Mary Reed McCall (27 page)

Another shiver tore through her, but when she tried to pull the shutter closed, the brittle wood snapped in half. Securing what remained of it over the gaping hole, Aileana stepped away, looking at the sun through the broken portion. It was at the edge of its arc, preparing for final descent on the horizon.

Her time was almost up.

If she couldn’t escape, find Duncan, and stop Morgana before the sun set, all would be lost. When darkness fell, Morgana would cast her spell with the
Ealach
. And heaven help them all, but no one knew what damage Morgana might be able to wreak with the amulet at her will.

Panic twisted her heart, followed by guilt.
Duncan
. His name ripped through her with a vengeance. She remembered his torment the day she’d locked him in the storage chamber. Morgana’s dungeon would be much worse, surely. Like the Tower all over again, and it was all her fault.

Shaking her head to stop the voices, Aileana wrapped her arms round her waist. Recriminations weren’t helping. She needed to find a way to get to Duncan and—

“That worried pose becomes you.”

Aileana whirled to face her intruder; the bar must have been lifted so quietly that she hadn’t heard it. Colin leaned against the door, his large, muscular shape filling up the entire opening. He’d crossed one foot over the other, and his bulging arms folded across his chest. Tilt
ing his head, he smiled, but the expression failed to reach his gaze. The black patch covering his missing eye added to his sinister aura.

“Why have you come here?” she asked. Her voice sounded strangely loud in the empty chamber.

Colin’s smile deepened. “My reasons are personal.” He pushed off the door and took several steps into the room, making Aileana move back until she felt the wall behind her. Fear rose in her throat. She swallowed, pressing her palms flat to the cool stone. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, struggling, it seemed, against the confines of her ribs. She felt trapped.

“What do you want of me?” She fought to sound normal, to keep her tone calm.

“I don’t want much, Aileana MacDonell. Only to know you better.” He moved a step closer, and a smile flirted over his lips. “In the same way that my dear brother does.”

He stood less than three paces away now, and Aileana sensed the energy, the coiled strength that rippled beneath the surface of his massive frame. She feared him in a way she’d never feared Duncan. Even at the beginning, even that first day with Duncan, when she’d stood naked in the glen…even the first night at Eilean Donan, she’d known that he would never take pleasure in hurting her. She’d sensed that in him.

But Colin would; she could see that clearly. He’d enjoy every second of pain and terror he could make her feel.

Mustering the tattered remnants of her bravado, Aileana pulled back her shoulders, balling her hands into fists at her sides. She called upon a haughty stare, reminiscent of Morgana’s, and leveled it at Colin. “I’m in no mood for conversation. I’m tired, and I wish to sleep. Leave me.”

For an instant she thought her ploy had worked. Colin’s mouth slackened, and a shadow of doubt darkened his eye. But then he scowled and made a low noise in his throat, and Aileana knew she’d failed. Glaring at her like a wild boar preparing to attack its prey, Colin narrowed the distance between them.

“Do not think to toy with me, wench. You’re no Morgana.” He pierced her with his gaze, his stare hard and dark. “And I am no Duncan. Haven’t you unraveled it yet? You’re to serve as your sister’s peace offering to me—a boon to repay my efforts on her behalf. You’re my prize, to sample at my leisure. So if any commands are issued between us, they’ll be coming from me.”

Aileana couldn’t stop the nausea that rolled up from her stomach. Her mind spun through what he’d just said, but his words jangled like music out of tune. “Morgana
gave
me to you?”

“Aye, she did.” He grabbed her by the upper arms, pulling her to him. “And I never turn my back on a gift.”

Struggling to keep his mouth from finding her own, Aileana twisted and writhed. It was like struggling in the grasp of a demon. His chest felt immovable, his arms clamping her into position. Only she sensed that Colin didn’t plan to kill her right away. Nay, he intended to play with her first.

Frantically, she wedged her foot against the wall, trying to gain enough leverage to push him away. But he was too strong. He grasped a handful of her hair and yanked, making tears spring to her eyes and forcing her to arch sideways. Then he pressed his mouth to her exposed neck, lavishing her with wet, brutal kisses, and pulling back his lips to nip her with his teeth as he got closer to her ear.

“You’ve the taste of a glen breeze, wench,” he whispered, the sound grating harsh into her brain. “And your skin feels of silk. I wonder if it is as smooth elsewhere.” Without further warning, he dipped his hand into her tunic to clutch crudely at her breast. His fingers found her nipple with practiced skill, and he twisted the tender flesh, sending a lancing pain deep through her.

She stiffened. A burst of anger spiraled past the hurt, dispelling the shock she’d been feeling since this nightmare began. With a hiss of rage, she snapped herself upright, struggling and scratching like a wild cat in his grasp. She fastened her teeth onto his wrist, biting down hard, intent on gaining her freedom from his loathsome touch. Colin shouted and released her, but before she could dart away, he swung his arm and struck her a backhanded blow across her cheek.

A wall of agony fanned from her cheekbone into her head, making the chamber explode into fragments of colored light. She was only vaguely aware of the hard stone floor rushing up at her face before she landed against it with a dull thud. Her breath burst from her, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She lay on her belly, her palms splayed on either side of her head, as she gasped for air. Black warred with the sparks of color, threatening to overwhelm her and send her into blessed dark. To a place of escape, where she need not think. Where she need not feel.

But a tiny voice prodded, urging her to get up. To stay awake and fight the demon who assaulted her. It continued, relentless, until she could ignore it no longer. With a blast of pure will, Aileana pushed with her arms, trying to force herself to her knees.

Nothing happened.

A low, sinister breath fluttered soft against her ear,
making the hair on the back of her neck prickle. For the first time, her mind cleared enough for her to notice that Colin’s thickly muscled arms were positioned on either side of her, pressing her into the cold floor. His groin pressed into her buttocks, and he began to grind himself lewdly against her. Bile surged into her throat. With a whimpering cry, she writhed in a renewed effort to escape.

“That’s good, lass. Fight me. I like a wench with spunk, though I wasn’t sure if I’d get such pleasure from you.”

As if from a distance, she heard her own cries. She struggled harder, feeling her thighs scrape along the rough stone beneath her. He began to yank her skirt above her hips.

No!
Her mind screamed for salvation from this degradation. Her nails clawed at the unyielding stone, and the muscles of her legs burned as she fought to keep her thighs together. But Colin only dug his fingers deeper into the tender flesh there, forcing them wider apart.

His knees took the place of his hands, the heel of his palm pressing with unbearable pain into her back, keeping her pinned and helpless. Sobs ripped from her throat as she felt him position himself. She squeezed her eyes shut. An instant more and he’d accomplish his foul deed. He shifted, and then…

The weight was gone. Aileana heard a growling roar and a thump. She rolled instinctively to her side, her knees tucked to her chest. Her eyes flew open, but tears blurred her sight. Through the haze of hurt, she blinked, disbelief filling her as she stared at the man who stood between her and her attacker—the avenging god of destruction that towered over Colin.

Duncan stood primed for attack, his chest heaving.
Shocked, Aileana realized that chains dangled from both of his wrists, still attached to manacles that had cut into his flesh so deeply that blood stained both of his arms like some kind of primal Celtic war markings. But it was the look on his face, the silver ice of his eyes that made her cringe and push herself back against the wall, out of the path of that gaze and its unfortunate quarry.

And when he finally broke the silence, she couldn’t help but shudder again at the doom in his voice.

“Prepare yourself for hell, Colin MacRae…because brother or no, I’m going to kill you for this.”

R
age coursed through Duncan as he lunged forward and hauled Colin to his feet before pounding his fist into his brother’s face with a satisfying crack. Colin reeled, blood spurting from his nose, and Duncan landed two more bruising blows to his jaw.

Pulsing fury robbed him of reason. Robbed him of anything but the desire to kill this wretch for defiling the woman he loved. When his brother whipped a six-inch dagger from the sheath strapped to his waist, it had little effect in slowing Duncan’s charge against him. He tackled him, slamming him against the wall just as the dirk sliced home. Though it cut deep, their crashing momentum made Colin’s aim falter. Instead of sinking into Duncan’s chest, the blade gouged a burning path into his shoulder.

And with the blossoming pain came renewed rage. Growling, Duncan grappled with his brother.

Blood.

Vaguely, Duncan realized that he was bleeding heavily from the wound on his shoulder. He struggled to keep Colin from burying the dirk in him again, fighting a sudden light-headed sensation that was caused as much by his fury as from his wound. His fists found their mark on Colin’s resisting flesh again. And again. With each blow, with every groan his brother uttered, Duncan felt a greater desire to continue. He wanted him dead. Wanted to feel his life pulse to a finish beneath his hands.

With a bellow of fear, Colin managed to break free. He lifted the dirk, jabbing down in blind panic, but Duncan grabbed a silver candlestick from the table and raised it just in time. Metal sparked on metal as blade and silver collided. He followed through his upward motion, catching the edge of the weapon with the candlestick’s footed bottom, sending it spinning away to clatter on the floor out of reach.

“Now there’s nothing left to hide behind,” Duncan growled, gripping his brother round the neck. He twisted, and they fell to the floor.

“It doesn’t matter, so long as you end up dead at the end,” Colin retorted, though his voice sounded strangled with Duncan’s arm around his throat. Duncan squeezed tighter, closing his eyes against the pain that surged through his shoulder. He had to hold firm. If he could just keep him like this a little longer. Colin was weakening, he could sense it. Just a little longer…

Stabbing pain jabbed into Duncan’s midsection, spreading additional layers of agony over the already bruised area. Again Colin’s elbow slammed back, and the agony intensified, making Duncan loosen his hold. Through the blurring hurt, he saw Colin roll away, hands to his throat. Heard him gasping for breath. He
threw himself forward, knocking Colin to the floor. He heard his brother’s head collide against the stone with a sickening thud…

And then all was still. He lay unmoving.

In the beats of silence that followed, Duncan heard the harsh rasp of his own breathing. Gradually, his blinding rage cleared, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. His shoulder burned as if with fire, but Aileana was there, her cool hands moving over him to check his wound. Her soft voice whispered endearments and little panicked sounds of worry.

Gently pressing her hands away, Duncan twisted to look at her. Anger surged anew when he saw her cut lip and the bluish, painful-looking swelling along the graceful arch of her cheekbone.

He brushed his fingers over the spot, and guilt welled up to choke him. “Forgive me, Aileana. I didn’t stop the bastard in time to keep him from hurting you.”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. She gazed at him for a long moment before answering. “You saved me from much worse.” Tears slid down her cheeks, then, and she clasped his hands as if convincing herself that he was whole and safe.

Duncan pulled her close, wincing at the pain it caused him. He tried to ignore the black spots dancing across his vision.

Then suddenly, he stiffened. A strange, keening sound rose up from outside. “What the hell?” His gaze snapped to the window, and he noticed for the first time the crimson streak of light that spilled into the chamber like a river of blood.

“God preserve us,” Aileana whispered. “It’s Morgana.” She pushed herself to her feet, hurrying to the window, and Duncan saw her pale before his eyes. “She’s
got the
Ealach
, Duncan. The sun is going down, and she’s starting the incantation.”

“Christ.” Alarm filled him, followed by cold certainty. If all of the legends about the
Ealach
were true, then what Morgana was about to do posed a danger far greater than anything they’d faced thus far.

He shoved himself to his knees, almost falling over as dizziness engulfed him. Through sheer strength of will, he made it to the window. Black clouds rumbled on the horizon, seeming to build and roil with greater force as the seconds passed. Morgana looked the picture of ancient evil, standing along the cliff. Her arms were upraised, her hair whipping in the wind as she called the timeless words to invoke the
Ealach
’s power.

“We have to go,” he said. “We cannot let her finish the incantation.”

Aileana was running for the door, with Duncan just behind her, but he was jerked to a halt by a punishing grip clamped to his ankle.

“You’re going nowhere,” a voice grated.

Disbelief made Duncan pause long enough for Colin to yank hard, sending him toppling to the floor. In an instant, his brother was over him, his fist cocked. As if from outside of himself, Duncan saw the punch coming. He tried to tighten against it…

The impact sent shafts of pain into his jaw and up behind his eyes. Instinctively he lurched upward, throwing Colin off balance, reversing their positions. He gripped Colin round the throat, squeezing and fighting through tearing splinters of pain that shot into his shoulder and arm.

“Go, Aileana!” Duncan twisted his head for an instant to meet her gaze. “Stop her before it’s too late! I’ll be right behind you.” As he spoke, Colin renewed his
struggles, and Duncan shouted as his brother slammed his fist into his wounded shoulder.

“I cannot leave you like this,” she cried. “I won’t—”

“Go!” He twisted to glance at her again, desperate urgency in his gaze. “I cannot hold him down much longer.”

With a strangled cry, Aileana paused. Then with a last, torn look, she nodded and ran out the door.

At that moment, Colin broke free. He slammed another punch into Duncan’s face, knocking him onto his back. Through the pain, he saw Colin roll to his side. His brother coughed, and Duncan shook his head, trying to clear away the double images that floated across his vision.

With deliberate concentration, he forced himself to his knees. Suddenly, Colin stiffened. He was staring at something, and Duncan followed his gaze to a spot near the wall. To the place on the stones where the bloodied dagger lay.

Uttering a choking growl, Colin began to drag himself toward the dirk, and Duncan’s mind screamed in protest. He had to stop him. He pulled himself forward, ignoring the pain. His muscles ached, and his bones throbbed. He had to finish this, or Aileana would pay the price for his failure. Lurching to his feet, Duncan stumbled toward the dagger. He fell onto his hands, shouting with the agony that tore into his shoulder as it jarred. Colin was ahead of him, trying to stand, preparing to lunge for the blade himself. With desperate effort, Duncan threw himself forward. His bloody fingers slipped on the dirk’s golden handle, and it slid another inch away.

Time seemed to slow. As if in a dream, Duncan felt every breath, every beat of his heart. His senses tuned to a fine pitch. His mouth tasted bitter, and he smelled the
sweet, sickening scent of his own blood. He could hear a rustling sound behind him, over him, heard his brother’s growling roar as he leapt to grab the dagger. In that instant, Duncan found his grip on the ornate handle. He twisted in reflex, onto his side, the blade up…

Colin slammed into him. His brother’s eyes widened. A gurgling, choking groan breathed past his lips, and he stiffened. Then without another sound, he slumped over, a dead weight, his body sprawled over Duncan and the floor.

With a guttural moan, Duncan pushed him away, rolling from beneath him. But releasing the pressure from his shoulder unfurled a wave of pain so sharp that he sucked in his breath. Black spots converged on his vision, threatening him with oblivion. Precious seconds ticked by as he struggled not to give in to the temptation of unconsciousness.

He had to get to Aileana.

He took a deep breath, preparing to stand, and as he did, he looked at Colin for the first time since their struggle. His brother lay on his back, the dirk protruding from the spreading, crimson stain beneath his lowest rib. Its handle wobbled sickeningly to the rhythm of his heart.

He was still alive.

Cursing again, Duncan burst into motion, heading for the door. If Colin died before they could bring him back to face the High Council, then so be it, but he’d not purposefully aid that end before its time.

In the next moment he secured the chamber and ran for the stairs. But when he reached the end of the corridor, he saw that piles of rubble that had fallen long ago blocked the stairway. He had to find another way out.

And then he heard it. The sound floated up to him, raising the hairs on his neck and sending a shudder of foreboding up his back.
Eerie
. The wailing howl rose in pitch, until it trailed off into the shriek of wind that whipped round the castle walls. It came again, followed by an answering shout, and Duncan stilled.
Sweet Jesus
. The second voice was Aileana’s. She’d reached the cliffs.

Racing to a window at the end of the hall, he looked out, frantic, searching for a sign of her. What he saw made his heart skip in his chest. Aileana and Morgana struggled on the ocean bluff.

They were too close to the edge, damn it. At any moment one or both of them were going to careen over it.

God help him, but he couldn’t lose Aileana like that again. He wouldn’t.

Mentally gauging the distance between the window and the ground, Duncan pulled himself up onto the ruin’s open stone ledge and jumped down. The impact shook his bones, though he had foresight enough to tuck his legs and roll when he hit the earth. Still the force of it stunned him. A thousand new hurts sliced through the old, and his arm felt as if it had been ripped from his shoulder. But he pushed through the pain, surging to his feet and racing across the salt-encrusted grass to reach them—to reach Aileana before Morgana hurt her any more than she already had.

Something glittered on the ground a few paces from them, and Duncan lurched to a halt. The
Ealach
lay untended, its chain bunched from the way it had apparently been dropped during the women’s struggle. Its opalescent surface beckoned him like a siren’s song. Leaning over, he scooped it up. It fit in his palm as if all
of the years without it had never passed, but its weight failed to bring the comfort, the sense of completion he’d been certain he’d find once he held it again. And he suddenly knew that nothing but the feeling of Aileana in his arms could do that for him now.

“Hold, Morgana,” he shouted, holding the amulet aloft so that it dangled from his hand. “Hold or lose the
Ealach
forever!”

He could see the madness in Morgana’s expression. The wind whipped her hair in a wild fury, accentuating the aura of evil that surrounded her. When she heard his voice, her gaze snapped to him, and had he not been a man of courage, a man who’d faced the horrors of hell and lived, he might have flinched at the unadulterated malice she leveled at him. Her pupils were narrowed down to pinpricks, lending a supernatural appearance to the icy glaze of her eyes.

In one, fluid motion she twisted Aileana around, her arm circling Aileana’s neck. Duncan saw the gleam of a tiny blade in her grip. It pressed against Aileana’s throat, and he saw a shadow of fear pass across the precious, beautiful face of the woman he loved.

“How dare you interfere with me?” Morgana hissed. Her grip tightened around Aileana’s neck enough to force a choking sound from her. Duncan took a step, and Morgana jerked Aileana back. “Don’t think it will be so easy, Duncan. I’ve fought too hard to give up now.” Unblinking, she looked past him, her expression wary and cold. She obviously sought something. Or someone.

“Colin won’t be coming to aid you, Morgana.”

She met his gaze again, and her eyes narrowed. “You’ve killed him.”

“Nay.” Duncan approached cautiously, trying to get close enough to pull Aileana away. “He’s not dead. Only
wounded. I’ve secured him where he cannot hurt anyone else.”

Morgana sneered. “I don’t believe you.” Pressing the edge of her blade harder against Aileana’s neck, she snarled, “Come no closer. I’ve no more fear of dispatching my dear sister than you had in murdering Colin.”

Impotent rage churned in Duncan as he watched a trickle of blood slip from beneath Morgana’s dagger to slide down Aileana’s throat. He raised his palms as if in surrender, the
Ealach
still clasped tight. “He was alive when I left him, I swear it. Go and see for yourself if you doubt me.”

Morgana laughed, and Aileana flinched as she felt the knife bite deeper. She tilted her head up, trying to shrink from the stinging pain, but it only made Morgana tighten her hold.

“Be still, sister.” Warm breath burned Aileana’s ear, and fear pounded in her veins, making her feel faint. Duncan’s blank expression only reinforced the understanding that she teetered on the edge of a terrible death. One flick of Morgana’s wrist, and she’d either go spinning off the cliff or have her throat slit like an animal at slaughter.

“Duncan, take the
Ealach
and go while you can,” she called out hoarsely. “You must keep it from her now more than ev—!” She sucked in her breath and winced as Morgana dragged her closer to the edge. With skittering scrapes she heard stones and pebbles falling, pushed over the precipice into the narrow line of rocks and crashing waves below. The dizzying height swung suddenly into her vision as Morgana shoved her so close that her toes tipped over the brink. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her weight back onto her heels.