Child of the Mist (43 page)

"But they are a large group, m'lord," his warrior protested. "At least ten, if not fifteen, men. Even ye canna take on that many alone."

"If luck is with me," Niall muttered grimly, "I won't have to. But I don't know who has the Lady Anne, so I can't fathom the danger she is in. I must go on. Now off with you," he commanded, "and don't waste an extra moment in returning. I'll need your help soon enough, one way or another."

"Aye, m'lord."

The man reined his horse about and galloped back in the direction of Kilchurn. Niall watched as he disappeared over the hill, then urged his own mount onward. Two hours time would be lost before his men arrived again at this spot. And, from the looks of things here, the outlaws had at least a half-hour lead. Time was against him. Time and the unknown enemy who now had Anne.

Anne paced the confines of the small tower room, anxiously casting about for any means of escape. The narrow slit of window precluded its use. The room's single door was bolted from the outside. At the base of the winding stairs was a guard, with the rest of Hugh's men camped outside.

She ground her teeth in frustration. So many obstacles to overcome, each one nearly impassible in its own right. And so little time left before Hugh came for her.

They had ridden up into the mountains for well over two hours before arriving at the ancient stone tower. The repairs inside, however, were of a more recent nature. Anne wondered if this were the boyhood haunt of Niall, Iain, and Hugh. It would explain Hugh's use of it now to carry out his depraved revenge against her.

Anne halted at the door, a sudden thought assailing her. How had Hugh learned of her journey back to Castle Gregor? She knew Iain would never have betrayed her and the preparations had all been made in secret. Had someone seen them leave and sent a message to Hugh? Or had some spy in Kilchurn overheard Iain as he made the arrangements? In the end, it didn't matter. She was now the prisoner of a madman.

A madman. Iain had said there was a madman in Kilchurn, that day he'd discovered Nelly's body. Was Hugh that madman? He hated Niall. Had he mayhap been manipulating Nelly from the outside to do his will? And, indeed, mayhap he even stalked Kilchurn at times. Though Agnes seemed to think differently, mayhap Hugh also knew of the secret tunnel into the castle. And mayhap would use it again, once he was through with her.

Fear roiled through Anne. If Hugh were the traitor, Niall was in terrible danger, and there was nothing she could do to warn him. Nothing indeed, Anne realized, with a sudden surge of impotent anger, nothing . . . but die at the hands of a witch-crazed traitor.

She sagged against the door. Blessed Mary, what had she ever done to deserve this? How had she sinned, to escape one horrible death only to fall prey to an even more gruesome one?

The burning at least would have been quick, if excrutiatingly painful. But to be raped by Hugh, then all of his men before being murdered was an even more fearsome fate. At the stake, Anne still had her dignity, but even that would be stripped from her before this eve was done. Och, but she hated being so helpless, so. . . .

Footsteps, climbing the stone staircase, echoed hollowly in the tower. Anne lunged back from the door. Panic rose like bitter gorge in her throat. Once more she scanned the room for a sign of a weapon, for hope of escape. There was none. The chamber was empty save for a threadbare bed.

The door unlocked with a metallic clank, swinging open to reveal Hugh standing there. Anne held her ground, refusing to cower before him. Defiance flashed in her eyes. With her head thrown back, her shoulders squared, she looked so much the warrior that Hugh momentarily faltered.

Then the old madness crept into his eyes. "Your spells will serve you poorly this eve, witch!" he spat. He held up a small bag tied around his neck. "I have an amulet to protect me."

Hugh waggled the sack before her eyes and giggled. "Does it frighten you? No? Then mayhap this will strike some fear in your heart!"

His hand moved to his groin, where the hard swell of his manhood bulged. He grinned at the horrified flicker of Anne's eyes toward him, then turned to shut and lock the door. Hugh dangled the key from his finger as he faced her.

"Do you want this, lassie?" he taunted, moving toward her. "Well, come and take it." He slid the key down the front of his trews to rest beside his hardened organ, his grin widening suggestively. "I'll let you have it, you know, if you come and get it."

Anne backed away as Hugh inexorably advanced, until she stood against the bed. She inhaled a steadying breath. She must confront him, must get the key.

And if that required touching him, sliding her hand into his trews to do so, then she would. She would do whatever it took to get that key. He'd quickly discover she was no shy, fearful maid.

Her hand moved toward him, toward the belt that bound his trews. A strange, excited light gleamed in his dark eyes. Anne undid the belt and let it drop to the floor. Her hand was captured in an iron grip, however, when it moved again toward him. Hugh twisted her arm behind her, then grabbed her other arm to pull it back to join it.

''Did you think you'd get the key so easily, my beauteous little witch?"

His head lowered to hers. His hot breath wafted across her face. Anne fought back a surge of nausea. Hugh's body moved closer, intimately pressing into hers. She squirmed against him.

"Aye, that's it," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Rub your body against mine. Make me stiffen even more."

Anne froze. Everything that was in her screamed to get away from him, but she forced herself to maintain contact. If she fought too hard, she'd never have a chance at the key. And the key was everythingher one hope of freedom.

Hugh chuckled, a cold edge of irony in his voice. "You're just like all the other sluts. You'll sell your soul to the devil to get what you want. Only this time, the devil is in league with me. "Tis all part o' our plan. Your death will begin the feud anew. Niall will finally fall."

His mouth descended, grinding roughly, painfully, over hers. At the same time, he levered himself against her, forcing Anne off balance. An icy, awful fear shot through her. She fought to maintain her footing but the effort was to no avail. With a choking cry, Anne fell onto the bed, Hugh atop her.

Niall watched the tower for a long while, studying the movements of the men outside, gauging where the guards were and where Anne was probably being held. The room at the top of the winding stone staircase was the most likely spot. And the only means of escape was back down those stairs. Even if he managed to reach her, they could well be trapped in the tower room if the men outside were alerted. Whoever had brought Anne here had planned well against any rescue.

The realization filled Niall with rage. As far as he knew, only two other kinsmen besides himself knew of this old tower. Hugh, Iain, and he had spent many a summer's day here, repairing the crumbling structure. It had been a labor of love for three idealistic lads, steeped in tales of the glorious deeds of brave Campbell ancestors.

But idealistic no more,
Niall thought with a bitter pang. Time and cruel experience had soured those high aspirations. Soured them all, for each in his own way.

Hugh had gone mad with his unrequited ambitions and the searing betrayal and loss of his beloved Dora. Iain, at the very least, coveted Anne. And he, he had become so weighted with cares and responsibilities and eaten by suspicions that he dared trust no one.

Niall's mouth twisted with grim humor. Two men dreamed of power and would stoop to anything to get it. And the other who possessed that power was slowly being destroyed in the battle to protect it.

Tonight, one of them would seal his fate. Niall would soon have his proof. Whoever's followers these were, one of the men could be persuaded to reveal the traitor, either with money or torture. All Niall. had to do was wait. His own men would soon arrive. Then the renegades would be easily overcome.

Niall crept forward to gain a better view. At the back of the building, covered by thickly overgrown ivy, was another door. Niall prayed its entrance, hidden from sight in a darkly shadowed corner under the stairs, had yet to be discovered.

It could serve him well when the time came. If orders had been given to kill Anne in the event of an attack, Niall could quickly gain access and fight off any guards stationed inside. Her abductor had not thought of everything, he wagered.

He settled behind the bracken and low shrubs that grew close to the far side of the tower. By his calculations, his men were still an hour's ride away. Niall shifted to allow his huge claymore to rest more comfortably against his back and eased himself down to rest upon his elbows.

He gazed up at the blackened sky, scattered with twinkling bits of light. How close the stars seemed here in the mountains. One could almost reach out and touch them.

Once more the remorse surged through him. He and his two cousins had lain outside just like this so many summer nights ago, watching the star-studded sky, speaking of their dreams, of honor and kinship. They'd been so close then, vowing to stand beside each other in battle and life, swearing to eternal loyalty. What had happened?

A cry from high in the tower drifted to Niall's ears. He heard the men outside chuckle, then settle back around the fire to talk in low, amused voices. Niall rose to a crouched position behind the shrubs.

It was Anne's voice and the sound had been one of fear. He dared not wait a moment longer. Even if he'd have to take on the outlaws without his men, he had to go to her. Anne was in danger.

With swift, stealthy strides, Niall made his way to the ivy-covered doorway. He slashed away the obstructing leaves with his dirk, then grasped the door handle. At first it would not turn, age and rust binding it stiffly, but Niall's determined strength finally worked the corroded metal free. He shoved open the door.

The metal hinges creaked in the stone-muffled interior. Niall froze. Footsteps moved toward him. He slipped in, his dirk clenched in his fist.

The man's hand swung to his sword when he saw the open door, but Niall was upon him before he had a chance to shout an alarm. Two quick thrusts of his dirk and Niall had disposed of the guard. He dragged the body into the shadowed corner and cautiously crept into the main room.

The guard seemed to be the only one on watch in the tower. Niall slipped up the winding staircase, bloodied dirk in hand. From overhead came the sounds of a struggle, another muted feminine cry. His blood stirred hotly. Someone was harming his woman. That person would die.

He reached the door and pulled down upon the handle. It was locked from the inside. Niall tried the door with his shoulder, slamming into it with increasingly harder blows. The thick oak stood firm. Frustrated rage exploded within him.

Niall pounded on the unyielding wood. "Anne, open the door!" he cried in a low voice. "'Tis Niall, lass. Open the door and let me in!"

He heard the sound of a slap and another strangled cry. Niall went mad. He threw himself against the door again and again, heedless of the men pouring into the tower below.