Highland Burn (13 page)

The soul collector knew no boundaries, he collected at will. James had to get Abigale out of his Hell… now! The bloody bastard could have his damned soul, but not Abigale’s. She was everything good and pure in his world, the light to his darkness.

James turned back around to warn Abigale to run, but much to his surprise she was already gone, leaving a trail of light behind. Desperately he wanted to follow her light, to bathe in her warmth. If only he believed in heaven, then most definitely she had been heaven sent… his angel… his
bel ange.

The air around James cooled. An icy chill slid down his spine, and settled in his bones. He peered down the darkened tunnel, trying to see where the noise was coming from. He felt the ground shake and the smell of sulfur assaulted his nose. “The Essence of Hell.”

The atmosphere rippled like a stone thrown into still water. Horse hooves pounded like thunder to the earth as a menace raced with purpose, led by unearthly beasts biting at their bits, glowing eyes, and red foam bubbling from their mouths. Black skulls and bones highlighted in silver covered the horse-drawn coach, grayed femur bones acted as spokes on the four wheels that rolled in unison.

James dove out of the way as the raging team was halted by a black cloaked, faceless coachman. Silver chains connecting the rig to the horses rattled a sinister song as it drew to a complete stop.

James hopped to his feet in battle stance ready for a fight. An eerie creak bounced off the trees as the door to the coach slowly opened. Heavy hooves pawed viciously at the ground, growing impatient. A black chain mail glove appeared from the open door motioning with a thick finger for James to come join him.

This was it, James thought. The collector had finally caught up to him. He had been running from this moment all his life. The moment of truth… payment for the sins he’d committed. The slain would be avenged… wrongs would be righted… his soul was the price.

Tired of avoiding his destiny, he began to walk over to the deathly coach ready to embrace the darkness, when a blast of golden light exploded throughout the glen, blinding everything in sight. The dark horses reared up and raged down the rippling tunnel, sending the blasted coach bucking down the trail behind them. The power behind the explosion sent James to the ground. Blackness clouded his vision and the world fell silent.

Chapter 11

He who wants to be a dragon must eat many little snakes. ~ Chinese Proverb

“You fool!” Sheriff Rickert raised his leather whip and released its fury upon the man’s bare bloodied back. His tone, deep and sharp, filled the damp dungeon. The slender six-foot man with slicked-back salt and pepper hair stood behind his victim. His face, which was aged by the sun and multiple battle scars, possessed a placid anger.

Sheriff Rickert paced around the bloody body until he was face to face with the man. Grabbing the fool’s chin, he bore down into his eyes forcing him to look at him. “You were to bring me the Black Douglas. Alive!” he hissed and shoved the man’s head back.

Rickert had been a patient man. However, as of late his patience had been strained, pulled taut, and was about to snap. Seven years was a long time for a man to live with a tarnished reputation without revenge. He’d been made a fool the day James Douglas came back to Scotland to reclaim his lands and the family castle. With their chief dead, the clan had been disturbed, which left Castle Douglas defenseless. Being the easy target that it was, Sheriff Rickert and his heavily armed garrison seized the castle and claimed its land.

Oh, but fate could be a bloody bastard. A vicious attack by James on the garrison left Rickert retreating deep into the forest, running like a scared child to his mother.
Coward,
he thought. Flashes of that terrifying night flickered through the sheriff’s memory as he recalled the stench of burning flesh and deafening screams. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would have believed the devil himself had showed up to fight that day. He barely escaped alive. A cold shiver snaked down his spine; he had seen the beast.

“You’ve failed me. You do know the punishment, don’t you?” His English accent dripped with hatred.

The man stood silent as another crack sliced into his back.

“Must I remind you fool, I have something very valuable and precious to you.” Rickert stroked his graying goatee. “Your dear sister is at court, unwed and under my protection."

Sheriff Rickert had held the man’s sister in the royal court as a hostage of sorts. He promised the man that no harm would come to her if he obeyed his every request. A request to bring him the Black Douglas.

Rickert fondled the leather strip. “Mayhap I should inform King Edward that it’s past time for her to wed,” he stated.

The man angrily twisted his head to the sheriff and met his devious stare.

Leaning in close to the fool as if he was telling him a secret, he said, “I wonder what a young Scottish piece of arse would feel like.” The sheriff’s deep chuckle dared the man to break and lose control.

Giving the sheriff no satisfaction, the man balled up his fists and dug his nails deeper into the palms of his hands.

Rickert enjoyed inflicting pain, a master of manipulation. Blackmail was a game he played well. Once he had his eyes on a prize, there was no turning back. He became obsessed with seeking out the right time and place to unleash years of pent up fury. No longer could he walk among the crowds in his hometown and not be heckled about being defeated by a young Scottish lad. A Highlander at that. He was in favour with the king no more; the king saw him as a failure.

James Douglas was an annoying thistle in his arse that needed to be plucked out and destroyed. With the game pieces waiting to be played, his plan had been put into motion. James Douglas wouldn’t know what hit him.

~~~~~

The man lowered his head. His body shook from the last crack of the leather whip, or mayhap it was the rage he fought to keep from surfacing. He had to tell the sheriff about his little secret, it was the only way he could keep his sister safe. His beautiful innocent sister was caught up in a dangerous blackmail scheme. He’d failed to protect her. Once the sheriff had his grip on her and sent her to the royal court, he had to go along with Rickert’s plan. If he ever wanted to see his sister again, he must bring him the dragon.

Soon it would be over.
Stick to the plan
, he reminded himself. Sometimes you had to shame your soul in order to help destiny along.

The man squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath that stung his lungs. “I can bring ye the one thing that will destroy the Black Douglas,” he muttered.

This new-found information pricked Rickert’s interest. “Do tell.”

The man slowly rose his head and seared a stare of hatred into the sheriff’s eyes. “I can bring ye Abigale Bruce… James's wife… the princess of Scotland.”

Rickert mused. “Capture the princess, and slay the dragon.”

Chapter 12

Sometimes life can be as bitter as dragon tears. ~ Chinese Proverb

Two days had passed and James lay motionless, his shallow breaths barely moving the sheets covering him. Nonstop caring for Laird Douglas started to take its toll on Abigale. Sleeping only for small amounts of time and eating only when Alice would bring a trencher up to her, she didn’t leave his side. Abigale sat by the foot of the bed diligently working on some embroidery. If James didn’t wake soon, before long the castle walls would be covered in tapestries. A knock at the door made Abigale jump. She wasn’t expecting visitors.

The door creaked open as Marcus peeked in. “Lady Abigale, may I?”

She shook her head, letting him know that it was alright to enter.

Marcus walked to James’s bedside and said, “How is he? Any changes?”

“The bleeding has stopped, but he still sleeps.” Abigale stood and placed her needlework down on the chair and walked over to James. She felt his forehead. “He's still feverish.” His fever should have broken by now, Abigale pondered.

“My lady, forgive me for being blunt but maybe the time has come.”

“Nay Marcus, we still have time.” Abigale readjusted the covers over James’s body.

Marcus walked over to the head of the bed, looking over James’s body. “Ye’ve done everything possible to save him. We can't let him suffer.”

Abigale grew irate with him. How dare he come to her with such a request? She was going to save James and nothing or nobody was going to stop her. Something deep inside of her reassured her that she needed this man to live.

Abigale marched over to Marcus and poked a finger at his chest. “Suffer? Do ye think I would let him suffer?”

Marcus stood silently and allowed her to vent.

“I’ll spend every last breath making sure my husband lives. His clan needs him!” She challenged him to disagree with her by putting her hands on her hips.

Sharp eyes stared back at her. “And what aboot ye, Lady Abigale? Ye need him too.”

Of course she needed James to live. His clan needed him. Being completely honest with herself she needed him too. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but as soon as he would leave a room she missed him. Furthermore, this was her home and he was her husband. He had to live.

Through shaky breaths and deep sobs, Abigale held on tight and released all her fears on to Marcus’s shoulders. “What if Marcus, what if…” She couldn't say the words, but she thought about the question that plagued her mind. What would happen to the clan? Who would take his place?
What about you Abigale… what would become of you?
Too many unanswered questions lay heavy on her heart.

Marcus held her tight, “I’m sorry, I dinnae mean to upset ye. James is a warrior. I have seen him wounded before and he’s too stubborn to die. He'll make it, Abigale.”

Abigale looked up at him with tears streaming down her cheeks. Before she could apologize for breaking down, Marcus cupped her face, wiping away her tears.

Abigale began to feel uncomfortable as he gazed profoundly into her eyes as if he was in deep thought. He stayed there holding her a little too long and a little too close for her liking. Ill at ease, Abigale stepped out of his embrace.

Clearing his throat, Marcus asked, “When was the last time ye ate? I’ll bring ye some of Alice’s famous oatcakes.”

“That would be very kind of ye.”

Marcus turned on his heels and headed for the door.

Relieved he was leaving, Abigale had other things on her mind than to think about Marcus’s odd behavior. Aye, he was a handsome man with a witty side, yet his honor was beginning to be questioned. Surely she’d seen something more than friendship in those blue eyes of his? Furthermore, he had overstayed his welcome. A man cannot take what has already been claimed.

Abigale shook herself from those thoughts. Perhaps she was misjudging him. After all, James was his cousin; maybe he needed to be consoled as well.

“Marcus,” Abigale called out.

He turned to face her. “Lady Abigale.”

“Thank ye.”

Marcus smiled, nodded his head, and walked out the bedchamber.

Abigale walked over to James’s bedside. She ran her fingers through his hair, bent down, and touched her forehead with his. “Come back to me,” she whispered.

~~~~~

James blinked away the spinning room as it slowly came into focus. He heard soft breathing and lifted his head up slowly toward the noise. There she was; with one arm tucked under her head, Abigale slept. Trying to determine whether he was dreaming or not, he rubbed his thumb over her delicate hand that held onto his. Her hand felt soft and warm. This was a good sign, he thought.

Reaching out he took Abigale’s braid in his hand. As he fondled the silky strands, a wave of relief rippled through him. Laying his head back down, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t dreaming this time, His
bel ange
was here and safe.

The dream had been too real this time. He was ready to succumb to the darkness, yet something or better yet someone had stopped him. The light, aye the warm, bright light had chased away the collector. His soul was saved for now. Yet another question burned him. Why had Abigale been there in his dream?

James looked back down at Abigale again. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “God’s bones!” She was a beauty.

Sleepy eyes blinked open and became wide with excitement. “James, ye’re awake.”

“Aye.” James coughed through the dryness in his throat.

Abigale slowly lifted her head. “Do ye remember what happened?”

Groaning in pain, James leaned forward. There was a tightness in his chest and he could feel the nausea roll through his gut. What the hell happened to him? His body felt battered, yet the pain was beginning to dull a bit.

“Easy.” Abigale warned as she propped pillows behind James’s back to make him more comfortable. “Ye were shot with an arrow two days ago while hunting. ‘Twas an accident.”

“Two days?”

“Aye.”

“An accident… while I was hunting?” James’s dark brows creased. This information didn’t set well with him. He looked down at the blood-stained bandages.
Two days?
He should have healed by now. His sleep magic should have healed him quickly, not over two days. Never before had he come this close to death. The whole thing didn't make sense to him. He was endless… dateless… immortal. One blow from an arrow was like getting a splinter under your skin.