Chapter Fifteen
“Tell her what she wishes to ken!” Allisdair sobbed from in front of Lillianna, where he’d been tied to a chair to watch her be tortured.
Though her head throbbed as if it would explode and every inch of her screamed in agony, she managed to lift her gaze to look at Allisdair. Her head felt as if it remained attached to her body by one extremely frayed string that would snap in two at any minute. Lillianna smiled at Isla, flinching when the woman swung the whip out again and it slashed across Lillianna’s stomach, cutting into her skin once more. She looked down, feeling the warmth of blood, and her head seemed to bobble on her neck as the room swam in and out of blackness.
She swallowed against the desire to retch and licked her lips. “I have no worth to Laird MacLorh.”
It was true, wasn’t it? Her thoughts were so scattered at the moment, she could not recall for certain. She heard the swish of the whip through the air again, and to her humiliation, a whimper escaped her. And this time, when the whip cut through her tender flesh, she blacked out.
Freezing water hit Lillianna’s face and awoke her with a start. She opened her eyes and looked down, confusion muddling her thoughts. She blinked, her vision slightly blurry, and a chair came into focus. She was tied to a chair. Her feet were bound and her hands—Panic swallowed her as she realized her hands were bound behind her back.
Where was she? Her thoughts tripped and then seemed to right themselves. She was being tortured by Isla. But why was she sitting? Was her torture over? Immediately, she glanced up, fear for Allisdair taking her breath, and when she saw him, his shirt had been removed and his chest was bloody from lashes. A horrid scream filled the room, and she winced and gasped when she realized it was her. Her raw throat burned with her effort. How many times had she screamed thusly?
Isla had just raised the whip to hit Allisdair again, but she lowered it and slowly turned toward Lillianna. “Ye’re awake,” Isla said, matter-of-fact. “I was beginning to wonder how long it would take, and if ye would rouse before I killed the lad.”
“Kill him?” Lillianna gasped. “Yer brother wants him alive.”
“Aye,” Isla said, smiling, “but accidents do happen when ye torture people.”
Lillianna tried to surge up to no avail. Isla walked toward Lillianna and kneeled before her, looking up at her with amusement in her eyes. “Ye have the power to stop this. Ye have the power to save Allisdair’s life. Tell me,” she said, leaning in as if they were friends about to share a secret, “who are ye and what do ye mean to Angus?”
Allisdair’s eyes filled with tears, but he shook his head, yet Lillianna could see he was on the verge of breaking. Even if he had not been, she’d rather die than be the reason he was tortured any further. Besides, if Isla and her brother were focused on Lillianna, mayhap it would take their attention off Allisdair long enough for Angus to rescue him. “My name,” she said, fury rising in her, “is Lillianna de Burgh, niece to Richard Og de Burgh, who is—”
“I know who de Burgh is,” Isla said. “He is one of the King of England’s favored advisors. Excellent. Ye will be a great benefit for negotiating what we desire. Now why were ye with Angus?”
Lillianna’s mind raced with what to say. She’d offered enough truth. There was no chance she was going to help Isla figure out that Angus was on a mission to warn Bruce’s men. She had no idea if Isla and her clan were loyal to Bruce or Edward. “Angus stole me from the king’s castle. He intended to use me to strike at my uncle and the king.”
Isla frowned. “Angus would nae do that. He is too honorable to use a woman.”
The truth of that statement hit Lillianna hard. Angus was honorable and good, and she trusted him. The fact that Isla, who had betrayed him, said so to this day, even after he had killed her father in retribution, reinforced what Lillianna knew to be true. Still, she had to make Isla think she was wrong about him.
“I suppose he’s changed since you knew him,” Lillianna said. “War does that to men.”
Isla nodded, as if that explanation made sense to her. She eyed Lillianna. “And ye’re half-Irish, so he need nae be honorable to ye in the same way he was to me.”
Lillianna imagined slapping the woman. Her palm tingled as if she had actually done it. Isla Belfaine was in love with Angus, or at least Lillianna thought she was. So why then had she betrayed and used him?
“My brother and Drumlan will be thrilled to hear we have de Burgh’s niece as prisoner,” Isla said. “Mayhap we can trade ye back to yer uncle for troops to aid us in defeating the MacDonalds and the MacLeods.”
Lillianna tensed. Of course Belfaine would want to defeat the MacDonalds and the MacLeods. Those two clans would surely oppose him when he tried to take the position of Lord of the Isles. A MacDonald laird was the current Lord of the Isles, if she recalled correctly, and the MacLeods were their allies.
Isla turned from her, stalked to the door, and motioned the guards who had been stationed outside of the room into it. She pointed to Lillianna. “Ye,” she said, motioning to one of the guards, “untie her. And ye,” Isla said, indicating the other guard, “take the boy to the dungeon and make certain his wounds are treated. We kinnae have him dying on us…yet.”
Isla grabbed Lillianna by the chin, and when she did, a bright light flashed in Lillianna’s head and then a series of women’s images filled her mind, each disappearing quickly. Each woman had green eyes and brown hair similar to hers, but she recognized only one of them—her mother. The others, she suspected, were her ancestors.
Lillianna… Her mother’s voice filled her head. Open yer heart.
Lillianna gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, but when she opened them, the light was gone and she could no longer hear her mother’s voice.
Isla narrowed her eyes, which gleamed maliciously. “Did I hurt ye?” she asked in a false apologetic tone.
Lillianna nodded, not wishing to reveal what had just happened.
“Good,” Isla said, smirking. “Ye’ll be coming with me to the great hall,” she continued. “I wish my brother to see the prize he has unknowingly captured.” She shoved Lillianna at a guard. “Take her!”
When the man touched her, that same shaft of nearly blinding light filled her head, followed by images of her mother and the other women—seeing them again, she was certain they were her ancestors—and her mother’s voice once again filled her ears. Open yer heart.
Lillianna glanced wildly around the room as the guard dragged her out of it. She half expected to see her mother, but it was only Isla and the guard. She had no time to consider her mother’s words or what was happening to her as the man yanked her down the hall, the stairs, and the passage toward the great hall. Though pain radiated from her stomach to every part of her body, and each movement that brought the shredded material of her gown into contact with her skin made her want to howl, her rage was so fierce she knew she could stand the pain. Yet her good sense kept her from fighting back. It would do no good right now, weaponless and surrounded, and in the great hall of the castle. No, it was far better for them to think she was weak and defeated so they would underestimate her. Then, when the opportunity presented itself, she would flee and take Allisdair with her.
Isla’s hand came to Lillianna’s free arm and jerked it hard. “Hurry yerself! I dunnae have all day for ye.”
Lillianna missed a step because of the bright light and images that filled her vision for the third time now. Open yer heart. Open yer heart, her mother said, the words louder and more urgent each time.
The guard opened the door to the great hall, pulled her into the room, then up beside him, pressed his hand to her back, and shoved her forward. Lillianna tripped, and fell to her knees. The jarring pain spiraled through her body in dizzying waves, and she stilled, panting, tense with expectation of more images and her mother’s voice, but nothing came. Open her heart? To whom? Angus?
“Sister,” Belfaine said, annoyed. “I assume ye have news for me if ye’re interrupting my meeting with Drumlan.”
“Hello, Laird Drumlan,” Isla purred. “’Tis good to see ye, as always.”
“Isla,” a man replied, laughter behind his words. “Who do ye have with ye?”
Lillianna righted herself and came to her feet, then pushed her hair out of her eyes to take in the man before her. If this was Laird Drumlan, then this man was her enemy, as he had betrayed her mother.
Drumlan’s dark gaze narrowed upon her, but it widened considerably as he viewed her. “Christ’s teeth,” he murmured, his ruddy complexion going white as if he had seen a ghost. She looked much like her mother, so she did not doubt he thought he truly was seeing a ghost.
“What’s the matter with ye, Drumlan?” Belfaine demanded.
The tall, silver-haired, sharp-eyed man stood and moved toward her and stopped directly in front of her. He gazed at her intently, grasping her by the chin, and this time, the light that filled her mind caused her to cry out in fear more than anything. It was so bright that she could see nothing else, and her head felt as if it would explode from the intensity. Her mother’s image flooded her, followed by images of the women who had her hair and eyes. The pictures came swiftly, repeating themselves.
Open yer heart. Open yer heart. Open yer heart, her mother demanded. But why would her mother wish her to open her heart and let in the powers if it just led to betrayal?
“What’s ailing ye, lass?” Drumlan demanded.
She could not even talk, the pain in her head was so great.
“Isla, I told ye nae to mar her face!” Belfaine roared.
The light in Lillianna’s head began to fade, and Drumlan’s face started to become clear. He surveyed her with what appeared to be awe and excitement. Shivers raced down her spine. He turned her face to the right and then the left. “Christ’s teeth,” he said again, his voice vibrating with obvious shock. “Ye look just like her.”
Lillianna could see that the pulse at his neck had sped, sending his blood through his veins in a rush, lifting his skin in hard pushes she could see. Panic gripped her with its icy fingers. The brooch. He still had it, and he understood what putting it on her would mean. She had no doubt that her uncle had been looking for it—perhaps even somehow had discovered that Drumlan had it—but this man possessed it, and now he wanted to possess her.
“Who does she look just like?” Belfaine demanded, coming to stand beside Drumlan.
Drumlan released his hold on her, but she was left feeling weak and tired.
Isla drew close to her brother and stared at Lillianna. “She’s the niece of Richard Og de Burgh,” she announced, sounding all too pleased with herself. “That’s what I brought her here to tell ye, Brother. Ye have captured a great prize. We can use her to bargain with the king and gain troops to support ye when ye rise against the MacLorhs, and then the MacDonalds and the MacLeods.”
“Nay,” Drumlan said, his tone hard and ruthless. “Ye will nae trade this lass for troops. I will give ye all the warriors ye need if ye will but give me the lass.”
Lillianna’s heart thudded wildly, and a damp coolness covered her back and the base of her skull. Dear God above, her worst fear was about to come true.
“Why do ye want her?” Belfaine demanded. “Who is she to ye?”
“I loved her mother,” Drumlan said. “And she was taken from me.”
Lillianna wanted to shout that he was lying, but she resisted. If Drumlan departed this castle and took her with him, it might be her best—and maybe only—chance to escape, and for Allisdair, she would risk gaining her powers through the brooch. For the boy and for Angus, she would risk it. If she was to be taken with Drumlan, she had to think of an argument to ensure Allisdair came with them.
“She looks just like her mother,” Drumlan repeated, jerking her attention back to him. He stared at her with a gleam in his eyes that made her skin crawl. “I want the lass.” His gaze raked over her with a look of malevolent possessiveness that made her shudder.
“If I give ye the lass,” Belfaine said, “ye will supply the warriors I need to take MacLorh’s castle?”
“Aye,” Drumlan replied. “I will return home today as planned and rally my troops. We could attack MacLorh’s stronghold in two days’ time.”
Dear God! She had to somehow flee with Allisdair and reach Angus’s home to warn his men. Was that even a viable plan? How far was Angus’s home from here? She didn’t know, but she had to try. Thoughts of Angus made her throat grow tight and her eyes burn as if she might cry. She blinked repeatedly, forcing back the tears. Where was he? Was he alive? What if he had been killed? A raw primitive grief overwhelmed her at the thought. He could not be dead. She refused to even think it.
“Ye can have the lass for the troops,” Belfaine announced, his words piercing the fog of misery in which she was floundering.
Lillianna could not decide whether to rejoice that she might have a chance to escape or weep that she might now be turned over to a man who, in all probability, possessed her mother’s brooch and undoubtedly intended to make her use the powers that would come with it. And she’d not be able to deny him or lie to him about what she saw. Her mother once told her that to do so would cause such horrific pain that it would bring her to her knees and steal her consciousness.
Belfaine raised his arms wide and glanced upward. “Fate is smiling upon me.”
“Fate is a fickle mistress,” Lillianna blurted, unable to help herself.
Belfaine shot her a withering stare, and she bit the inside of her cheek at her foolishness for saying such a thing. “If my horse had nae slipped a shoe, I would have been long gone from Ettrick Forest before I heard the fighting and saw ye. Fate is smiling upon me.”
“Yes,” she forced herself to say for fear that if she didn’t, he might become angry and do something to hurt Allisdair. “Given that, it does seem Fate is smiling upon you.”
“Ah, my dear Fate!” he exclaimed, glancing up once more. “I’d be most pleased if MacLorh himself was killed in the scrimmage.” Disgust roiled in Lillianna’s gut for Belfaine’s obvious dramatics and intent. He glanced at her once more, his eyes assessing her until uneasiness gripped her. “Even if MacLorh is dead, the king likely would love to get his hands upon MacLorh’s brother to execute him publicly for MacLorh’s sins.” Belfaine chuckled, and Lillianna had to clench her teeth so as not to scream her hatred at him.
Drumlan and Belfaine had been watching her, and she feared her expression had revealed her grave concern for Allisdair. Drumlan cocked his head and continued to study her, then said, “Why nae let me take the lad?” With that, she was certain he knew that she felt protective of Allisdair, and he intended to somehow use him against her.
“I’m set to meet with that turncoat bastard Fraser in a fortnight,” Drumlan said. “I can show him the lad as proof that we have possession of him and then get him to make a bargain for ye with the king: the lad for execution in exchange for some coin or land for ye. Of course, Fraser will likely wish coin for his efforts.
Drumlan and Belfaine were men with no honor, but their dishonor would serve her well if Allisdair got to travel with her. All that would be left once, she was reunited with Allisdair and out of this castle, would be to find a way to escape. She bit down hard on her lip at the desire to laugh at the impossibility of her situation.
“Why should I let ye bargain for me? Why should I trust ye that much? For all I ken ye will claim the lass is yer prisoner and gain boons for yerself.”
“Ye ken Fraser hates ye,” Drumlan said easily. “He would nae acquiesce to meet with ye.”
“Och,” Belfaine said with a wave of his hand. “The man holds a grudge too long.”
“Agreed, but nevertheless, the dislike of ye is there. I have a much better chance of getting Fraser to speak with King Edward and broker a pact in yer favor than ye do.”
Lillianna held her breath, fearing Belfaine would disagree. The tight look on his face told her he did not like the idea of relinquishing Allisdair to Drumlan, and undoubtedly his instinct was correct. “What think ye, Sister?” Belfaine asked.
“Fraser will nae ever do a thing to aid ye,” Isla said, matter-of-fact. “Ye bedded his wife. A man dunnae forgive or forget that.”
Repugnance nearly choked Lillianna. She did not know Simon Fraser, but she knew the man had sacrificed a great deal to aid the Scottish people in gaining their freedom.
“Perhaps ye’re right,” Belfaine said with a shrug. “Ye can take the lad with ye, but if ye cross me, Drumlan, I’ll kill yer daughter.”
Lillianna barely held in her gasp that Belfaine had threatened to kill his own wife, Drumlan’s daughter.
Drumlan stiffened. “I will nae cross ye,” the man said, his voice low.
“Then it’s settled,” Belfaine exclaimed. “This wench—” he caught Lillianna by the hair, making her scalp sting “—will be yers.”
Another brilliant light filled her vision, making her head pound horribly. Images of her mother and ancestors started to roll through her mind and her mother’s voice whispered the same words as before in her ear.
“Pity, I had plans to put ye in my own bed,” Belfaine said, though his voice was nearly lost in the pounding in her head and her mother’s ever-loudening tone. “Alas,” he continued, his hot breath washing over her, “I must relinquish ye to gain my rightful place as Lord of the Isles.”
“The pity is that ye ever were born,” Lillianna spat, trying desperately to pull away from him and failing. She felt as if the pain in her head may well kill her. And the light! Her eyes began to water from the intensity of it.
“Watch this one,” Belfaine said to Drumlan, releasing her. “There is something about her that makes me uneasy.”
Lillianna let out a relieved breath when her contact was broken with Belfaine and the light and images disappeared. Her mother’s voice faded away, and Lillianna’s vision returned to normal. Her relief was short-lived, however, when she caught Drumlan staring at her with a knowing look. Panic rioted through her. Had she made the right choice not trying to convince Belfaine to keep her in his possession? Had there even been a choice? No, both men were evil, and at least with Drumlan, the chance of escape was greater. She began to pray fervently that Fate, that fickle mistress, would smile upon her this time.