The Laird's Captive Wife (29 page)

‘So this is McAlpin’s woman.’

Fitzurse shot him a sideways glance. ‘That’s right.’

‘I’d heard tell she was fair but the tales didna do her justice.’

Ashlynn swallowed, clutching the edges of her cloak, and her gaze returned to Fitzurse.

‘Allow me to introduce our host, Sir Robert Fraser. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.’

‘That I have,’ replied the other.

Fighting down a sense of foreboding she forced herself to remain calm.

‘Why have you brought me here? What do you want?’

‘I want Iain McAlpin,’ Fitzurse replied. ‘With your help I’m going to have him too.’

‘You have no right to pursue him here. This land is not under your king’s jurisdiction.’

‘A minor point, and one that need not trouble us.’

‘Where is this place?’

‘Dungavan,’ replied Fraser. ‘Does the name mean anything to you, my lady?’

‘No, should it?’

‘Perhaps not,’ he returned, ‘though you’ll be hearing a lot more of it in due course.’

‘You speak in riddles.’

‘Like my lord Fitzurse, I have a bone to pick with your husband too.’ He gave her another nasty smile. ‘It’s concerned with kidnapping and extortion.’

Warning bells went off in her mind as the words revived a memory, but before she could identify it precisely he went on.

‘I’ve waited a long time to even the score but, as the saying goes, everything comes to him who waits.’

‘What do you mean to do?’

‘Tomorrow my enemy will die, but before he does he’ll know I take his wife.’

Ashlynn’s stomach knotted and only with a supreme effort of will did she force herself to meet his gaze.

‘You will never take his wife.’

He laughed softly, a sound that chilled her to the core. ‘Your loyalty does you credit, my lady, but after a night in my bed you might change your mind.’

‘I doubt that.’

The pale eyes hardened. ‘You are haughty, but that will soon change, I promise you—if my lord Fitzurse doesn’t humble your pride first.’

Ashlynn’s heart hammered in her breast and she darted a swift look at the Norman. He saw it and nodded.

‘Ah, yes. We have unfinished business you and I.’

‘We have no business of any kind.’

‘You’re wrong. We were interrupted as I recall, but I always finish what I start.’

‘Finish it now if you like,’ said Fraser. ‘It makes no odds to me. I’ll have her later after all.’

The icy knot in her stomach grew larger as the walls of the room began to close in. There was only one door and they were between it and her.

‘No,’ replied Fitzurse. ‘I’ll finish it tomorrow when I take her in front of McAlpin. He can watch—before I cut his throat.’

‘I think it will be you who dies tomorrow,’ said Ashlynn. ‘You are no match for him in single combat.’ ‘Single combat?

How naïve. Say rather a ring of steel.’

‘I might have guessed you’d resort to treachery,’ she replied. ‘But Iain won’t fall easily into a trap.’

He moved towards the door, pausing on the threshold. ‘He will.’

‘You seem very sure of that.’

‘I am sure. After all, you are the bait.’

They left her then, locking the door behind them. Ashlynn leaned back against the wall, trembling in every limb. The tears she had controlled before welled behind her eyelids. Iain would ride to meet his old enemy tomorrow but he would not ride away. This time he would die. She knew then that if he did she would die too and by her own hand. Rather a swift death with him than a lifetime without him, or dishonour at the hands of his enemies. In that moment she understood why Eloise had ended her life. The knowledge gave her courage. If it came to the choice she knew she would do no less.

No one else came to her prison after that and she was offered neither food nor water, though in truth she could not have eaten anything. Gradually the light faded and the cold intensified. Ashlynn wrapped her cloak closer about her and curled up on the straw pallet. As evening turned to night she began to doze intermittently but every time she closed her eyes she saw Iain’s face and the feeling of sick dread increased. Miserable and shivering she waited for the dawn.

* * *

Having gone over the plan in detail Iain dismissed his men and repaired to the roof terrace, needing some time alone. He stood by the stone parapet, looking out over the darkening glen but in truth it was not the hills that he saw. Somewhere out there was Ashlynn. The thought of her fear and despair tormented him, but it wasn’t that alone. For all his calm words to Ban and the rest his heart was riven by doubt. Had they hurt her? Had Fitzurse sought to finish what he had begun before? Would he do to Ashlynn what he had done to Eloise? Iain’s fists clenched and he drew in a deep breath of cold air to combat the nausea that knotted his stomach. The Norman was ruthless and cruel and he knew there was no surer way to hurt his foe than this.

‘Dear God, let her be unharmed,’ he murmured. ‘It took so long for me to find her. Let me not lose her now. Let me not lose the hope she brings.’

With a bitter sense of irony he remembered his promise to forswear all thought of revenge.
‘Unless our paths cross.’
And now their paths had crossed. Was Fitzurse always to be his evil nemesis? Was it part of some divine plan? Well then, he would not seek to circumvent it. Tomorrow he would ride to meet his enemy, and his destiny.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he circle of stones stood on the hill beyond Glengarron. Higher than a man and twice as wide, the silent monoliths remained unchanged by the vagaries of time or weather though the race that built them had long since vanished. Their brooding presence commanded the hill top. All around in every direction open moor land stretched away beneath a louring sky, the sere heath dark and sombre beneath a chill wind. The only other sounds were of creaking saddle leather and muffled hoof falls on peaty soil. As they drew nigh the place, Ashlynn saw with sick despair that Fitzurse and Fraser had chosen well. Here their enemy would be completely alone, isolated from any form of help. They, on the other hand, had with them a dozen armed men, murderous odds by any standard. The party reined in and came to a halt some yards outside the ring of stone.

Fraser looked around at the empty heath. ‘He’s not here.’

‘Then we wait,’ replied Fitzurse.

‘He will not come. It would be madness and he knows it.’

The Norman glanced at Ashlynn. ‘He’ll come.’

She forced herself to meet his eye, regarding him with cold contempt. ‘He will not be so easy to kill.’

‘On the contrary, I expect it will be very easy, in the end.’ Seeing Ashlynn’s cheeks turn a shade paler, Fitzurse smiled appreciatively. His cold gaze stripped her, bringing back other memories. ‘I’ll say one thing for McAlpin. He always had good taste in women. It’s the one thing we share.’

Fraser returned the smile. ‘The one thing we’re all going to share.’

Sickened with disgust she turned away, refusing to dignify the gibe with a reply. As she did so her gaze fell on the lone horseman approaching out of the east. Her heart began to thump painfully hard. Even from a distance there could be no mistaking the dark-clad figure on the dapple grey stallion.

‘Iain,’ she murmured.

In that second she knew that she loved him, unconditionally and beyond all reason. He was her lord. There could be no other as long as she lived. In that moment of awful clarity she knew the sublime terror, the awful vulnerability of loving and all its aching need.

Following her gaze Fitzurse saw the advancing figure and his smile widened as he glanced at Fraser.

‘There we are. I told you he’d come.’

He turned then to his men and ordered them to dismount. Two of them dragged Ashlynn off her horse and hands like iron closed round her arms as they flanked her, dragging her forward to stand in clear view, while the rest ranged themselves in a semi-circle behind their leader who alone remained mounted. All eyes watched the oncoming rider.

Fitzurse spoke quietly, never turning his head. ‘Let him get closer before you shoot. There must be no mistakes. I want him alive.’

De Vardes nodded. ‘There will be no mistake, my lord.’

For the first time Ashlynn noticed the crossbow he held at his side and her throat dried as she realised the intent. When the quarry was close enough for a clear shot De Vardes would use it to cripple and bring him down. Once Iain was injured and unable to defend himself, they would take him prisoner. Then they would exact their final revenge. Panic stricken she tried to break free but the restraining grip on her arms only tightened in response, holding her still. Seeing it, Fraser laughed.

‘It’s no use, my lady. Nothing can save Glengarron now. Two hours hence his head will adorn my gates.’

Sick at heart she could only wait and watch as the man she loved rode towards his death.

* * *

Iain approached at a leisurely pace, his gaze taking in every detail of the scene ahead, undeceived by the apparently quiet demeanour of the waiting men. He mentally numbered fourteen, including Fitzurse. Three stood off to the side, holding the horses, the rest were arrayed in a semi-circle, watching him come. All their attention was focused on him. It was what he had counted on.

As he drew nearer his gaze never left the waiting Normans. He knew full well Fitzurse had no intention of meeting him in single combat; most likely the plan would be to bring him down and capture him alive. Everything depended on what happened in the next couple of minutes. Even as the thought formed itself he saw with silent satisfaction the several dark-clad figures that rose like wraiths from the heather behind the Norman force. Seconds later the three men who had been holding the horses fell silently with their throats cut, never knowing what hit them. Iain smiled grimly. Unaware of what was taking place behind, Fitzurse kept his eye fixed on the approaching horseman.

‘Get ready, De Vardes.’

The Norman raised the crossbow and took careful aim. Ashlynn screamed a warning. The bolt flew and seconds later the horseman lurched in the saddle and then slipped sideways. Fighting deadly faintness she could only stare at the spot and the riderless grey stallion now standing with trailing reins.

‘Got him.’ De Vardes was quietly exultant.

‘Excellent,’ said Fitzurse. ‘Now bring him in.’

‘Aye, my lord.’

De Vardes cast aside the bow and drew his sword. ‘You three men, come with me.’

Ashlynn watched in helpless horror. In a short time now Iain would be their prisoner and they would kill him, but not quickly, dear God not quickly.

In torment she saw De Vardes and his companions advance, but they had taken no more than half-a-dozen paces before they checked, frozen in mid-stride. Then they dropped like stones. Only then did she see the crossbow quarrels embedded between their shoulder blades. Before her brain could take it in she heard a warning cry. More thuds followed and the hold on her arms slackened as the two men on either side of her fell away with cries of pain, bolts sunk deep in their ribs. Seconds later the heath all around erupted with living forms, dark clad, their faces stained with peat as though the womb of earth had just delivered them. Taken totally by surprise the Normans had not even time to draw their weapons before the Scots were upon them with sword and dirk. What followed was brief, bloody and brutal. Ashlynn gasped, looking around in shocked bewilderment. Before her frightened eyes a savage figure seized Fraser by the hair and yanked his head back. He had time for one strangled cry before the naked dagger slit his throat from ear to ear.

Hard by Fitzurse fought to control his plunging horse, realising too late how he had been tricked, even as his furious gaze took in the scale of the disaster. Then, seeing the day was lost, he turned and spurred away. Off to the left of the fleeing figure Ban lifted his bow and took aim. The quarrel flew. A moment later the horse screamed and fell, crashing on to its side in the heather and pinning its rider to the ground.

‘Good shot,’ said Dougal. ‘For a Sassenach, that is.’

Ban returned him a cool smile, never taking his eyes off the struggling figure on the ground. His hand went to the hilt of the blade at his side. ‘Say the word and I’ll finish him.’

‘No.’ The Scot turned to the men beside them. ‘Bring him here—alive!’

* * *

Trembling with reaction, Ashlynn looked around in stunned disbelief, her mind unable to accept what her eyes were telling her. Somehow, in a matter of minutes, the Norman force had been annihilated. Her gaze came to rest again on the riderless stallion standing some hundred yards off, and her cheeks paled.

‘Iain!’

Then she was running, her heart sick with dread, knowing what she must find. But before she got halfway there another dark-clad figure rose out of the concealing heather and caught hold of her. Ashlynn shrieked, kicking and struggling, fighting furiously. It took several moments before she recognised the voice speaking her name. Then she froze and looked up, seeing his face for the first time.

‘Iain?’

Half-fainting with relief she felt him draw her close, crushing her close to his breast as though he could never let her go, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Then he looked down into her face.

‘I thought I’d lost you. I thought…’ He took a deep breath, summoning the courage to ask the question uppermost in his mind. ‘Are you all right, lass? Did he hurt you? Did he…?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not hurt.’

He experienced the sensation of heartfelt relief. ‘Thank God. Every moment since he took you from me I’ve lived in dread of what he might do.’

‘He was saving his revenge for today. He and Fraser both.’

‘Fraser! So that’s who was helping them.’

‘He spoke of a long-standing grudge.’

‘I’m sure he did. ’Twas he I kidnapped once when his father reneged on an agreement.’

‘But what of you, my lord? Are you not hurt?’ She held him at arm’s length, her anxious gaze searching for signs of injury. ‘De Vardes shot you.’

‘I let them think he had.’

He smiled down at her and then his mouth was on hers in a passionate and lingering kiss. When he eventually drew away it was to see tears on her face.