The Draig's Woman (25 page)

This is what she had saved Ian from when they met. Tavis’s greed had changed the path of her life. Her mind cursed at the circular path. She was now the one bound and helpless. But she didn’t think any doors would open to bring her a savior. Claire realized how utterly alone she was.

She tried to not to think about Nolen’s body pressed against hers and willed her mind to focus on his words. Claire stated the obvious, “But no one is giving you anything with this marriage. You still don’t have legal claim to the mines.”

“Did you not read the contract?” Nolen scolded. “For shame, lass, contracts should always be read. Should the laird die without an heir then his property reverts to Tavis.”

She couldn’t think clearly. Her arms ached, and her head screamed with pain. She was dumbfounded that this conversation was so casual while she was bound and injured with Nolen draped over her body and nestled between her legs. Still the flaw was obvious. She said, “But Cerwyn is the recognized heir.”

Nolen chuckled softly, “You think with a soft heart. Now you ken why all must die. The marriage will take place, and then we claim all, though all we want is the mine. Someone else can come to claim the keep and the lands.”

“You don’t have that many men.”

“In truth, I don’t need many. Think, Claire.” Nolen glared at her with disappointment. “I truly thought you had figured this out already.” He lifted off of her chest enough to rip the bodice of the gown he had already cut and ran his fingertips over the swell of her bare breast. The shudder ripped through her as he taunted, “Think. What did you miss?”

She couldn’t writhe far enough away to escape his touch. Her mind attempted to shift through the trail of events leading to this, any distraction to avoid the reality of the touch on her skin. She needed the details if she had any hope of saving them all. The small cry of disgust escaped her lips as Nolen leaned down to place a kiss to her shoulder. There was no hope for clear thought as she involuntarily struggled against him. The slap to her face brought a fresh wave of pain. Claire gasped in air as the memory rose unbidden to the surface. Through clenched teeth, she said, “This has to do with the wedding ale. Tavis was so insistent, too insistent it be saved and not touched.”

“Aye, lass, the ale. ‘Tis to be served the day after the marriage. There will be little need to fight. The poison will take care of most of the clan. Those who survive should prove easy enough to kill.” Nolen smiled as he answered.

She had no idea how such a devious plot could be so easily ignored by the rest of world. “But others will come from the village or other clans, and it’s not like you can hide something like this. I can’t believe Mairi would not confess this immediately.”

His head shook in disappoint while his hips moved to a more favorable spot, and he did not try to suppress his groan of pleasure. Nolen replied with a casual tone. “The disgusting child has been deemed an acceptable loss. Dinna look so shocked. Mairi has long been an embarrassment to the clan. None of the rest truly matters. The Crown will receive its share. Should any come for vengeance, the king will support Tavis.”

Claire listened in silent horror as Nolen continued and was horrified how none in power would care about a dead clan far away in the highlands. Nolen had arranged for her exile and capture. She saw the face of everyone she cared for who was destined to die as a result of Tavis’s greed. When he began to vividly describe every insult he planned for her body, her anger faded to hopelessness. Claire was so utterly helpless to stop any of it and unable to save herself and her child, much less the clan.

“How quickly Ian agreed to send you away, lass. I assumed Ian would argue longer and with more passion.” The smile could be heard in his voice as her eyes closed. Nolen’s words were chosen with care. She could hear his joy in killing her spirit.

Nolen lifted to rest on his knees and crouched between her legs. She felt the tattered skirts lift off of her thighs. There was only his laughter when she attempted to push back. He held her in place with her head a mere hand span from the blade. “You have nowhere to go. You are mine now.”

“Never, Nolen.” The verbal resistance was all she had left.

“Ah, Claire, we both ken this is over and I have won. I will tell Ian how sweet my victory was and how I enjoyed the pleasures of your flesh.” Nolen’s hand left her hip to untie his trews. He whispered a curse as he rose to his feet and stepped back to fix the problem.

The irony of the knot in the tie for his leather pants was not lost as she relished the momentary reprieve. A deep breath brought back focus and replaced the fear with something else.
How much time do I have? What can I do while tied?
Already her right eye was swollen shut as her head screamed with pain. She could feel every cut and bruise on her body. Grief took hold as Cerwyn’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. She wondered briefly if her child-to-be would have had the same wonderful green eyes.

So many excuses, Claire.
Michael’s voice rang strong in her mind.
“I trained you myself, just for this. You can take him. He doesn’t expect an attack. Do it. Do it for those you love. Do it for the life you carry. Do it for yourself. Just do it now. This may be the only chance you get.”

When did I give up?
She had been ripped from her life and not given up. Everything she knew was gone, yet she had survived. The choice was clear: give up and let Nolen abuse her and kill her or attempt to take him by surprise. The odds of her success were small, but she had two children to protect, and she was far from done with her life.

Claire glanced up at Nolen. His attention was solely on the knot and not on her. This was the moment she needed and maybe the only one she would get. Though pain ripped through her head, she bent her knees and placed her feet firmly on the ground. Claire’s right leg snapped up to forcefully connect the bridge of her foot to Nolen’s groin. The breath left his body as he bent forward. Her left leg was ready to strike and capitalized on his now-bent position. The sole of her foot connected hard with his face. The sound of crunching bone confirmed his broken nose, and Nolen fell hard on his back.

With no thought, her body moved with the skill of years of training and a will to survive. Her feet braced as her hands grabbed the only support available, the sword. Her right hand was able to reach and grasp the pommel of the sword. Her left hand, trapped by the bindings, left Claire to only partially able to grip the pommel, and her palm was forced into the blade. She screamed with determination, focus, and agony as her body bent up from the ground. Her right leg kicked up, and her left pushed her body in motion backwards, up and over the sword. Wounded hands pulled her body to land on unsteady feet.

Not able to give in to the pain, the nausea, and the wave of dizzy disorientation from the move, her hands pulled the sword free of the earth. She stumbled to where Nolen fell, still holding his groin and broken nose. The shock of Nolen’s expression was its own reward. With bound wrists, Claire raised the sword high and plunged the weapon deep into Nolen’s chest.

Falling to her knees after she pulled the sword from the dead man, her breath came too rapidly as the world went gray and swam before her eyes. Her body fell to the ground. Only as she curled in a ball did she notice the blood on her hands. Her left palm had a deep cut from grabbing the blade. With the sword held by her feet she was able to cut through the bindings on her wrists. She ripped a strip of fabric from the ruined skirt and wrapped her hand in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Throbbing shot through her shoulders at this simple task, but the pain would have to wait until later. She needed to stand up, find Hagan, and get back to the keep.

Panic returned as the sound of approaching footsteps brought the world back to focus. Claire found her feet and turned slowly to face the sound. She prayed there would only be one man to battle. She knew there was no way she could handle more than one. She doubted her ability to handle one
.

“
Claire, where are you?”

“Hagan, is that you?” Claire stared dumbfounded as he stumbled into the clearing. She gasped at the blood covering his body and sword. Hagan’s face transformed with shock as he looked her up and down.

“Forgive me. I never should have left you alone.” Hagan’s voice cracked with despair while he looked everywhere but her eyes. He glanced at the dead man behind her. “What did he do to you?”

The implication was clear in the question. Claire took stock of her appearance: the undone and ripped state of dress, the mud and blood, and what was certainly a very swollen face. Her good hand moved to straighten the bodice of her ruined gown. “Not what you think. Nolen tried, but I stopped him.”

Hagan covered the distance between them quickly and turned her battered face to look at her injuries and then pulled her in for comfort. He held her until her shaking ceased and she pushed gently away.

She pushed away the fear of what had almost happened and looked down to Hagan’s side to see bleeding. She lifted the shirt to see the large gash on his side. “This needs stitches, and I don’t know how to do that.” Her face hurt too much to allow a proper smirk. “I thought we worked on the whole left side thing.”

“There were three men, and I believe my balance was all it could have been. It does need tending, but for now a binding will serve. It can be seen to properly at my brother’s keep.”

She ripped more fabric from the skirt to improvise a bandage and apologized when Hagan winced as she bound the wound. “We need to go back, Hagan. There is so much I need to tell you. Everyone is in danger, they are all going to die.”

“What do you mean?”

Claire told Hagan every detail she could remember as she continued binding his wound: the mines, the wealth, the plan to kill everyone, and even of Mairi’s part as the sacrifice. His questions were answered as he wrapped her hand with skill and care. Claire waited for the response as she finished telling of all Nolen had shared.

“I believe the marriage will take place on the morrow, and I can nay leave the safety of my family to chance. My brother’s lands are closer, but by the time we sort this out and he gathers men, it could be too late. Heaven help me, you are in need of care now. You are bruised, battered, and far too pale. But I need to ask this of you. We need to ride back now, cousin.”

She had no desire to ever see Ian again. Even now his voice taunted the back of her mind.

“Save me, sweet Claire.”

Once the thought held such different meaning, but this was bigger than her broken heart and shattered illusions. This was life or death for so many. Again Cerwyn’s face broke through her inner haze. “You’re right, Hagan. We need to go now.” She took in his pained expression and saw the blood soak his bandaged side. “Are you sure you are up for this?”

“Aye. I can manage. The true test will be getting both of us in the saddle.”

Nolen’s sword served as a walking stick. Balance was something she had lost. The pair used the rocks to climb up to mount the horses. Both breathed too hard from the simple task of mounting, and the thought of the long ride mocked her weakness.

“Let me ken if the pace is too much. We can stop if needed.”

The thought of turning to face him was too strenuous as pain wracked her body. “There will be no stopping, and we both know that. Promise me one thing, Hagan.”

“Name it, Claire. My debt to you kens no limit.”

“After we have stopped this and saved them, promise me you will take me to your brother’s lands.”

“But you do realize that the news we carry changes all.”

“Just promise me.” She knew she spoke from bruised pride and shattered dreams, yet also believed she would control the rest of life. She had remembered who she was, and there would be no going back.

“Aye, lass, I swear this to you,” Hagan vowed.

Her wounded hand rested across her lap, and she grabbed the reins with the other. Claire kicked the horse into a run.

Chapter 24

The bright sun of the morning quickly changed to a gray afternoon, and the gray light eventually faded into night. Nowhere brought comfort. Everywhere Ian turned he saw her. His chamber was too empty; the vision of Claire seated before the fire mocked him. A new chess game had been started only three days before, left to finish another night, and now to remain forever untouched. His bed still carried her scent. The chamber that had once been theirs—a place of passion, laughter, conversation, and love—was void of all.

The study had been no better, with the chairs arranged for the discussion of his accounts. Claire’s shadow could still be seen seated at the desk. His promise to see to the dower lands mattered little now.
What does this one promise matter when so many have already been broken? Did I not swear to provide her a home and safety on the very day we met? Did I not swear to keep her always by my side, to be loved and cherished?

Even the grounds bore her mark. The wind carried the sounds of her laughter as she chased the wee one. The lasses bringing in freshly laundered clothing brought forth her image. She helped all, regardless of the task.

Ian stayed away from the stables. He knew if he mounted Samson there would be no stopping until he reached Douglas lands. He was trapped there on his lands, within his walls, with the knowledge she was gone. By his words, his deed left him alone.

Ian wondered how many cups had passed his lips. He knew it had been too many, and somehow they were not nearly enough. Seated in his hall, he stared at her empty seat. Not even the arrival of Lachlan could raise his spirits. He cursed Hagan for inviting the Campbell Laird to the wedding and then silently cursed Lachlan for actually coming.
How dare Lachlan presume there was anything here to bring joy.
The man’s audacity knows no bounds. He had brought his daughter, Dedre, in an attempt to sway the course in his marriage and had even sweetened the dowry to include grazing lands between their two strongholds.

Once such an offer would have gladly been received, as he would have had the lass. Ian kenned that Dedre had been once an object of her desire. Now he was aware of all she lacked and all she was not. Dedre may be lovely and a proper lady, but she was not Claire.

The evening meal was such torment to think on. Cerwyn voiced his displeasure at Larry not being present. Aliana and Neala would not speak to him. Tavis looked overly content, and his constant disgusting grin had lasted through the evening. Lachlan attempted to make conversation in the tense hall. Mairi refused to leave her chamber as she was too distraught over Claire’s absence.

Ian sat in the hall, late in the evening, under the pretense of being a companion to the two other lairds. In truth, Ian was too drunk to stumble up to his chamber and too sober to face Claire’s ghost again. Another cup of whiskey burned down his throat, and he wondered how long it would feel like his soul had died.

The noise from the main doors wasn’t enough to rouse his concern. He assumed it was Nolen and his men returned from their hunt. Ian refused to notice anything until Neala screamed. The housekeeper’s face paled as the tray of dirty dishes fell from her hands.

He followed the direction of the housekeeper’s stare and saw the pair enter the hall with a few of his men trailing behind. If Ian lived to be a thousand years of age, the sight of Claire would stay burned in his mind. Her gown, what showed from under the cloak, was but shreds stained with blood and mud. Her sweet face was dark and bruised, her eye swollen shut. Her lips were also swollen on one side and marred with dry blood. Her movements toward the table were unsteady, yet full of purpose. The sword in her right hand was aimed forward at Tavis.

Hagan was no better, far too pale and barely on his feet as he moved by her side. His sword was in hand for attack. The wound to his side was visible due to the blood that had soaked through the improvised bandages. Ian wondered for a moment how the two were even capable of motion. His head was too clouded by drink.
Why are they like this?

Claire knew if she stopped, even for a moment, she would not start again. The ride had been a blur of pain, fatigue, and worry. Their purpose was the only thing that mattered: saving the clan, its people, and then getting out of there. She held tight Hagan’s promise that they could leave when they were done. There were men in the hall she did not recognize, but she didn’t care. Hagan commanded the men to seize Tavis, that there was danger to all from this man. The men who entered the hall at their backs moved quickly to flank Tavis’s sides and remove the laird’s dagger. Tavis stood before her, the man who was responsible for everything: the attack he authorized, the plot to kill the people, and the act that left Ian bound to a tree, the act that forever changed her life. It was easy for her to hate Tavis and rewarding to see the fear in his eyes. Claire stopped directly in front of him. “You look surprised to see us.” She caught his gaze dart to the main door. “I wouldn’t bother looking for Nolen or his men. They won’t be coming back.”

“What is the meaning of this? How dare you accuse me of wrongdoing? I am a guest within these walls. Am I not to be joined with this clan in marriage?”

Hagan answered the charge. “There will be no marriage. You sought only to claim what is nay yours.” With short, pained phrases he explained how Tavis wanted only the mines he had already illegally possessed.

“You would believe the words of this man and his whore of a cousin?” Tavis challenged to all within the hall.

The insult meant nothing to her, but she would make certain everyone understood the risk to the clan’s safety. “These aren’t my words. Nolen explained it all to me before he died. You assumed I knew and that I had figured it out. That was your first mistake. I hadn’t, and I didn’t know. But I do now. Now everyone knows.”

Claire pointed Nolen’s blade straight to the heart of Tavis. “Nolen’s mistake was in waking me up. He should have killed me when he had the chance.” The feel of a small triumphant smile crossed her broken lips as she saw Tavis grow pale. “Your mistake was in not sending enough men to kill us.”

“So you would kill an unarmed man, a laird no less, with no proof other than your lies?” The man struggled against the two men who held him with no success.

Do I want to kill him? Yes, but there would be no honor here, only cold-blooded revenge. Not a place I want to go.

“There is plenty of proof should any bother to seek it. And no, I’m not going to kill you. There has been too much death by my hands already today.”

Claire turned away from Tavis and pointed the sword directly at Ian. She was too numb to notice the dark circles beneath his eyes and too full of her own pain to see his. The room started to spin, and Ian’s face blurred. She spit out, “As for you, Laird, I am done saving your ass.”

The room broke out into a deafening roar as Hagan fell to the stone floor. She tried to reach him; he had promised to take her away. The movement proved too quick for her weakened state. Claire was oblivious to the fact that she was falling or the hands that caught her before she crashed to the floor. For the second time that day, she knew only darkness.