endure?

“If only—”

“Do not say it,” Freya said interrupting her. She would not hear one more word in lament over Ronan’s turn of loyalty and lack of protection. Her heart could not stand it.

“What is done is done. Your son has made his decision. He will have to live with it.” She squared her shoulders and stood. Taking a deep breath she said, “I will see this through, if only to protect you and Muren. But you must promise me that should the opportunity arise to leave, you will take it.”

Freya waited while Morag’s brows drew tight. She frowned and stood in front of her as if to block her path to the door. Morag grasped her shoulders and shook her hard.

“You will see the ceremony through because you have no choice. But you will
not
be here this evening to endure his torture.” Morag shook once more. “Do you hear me, Freya? I will not allow this to happen.”

Freya worked hard to deaden her emotions and prevent the terror swirling inside her like a tempest. She prayed Morag was right and that someone would come to her aid before it was too late and Sutherland damaged her beyond repair.

She smoothed her skirts and lifted her chin. He might be able to do atrocious things to her body, but he would never, ever reach her soul.

“I am required in the chapel. Will you accompany me?” she asked.

Morag nodded. “Muren, you are to stay here. The more out of sight you are, the better.”

“I will not,” she said. Muren had always been a quiet lass, and so such vehemence in her declaration was surprising. Both Morag and Freya turned to her.

“Muren, it is not safe,” her mother said.

“And you think here alone is any safer than in the den of demons? At least there, I am in the open with both of you. Here, I have no one.” Muren’s voice was full of pleading.

“Well, aren’t we a dire lot?” Morag said, drawing a deep breath. “Ready yourself quickly then. And for the love of heaven, do not pull your hair back from your face. The last thing we need is one of his men noticing you.”

Muren pulled her hair down to hide her face and donned her crumpled gown. Her actions had Freya wondering if she were a meek lass or perhaps a very good player.

A knock sounded at the door, startling the three women. Freya moved to it, looked back once and nodded at the women, before lifting the latch and swinging the door wide. She was not prepared for the sight that met her eyes.

“You are ready?” Ronan asked. His eyes were bright and he smiled at her.

Freya’s belly heaved. He looked pleased that she was going through with this. Could he be any more cruel? What in Heaven’s name had she done to deserve this treatment from him?

“Aye, my lord. I am ready to marry your uncle. I trust he is ready to claim me as his?”

She watched as his smile smoothed into a straight line. His jaw flexed for a moment giving her some sense that he was not entirely ecstatic about the situation. Good. She had no intention of pretending this was a joyous occasion.

“Freya—”

“Ronan, how can you allow this to happen? What has gotten into you?” his mother asked stepping up beside Freya and wrapping her arms around her middle. “He will kill her,” she said.

“No. He will not.”

“And what will you do to stop him?” Morag asked. “You’ve done nothing to prevent our capture, nor our ill treatment since we were brought here.”

“Mother, now is not the time. You must trust me.”

Heavy footsteps prevented him from saying anything further. Three armed guards rounded the corner. Ronan grabbed Freya’s arm and tugged her forward.

“The other two must stay here,” he said to the guards. “See that no one goes in or comes out.” He unsheathed his dirk and pressed the tip to one of the guard’s necks. “On pain of death to you and everyone you have ever held dear, do you understand me?”

“Aye, my lord. We understand. We pledged our fealty to you and you may trust in it.”

“Very well.” He turned back to his mother and sister. “Listen to me. Do not attempt to leave this chamber. I will come for you when I can. You will be safest here. Do you understand me?”

Freya looked over her shoulder to see Morag and Muren nod and slip back into the chamber.

Ronan pointed the tip of his blade at all three of the guards again. “No one! Is that understood?”

When they nodded and took position outside the door, Ronan led her forward and toward the hallway leading to the stairs.

“Ronan, must you be so cruel?”

He stopped then and pulled her into an alcove and behind a curtain. Cupping her face in his hands he gazed deep into her eyes.

“You must trust me, Freya. No harm will come to you. Please, believe me.”

“No, Ronan. I do not understand. I—”

More boots sounded from just beyond their position. Ronan leaned down and placed his lips to hers. “Hush,” he said against her mouth.

Had she not been so concerned about the origin of the footsteps, she would have bitten his bottom lip right off. She hardly breathed until the heavy booted footfalls faded. When Ronan released her she shoved him away.

“Do not ever touch me again,” she said, seething.

He took her elbow again and drew her forward. When she tried slipping from his grasp, his fingers held fast, unrelenting.

“I know you are angry with me, and you have every right to be.”

“You have no idea how I feel. You vowed to protect us, yet you bring me into the belly of the beast, to await his ravishing. I know you do not care for me, but I had no idea you loathed me so much that you would see me abused in the manner in which he intends. You are as bad as he is.”

That comment brought him up. He turned her so that she had no choice but to look at him. “You have no idea how many times I have wondered just that over the past days.” He leaned in close to her. “You will not be harmed, Freya. You may never wish to look upon me after today, but if you ever held any feeling for me in the past, I swear on it that you will not come to harm.”

“As soon as I am able, I will leave this godforsaken place and you behind with a smile on my face. You are right, I will never want to see you again once this is all over with.”

“So be it.” He dragged her forward again.

Freya had to practically run to keep up with him. He led her out of the castle and to the side entrance of the chapel. She had to fight to keep her guts in their place and steady her breath when they stopped just outside.

“Keep your courage, Freya,” Ronan said. “For just a little while longer and all will be well. Trust me.”

“I do not trust you, nor any other Sutherland I have ever encountered. No wonder your mother left your father. My only regret now is that I let Rorie MacKenzie go. His loyalty was never in question. I wish I had never met you!”

She watched as a pained expression crossed his face. “You do not mean that.” He shook his head. “What we have is real and you know it. You may not be able to see it today, but you will in time.”

“The only thing I want to see of you and your kind is your back.” She was more than ready to take his dagger and gut him with it. Him and his false words. “I despise you, Ronan Sutherland.”

* * *

Freya jerked out of his hold and rushed into the chapel. He could not blame her for her anger, but it killed him to know he had lost her forever. At least she would live. She would take the vibrant part of his soul with her, but she would live.

Ronan entered the chapel to find Alexander holding Freya’s arm and directing her to the bishop. He stepped inside and glanced around to ensure all was in order. Looking down toward the main entrance, he spied Neville and nodded. Thankfully, he had returned with good news just after Ronan had left the falconry. Fergus was alive. The MacKay’s were at full strength and twice the army Alexander expected would be on the doorstep at any moment.

He had asked Neville to keep to the shadows so that Freya would not see him. The plan would run smoother if she were not alerted. Alexander had a clever eye for noticing changes in demeanour, Ronan had witnessed that enough times over the last two days. If he thought anything was out of order with Freya, he would suspect something was amiss. As it was, her not knowing how close she was to being saved made her performance more convincing. And Ronan needed Alexander’s attentions on her and nothing else.

Ronan had accepted that even if the ceremony was concluded, they would never consummate the marriage. Ronan would die before he let that happen.

He moved to stand beside Alexander and waited for the ceremony to begin.

Alexander turned to him with a smirk that made Ronan bite the inside of his jaw. “I am pleased you were able to get her here with little trouble,” he said. Then, leaning close so that only Ronan could hear, he added, “Though I doubt she will admit it, secretly I believe she is looking forward to our wedding night.”

Ronan swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat and worked to show no expression. His gaze flicked to Freya whose cheeks had flushed full crimson. She had heard the comment.

“I am sure you are right, Uncle. Her wedding night will be one to remember.”

Freya gasped and her eyes filled with tears.

I will never let him touch you. Just hold on a little longer
. Ronan shouted the message in his mind, praying some spiritual being would carry it to hers.

A moment later, her head shot up and her brows drew tight. She masked her expression and quickly looked down again when Alexander turned toward her.

“Are we ready to proceed?” Bishop Strathbrock asked.

He was not so good at keeping a calm demeanour and the result of his nervous energy was in the form of sweat beads forming on his brow and upper lip. He swiped at it frequently and had practically soaked through the front of his robes.

“Are you unwell, your grace?” Alexander asked.

The bishop jumped. “Naught but a fever, my lord.” His gaze darted to Ronan and back again.

Alexander turned to Ronan with raised eyebrows and smirked.

“Well then, let us proceed, shall we?”

Alexander took Freya’s hand. Ronan’s gaze flicked down toward it and noticed her tremble.
Soon, my love. Very soon now
.

The bishop rushed through the vows. Though it was pure torture to watch the woman he loved marry another, it would be worse to have it dragged out.

Before the bishop could conclude the ceremony, a vibration shook the chapel. It rumbled through his body and into Ronan’s chest. The sound escalated until the rumble became loud enough that the bishop’s attention was drawn toward the windows.

Alexander released Freya’s hand at the sound of the door bursting open. Ronan looked back to see one of his guard rush through.

“My lord, an army approaches.”

Alexander strode toward him, unsheathing his broadsword. “MacKenzies? How many?”

The guard nodded. “MacKay too by the looks of it,” he said. “Possibly other clans as well. There are too many to count.”

Alexander halted mid-stride and turned back toward Freya. Ronan did not move toward her though he longed to. He just needed Alexander to take the last steps out of the chapel and his plan could come into play.

Alexander raised his sword and pointed it at Freya. “Go with the bishop to your chamber and stay there until I come for you.” He then pointed the sword at the bishop. “Go now! Come Ronan, you are a foolish lad to be unarmed. Go quickly to the armoury and meet me out front. Today is the day we begin your reign over the Highlands.”

Five heartbeats later he was gone. Neville slipped out from his hiding place and bolted the door from the inside.

Ronan heard Freya gasp beside him. “Neville? You are here?”