Mackenzie reached her hand up toward her sleeve when the Campbell impulsively grabbed her from behind. He held her by the front of her neck, her back pulled against his body.
Again, she was struck by how there was no heat emanating from him, none at all. He pressed his sword into the hollow of her throat. Yet, for the first time, she wasn't afraid. She knew what to do.
Connor had been beaten and tortured in futile attempts to humiliate him. Nothing could hurt him now, not after hearing how Mackenzie had betrayed him. Liam had been right about her all along, and Connor had been too blinded by her lies to see it. What a fool he was! To see Mackenzie on the arm of his sworn enemy was beyond humiliating. He had known that he would be dragged into the room in chains, they had re-shackled him, but he had managed to free a hand. But to watch his wife, the woman he had loved, the only woman he had loved, stand next to that English pig! It was more than he could endure.
He watched as the Campbell whispered in her ear, and he watched as she guiltily met his gaze, and he thought she was a much better actress than he had ever imagined. For the first time since meeting her, her eyes were unreadable. When the Campbell ordered his death with nothing more than a jerk of the chin, he saw her green eyes widen, and he thought he saw fear for a moment, but it was only one unguarded moment. After seeing her guard slip, Connor felt a little smug; he hoped she remembered the look in his eyes as he 377
Liam was pushing through the crowd of English nobles with his sword drawn and his men in close pursuit. The men who were supposed to kill him now had to protect their own lives.
This gave Connor a small chance to breathe. With his deep breath came clarity. He kicked the man behind him as his brother made his way to where he was standing. Connor shouted for a sword, and Liam instead shouted back to hold his arms out. Connor did, and Liam swung his mighty claymore at the shackles breaking the chain on his first blow.
Connor then pulled a still-sheathed sword from a guest who was cowering from the melee and ran through the first man he saw. He had to get to Mackenzie; he would kill her himself for this treachery.
He fought through whoever crossed his path until he reached the platform where Mackenzie and her "real" love stood. It was only then, staring up at her, that he noticed the sword at her throat. So the Campbell would play it that way, well Connor didn't care anymore. He shoved the last person out of his way and leaped up onto the dais.
"I'll slit her throat." The Campbell's empty threat didn't worry Connor.
"Do it," Connor taunted. "I don't care. I'm here for you, not her."
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"Nay, I am here for your blood and nothing more." Connor watched Mackenzie flinch as his words hit their mark. Good, it was time she felt something for what she had done. Betraying him was one thing, but so many men had died because of her. Let her have that on her conscience.
"I apologize that your wish will not be fulfilled. But I have more important things to do than to fight with a Scottish barbarian. Is that word too large? A Highland brute."
Connor ground his teeth together, but otherwise ignored the insult. He pressed the tip of his sword to the Campbell's chest, who then neatly stepped behind Mackenzie, using her as a human shield. The pig couldn't even face him; he had no honor.
"Mackenzie, would you be so kind as to move?" He said it as if he they were old friends, rather than she the woman of his enemy.
The Campbell's eyes became wild, his voice a growl.
"What did he call you?"
Mackenzie couldn't even choke out her name. Connor felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but he tamped it down. "Oh, did she not tell you her given name is Mackenzie? Hmm...seems like something a man ought to know about the woman he is about to marry."
Mackenzie gave a quiet choking sound, and her lips turned blue. Connor didn't understand. That meant that the Campbell was really gripping her throat hard enough to choke 379
Connor continued to goad him, "Aye, you doona even ken her name, I claimed her virtue, and she carries a MacRae babe in her belly. 'Twould seem you doona ken her at all."
"She will be mine! Make no mistake about that!"
"You can have her. I have taken what I wanted. Oh, and might I say she was quite willing. I hope you enjoy her as much as I did. She's quite pleasing in bed; enthusiastic, if you will." Connor ignored the feeble glare Mackenzie managed. He hoped each insult stung.
It looked as if the Campbell had tightened his grip on her throat, and Mackenzie's eyes started to flutter as if she were having a hard time keeping them open.
But Mackenzie wasn't giving in easily. She looked as if she might faint any minute, but to her credit she stepped on his foot and elbowed him in the ribs. It was a move Connor knew well; she had used it on him once. Only this time, she staggered backwards, and could hardly stay upright, her hands resting on her bruised throat. Connor saw the outlines of fingers forming on her fair skin, and felt ill. Despite all of the anger and betrayal, he was still in love with her.
Mackenzie was seeing stars and her eyes started to roll back into her head. The blackness threatened to engulf her, the ringing in her ears drowned out whatever Connor and the Campbell were saying. She just wanted to close her eyes...No! She must succeed! Mackenzie took every last 380
"Go, Connor," she rasped out of her abused throat. "Leave.
Get out of here." Why couldn't he just swallow his pride and let her take care of this?
"Yes,
Connor
, get out of here." The look on his face was that of pure hatred. Mackenzie had never before seen a look such as that. "You are unwanted by even your wife, or should I say
my fiancee
?" The Campbell really thought he was indestructible. Well, Mackenzie thought, she could change that. She knew what she had to do.
Connor's eyes flashed the way they did when he was angry. Mackenzie thought that if the Campbell was distracted enough maybe she could get to her dagger without being seen. The Campbell rounded on her and yanked her against him by the upper arm. His crazed eyes were glaring into hers.
"You whoring shrew! How dare you lie with another man!
You belong to me, and you will behave accordingly. You will do as I say, and you will do what I want."
She glared right back at him. As if to emphasize his point, he pulled her up to his face and pressed his cold, lifeless lips to hers. Mackenzie wanted to gag. Instead, she waited for him to pull back and she punched him as hard as she could in the mouth.
The Campbell was a man who was used to paying men to do his dirty work. He very rarely had to deal with anyone on 381
She could throw the Campbell with a similar throw to the one she'd used on Liam. Excellent.
The Campbell still had a death grip on her arm, so she just needed to unbalance him slightly. When Connor stepped forward, the Campbell turned his attention back toward him.
Mackenzie seized her chance and pulled him in, and hooked her leg behind his knee, dropping him instantly. She hadn't planned on him keeping hold of her arm though, and she fell on top of him. She mustered up all her strength, freed herself, and ran. She could only hope that he would follow her and not stay to fight Connor. At the very least, she could keep Connor out of this.
She ran out of the Hall and tried every door she came to, pulling futilely on their handles. She hid in the first unlocked room she found. It was dark, but there was moonlight, and since the moon was full, she could see well enough. It seemed to be a study of some sorts, with a couch and chairs scattered around the room. The shadows cast by the furniture closed in on her. She could hear nothing over her heart pounding in her ears. Mackenzie concentrated on slowing her 382
If it was the Campbell, this could be her chance. Her only chance. If it was Connor, how would she keep him safe? And how would she know who it was until it was too late?
Before Mackenzie could try to distinguish the footsteps, suddenly Morvern and Gregor were standing in the room with her! She almost screamed as they appeared out of thin air.
Controlling her reaction, Mackenzie stifled the scream and ran up to them.
"What do I do?" she begged.
"Sadly we cannot help you, save to cast a protection spell around you and the MacRae. Neither one of you will die tonight, however, we cannot otherwise guarantee your safety."
"So, let me get this straight...you can bring me through time, but you can't keep me safe?"
"We merely predicted the gate's opening, we ourselves did not open it." Gregor always seemed a bit snippy to Mackenzie, and tonight was no exception.
"I can hear someone; who is it? Who will come through that door first?" There was so much that Mackenzie needed to know right now, but first and foremost, if it was Connor, she didn't want to attack him.
Before they could answer, the door opened, and they vanished. The Campbell stepped into the shadowy room, and Mackenzie held her breath and stepped back against the wall, trying to blend in. Footstep by footstep, he entered the room, 383
She was clutching the dagger to her chest, but slowly started to raise it. When he passed by, she hoped to plunge it deep into his neck. He stepped past where she was standing, and he walked towards the fireplace. Mackenzie stepped behind him, matching her footfall to his. A shuffling noise in the hallway caught his attention, and as he turned to see what it was, Mackenzie brought the knife down on him.
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Mackenzie's aim was true, but the Campbell caught her forearm in a painful grip and bent it backward until the dagger clattered to the stone floor. A small yelp slipped through her lips, which she was biting against the pain. When he jerked her arm back farther, she panted with the agony.
His other hand came to grip her throat once more, although this time it wasn't so tight. She pulled uselessly at his merciless hold.
"Foolish, obstinate girl. Did you really think that I wouldn't find you?" What surprised Mackenzie was that he sounded...amused. "I told you, you belong to me." His light tone changed without warning, it was abruptly ominous. "And I will have you." His face was inches from hers, twisted in anger.
Mackenzie barely sucked in enough breath to whisper,
"Never."
He laughed. The deranged lunatic actually laughed at her.
"You will follow orders or I will have your lover killed.
Painfully."
Mackenzie ceased her struggle and her hand fell limp against his.
"Ah, I see that caught your attention. My men have your
'husband' as we speak."
Mackenzie couldn't fully believe the sorcerers when they had said she and Connor would be protected from harm, but neither could she believe the Campbell. Her eyes searched his 385
"You lie."
He raised his eyebrows. "Do I?"
While Mackenzie had been studying his eyes, the Campbell had simultaneously been backing her up. He stopped her when the backs of her knees hit something—-the couch in the center of the room. He pushed her by her neck, his grip never releasing her arm, until she was lying down on the couch. She was starting to panic. She could feel her eyes widen, and her heart accelerate. She hadn't been afraid before, but now, there was no doubt in her mind as to what was about to happen.
"You will stay silent, do you understand?"
Mackenzie nodded as best she could with his hand on her throat. He ripped her gown from her shoulders and tore through her stays and sark. His hand was at her breast, kneading it painfully. He groaned in anticipation. His mouth was all over her; her face, her neck, and when his cold, lifeless lips pressed against her breast, she shuddered in revulsion.
"That's right," he said mistaking her disgust for passion.
"Just relax. You are about to become part of history. Our child will usher in the new race between the black arts and mankind." His lips had moved to her neck and were dry and cold against her throat.
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