Nineteen
Alex’s sword reverberated with the force of Lachlan’s blows. He’d known his friend was a fierce warrior. He’d seen Lachlan enough on the battlefield to attest to it. But they had always been fighting side by side as comrades in arms, never against each other. Now they were surrounded by his men and the Campbell’s, who outnumbered Lachlan’s party of four. Lachlan was the only MacLeod left standing. The other three had been captured, and the duty of bringing Lachlan to his knees had been given to Alex.
As he parried blow after blow from Lachlan, he tried to determine how to capture his friend without hurting him, and he kept coming to the same conclusion: there was not a way. Lachlan was too swift, too cunning, and too skilled to be easily taken, and the only opening Alex had even seen was a stab to the man’s gut, if he even managed to make that. It wouldn’t do. He could not chance killing his friend, yet he felt certain that Lachlan would gladly kill him in this moment.
“Pig! Swine! Traitor!” Lachlan roared, swinging his sword overhead and bringing it down over the front of his left shoulder in an attempt to stab Alex in the heart.
Alex barely jumped back in time to save his life. Lachlan advanced, and Alex lifted his sword to defend himself once more. Then the sound of horse hooves thundering toward them caught his attention for one breath. But it was one breath too long. Lachlan stabbed his sword out with his left hand. Alex jerked to the left to dodge the blow, but as he did, Lachlan swung his other arm around, gleaming dagger in hand, and buried it in Alex’s shoulder before barreling into him.
Excruciating pain throbbed at Alex’s wound as he caught Lachlan by an arm, knocked his sword away, and attempted to swing the man to the ground. But as Lachlan fell, he swiped out, grasped Alex’s ankle, and brought him down hard on his back. Before Alex could recover, Lachlan was on top of him, dagger once again in hand. He plunged it toward Alex’s heart.
Alex’s pulse exploded as he bucked upward high enough to dislodge Lachlan, clutch his forearm, and guide his dagger into the ground by his right cheek. They panted, face-to-face, sweat dripping from each of them. Above him, Alex heard a commotion but had no time to look, seizing the moment when men seemed to be scrambling. He brought his head forward, hitting Lachlan directly in the nose. Bone crunched, and blood spurted.
“I’m sorry, friend,” he murmured under his breath as he reached to the left for his own dropped sword and brought it up to knock out Lachlan with its thick hilt.
The man slumped to the side, eyes shutting. As Alex struggled to get up, the first thing he saw was Donald with his hands in the air, surrounded by three Campbell men. “I vow I’m here to help!”
“Aye,” Munroe said. “He’s with us.”
All the men looked to Alex as he stepped over Lachlan’s unmoving body. “Aye, he’s my right hand,” he said, striving to quell the rising panic. If Donald was here, that meant only Broch was protecting Lena, but Alex rested slightly easier in the knowledge that Broch was fierce and loyal to Lena. “Collect Lachlan,” Alex commanded his own men to ensure Lachlan would not be treated roughly.
As his men moved toward Lachlan, Alex ripped off a piece of his plaid and tied it around the wound Lachlan had given him, hoping to stop the flow of blood.
The Campbell stood in front of him, eying him. “I’ll have to admit, I did nae believe ye would do it, that ye were really here to support the Steward, but ye have just made a believer of me.” He clasped Alex on his shoulder. “Welcome to the new reign.”
Alex wanted to drive his fist into the fiend’s face. Instead, he simply acknowledged the man’s words with a nod. He could not give any of his own. He feared his words would betray him if he spoke to the Campbell in this moment when so much worry for Lena filled Alex and guilt for Lachlan weighed on him.
“Bind the prisoners’ hands,” the Campbell ordered his men, who were guarding the other three MacLeods. “They can walk behind the horses like the dogs they are.”
As the men were paraded past Alex, each spit at his feet.
“Traitor,” the first man said.
“Swine,” the second man added.
“Death to ye,” the third growled.
The Campbell motioned at Alex. “My men will take the front with the prisoners.”
“Lachlan is my prisoner,” Alex said, punctuating each word to show there would be no negotiating.
Behind Alex, Lachlan roared. The man was awake and in a rage. “I’m going to rip off yer head,” he bellowed. “Ye better nae have harmed my sister.”
“Ye can deal with him,” the Campbell said and turned away, motioning his men to start for home.
Alex strode to Lachlan, getting close enough so only Lachlan would be able to hear what he had to say. Lachlan was restrained by two of Alex’s men, but he was fighting the hold they had on him.
“I’m nae a traitor,” Alex said in a low tone, even though all but his men were now far enough away they would not overhear.
“Ye’re a damned traitor,” Lachlan said again, spitting toward Alex’s feet.
“I’m nae,” he growled, knowing time was critical. He quickly told Lachlan of the king’s mission and of his meeting with the Steward, as well as how he was supposed to bring Lachlan to the Steward to try to gain MacLeod favor.
Lachlan stared at him in silence, his chest going from heaving with anger to being utterly still. He flicked his gaze to Alex’s wounded shoulder. “I suppose it’s a good thing I did nae kill ye, then.”
Alex nodded. “Release him.”
Lachlan eyed Alex. “If ye are here amongst our enemies, where is my sister? At Duart Castle, I hope.”
“Nay,” Alex said. “She came with me.” He turned to Donald. “Why are ye here? I told ye clearly that if it seemed there was danger, ye should take Lena to Dunvegan. Where is she?”
“She would nae depart,” Donald said.
“Ye could nae force a wee lass to do yer will?” Alex demanded.
“Nay! And neither could ye or she’d nae have come here with ye in the first place.”
Alex’s jaw twitched at the truth of Donald’s words.
“She feared for yer life against her brother,” Donald continued, “and sent me to help ye.”
Her worry for him put her in danger. “Broch is with her, then?” When Donald did not immediately answer but gave Alex an uneasy look, Alex bit out one word. “Speak.”
“Marsaili was taken by the Campbell’s men and returned to his holding,” Donald said, his words stilted, as if he feared Alex’s reaction. “Lena sent Broch to save Marsaili.”
“God’s teeth,” Alex muttered as the realization that his wife was alone in the den of vipers sunk in. He glanced at Lachlan. “I can release ye and say ye escaped, but if I do that, then I may nae learn the second laird who has betrayed the king and yer men will be imprisoned still.”
“I’ll come with ye.”
“They may torture ye,” Alex warned.
Lachlan offered a grim smile. “I dunnae believe there is aught they can do to me that has nae been done before. Besides that, Lena will need me.”
“Aye,” Alex said. “I will have to ride out to convince the lairds to pledge themselves to the king once more, as he ordered me to.”
Lachlan nodded. “One of yer men will free me, and I will get my sister to safety. If ye live, ye can come for her.”
“I will live,” he said, his body tensing as he spoke.
“Aye,” Lachlan agreed with a satisfied smile. “I hear the sheer determination in yer tone. I believe ye will live for Lena, aye?”
Alex nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Let us ride.”
Lena awoke with her head pounding and the memories of what had happened washing over her like a tide. She sat up with a gasp, swallowing back a wave of nausea and rage. She gasped again at the sight of Thomas sitting in a chair beside her bed. Her anxiety was so acute that it felt as if something had slammed against her throat to cut off her air, but then she recalled her dagger.
“I’ve sat here for a long while just watching ye and waiting for ye to wake,” Thomas said. His voice held a rasp of excitement that chilled her.
“I’m glad ye’re here,” she replied, her voice husky from the deep sleep brought about by the potion the dirty rats had given her.
“Ye are?”
“Aye,” she said, considering every possible way to divert his attention so she could escape the room. And if she failed to escape, she’d stab him directly in the neck as her brother Lachlan had once told her to do if her aim was to kill a man. She’d rather die for Thomas’s murder than be the victim of a man’s unwanted attention ever again. “I heard what ye said to Lady Euphemia, and ye were correct. I dunnae wish for Alex’s attention, but yers…” She let the lie trail off, praying he’d read into it what she wished. She could not utter the rest for fear that she’d shudder involuntarily.
His gaze raked over her, lingering—to her sickening realization—on her breasts. “I kenned I was correct,” he said deeply.
She inhaled a steadying breath. “What is the art of dark pleasure? Tell me what secrets my husband has kept from me.” She hoped she sounded beseeching and intrigued.
A voracious look swept across his face and settled in his glittering gaze. He stood, went to the table where the bucket was, and came back holding a rope. “I’ll show ye,” he said, his voice throbbing with glee.
Her heart raced as she swallowed. He was between her and the door. She shifted off the bed with a forced giggle and scurried around him. “First,” she said, batting his hand away as he grasped for her, “let me remove my clothes for ye as ye tell me what ye will do. I want to hear it.”
His mouth twitched up in a cynical smile. “Yer husband is a fool nae to have shown ye sooner. Ye like to be controlled in the bedchamber, dunnae ye?”
Her stomach clenched at the horrible memories flashing in her mind, but she shrugged. “I dunnae ken.” As she started to speak, she backed ever so slowly toward the door. “My first husband was cruel, and he hurt me. I did nae like that,” she offered. “Do ye mean to hurt me?”
“Nay. But there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. I mean to take ye to the brink and show ye a new world. Alex tries to deny the desires that Gillis awoke in him, in both of us. More so in me, of course, much more, but Alex got a small taste of being helpless, of being made to do things he did nae wish.”
Lena cringed at the thought of what such a revelation might mean.
“The things Gillis did—” Thomas stopped speaking for a moment, and his face twisted into a grimace before it smoothed once more. “He did things that would make yer skin crawl and hate for yerself fester inside ye like a black wound. Just ask yer husband.”
She could do no more than stare in shock at him.
“Gillis changed me, and there is nae a way to change back to what I was or may have been had I nae ever apprenticed under him. Alex will tell ye,” Thomas said.
Lena felt hollow inside and then full of sadness. She did not know Alex, not really. He hid too much from her. She loved him, and she believed he loved her, but between them was a loch of secrets that would drown their love. She desperately wanted to understand her husband.
“How will ye take me to the edge?” she asked, praying Thomas might reveal something more to help her understand how Alex had been changed.
Thomas grinned, but it was not a pleasant sight. “As I said, lass, with great pleasure there must be pain and binds. Always binds. Now strip yerself of that gown and crawl onto the bed, face the wall, and get on yer knees. I’ll bind yer wrists to the bed and then show ye the pleasure to be found.”
Without hesitation, she grasped the door handle and opened it.
“What are ye doing?” Thomas asked, frowning.
Without a thought, she turned and darted out the door. She didn’t get more than two steps away before Thomas grasped her by the hair and yanked her against his chest. She cried out sharply with her pain, her heart pounding so hard in her ears, it sounded like footsteps thumping.
“Let me go,” she screamed, hoping someone would hear her and come to her aid, though she knew it unlikely in this castle filled with her enemies.
Thomas’s hand came to her throat, encircling it and applying pressure. “Quit squirming,” he hissed. “I want ye willing.”
“Nae ever!” she choked out, digging her nails into his hand while trying to reach for her dagger with her free hand. She managed to lift her skirt and could feel the cool steel against her skin, but she could not grip it. It was just out of reach.
“This is making me want ye more,” Thomas growled, his words sending warm breath over her ear.
“I vow I’m going to kill ye!” she gasped.
Just then, Alex appeared at the top of the stairs with a murderous look on his face. He had his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. A bloody rag was tied around his shoulder, and there were streaks of blood down his arm.
“Unhand my property,” he said in a razor-sharp tone. “I told ye nae to touch Lena or I’d kill ye.”
Thomas shoved her toward Alex, who caught her easily and pulled her to his side. She could feel the tautness of his muscle under her fingertips.
“Ye intend to kill me now, do ye?” Thomas snarled.
“Nae now,” Alex said, matter-of-fact. “But soon. So ready yerself.”
“I welcome ye to try,” he bit out, shoving past both of them and disappearing down the stairs.
Without a word, Alex took Lena by the hand and led her into her bedchamber. He shut the door and turned to her, excruciating pain and regret on his face. “Lena.”
She heard the torture of emotion in his voice, and tears filled her eyes. “Alex, I’m nae harmed, but ye are. What happened?”
“’Tis a small wound,” he said and closed the distance between them. He drew her near, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to her head. “Lena, Lena.” He squeezed her tightly. His heart thumped against her cheek. “If he’d hurt ye—Christ…” He drew back slightly, his face a mixture of anger and worry. “Ye lied to me.” His accusatory tone took her by surprise. “Ye vowed to depart if it became dangerous.”
“I could nae leave ye to be killed by my brother,” she said, untangling herself the rest of the way from him and seeking distance. With him near, she could not think of anything but how much she desired him, loved him. Yet, all the desire and love in the world would not save them if he insisted on secrets between them. She had to make him understand. She swept her gaze around the room, stopping at the rope that Thomas must have dropped on the floor. Silently, she went to it and picked it up.
She could feel Alex’s gaze upon her as she turned back to him and held out the rope. Tears started to leak down her face before she even spoke. “Bind me. Lead me to the edge where pain meets pleasure. Show me this darkness ye crave that ye found in Euphemia’s arms. Control me,” she added, trembling, but trusting with all her heart that he’d never truly hurt her.
His eyes widened, and he stared at her openmouthed.
She had to forge on and pray she did not press so hard that she pushed him away. “Break me if ye must,” she said on a sob, “but dunnae hide yer past from me any longer. Dunnae keep yer secrets to yerself. Ye are killing me…killing us.”
His hands came to her face, hair, and neck, and his lips followed. He kissed her with a frantic need that stole her breath. When he pulled back from her, he said, “I dunnae have much time. Lachlan is here. He and three of his men are the Steward’s prisoners. He means to torture yer brother in the morning, and I still must obtain the name of the other laird who is supporting the Steward besides Fraser. Once I have it, I can free Lachlan and—”
She pressed a finger to his lips while thanking God her brother was alive. “I learned the name of the other laird. ’Tis Laird Grant.”
“How did ye discover that?” Alex asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.
He thought she’d attained the information from Thomas through seduction of some sort! “Alex, nae through Thomas as ye are imagining. He ordered Euphemia to drug me so I’d leave the great hall willingly.” She quickly told him the rest of what had happened.
When she finished, he said, “I must go to the dungeon and find a way to free yer brother and his men now that I have the names I need. Ye must away with Donald.”
“Nay,” she said, curling her hands into fists. “Tell me now the secrets ye keep from me, Alex, and be quick. We will free my brother and the other MacLeods together.” She knew he could simply throw her over his shoulder and hand her off to Donald, but she had to try to make this stand.
Emotions flickered across his face—hope, fear, shame, pain. “I kinnae,” he said. “I’ll lose ye.”
“Nay.” She cupped his face and kissed him gently. “Ye are losing me now by shutting me out. I am imagining the worst—that ye want Euphemia and nae me.”