The Highlander's Sin (22 page)

Heather wasted no time in locating Blade’s saddle and harness. Surprisingly, he allowed her to ready him, mount him and direct him out of the stables.

She gave a long, last, painful look at the inn, where angry shouts and cries of pain sounded from within. If only Duncan hadn’t betrayed her.

She glanced down at Duncan MacKay’s prized warhorse, the one who let no one ride him other than his master.

“Ye’ve a new master now, Blade. Call it the price of betrayal.”

Chapter Nineteen

H
ow in bloody hell had they found him?

Duncan had instructed Lady Ross to meet him at Fir Tree Inn, a good several hours’ ride from Crofter’s Inn. And yet, when they were supposed to be separated by miles,
Marmaduke Stewart stood not two feet from him, sword drawn and spittle droplets on his lips.

They were surrounded by at least half a dozen groaning warriors that Duncan had already cut down. The small dining room was overcrowded by far at the moment. As soon as they’d rushed the room, he’d been prepared and had issued them all the same verses he now repeated to the bastard standing before him.

“
Son of man, speak to the children of thy people, and say unto them, When I bring the sword upon a land, if the people of the land take a man of their coasts, and set him for their watchman: If when he seeth the sword come upon the land, he blow the trumpet, and warn the people
…”

“Dare you recite such verse to me?”
Marmaduke said, anger making his lips form a sour shape.

“
Then whosoever heareth the sound of the trumpet, and taketh not warning; if the sword come, and take him away, his blood shall be upon his own head. He heard the sound of the trumpet, and took not warning; his blood shall be upon him. But he that taketh warning shall deliver his soul
.”

“Stop it!” the Sassenach screeched. His sword shook as his hands started to tremble.

Duncan grinned. “
But if the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not warned; if the sword come, and take any person from among them, he is taken away in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at the watchman's hand. So thou, O son of man, I have set thee a watchman unto the house of Israel; therefore thou shalt hear the word at my mouth, and warn them from me
.”

“Kill him!”
Marmaduke shouted.

Duncan was prepared. He swung his sword in a wide arc, slicing through another man’s shield and shoulder, all the while continuing with his litany. “
When I say unto the wicked, O wicked man, thou shalt surely die; if thou dost not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity.”

Marmaduke
stood, quivering in his boots. He was a thin man, not built for fighting, and his hair had thinned much, creating a crown of fringe around his head.

“Where is your wife?” Duncan demanded.

The man was suddenly filled with confidence, a vile grin curling his lips. “In the barn.”

And Duncan now knew exactly why the bastard should be confident… Heather.

Her safety was first and foremost in his mind, a dangerous circumstance given he was being attacked by twos as men ran at him from either side of Marmaduke. After a brief pause, Duncan swung into action. The men did not cease to come, either, as Marmaduke bellowed orders. When two came, behind them two more waited, and others were yanking those who’d fallen out of the room by their ankles.

As he cut through one and parried another, all he could think about was Heather, alone in the stables with that madwoman. Ina was not right in the head. Demented, vengeful and mean. If she got her alone, surprised her, Heather would be caught. Defenseless.

He pushed forward, having fought over a dozen men now. His muscles balked at the exertion, but anger and panic fueled him on.

“
Wonder how we knew where you were? Ina had a feeling ye’d betray her. Thought it best to come here instead, knowing if we were wrong you would wait at the Fir Tree a day or two. Choosing this inn was simple, really. We had scouts visit every inn within range of your abbey to find out if ye were a regular. You really should choose to dine where they don’t cave so easily. Well, no use in keeping fighting,” Marmaduke taunted. “We’ve got her now.” The man flicked his gaze toward the window. “Bet you want to see her tied up on the courtyard to the hitching post.” The man licked his thin lips. “I bet your bag of silver that you’ll want to watch my wife cut that bitch’s throat.”

Anguish
formed a dangerous storm inside Duncan, and he bellowed his rage to the rafters of Crofter’s Inn. Marmaduke had the temerity to jump a little at Duncan’s battle cry.

“My lord! ’Tis the lady!”

Marmaduke’s face looked stricken as he heard the call of one of his soldiers outside the doors.

“My lord!”

Duncan head-butted the last man who’d entered the room, leaving him face to face with Marmaduke.

“Are ye going to see what’s happened to y
our lady?” Duncan said through gritted teeth, pushing his face within inches of Marmaduke’s. “’Haps ye spoke too soon.”

The man growled under his breath and backed out of the room, his gaze never leaving Duncan’s. The man was too cowardly to walk out with his back to him, afraid Duncan would slice him down as he retreated. Bastard. Duncan wouldn’t cut down a man who had his back turned. He faced his enemies every time, wanted them to see his face as they took their last breath and know it was him who’d put them there.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to advance on the bastard to see what the noise was about. Had Heather managed to escape? Was it possible? Lord, he hoped so.

He wiped his bloody hands on his robes, ignoring how they shook, wiped the hilt of his sword but didn’t sheath it.
The Ross warriors were always itching to start a fight. He edged out of the small private dining room to see that the innkeeper and his family had all but disappeared. In their place stood at least another dozen Ross warriors eyeing him like starving wolves. A few of them reached for their swords, but stilled their movements when Duncan bared his teeth and made a move like he would retaliate. Keeping his eyes trained on not just the jumpy warriors but the ones who looked too calm, he followed Marmaduke out the front door of the tiny inn.

The courtyard to the left of the door had a growing line of men laid out on their backs, bleeding from
Duncan’s sword. Duncan made a sign of the cross to see so many who’d fallen by his own hand. A warrior’s duty came with a price, one that weighed heavily on his soul.

“Ina!”
Marmaduke’s distraught call pulled Duncan’s gaze toward the center of the courtyard, where Ina rested upon the arm of a larger warrior.

“Found her staggering out of the stables.”

Duncan couldn’t help the sense of triumph that pumped with a vengeance through his blood. Heather had gotten away. She’d beaten Ina and escaped.

“What happened, my darling?” The English sop’s voice was whiny and repelling. How had Ina managed to enjoy it over the few years they’d been married?

“She…she hit me.” Ina pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “I’m so dizzy.”

“Where did she hit you?”
Marmaduke asked, then turned to the warrior holding her up. “Is she bleeding? I don’t see any blood.”

The warrior looked just as perplexed. Ina did not appear to have any outward signs of injury.

“Ye fool,” Ina managed to screech, and then wailed at the pounding it must have caused in her head. “She did not cut me. She
hit
me.”

As the two idiots argued over the merit of her injury and their warriors looked on with avid fascination, Duncan managed to slip inch by inch toward the edge of the croft. If he had to run all the way to
Pluscarden he would, for that was where Heather would be.

When he rounded the corner, not a single one of the stupid Ross clan seemed to notice. Their mistress and her husband were now in a full-blown screaming match, replete with wails from them both. Dear God, their household had to have been a nightmare to live in.

He hurried to the back of the croft, prepared to duck into the woods, but the innkeeper stepped in front of him.

“Dinna make me hurt ye,” Duncan said. “Step aside.”

The man looked contrite. “My wife and family…”

Duncan waved the man away. “Ye’re forgiven.”

The innkeeper shook his head. “Nay, Father, we wish to offer ye the use of our horse in exchange for full forgiveness for having given ye up. The lady took your horse.”

Thank God for that. Blade would get an extra barrel of apples as his thanks.
Duncan nodded.

“I’m sure ye did only what ye saw fit as best for your family. But I’ll take the horse all the same. Ye are forgiven, the lot of ye, and blessings be upon your household for a long and prosperous life.”

Duncan grabbed hold of the older saddle and hoisted himself up onto the horse’s back. He inclined his head to the family who’d betrayed him, letting bygones be bygones and vowing never to return to this particular inn, and also deciding on a personal quest to find better stew.

He set off at a gallop through the trees toward the path he hoped Heather had taken toward the abbey. With her on Blade, she was likely to beat him there by a good solid hour. Not once did he hear the sounds of warriors following him. Their idiocy would have been comical if it hadn’t been so damn pathetic.

The horse trudged through the green forest as though Duncan had asked him to climb a mountain in an ice storm. No amount of clucking, thigh-squeezing or heel-nudging seemed to quicken the nag.

With luck, the damned horse would make it in time—before the Sutherlands arrived and took Heather away from him forever.

Blade seemed to sense their destination, or at least he acted as though he did. Heather was completely turned around, certain she’d passed the same lichen-covered boulder four times now.

“Do ye play games with me?” she asked the horse, pulling him to a stop.

Alone in the woods with only a small knife and a horse for protection, Heather tried not to let panic take hold of her. When she’d had a direction to go in, she’d felt better. Now she was simply lost.

At
first she’d stuck to the trees, but a road had been made through the forest and seemed likely to take her the direction she needed to go. That had been an hour ago.

How did one get lost on a road? Heather had always been directionally challenged. She had been lucky when she’d gone out exploring that one of her brother’s guards had always trailed behind and brought her back after she’d gone in circles. But there was no one here today to help her.

There were lots of scary things in the woods. Wildcats, boars, bears, outlaws, Englishmen, poisonous spiders…

Blade stomped his feet, scraping them in the dirt of the road, showing the darkened dirt beneath.

“Dinna be irritated with me,” she said. “I’ve never been in these woods before.” That she knew of. “Ye’re more likely to have been here than me. Take me to the abbey.”

But the horse simply stood there, still as a statue, his ears perked back.

“Oh, nay…” Heather held her breath and tried to listen.

What did the horse hear?

A light breeze rustled the leaves, and birds made calls to each other. Squirrels scurried. Nothing else. Except—
that
. A whistle, a shrill sound in the distance.

Had she been followed?

Heather nudged Blade, shook his reins, but the damned animal wouldn’t budge. Did he want her murdered just as his master surely had been?

“Go, ye blasted horse!”