Page 46 of Dark Side of the Laird
They’d most likely been given orders to take me to the dungeon alive, for none of the wounds I sustained were more than a minor slice, but they stung like hell. Just because they’d been told to leave me alive didn’t mean I had to show the same courtesy. Och, hell, no, I was taking them down. Sliced one man clear across the throat. Another, I stabbed in the heart. I slashed and connected with plenty of limbs. I ducked, spinning on my haunches and slashed at men behind the knees.
One of them, must have decided they’d had enough, for something large and heavy bashed me on the back of the head. I stumbled forward, rage fueling me to continue fighting, even as I lost my footing. I slashed at them on my knees, swinging my arms around in order to strike at anything, anyone, within hitting distance. The heavy object smacked into my skull again, rattling my teeth. I tasted blood. My vision blurred. I swayed forward and fell, but quickly rolled onto my back and continued fighting. No one could ever say I’d been taken easily.
The head guard, the one who’d told me I was to be stripped of my title, lifted a chair over his head—presumably the one he’d hit me with before. I lifted my foot to block the blow, but it didn’t matter, several men held me down and I watched the back of the chair crash toward my face.
* * *
Pain blazeda fiery path from temple to temple, and radiated down my neck. Arms stretched up over my head, legs stretched out below. I yanked, restrained, and the straps that held me dug deep into my flesh. I was naked and weaponless. Vulnerable.
I don’t know what hurt more, being strapped down and unable to move, completely at my brother’s mercy, or the many injuries I’d sustained.
A door creaked open, and I looked from side to side, not seeing it. The room was barren except for racks of ghastly torturing instruments. I drew in a deep breath and held it. How much would I be made to endure on the word of MacDonald? Would I be able to make my brother see reason?
James had always wanted to see me broken, now he’d have the chance to do it.
A gruff laugh sounded from behind me, and boot heels clicked across the stone floor, echoing in the space around. But I wouldn’t let the fear-inducing noises, nor the torture tools get to me. I couldn’t. The only way to survive this was to remain strong. To reason with my brother.
From the dank scent of things, the overwhelming tang of blood, I was in the dungeon somewhere. Deep in the castle. What had happened to my men? Were they too down here? Or worse? Had the king ordered my men killed?
“Ye’ve awakened.”
James. My brother. Part of me wanted to feel overwhelmed with betrayal. The other part, the smarter part, had been expecting this. Though maybe not consciously. I wasn’t surprised, which meant a part of me had assumed this would happen all along. He coughed, the sound echoing off the stones and sounding rough and painful.
“How fortuitous for ye, that we do not share the same face, for that alone has been what’s kept ye alive all these years,” he said, from somewhere away from my vision.
I cleared my throat, my insides feeling raw. My muscles tightened, pulling on the restraints as I turned to see where he was. He stayed out of sight. I tried to relax, so the biting of the binds didn’t fill my voice with pain. “And now ye’d put an end to it?”
“I see no other choice.” The boot heels shuffled, sounding as though he tripped.
I strained my neck, trying to see behind me, pain be damned. His shadow wavered and he was silent. Weak. Perhaps seeing himself that way, he felt now was the time to take me down. For me, strapped to a table and beaten was the only way he could be stronger than me in body, for he would never be stronger than me in mind.
“I’ve heard your queen birthed a daughter,” I said, my voice, though strained, still carried a measure of taunt itself.
“Women are weak,” James said, coughing. “But so are ye, and I will see ye destroyed.”
Something crashed against the floor and James let go a string of curses. The man was even weaker than I’d originally suspected.
“Ye should have married the bitch instead of coming here,” he growled, coming closer.
I drew in a breath to steady my voice. When I spoke it was loud, clear. “Never.”
“Lady Isabella could have saved ye.” More coughing.
“We both know that is nay true.”
“Did ye wake drunk, naked?” His voice was stronger as he taunted me, bringing back memories of that horrid morning.
I closed my eyes, my suspicions confirmed in that moment, and I refused to answer.Remember! Remember what she did to ye!The voice inside my head bellowed out the demand, but there was no answer.
The king laughed. “Isabella has done well then. I’ll draw up a marriage contract, seeing as how the nuptials have already been consummated. She’ll inherit all upon your death, which will be the same hour as my own.”
I bared my teeth. “I’d never agree to it.”
“Ah, but ye see—” the king came closer, I felt him push against the table I was strapped to as if to steady himself. “Ye have no choice. I’ve taken away your power.” He laughed. “How does it feel, great and mighty, Logan Grant, to have all your power stripped from ye?”
Something cold and metal pressed to my neck and James’ face loomed over my own.
“Should I kill ye now?” His eyes were so like my own, but the rest of his face was a stranger to me. I’d not known our father, and neither of us our mother. Who did he take after? And who did I?
