Twenty-Four
Lachlan entered Arthorn Castle under the cover of darkness, which had descended once again. But this time he took the tunnel that led straight to his Uncle Jamie’s bedchamber. After traversing the damp tunnel to the chamber, he listened for any signs of noise from within, though he expected none given what Bridgette had told him about his uncle being away. The door to the chamber took some doing to open, and when it did release, it made such a racket that he withdrew his sword in preparation for an attack. Yet after standing for several tense breaths in the middle of his uncle’s bedchamber, Lachlan decided no assault was forthcoming.
He crept silently out of the bedchamber through corridors that were disturbing in their emptiness. It seemed most the castle inhabitants—likely all soldiers—were not here, which to Lachlan signaled that they had gathered somewhere for a strike, likely on Dunvegan. He wondered briefly if Colin had already left with the men who had been here, but then he spotted two men at the end of a corridor and he had to quickly duck to avoid notice.
Once he felt sure they were safely past, he eased out, and remembering the markers Bridgette had given him, he turned to make his way toward the corridor where he should find Colin’s bedchamber. A woman stepped from the shadows holding a sword—Graham’s sword—in front of her. He felt his eyes widen as he beheld the russet-haired, blue-eyed woman before him. His throat tightened. Though it had been many long years since he had seen Lena, he saw the little girl in the woman before him. Or at least he thought he did. Was he seeing what he wanted? Was this Lena or another lie from Jamie? His gut told him it was his sister. She had the same slanted eyes and full upper lip. Still…
He snaked a hand out and took Graham’s sword from her. Pointing both his own sword and Graham’s at her, he motioned her toward the shadows.
Her lips twitched at the corner with the hint of an amused smile that surprised Lachlan. Without hesitation, she moved into the darkness and faced him. “Ye dunnae remember me, Lachlan MacLeod, but I remember ye. I thought ye a god, and the way ye used to strut around, I ken ye thought yerself a god, as well.”
Shame heated his neck. “I have changed. Raise yer hair, please.”
Lena frowned. “My hair? Why?”
“I’d like to see yer neck.”
“Why—Ah, ye’re nae sure I am yer sister.”
He nodded, and she quickly raised her hair and displayed the dark, leaf-shaped birthmark on her neck. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well?”
“My God,” was all he managed to mutter.
“Aye,” she agreed. “I myself have been saying that since the woman Bridgette told me ye were nae dead. That none of my brothers were dead as I had been raised to believe.”
Overcome with emotion, Lachlan lowered his weapons and tugged his sister to him. They stood for a moment, embracing, but he knew they had to save all questions—and the time for true reunion—until they were safely away.
“Ye have come to rescue me and our brother Graham, I presume?” She grinned and two big dimples appeared that he remembered so well from her chubby little girl cheeks.
“Aye,” he replied as relief poured through him. “Ye’ve seen Graham, then?”
She nodded. “Only from a distance as Colin dragged him through the courtyard. Colin took him straight to Jamie’s torture chamber, where he is trying to break him this verra moment. I kenned who it was when Colin taunted him and used his name.” Hatred twisted her features, and it seemed to match what Lachlan was feeling for Colin, too. “Graham is strong, aye?”
“Aye,” Lachlan replied. “Why say ye so, though?”
Lena chuckled. “Our brother has been taunting Colin with pledges of yer coming to rip out his heart and eat it for supper. I’ve verra much enjoyed listening to that vow, along with the hundreds of other dark ones of vengeance that Graham has hurled at Colin.”
“Colin will die this day in the way he deserves,” Lachlan snarled.
Lena nodded. “Good. Then he shall die a miserably painful death. ’Tis too bad my husband is nae here for ye to kill, as well. I’d much prefer to be widowed.”
Lachlan felt a smile come to his lips and was sure it likely looked feral. “We can arrange that, sister.”
She nodded, a gleam of satisfaction coming to her eyes. “Come. I’ll lead ye to Graham, but ye must give me yer vow that afore ye kill Colin, ye will learn where he has hidden Ross.”
“Is this the boy ye vowed to protect?”
“Aye. I’m all he has. He dunnae ken who his parents are. I met him when I came here. They treat him like a dog. I will nae leave him. I have searched this castle—was searching yet again when I saw ye—and I kinnae find him. He’s but a child of eight or nine summers.”
“I vow it,” Lachlan said immediately, “upon Bridgette, who I hold most dear in this world.”
A smile pulled at her lips, but then worry came to her eyes. “Did she tell ye anything that happened to her?”
He shook his head. “She will nae speak of it.”
Lena suddenly clutched his arm. “Dunnae lose hope in her,” she said forcefully, and it struck him that she almost sounded as if she spoke for herself.
“Never,” he assured his sister. “Now, how many men do ye ken are here? Will the room Graham is being held in be guarded from within and outside?”
A slow, gleeful smile came to Lena’s lips. “Ten men remain here. Most left with the Campbell and Jamie to rally to strike Dunvegan, and after Colin and Graham fell into the water and were pulled out by Colin’s men, Colin sent all but ten to meet with his father. He thinks himself invincible. No men guard the room he’s in, but he’s deadly by himself. Ye ken?”
Anger set Lachlan’s teeth on edge and had him gripping both swords. “I ken,” Lachlan growled, “but Colin is about to ken that he’s nae strong enough. Lead the way.”
They crept through the dark corridors in utter silence, and as they moved, Lachlan noticed Lena was limping. “Are ye injured?” he whispered.
“’Tis nothing. It will heal,” she said dismissively.
Accepting her word, Lachlan followed her down a tunnel that led to the outermost wall of the castle and into a larger tunnel that led to a single room. Despite the thick stone walls of the room, Graham’s guttural cries rang out.
Lena jerked to a halt with a gasp. “He’s nae cried out in pain once since the torment began. He uttered only barbs afore.”
Fresh hot rage flowed through Lachlan as he made his way to the closed door. Lena produced a key with a grim smile and held it out to him. “I stole it.”
Lachlan took the key, and as his fingers closed over the cool iron, his entire body tensed in anticipation. He inserted the key and unlocked the door, not overly concerned with being quiet because Graham’s bellows would drown out the small noise the key made. He paused, though, needing the arrangement of the room and handing Lena Graham’s sword, which she took with wide eyes. “In case ye need to defend yerself.”
She nodded.
“Will Colin be facing the door, ye believe?”
“Nay. All Jamie’s horrid devices line the far wall, so Colin likely will be turned away from the door. He has commented in the great hall to Jamie how much he likes to use Jamie’s iron chair.”
“God’s bones!” Lachlan shuddered to think of Graham strapped to a spiked chair that Colin would be slowly driving into Graham’s flesh. With that thought, Lachlan threw open the door and charged into the room with his sword raised.
Shock froze him the moment his mind fully grasped the scene. Graham was not in the iron chair. There was a boy who looked to be no more than nine summers slumped in it. Blood trickled over his shoulders and down his legs. His head was drooped forward.
Lena’s enraged scream filled the space. “Ross!” she screeched and tried to race past Lachlan. He grabbed her around the waist and shoved her back as Colin swung around to face them. Graham was strapped to a post that faced the iron chair. Lachlan understood at once that Graham’s bellows had been for the pain the boy was enduring, not his own.
“I kinnae say I’m pleased to see ye,” Colin said, withdrawing his sword.
Lachlan’s response was a roar as he charged toward the man and barreled full speed into him. They went flying backward and hit as one against the unforgiving iron of the torture chair and then the cold floor. Colin moved to lift his sword, but Lachlan was upon him, knocking the blade away and then repeatedly pounding his fist into Colin’s face without mercy. Revenge for what had been done to his brother, his sister, and Bridgette drove him to near madness. Grief for what had been lost in Bridgette fueled his anger. And guilt for failing to protect her blinded him to any pain his relentless beating of Colin caused himself.
When Lachlan was too tired to hit Colin any more, he struggled to his feet, stunned to find the boy removed from the chair and now being held in Graham’s arms. Graham and Lena stared at Lachlan, and Lachlan glanced down at his bloody fists and then at the near-lifeless Colin. He bent down, secured Colin under the arms, and dragged him to the iron chair where he shoved him into the seat and then set about doing to Colin what he’d done to the boy…and God alone knew how many others.
Before Colin took his last breath, Lachlan leaned close to the man and whispered in his ear, “For Bridgette.” Then he removed one of his daggers and plunged it into the man’s black heart.
They rode toward Duart Castle without stopping through the remainder of the night and until late afternoon the next day. Along the way, Lena told them of happy years raised by a priest in England and seeing Jamie no more than a dozen times in those years. She shared her memories of Atholl saving her from the loch, and then of Jamie telling her the castle had been attacked and overtaken and that all her family was dead but the two of them. She finished by telling of how Jamie had come to get her and told her she was to be married, and when she protested, he had told her he would kill her if she did not do exactly as he said.
Lachlan was overjoyed at their reunion with Lena, but he also felt a deep anger and a need for vengeance against the Campbells and his uncle. He could tell by Graham’s twisted face that his need for vengeance was as great as Lachlan’s. And when Graham spoke, his words obliterated any doubt that Lachlan may have had.
Graham’s gaze met Lachlan’s. “I will destroy the Campbells.” He turned to Lena. “I am so verra sorry for failing ye.”
Lena waved a dismissive hand at him, but he turned his face away.
Lachlan was worried that Graham would retaliate without thinking, and he was worried for Lena’s future, given what she had likely endured at the hands of Jamie and the Campbells, but at the moment, his biggest concern was Bridgette. The need to see her, to tell her she was free from Colin, and to begin the process of helping her heal drove Lachlan, and he, in turn, drove his horse—and the one they had taken from one of Jamie’s unsuspecting men—relentlessly. He rode with the boy, Ross, secured in front of him, and Graham rode with Lena.
He inhaled a long, shuddering breath. He did not know what awaited him with Bridgette. He was not sure how to help her heal or if she would ever be exactly as she had been, but he didn’t care. As long as they were together, things would right themselves. They had to. He could not imagine never touching her again, holding her, cradling her in the protection of his arms.
His need to be with Bridgette overwhelmed him, and when Duart came into view, he broke his horse away from the others and raced the destrier to the courtyard. The castle bustled with activity. Men hurried to and fro with weapons, and women scurried around with worried looks upon their faces. Lachlan dismounted and handed his destrier off to a servant to be fed, watered, and cooled down. Then he turned to make his way inside and seek out Bridgette.
Alex stood with his arms crossed over his chest in the doorway of the castle. He regarded Lachlan for a long moment without speaking and then moved his attention to Graham, who had only just ridden up. Alex gave a nod. “’Tis good to see ye alive, Graham.” He smiled and looked to Lachlan. “Both of ye. I only arrived this morning to rally my men. We’re away to help yer brother defend Dunvegan. Yer uncle—”
“I ken,” Lachlan interrupted, his need to see Bridgette consuming him. He motioned behind him to where Lena stood with her arms protectively around Ross. “Lena told us.”
Alex’s brows dipped together. “Lena? Who is this—”
“Our sister,” Lachlan interrupted again, desperate now to see Bridgette. “Graham will explain all shortly.”
“Lena!” Alex exclaimed, brushed past Lachlan, and embraced her.
“Who are ye, then?” Lena demanded, struggling to free herself. At the same time, Ross, who was wedged between them, bowed his chest at Alex.
“Ye dunnae remember me?” Alex asked.
Lena scrunched her nose. “Nay. Should I?”
Alex grinned. “When ye were but a wee lass of six summers ye told me ye were going to marry me.”
Color climbed swiftly up Lena’s face. “Alex MacLean?”
“Aye!”
“Alex!” Lachlan fairly roared, causing Alex, Lena, the boy, and Graham to gape at him. “Where is Bridgette?” Alex’s face closed off, as if guarding a secret, and unease rippled through Lachlan. “Where is she?” he demanded again.
“Let us talk in private a moment,” Alex replied, making Lachlan’s unease grow.
Lachlan nodded and moved away with Alex. Once they had distance between them and the others, he spoke. “I wish to see Bridgette.”
“Aye, I ken ye must, but Bridgette is nae here.”
“Nae here?” The unease turned to frigid fear.
Alex paused, rubbed a hand across his jaw, and sighed. “She left me a note telling me she may be carrying Colin’s bairn and that she was forced to become his wife.”
Anger rose in Lachlan, and he curled his hands into fists. “Colin is dead. I killed him. She is nae his wife any longer.”
Alex stared at him with hooded eyes for a long spell before he spoke again. “Still… Bridgette may be carrying his bairn, and she kens that would be hard for ye to accept.”
“I dunnae care that she may carry Colin’s bairn,” Lachlan growled. “I want her nay matter what.”
The hint of a smile twitched at Alex’s lips. “I hoped ye may say something like this, but I fear there is more to overcome than a possible bairn.”
“Aye,” Lachlan agreed. “She’s been hurt, but I will help heal her.”
Alex’s eyebrows shot upward. “She’s verra stubborn.”
“I’m more so.”
“She entreated me nae to tell ye where she went. She dunnae wish to be with ye.”
Lachlan gritted his teeth, and his nostrils flared. “Do ye believe that?”
“I dunnae, which is why I will tell ye. She’ll likely hate me for it, but she’ll likely hate me later when she kens how foolish she is being to keep ye away.” He shrugged. “I have kept my vow all these years to let her choose her husband and she chose ye afore. I dunnae believe her heart has changed, only that fear is now in it. So, as I see it, she should nae be turning ye away. But vow to me ye will be patient.”
“I swear it. Now where is she?”
“She’s fled to Culdrich Castle, which is on ‘the island of foreigners.’ She had five of my men with her.”
His heart ached with the knowledge that she had fled from him. She was so sore in spirit that she did not see any hope. Which meant he had to show her hope and fill her with it. “How long before yer men are amassed and away to Dunvegan?”
Alex shook his head. “Another sennight, but dunnae tarry for the battle. The MacDonalds pledged their swords to David and are gathering to help defend Dunvegan, even as we speak. Ye’re a fierce warrior, but Bridgette needs ye more than yer brother at this moment. He has three clans of fighting men at his side, as well as the king and his men.”
“Would ye see to my sister’s safe return to Dunvegan with Graham?”
“I’d be honored,” Alex replied.
Lachlan felt better about leaving. He nodded. “Then I’ll make haste to Bridgette,” Lachlan said, his mind turning with what he needed to do to prepare for the journey.
“Godspeed and luck to ye, Lachlan.”
Lachlan nodded, knowing he needed both.