Laird of the Mist (30 page)

Gathering every ounce of control she possessed, Kate inhaled, flaring her nostrils, and tilted her head belligerently. “What took you so long in finding me, Uncle? I was beginning to think you would never arrive.”

That seemed to mollify him, but only for a moment before he snarled at her again. “You look remarkably well, Katherine. Getting along with the savages, are you?”

“Och, come now.” She sighed as if he were too daft to understand. “What would you have me do? I stayed alive, as you did.” Her scornful smile told him she was remembering the fight in her father’s yard with the McColls. “Now, have you come to converse with me, or take me home?”

Maggie shook her head and began to cry. Bertrid slipped from her arms and fled into the shadows. “Do not go away, Kate.” Her plea was so stricken with sorrow, Kate almost ran to her. She stopped herself, swallowing back her fear and guilt. The sooner she convinced her uncle to take her home, the safer everyone would be. She would worry about returning later.

Duncan yanked Maggie’s neck to quiet her, and Kate took a step forward. “Uncle.” She tried to pull his attention away from her dearest friend.

“Where is the MacGregor?” he suddenly demanded.

Kate shrugged her shoulders and was about to tell him she did not know or care, when the barn door swung open again.

Jamie stood at the entrance, his arms cradling a dense spray of yellow daffodils. His smile faded almost instantly when he saw the Earl of Argyll. He reached for his sword, spilling the flowers around his feet. Before he had time to unsheathe his weapon, Duncan hurled his dagger at him.

Kate cried out, but Maggie only gaped, stricken with horror as her beloved gripped the hilt protruding from his belly and then collapsed to the ground. Duncan moved instantly, kicking the door closed and retrieving his blade from where it was lodged. Without pause, he cut across the barn and gripped Maggie by the hair, yanking her head back.

Kate hurled herself at him, ready to fight him to the death. He swung and sliced open her palm. Blood shot outward, splattering across Maggie’s face. Her blue eyes, already glazed with the haunting images from her past, went vacant and she opened her mouth to begin screaming.

Duncan silenced her with a blow to her head, using the hilt of his dagger. Kate went deathly still when he pointed the tip to Maggie’s neck, his eyes wild with what he meant to do.

“Uncle, nae!” Kate took a step forward, reaching out to him with her bloody hand. “I beg you. I beg you, nae.”

“You plead for the life of a MacGregor?” he accused, craning Maggie’s head farther back.

“Aye, I do. I will do whatever you ask of me.”

Duncan’s eyes shot to the door, then back to her. “Very well. We are leaving. If the guards call out, you will cast your lovely smile on them and convince them you are in no danger. It is clear these people are your friends. Make them believe you, Katherine, or I will cut her throat.”

“I will do it,” Kate promised. “But you will release her now.” When the earl laughed, she continued quickly. “If you do not let her go, I will not move from this spot. Are you prepared to die, Uncle? It is only a matter of time before Callum’s men come barreling in here. You stand no chance against them, I assure you.” Her muscles spasmed when he inched his blade closer to Maggie’s flesh, ready to refuse her demands. “Do it,” she challenged him, suppressing the need to scream, the urge to throw herself at his feet and plead for Maggie’s life. “And then cut my throat, as well. But know this, you will die this day, also.”

She almost staggered with relief when he tossed Maggie aside. When Kate moved to go to her, her uncle snatched her by the back of her neck and dragged her to the door.

“Betray me,” he warned silkily against her ear while he covered his face with his plaid, “and I vow I will escape and return to Kildun—and to your brother.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

R
OBERT GROANED
and struggled to open his eyes. Searing jolts of fire shot through his head. He brought his hands up to cradle his forehead and felt warm, sticky blood drying over his eyes. He waited a few moments and lifted his lids slowly. A swath of bright noontide sky greeted him. He blinked as the memory of the night before returned to him. His uncle had struck him with something, a tree trunk if his tormented skull had anything to say about it. With a tight moan and a muttered oath, he pushed himself up on his elbows. He looked around, already knowing Duncan was not there with him. The madman was most likely dead. Robert hoped it was so. He dragged himself to his knees, too weak to stand, and began to crawl down the sloping hill toward the castle. He had to find Kate. If MacGregor found him first, so be it. He would worry over it when the time came.

He almost crawled over the dead body of one of the Menzie men. “Och, God.” Robert moaned. His gaze glided a little to the left, where he found the others, as dead as the first. Sickened, Robert had no doubt about who had killed them.

He turned his attention to the fortress ahead. Where was his uncle? Was he already inside? Everything was too quiet. If the MacGregors had discovered Duncan and killed him, the entire holding would be alive with commotion. The Earl of Argyll was still alive, lurking somewhere, waiting for an opportunity to kill. Rising to his feet, Robert fought the desire to pass out from the pain exploding through his skull, and he began to run.

When he was just a few yards away from the castle, the heavy doors began to open. He skidded to a halt, his heart crashing against his ribs.

Someone stepped outside, his mop of golden curls glimmering like a halo beneath the sunlight.

Graham Grant!

The commander looked around and then stopped dead when he saw Robert. “Christ!”

Robert lifted his palms to quiet him. “Nae, Graham, wait.”

“Guard!” Grant bellowed, dragging his sword from its sheath at the same time.

Robert shouted his name. “My uncle is here somewhere . . .” He looked around at the vast landscape. “. . . hiding.”

“Step closer!” Graham commanded.

Robert took a step forward and then swayed. He rubbed his head to help clear it, but it only made the ground spin faster. The MacGregor was being alerted. Soon the chieftain would rush out of the castle and kill him. “Graham . . . damn you, hear me. My uncle is here and he means to kill Margaret Mac—”

Graham began running just as Robert fell flat on his face.

Without pausing at the barn door, Graham kicked it almost off its hinges and braced himself for an attack. “Maggie!” he shouted over the angry honks and squeals of her barn friends. His eyes settled on a body sprawled in the hay. “Nae,” Graham choked and then rushed forward. When he reached his brother, he dropped his sword and fell to his knees. “Jamie! Callum!” he screamed toward the door for help.

Men began racing into the barn, blocking the sun from the entrance. Callum led them, his sword drawn. He slowed his pace when he saw Graham leaning over Jamie, but he did not stop. Panic engulfed him, so terrifying it made his legs feel like butter. He shoved heavy bundles of hay aside as if they were as light as leaves. Searching . . .

Brodie found her first. When Callum reached them, he crouched before the trembling form of his sister. He reached out and touched her shoulder and she reeled back, her eyes huge and haunted. But she did not scream.

Callum controlled himself from going mad as he looked at the dried droplets of blood on Maggie’s face. She was too far away for it to be Jamie’s blood.

“Maggie, where is Kate?”

At the sound of his voice, Maggie suddenly grabbed for him. “He . . . he killt Jamie.”

“Nae,” Brodie soothed her. “Jamie lives. He was hit too far to the right to cause a fatal wound,” he said, more to Callum. “He has lost much blood, though. Graham and Angus have already taken him to his sisters. They will know what to do.”

Callum closed his eyes in silent thanks. When he opened them again, he stood up and roared a command of orders that made his sister shrink back. He wanted men searching the castle, the stable, and every bothy in the vale. He wanted others saddled within the instant and ready to cover every inch of his land, in every direction. He wanted Kate found. Now!

As he strode toward the door to leave, Angus returned from the castle with Graham close behind him and Robert Campbell’s collar clutched in his fist.

“Mayhap he can tell us where to find her,” the beefy Highlander suggested.

Callum took a step forward and lifted his sword. There was no mercy in his gaze, only raw, uncontrolled rage. Robert closed his eyes and turned away. Callum whirled his massive blade over his head, preparing the most lethal blow he could deliver. Angus released his prisoner and leaped backward to avoid being cut in half along with Robert.

“Nae!” Graham leaped forward and landed with the full weight of his body on Callum. Both men tumbled to the ground. The sword flashed beneath a beam of light as it hurled end over end into the shadows. Callum sprang to feet, his fury fully unleashed. He snatched fistfuls of Graham’s plaid and lifted him until their eyes were level. Then, as if his commander weighed nothing more than a thought, Callum flung him into the nearest wall.

With determination void of anything save its single purpose, Callum reached Robert and hauled him closer using only his fingers wrapped tightly around Campbell’s neck.

But Graham appeared again and valiantly wedged his body between his friend and his friend’s enemy. “I beg ye, do not kill him.” His hands shook when he placed them on his friend’s shoulders. “Callum, look ye to yer sister, please. Do not make her witness this again, I beg ye.”

Callum swallowed so suddenly a slight moan escaped him. He did not want to look at Maggie. “Brodie, get her oot of here. Guard her with yer life.”

“Callum.” Graham still had not let him go. “Ye cannot kill this man. He is Kate’s brother. Ye vowed not to harm him. Hear me, we will find her, I vow it. He had the chance to ambush me outside, but he warned me of Argyll instead.”

Slowly, Callum lifted his gaze to Graham. He waited until his sister was safely out of the barn before he spoke. “If she dies, he dies with her.”

Graham nodded, finally breathing again, and gave Callum’s shoulders a firm pat. “Just let me speak to him, aye?”

Turning to face their captive after Callum nodded, Graham was first struck with pity at the terror in Robert’s eyes. He understood it, for he had felt it, as well, a few moments before. “Rest easy. He is a man of his word and will not kill ye.”

Robert’s eyes darted from Graham’s to Callum’s, then back again. “Where is my sister?” he asked, ignoring his throbbing skull and the fear that made his mouth dry.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Graham said. “Where is your uncle?”

“I do not know,” Robert told him, tunneling his fingers though his hair and then grimacing at the huge knot on his head. “He struck me last eve. I awoke to find him gone. We came here for my sister, but he said he was going to kill—” Robert paused when he looked at the chieftain. “—MacGregor’s sister.”

Callum moved forward again and Robert took a step back. “When I find Argyll, and I will, his screams will be heard in England.”

“I do not mean to stop you,” Robert promised him. “It was he who put the blade to my father and my grandfather. We must move quickly. I am confident he is not still here. Your men are wasting time searching the castle.”

In one fluid motion, Callum seized Robert’s plaid in both hands and hauled him closer. “Then where should we be searchin’?”

His sister had been trapped here with this beast, Robert thought, unable to look anywhere but into the Devil’s unholy gaze. “Leave Kate out of this feud,” he managed with more courage in his voice than he felt.

Graham closed his eyes, praying that Callum would give him a wee bit more time. He knew Robert feared for Kate at the hands of the outlaw MacGregor. “Robert,” he said hastily. “She has come to no harm here. Camlochlin is her home now—by her choice.”

Robert shook his head with disbelief. He would have laughed if he was not so terrified.

“Aye, she loves him, I swear it,” Graham stunned him further. “And look ye to him. Ye have seen him before—at Kildun—remember? Look at him now and believe that ’tis his love fer her that drives him mad with concern.”

Robert looked, but he was not relieved at what he saw. Instead, his eyes darkened with something worse than horror. “My God, what have you done?” When the MacGregor’s murderous glare impaled him, he did not flinch. “He will kill her. Just as he killed our father for being a sympathizer.”

“Nae,” Callum breathed on a mangled groan, his dark intent fading into complete sorrow he could no longer control. He had done this. He had known Kate’s life would be forfeit for loving him, and he allowed her to love him anyway. “Nae!” This time the word came down like a hammer. He released Robert and headed for the door but turned when he reached it. “You are the one who taught Kate about heroes. Tell me where to look fer yer uncle and help me save her, Robert Campbell, if there’s any honor in ye.”

Robert nodded. He had no other choice but to trust this man. “He has a boat waiting to sail him to the mainland. It is . . .”

Callum was already gone. Robert turned to look at Graham, and then they ran, as well.

Chapter Forty

K
ATE GRIPPED HER BELLY
with one hand and the side of the boat with the other. It felt as if she had been on the water for hours. The waves crashed beneath her, rocking and dipping the vessel until Kate’s skin turned pale green. She felt like she was dying a slow, sickening death, but she used the time leaning over the edge to try to think of what she was going to do about the man watching her. Duncan Campbell looked quite pleased with himself, smiling at her when she met his gaze.

“Why did Robert not come with you?” she asked him, straightening.

“I ordered him to stay at Kildun. I knew I would lose many men coming here, and I was correct.” Duncan gave her a somewhat rueful look. “Many died trying to save you, Katherine.”

She thought of Jamie, and immediately tears clouded her vision. “How many MacGregors did you murder?” she asked, sickened by the sight of this man who was her blood kin.