Highland Angels (Fated Hearts Book 3) (22 page)

“Aye, Laird.” The man who answered was wiry and very small of stature.

“Do ye see that crack in the rock?”

“Aye, Laird.”

“I know there is one other cave farther along that I could put the whore in but I’m wondering if that is a cave too. I know of others—on the islands—with openings like that. Go see.”

“Aye, Laird.” Manus dismounted and went to inspect the fissure, reaching his arm into it. “It does go deep into the rock. I’ll try to squeeze in.” Although he was a small man, and it took a good deal of maneuvering, eventually Manus disappeared into the cleft. A minute or so later he reemerged looking triumphant. “Aye, Laird, it is a cave—quite a large one.”

Fearchar’s mouth curved into an evil smile. “Perfect. Crawl back in there, then we’ll shove her in after ye. Tie her well with her head as high up as ye can. If Andrew does manage to find her, they’ll hear her screams. No normal-sized man will be able to get into the cave to save her. Imagine the torture that will be. It almost makes me want to stay and watch. This wee whore screaming on the inside as she is about to drown and her big strong husband screaming on the outside because he can’t save her.”

Anna vowed she would not break down. She had begged the madman on behalf of Mairi and Tasgall, but she wouldn’t do it again. Athol lifted her off the horse and waited by the cave entrance while Manus worked his way in.

Even though he was a small man, he was still much larger than Anna. When Athol pushed her in, she slipped through the opening easily. The light from the entrance was enough to dimly illumine the inside of the cave. It was much bigger than the entrance would suggest, and it had a ceiling that she estimated to be more than ten feet high.

Manus followed Fearchar’s instructions perfectly. He dragged her to the back of the cave and high up onto a pile of rocks. He tied her hands and feet before leaving. She remained stoic until he was well out of the cave. When she was sure they were gone and would be unable to hear her, she gave into tears. She saw no way out of this. The tide would come in, she would drown and she would never see Andrew again.

Andrew had been on the lists when the alarm went up. The message he received was that Barclay had crawled from the forest, half dead. Someone had used Molly and Bridget to set a trap to capture Lady Anna and they had managed to capture Mairi and Tasgall as well.

Andrew felt as if the world shattered around him. He ran to Janet’s cottage, where Barclay was being tended. His father, Fearghas Chisholm, Graham, Eoin and Aidan MacKay and Laird Sinclair, were not far behind him.

Bridget and Molly had been found tied to a tree but unharmed.

“Who did this to ye?” asked Laird MacLeod.

“I don’t know,” said Bridget. At his father’s request, the little girl described the man, but no one seemed to know who he might be.

Then Molly said in almost a whisper, “One man called him Fearchar.”

“Fearchar?” asked Laird Sinclair. “Fearchar Morrison?”

“It couldn’t be,” said Dougal. “The Morrisons are not here.”

“But, Da,” interrupted Graham, “the man Bridget described sounds exactly like Fearchar Morrison.”

“If it is Morrison, he surely headed north,” said Andrew.

“I would think so,” agreed his father, “but we can’t take a risk. We’ll ride north with a large contingent of men, but I want men fanning out in all directions. Graham, ye coordinate with the other visiting clans.”

Eoin MacKay turned to Aidan. “Ye go with him. I want ye at the head of the men who ride south onto MacKay land. I don’t want any of our men there to mistake ye for an invading army.”

It wasn’t long before a huge force, including Ranulf Sinclair, Fearghas Chisholm and assorted members of their guard, rode out of Curacridhe with Andrew, his father and a contingent of MacLeod guards and men-at-arms.

It seemed as if they had ridden for hours without seeing any sign of the Morrisons when, in the distance, they saw a lone rider approaching, slumped over his horse’s neck, only just managing to hold on.

When they reached the man, he was barely conscious. “Laird Morrison…rode west…”

“Not to Durness?” asked Andrew.

“West…a ship waits…mouth…inlet. Darach didn’t know. Hurry…tide.”

“What happened to ye?”

“Stopped him…killing Darach.”

“He did this to ye because ye stopped him from murdering his brother?”

The man nodded before losing consciousness. Laird MacLeod ordered several men to tend to the wounded man and get him back to Curacridhe.

“What does he mean by the rest of it?” asked Laird Sinclair.

“Just west of here, there is a long inlet jutting in from the sea. It sounds like Morrison has a ship waiting at the mouth of the inlet.”

“What did he mean about the tide?” asked Fearghas Chisholm.

“Ye can only traverse the northern edge of the inlet, all the way to the mouth, when the tide is out,” explained his father. “If we don’t hurry, the sea will cut us off.”

“Is there no other way?” asked Eoin.

“Aye, there is,” said Dougal. “We can ride a little farther north, cut west to the sea and head south along the coast. It takes a little longer, but the mouth of the inlet can be reached with no obstacles.”

“Then we should split up,” said Laird Chisholm.

“Aye,” agreed Dougal. “Andrew, ye and Fearghas take half the guardsmen and head to inlet. Ranulf, ye and Laird MacKay will come with me and take the coastal route.”

~ * ~

Darach slowly became aware of his surroundings. It felt as if every bone in his body was broken, but his wrists were on fire and his head ached unbearably. He was in a sitting position, his hands tied over his head. His ankles were also bound but were not tethered to anything. A chill dampness seeped through his clothing.
Where am I?
He opened his eyes cautiously. His vision was blurred, and he had to blink several times before things came into focus, but he appeared to be in a sea cave, his hands tethered to a rock. The light from the entrance suggested it was late afternoon.

He tried to stand up to relieve the pressure on his arms, but as he struggled he was overcome with nausea and retched. He sat back down until the queasiness passed, then tried again. This time he gripped the rope in his hands, pulled his knees up, pushing with his feet while pulling on the rope, and he was able to stand. His head swam and nausea threatened again. He took several deep breaths until it had lessened.

With the tension on the rope slackened, he began to work the knots of his binding with his teeth. The rope was damp and the knots had swelled. As he worked, he tried to remember what had happened. His head hurt. Why did his head hurt so terribly? An image of Fearchar’s furious countenance loomed in his foggy memory. It had been Fearchar. He had attacked him, slamming his head against the ground. He remembered someone screaming. Women screaming.
Lady Anna and Mairi
. Then the memories came rushing back in a horrifying flood.

Fearchar had Lady Anna, Tasgall MacKay and Mairi.

Darach redoubled his efforts to free his hands, eventually succeeding. He was able to undo the bindings on his ankles much faster with the use of his hands.

Once free, he took several steps toward the mouth of the cave. The dizziness made him unsteady on his feet, but moving slowly and supporting himself against the wall he eventually reached the mouth of the cave. He was on the narrow bank of the inlet, but what now? Should he head west, following his brother or east to try and get help? He wanted to go after them, but he could barely stand, much less fight off his brother’s men to rescue the others.

Nay, his best chance of helping them was to get help. His decision made, he headed east. He wasn’t sure how long he had walked before he heard the sound of horses approaching. It couldn’t be Fearchar, he would have continued on westward towards the mouth of the inlet. His relief was profound when he recognized Andrew MacLeod at the head of the riders.

~ * ~

Andrew was off his mount in an instant, grabbing Darach by the shoulders. They hadn’t gotten much out of the Morrison guardsman other than where Fearchar was headed, and that the man had tried to stop Fearchar from killing Darach. Now here stood Darach, alive but with no sign of anyone else.
“Where are they?
” Andrew demanded.

“Heading to the mouth of the inlet. Apparently Fearchar has a ship waiting. How did ye know to come this way?”

“Fearchar stabbed one of his men and left him for dead after he stopped yer brother from killing ye.”

“That could only have been Iagan. No one else would have stood up to him for me. Andrew, I swear I didn’t know what my brother had planned. He said he was bringing me back to finish my training. I knew he believed ye had ruined his chances for a betrothal to Lady Anna but I had no idea he would do this.”

“I know, the man—Iagan ye say?—told us that.”

“Fearchar’s lost his mind, Andrew. He beat me senseless. I awoke bound to a rock, in a sea cave. He was leaving me to drown as the tide came in.”

“
Dear God
. Are ye sure he still has them?”

“I am not sure of anything. He had them when he knocked me out.”

“But he wouldn’t harm them,” Andrew said, praying that was the truth. “Ye said he wanted to marry Anna and both Mairi and Tasgall would fetch large ransoms.”

“I’m not sure of anything now. Andrew, he’s not in his right mind. When I tried to get him to let them go, he accused me of wanting Lady Anna for myself. That’s when he beat me senseless.”

Andrew was torn. It made no sense for Fearchar to harm his captives, and if Andrew didn’t get past the narrow strip of traversable land before the tide came in, he would lose his chance. But if he raced to reach the mouth of the inlet and Fearchar had left Anna, Mairi and Tasgall in a sea caves, as he had Darach, there would be no way to get back to them until the tide turned again. By then it would be too late.

Andrew looked at Fearghas Chisholm. “I can’t risk their lives on the sensibilities of a madman. I know of at least seven caves between here and the mouth of the inlet and the tide is rising. We will have to leave men at each one to search. I’ll keep going until I reach Fearchar.”

~ * ~

Tasgall shook his head, trying to clear it. One of Fearchar’s men had hit him with a rock as he had tried to fight them off. He hadn’t completely lost consciousness, but had been too dazed to resist anymore. They had shoved his back against a thick pillar of rock, stretching his arms behind him. His hands didn’t quite meet, so a short length of rope stretched between them.

Just as Fearchar had ordered, his men had laid Mairi flat on the floor of the cave, near its mouth, about ten feet from the place they had bound him. Her hands and feet were bound and she was tethered between two boulders, her arms stretched over her head. She couldn’t move. She had stopped sobbing but trembled violently. She was terrified. He had to get them out.

“Mairi?”

She started at the sound of his voice. “Tasgall, we’re going to drown.”

“Nay, we aren’t, sweetling. The way they have me tied, I think I can rub the rope against the rock and free myself.” He had started to do just that.

“Do ye really think it will work?”

“Aye, it will just take a bit of time.” He wasn’t sure he believed that. The force required caused the rope to cut into his wrists and he feared the rock scraped more skin off his knuckles and the backs of his hands, than fibers off the rope, but he wanted to calm her fears.

“What if ye can’t?” She looked to be on the edge of tears again. “I’ll drown as soon as the tide floods in.” She began struggling at her own bonds.

“Mairi.” His tone was sharp. “Look at me, sweetling.”

She did.

“I need ye to do something for me.”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“Aye there is, lass. The rock is scraping my knuckles a little.” That was an understatement; his hands were already slick with blood. “I need ye to distract me.”

“Distract ye?” She sounded incredulous, and he suppressed the urge to chuckle.

“Aye. It’s easier to push through a little pain if one is distracted.” This was true, but his real goal was to distract
her
.

“How can I distract ye?”

“Tell me about ye and yer family.”

“I don’t know what to tell ye.”

“Well, how about starting off by telling me five things ye like.”

“Really?”

“Aye, pet. Five things ye like.”

She frowned and thought for a moment. “Well…I like peonies.”

“Peonies? Tell me why ye like peonies.”

“They are very pretty. And when they start blooming, summer’s not far off. I love summer. There, that’s number two.”

She continued to ramble on, his little game doing exactly what he had intended it to—she remained calm. However, he found the distraction did help him as well.

When she reached number five, “Anna”, he smiled at her admission. “I know she was really angry about the betrothals at first, but I was so happy she was staying at Curacridhe.” She smiled for a moment as if thinking of Anna. “She’ll be all right, won’t she? We’ll find her?”

“I’m certain she’ll be all right.” A lump rose in Tasgall’s throat at the lie. He wasn’t certain of anything, but he prayed fervently that they would all make it through this.

His words seemed to reassure Mairi. “Good.” She was quiet for a moment before saying. “It’s yer turn now. What are five things ye like?”

“Well, right about now, I have a serious affection for weak rope.” Would that he had been tied with a piece of it.

Mairi giggled. “I’m serious. I told ye five things, now ye tell me.”

Tasgall did his best to talk about his five things without revealing how much pain he was in, or how worried he was that this was not going to work. But before long, some fibers began to fray, making him redouble his efforts.

Mairi remained calm until the wind outside picked up and began blowing sprays of icy water into the cave. As close as she was to the entrance, she was quickly soaked and reminded that she had been left here to drown.

She began to tremble and cry again. “Tasgall, I’m afraid. I don’t want to drown.”

“Mairi, sweetling, stay strong for just a few more minutes. I almost have the rope split.”

“But I’m so cold.”

“I’ll wrap ye in my plaid as soon as I’m free.” He put all his effort into breaking through the last fibers.

She saw his hands swing free.“Ye, did it!”

“I told ye I would.” He rushed to her and began working to untie the ropes holding her hands. The backs of his hands were raw and bloody, and his fingers were clumsy. He shielded her with his body as the wind blew more icy spray on them while he worked, but he was able to free her.

She threw her arms around him. “Thank ye, Tasgall.”

“Ye’re welcome, lass. Now, let’s get out of here.” He wrapped her in his plaid and helped her out of the cave. He frowned. The tide was rising fast and the narrow strip of land between the cliff and the inlet was quickly disappearing. To make matters worse, a misty fog was rolling in.