Page 146 of Bride of Ice
Stirling was miles away. He’d have to use a false name. Find lodgings. Buy a new pair of trews. Possibly from a ragpicker, since he was in a hurry. He shuddered at the thought. Perhaps he could have trews fashioned while he rested for a few days to let his leg heal. Fortunately, he had enough coin on his person to hide for a while before he fled to safety.
He grinned in triumph, though the pain that began to permeate his good mood made it feel more like a grimace in his tight face.
He was going to be all right. Things were going to work out. Before long, he’d be sharing Geoffrey’s bed again, enjoying sweet young lads to his heart’s content.
Those were his happy thoughts when he glimpsed the first pair of yellow eyes, gleaming at him from the shadows beyond the mist.
Colban had no trouble tracking Archibald. The man hadn’t taken the time to bind his wound. Drops of his blood marked the trail.
There was no reason to hurry. Wounded in the thigh like that, Archie wouldn’t be able to go on much longer. If his torn muscles didn’t give out, he’d faint from loss of blood. And things would work out better for Colban if the man was both unconscious and as far away from Rivenloch as possible.
Colban meant to finish him. It was what Hallie wanted. They both knew Archibald’s vile secrets. The man was a rabid beast with an unspeakable disease. He needed to be put down.
To the rest of the clan, however, Archibald Scott was Hallie’s husband, chosen by the king. Once his body was discovered, Colban would become the Highland bastard who’d murdered him.
As he stole through the gray mist of the woods, Colban’s sodden clothing chilled him, and he shuddered with the cold. But his flesh was no colder than his blood as he envisioned what kind of death was fitting for a man who raped children.
A sudden piercing screech in the distance stopped him in his tracks. A shiver coursed up his spine.
Colban didn’t believe in wicked spirits. But if they did exist, it would doubtless be in a place like this, where the mist curled along the forest floor and the dark pines loomed overhead like towering giants.
His heart pounded as the eerie sound faded.
After a moment, he cautiously continued.
The second and third shrieks were definitely human. The raw terror Colban heard in them made his bones quiver.
He unbuckled his sword belt and unsheathed his sword. He blew out a hard breath to expel his fear. Then, clenching his jaw, he held the claymore aloft in both hands, stealthily advancing toward the source of the sound.
The screams after that were bloodcurdling and full of agony, driving him to abandon caution and hurtle down the path.
What he saw made him skid to a horrified stop on the leaves. Lying on the path, several yards ahead of him, was Archibald Scott. Or what was left of him.
Surrounding him were five growling wolves. Their maws dripped with blood. Archie, barely alive, had been mauled by the beasts. His throat was bitten. His arms were shredded. His belly was slashed. His blood was everywhere.
On instinct, Colban immediately rushed forward, bellowing and swinging his claymore to frighten the beasts away.
The wolves snarled and snapped, but they slunk off into the trees.
As they disappeared into the mist, Colban looked down at the mewling villain and wondered if he should just let the wolves have the monster. After what he’d done, Archibald Scott deserved a brutal and lingering death.
“Please,” Archibald rasped out through his damaged throat, lifting one shaky hand. “Don’t let them have me.”
Colban might not let the wolves finish Archibald. But if the fool thought Colban would save him, he was mistaken. The man deserved to die. And considering the extent of his injuries, Archibald was beyond saving.
“I’ll grant ye mercy on one condition.” Colban hunkered down beside him. “Ye tell me the truth.” He unsheathed Hallie’s dagger. “Did ye touch Ian?”
“Nay,” he said, coughing up blood. “Nay.”
“Ye swear it? Not once?”
“Nay.”
Colban nodded in relief. At least Ian had been spared. He hated to think of all the other lads who had suffered at this brute’s hands.
Then Archibald’s eyes got a glassy, faraway look, and his lip curved up in a smile that bared his bloody teeth. “But ’twould have been sweet, aye?”
Disgust and rage gave Colban the strength to finish the monster. One carefully placed thrust through Archibald’s throat, and the villain’s life gurgled out quickly on the path.
