Capturing A Highland Knight (24 page)

             
“When ye ran out of the keep, I was sure they would find yer body outside, but they didnae find it.  I saw ye drink the poisoned ale, so I kenned ye couldnae have made it far.  But when my men couldnae find yer body, I thought wild animals had taken ye.  That made it all the better fer me.  But since ye are alive, I am at a dilemma as to what I want to do with ye.  I could marry ye and begat heirs on ye,” he said running his eyes along her body.

             
Annabelle felt dirty, but she held her ground and did not cower before him.  She darted her eyes quickly around as his eyes ran slowly down her body.  The only thing she could use as a weapon was the candlestick.  She had to figure out a way to get near it.  It was to the right of Julian and behind him.  Her eyes went back to his face.

             
“I am beginning to think that may be the better option, but I could also finish what I started and kill ye, then I would have no opposition to my position.  Yer Da couldnae lay claim to Dunwiche if ye are dead,” he sneered.

             
“Why wait, ye coward?  Decide now,” Annabelle taunted. 

             
Julian’s head snapped back up and his eyes pierced her.  She held her head up at a defiant angle.  Julian raised his eyebrow.

             
“Flattery will get ye nowhere, Annabelle,” he scoffed. 
His gaunt face held a sinister grin.

             
Annabelle swallowed.  She had to get to that candlestick if she had any chance of escaping.  She did not want either fate.

             
“So what are ye going to do?” she asked with a confidence she did not feel.  She put her hands on her hips to still their shaking.

             
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.  I want it to be a surprise,” he said, the words sounding like the hiss of a snake.

             
“I doona like surprises so I’ll have ye tell me now,” she said seeping authority into her words.

             
Julian only chuckled and advanced slowly  toward her.  It took all the strength she had not to retreat. 

             
“I love yer spirit, Annabelle.  It excites me.  I am nae sure my cousin would have been able to handle ye.  I am sure that spirit surfaces in other places too.  I may just sample it before yer fate is sealed,” he said, still advancing on her.

             
Annabelle’s heart stuttered.  Fear gripped her as she watched him draw slowly closer.  She retreated to the left closer to the candlestick.  Julian stopped his advance and stared at her.

             
“Why are ye doing this, Julian?  I am nae a threat to ye,” she said trying to convince him. 

             
Julian’s face darkened.  His dark eyes became bottomless pits.  He turned fully toward her and his breath came out in deep blows like a raging bull.  Annabelle swallowed again.  She glanced swiftly at the door.  Broc hadn’t locked it.  Maybe she could make run for it.

             
“If ye try it, I will cut ye down before yer hand touches the latch,” he said reading her mind.

             
Her eyes snapped back to his face.  His expression hadn’t changed, even though Annabelle thought it was darker.

             
“Let me go, Julian.  I am no threat to ye.  I will go back to Kinloch and ye can have Dunwiche,” she said.  Despite his warning, she inched her way toward the door forgetting about the candlestick.  It was her only hope for she knew that Julian would actually kill her.  She knew that was his intent.

             
Julian laughed.  It was a very ugly sound.  Annabelle cringed.

             
“Do ye think me a fool?  Dunwiche is nae yers to give.  I have claimed it because it nae longer has a laird.  I am laird of Dunwiche, but the only thing ye are is a loose end.  I intend to tie ye up,” he sneered.  He had begun walking back and forth in front of her, never taking his eyes from her.  She still took the chance to keep inching closer to the door.

             
“That fool, Harold, never should have married ye!  I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldnae listen to me.  He said he wanted what was best for both clans, and his marriage was a step in the right direction.  He had even spouted some drivel about being verra fond of ye,” he spat.  “Such trash!  I couldnae allow this to happen.  I was next in line to be the laird, but when he wed he would produce his own heir and I would never inherit Dunwiche!  Dunwiche is mine!  Ever since he told me that I would inherit, I have worked toward that goal, and then yer father had to negotiate a marriage between ye!  I thought ye had died that night because ye had drunk the ale also.  If it had not been for that wench from Dunkirk telling my men that ye yet lived, I would have gone on thinking that everything was fine.”

             
“From Dunkirk?” Annabelle asked shocked.  Who would have told him?  Everyone had treated her with such kindness.

             
“Aye, some woman that was outside the gate gathering herbs.  She told them that ye had been there all of the time.  I sent Broc to intercept ye when ye crossed Dunwiche land to get to Kinloch,” he spat.

             
Annabelle stayed quiet.  She could only think of one person who would want to be rid of her and do her harm.  Eilidh.  Now she understood why the woman had been so determined that she know of Derek’s duplicity and the baby she carried. Eilidh had constructed their entire meeting in the courtyard.  She had conspired to deliver her to Dunwiche.

             
“As long as ye live, ye will be a thorn in my side!  When ye marry, yer husband will try to take Dunwiche from me!  I canna allow that to happen!  Ye must be dealt with and soon!  And, my dear Annabelle, today is that day!”

             
Annabelle ran the rest of the way to the door.  She prayed she reached it before Julian grabbed her, but he beat her to the door and wrapped his arm around her neck.

             
“Nae fast enough.  Ye shall die today,” he hissed, spittle landed on her cheek.

             
Annabelle fought to pull his arm from around her neck.  She could not breathe.  The more she struggled, the tighter his hold became.

             
“Doona fight it, Annabelle.  It will be easier if ye doona fight it.”

             
Annabelle’s vision began to tunnel, but she continued to fight.  She was going to die.  Her lungs were burning straining to get the oxygen they needed.  She could see less and less with her eyes.  The darkness leeching away the light.

             
“That’s it.  Let go,” Julian’s hot  breath beat against her ears.  She was losing the strength to fight.  She thought of Derek and the time she had lost with him.  She thought about the children they would never have, and the child she now carried.  She wanted those things with Derek, so she renewed her attempt to free herself.  She fought for their baby.  She wished she still had Derek’s dirk.

             
“Stop yer struggles!” Julian commanded and his grip tightened around her neck.

             
Annabelle continued her feeble fight, knowing that it was a losing battle.  She silently prayed that Derek would forgive her stubbornness.  She did not care if he did not love her back; she just hoped he realized that she loved him, because she would never get the chance to tell him.

             
The door crashed open at that moment.

             
“Take yer filthy hands off my wife!”

             
Annabelle slid to the floor motionless.

Chapter 27

“Gladly,” Julian chuckled.

Derek watched in horror as Annabelle’s limp body slid to the floor as if in slow motion.  She lay motionless at Julian’s feet, who, in turn, had a triumphant smirk on his face.  Derek let out a mighty roar and advanced toward Julian.

             
“So the wench was married?  How did that come about?  It matters not.  Weel, I am glad ye came.  I can kill two birds with one stone.  It would save me the time of having to track ye down later,” Julian laughed.  He had a crazed look in his eyes.

             
Derek’s gaze landed on his motionless wife’s body again.  He felt the pain deep down into his soul.  He had been too late.  He had lost her for good this time, all because of this madman and his need to be laird.

“I doona understand how ye could have wed the wench.  She was too outspoken and spirited and would grate on a man’s nerves after too long,” he chuckled again.  “Although I was willing to taste that spirit before I killed her,” he smiled.

              Derek stopped in his tracks.  Had Julian touched her?  Had he raped her?  Derek began to see red.  Instead of stalking his prey, he charged like an animal let out of its cage for the first time.  He knocked Julian down on the floor.  Julian’s head struck the floor with a thud.  Julian began laughing again.

             
“Ye willnae take Dunwiche from me!” he roared as his fist came up and knocked Derek off of him onto the floor.  Julian jumped up and grabbed his dirk from his boot.

             
“Dunwiche is mine, and now that that wench is out of the way, it will remain mine, after I dispose of ye,” he said as he lunged toward Derek.

             
Derek was still recovering from the blow Julian gave him, but he had enough wits about him to avoid the thrust of Julian’s dirk and spring to his feet.  He pulled his claymore from his back.  They circled each other, Derek seeing the craziness in his opponent.  He had to come up with a strategy to defeat Julian.  For his weak and emaciated state, he was surprisingly strong.  Derek guessed that his craziness lended him strength.

             
“Dunwiche is mine, and I have come to claim it and restore it to the glory that Laird Harold had worked so hard for,” Derek said, looking for an opening so that he could strike.  He thought if he could get Julian talking, he could distract him enough to land a killing blow, for he knew that Julian had to die.

             
“Nay,” Julian replied quietly as if addressing a child.  “Harold told me that I was to be his heir, but he decided to marry.  I admit that the lass is easy on the eyes, and I bet she is a wildcat in the bedchamber,” he said and winked at Derek.  “I tried to talk him out of it, but alas, he would nae listen.  So he had to die.”

             
“Why kill everyone else?  Why not just wait for a time that ye could kill Laird Harold?” Derek asked.  He saw a glint in Julian’s eye.  He did not like it.  The man was clearly insane.

             
“Why not?” he roared with laughter.

             
Derek was taken aback by that response.  Julian’s laughter sounded like the scraping of claymores in battle to his ears.  He winced.

             
As Julian continued to laugh, Derek took his chance and lunged forward with his claymore leading.  He bared his teeth and put all of his strength into the blow.  Suddenly, Julian stopped laughing and his glee turned into shock.

             
Derek stood so close to Julian that their noses almost touched.

             
“That was for what ye did to the people of Dunwiche,” he whispered.

             
Derek twisted his claymore.

             
“And that was for my wife.”

             
Derek used his booted foot to dislodge Julian’s body from his claymore.  Julian fell to the floor; his eyes still open in shock.  Derek reached down and wiped his blade clean on Julian’s dingy kilt.

             
He turned around and went to his wife’s lifeless body.  Her face was so pale.  Her head lay at an awkward angle.  He dropped to his knees and gathered her in his arms. Her body was still warm.

             
His father, his brothers, and Colm rushed into the study at that moment.  Broc was close on their heels.

             
“Derek,” his father called to him.

             
He did not answer but stroked Annabelle’s pale face.  Her lips were slightly parted and lightly tinted blue.  He rocked her in his arms, blocking any and everything around them.  There was just he and Annabelle in the room.

             
He gently stroked her hair and repeated her name over and over into her ear.  Colm came to stand next to them.

             
“Derek,” he said in comfort.

Derek lifted his face and looked down at his wife.  He noticed that the side of her face was wet.  He reached up and ran his thumb through the wetness and realized that they were not her tears but his.
             

             
Derek stood with his wife in his arms.  Her head hung limp over his arm and her beautiful red hair swung lifelessly behind her.  Derek headed toward the door, not looking at anyone.  He walked out of Dunwiche keep toward his horse.  He had to take Annabelle to Dunkirk.  It had been her home and that was where she would be buried and remembered. 

             
Aster came up behind him to take Annabelle’s body so that he could mount his horse.  He reluctantly let him.  As soon as he was mounted he took her from Aster and gently sat her before him on his horse.  He positioned her head so that it lay against his shoulder as if she were sleeping.

             
He looked at his father who nodded as if he understood and turned his horse toward home.  He wrapped his arm protectively around his wife’s body.  He could smell the freshness of her hair.  How his heart ached and his soul felt empty.  He had not gotten the chance to tell Annabelle how much he loved her, and now she would never know all because of a madman.  If he hadn’t already killed Julian, he would go and do it again.

             
The other men fell in behind him and rode in silence.

§

“What happened?” Brighid asked as they walked into the keep late the next morning.  Her eyes came to rest on Annabelle.

Derek had ridden without stopping, not even to rest his horse.  He had to get Annabelle into the safety of Dunkirk.

              “Is she hurt?” Ainsley asked running up to Derek.  She looked at Annabelle’s pale face and gasped.

             
“He killed her,” Colm said, following Derek into the keep.

             
“What?” Megan exclaimed. 

             
“I am so sorry,” Brighid said, resting her hand on her son’s cheek.  Derek did not reply.  He could not say anything past the lump in his throat.  He had held back his tears so that he could make it back to Dunkirk without delay, but he was finding that it was getting more difficult to do so.

             
Jace came up and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

             
“Derek, let the women have her so that they can prepare her for burial.”

             
“Nay,” Derek replied quietly.   He pushed past everyone and took Annabelle’s body with him to their bedchamber.  He could not bring himself to part with her.  He was not ready yet.  They had just found each other and now she was gone forever.  He felt a tear trickle down his face.  He had not cried like this since he was a lad.  He never thought that he would be in a place where he would feel this deeply for any woman.  But the pain he felt at losing Annabelle was almost too much to bear.

             
When he reached their bedchamber, Derek gently laid Annabelle’s body on their bed.  He lay down beside her and looked at her beautiful face.  Her thick red lashes fanned her cheeks and she looked as if she but slept.  He reached out and removed a red curl from her brow.  Her skin was still warm, but she had only died a few hours ago.

             
Derek reached out and pulled her into his arms.  He put all of his love into the embrace.

             
“I am sorry I didnae get there in time, my love.  I am so verra sorry.  I should have told ye how much I loved ye while ye were with me, but I was stubborn and afraid that ye didnae feel the same.  I love ye, Annabelle, and I always will.  No other woman matters to me.  Only ye,” he pulled her face up so that he could kiss her on the lips.  They were also warm and soft.

             
He pressed his hand to her stomach.  A baby.  Derek allowed his grief to take him over, and he wept into Annabelle’s hair.

§

“Broc met us at the keep courtyard.  He was furious that we dinna tell him that Annabelle was here, but Derek explained that it was fer her safety.  He told us that he had been doing his best to keep Annabelle away from Julian.  He believed that Julian wanted to do her harm, but he could not come up with any more excuses without giving himself away.  He said that Annabelle was in the study with Julian,” Jace explained to his family what happened.

             
“Oh my,” Brighid whispered covering her mouth.

“When we finally made it into the keep and to the study, it was too late.  Julian had already killed Annabelle.  Her lifeless body was already on the floor.”

“And so was Julian’s,” Colm said.

             
Brighid looked at her husband.  His face was grave.

             
“How do we help him?” she whispered through tears.

             
“Only time can heal Derek,” Laird Breac said.  “He will grieve, for I truly believe that he loves Annabelle.”

             
Everyone nodded in agreement.  Colm abruptly turned and left the keep.

             
Brighid looked up the stairs.  She was worried about her son.  Although Derek hadn’t done or said anything, she could tell that his grief was deep.  She was afraid that Derek would not recover from this.

§             

Derek lay next to Annabelle stroking her hair and her back.  He had stopped crying a while ago, but he continued to hold her.  In the back of his mind, he registered that she was still warm to the touch.  He hugged her closer and kissed her forehead.

             
Derek sighed.  He needed to let her go.  He knew he needed to take her body back down so that the women could prepare her for burial, but he just wanted a few more moments.  He slid his hand along her arm and grasped her hand.  He entwined his fingers with hers.  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.  He looked at her lovely face and smiled. 

             
He remembered her spirit and how she never let him get the best of her.  At first he thought he wanted something different in a wife, but she was exactly what he wanted.  What he needed.  Now he had truly lost her because of his stubbornness and stupidity.

             
“I love ye, Annabelle,” he whispered again as he moved to get up and take her back downstairs.

             
“I love ye too,” she said as her eyes fluttered opened.

             
Derek stopped in the middle of getting up from the bed.  He was shocked and speechless.  He looked into her beautiful spring green eyes with shock.  She slowly smiled.  She stretched.

             
Annabelle jumped up.  She looked around the chamber and realized that she was not at Dunwiche anymore.  She turned huge green eyes on her husband.

             
“What happened?  Where is Julian?  How did I get here?” she asked, staring expectantly at Derek.

             
Derek was dumbstruck.  She was alive.  Annabelle was alive.  How could it be?  He saw her fall lifelessly to the floor.  He looked at her, but could not believe what he was seeing.  He hadn’t really checked to see if she lived, he had assumed that she was dead by the way she had crumpled to the floor.  He could see the bruising around her neck.  He reached out to touch it.

             
“What is wrong, Derek?  Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost,” she chuckled.  It was music to his ears.

             
Suddenly Derek grabbed her up into his arms.  His heart began to beat again, and his soul was filled to overflowing.  He kissed her all over her face and her lips.  She laughed and held on to him.