Page 71 of Her Highlander's Darkest Temptation
With shocking suddenness, Lord Wycliffe swooped down and seized her chin in a grip of iron, so painful she feared he might crack her jaw with the force of it. “Enough of this. I will not have you defending the man. Were he truly honorable as you say, he would have given you a sharp lesson in obeying your betters, then returned you to your betrothed.”
A cold smile flickered across his face as he stood. “As I intend to do.”
Ice filled Lydia’s veins. “You cannot mean to…”
“I do. Willing or not, even if I must beat you halfway to unconsciousness and carry you to the altar, youwillfulfill the pact with Lord Cameron.”
“Indeed. Though I would prefer tae administer me own lessons, Lord Wycliffe.” The cold, snake-like voice made Lydia shudder as a second man stepped into the light.
He was tall, taller even than Lord Cedric, with short-cut auburn hair and a close-clipped beard on the point of his chin. Gray eyes studied her, making Lydia feel like nothing more than a brood mare at the market, being assessed by a buyer. She almost expected him to grab her chin and inspect her teeth.
His clothing was made of tooled leather over an embroidered surcoat and gleaming mail armor, every inch calculated to giveoff an impression of power, wealth, confidence and ambition. His eyes were cold, shrewd, and judgmental, set in a mask of arrogance and cruelty that made her think of a viper watching a captive bird.
“Lydia, Lord Rory Cameron. Lord Cameron, my niece Lydia. I regret that I cannot promise that she is as pure as I once advertised, however…”
“Och, an’ what dae I care, if another man has broken her in? So long as she’s nae carryin’ a bairn, ‘tis all tae the good. I’ll nae have tae deal with any o’ that virginal whining an’ crying. ‘Tis tiresome. An’ if sheiscarryin’ Ranald’s bastard…” A cold smirk crossed his face. “Then there’s easy enough ways tae endthat.”
He crouched before her. “An herbal concoction… a little nightshade, perhaps… or…” His hand pressed lightly on her belly, and the touch made her skin crawl. “A more hands on approach… which has the benefit o’ bein’ an excellent lesson fer a headstrong lass.”
She felt sick, realizing that she could guess now what might have happened to Laird Cameron’s first bride. Her whole body felt almost frozen with fear, so much that she wasn’t sure she could have moved even if the ropes that bound her had magically disappeared.
“As you will.” Lord Cedric Wycliffe nodded curtly, and Lydia’s heart sank even further. For all his coldness, she’d thought her uncle might stop at actually condoning Laird Cameron’s cruelty and abuse.
She was alone, trapped with a man who cared nothing for her, and one who would happily hurt her, and probably enjoy doing so.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Ye’re certain this is the place?” Donall crouched beside Ewan, his eyes fixed on the old watch tower in front of him. It was one that had long since fallen into disuse, with the borders a half-days ride beyond it, but even so, he knew the answer to his question already. There were tracks of horses, fresh tracks, in the dirt path leading to the tower, and signs of people inside.
“Callum tracked them, me laird. He’s one o’ our best, at least o’ those who werenae guarding the borders or injured.” Ewan responded. Beside him, Callum nodded.
“The riders have doubled back tae hide the trail, me laird, but I’m certain. The tracks are lighter an’ there are tracks o’ other horses… I’m thinkin’ they brought Miss Lydia here tae hand her off tae someone else.”
Someone else…
Donall could guess who it might be. While the wounded were settled and the tracking party decided on, he’d spoken to the guards who still had the energy to speak. None of them had seen any sign of Laird Cameron or Laird Wycliffe in the battle.
He could guess what their strategy was - attack, weaken his clan and test his defenses, while at the same time kidnapping Lydia. The two lairds would wait for the results of the attack, safe from any harm while they waited for the kidnapping party to return - or for news of the defeat of their forces. It was a simple plan, and one that minimized the risk for Rory Cameron and his new ally.
He could only hope their plans didn’t include anticipating being followed. If so, he and the four men he’d brought with him weren’t going to be enough. Ewan had pushed for a full dozen, but Donall had argued for speed over numbers, and so only five of them had left Ranald Keep.
“Ready blades, then move fast an’ quiet. We’ll try tae tak’ them by surprise.”
Ewan and the others nodded, and all of them drew their swords. Donall took a deep breath, feeling his muscles coil, then settle into the watchful, relaxed stillness that accompanied a battle mindset.
Half a dozen strides from the tower door, he gestured for them to stop. Donall tipped his head, listening, observing.
No guards that he could see. On the one hand, it was folly if Laird Cameron and Laird Wycliffe really were there. On the otherhand, guards would have drawn attention, so for purposes of concealing their presence, the lack of guards was a wise choice. Unfortunately for Laird Wycliffe and Rory Cameron, it worked in Donall’s favor too.
He crept two steps closer, then stopped again to listen. Voices. Two men. And one… one woman.
Lydia.
Donall gave a flick of a signal to Ewan, who relayed it to the others. Then, without further delay, he charged forward and rammed into the tower door.
The door splintered like dried peat, and he, Ewan, and the other three warriors of Clan Ranald darted into the building… not quite fast enough.
Donall cursed. Somehow, Laird Wycliffe, the graying man could be no other, had been forewarned enough to grab Lydia. Now he stood behind her, knife pricking her neck, arm in a grip that, from Lydia’s expression, must have been bruisingly tight.
