Highland Barbarian Part 56

"I do not answer to the likes of you, Campbell."

He raised his sword and brought the blade down with a vicious swipe, tearing open the shoulder wound that only days ago had finally mended.

With blood seeping through his tunic Brice stood his ground, exchanging thrust after thrust with Holden Mackay. And although the man was not the swordsman Brice was, he had size on his side, and the wound that was draining Brice of precious strength.

"I warned you that one day you would rue the day you banished me from your castle." Mackay advanced, again and again, until Brice felt the cold stone wall at his back. "You should not have tried to keep the woman for yourself. The spoils of war should be shared by all." He thrust his sword and watched as Brice dodged, and the blade pierced only the fabric of his tunic. He pulled his sword back and advanced again, determined to pin Brice.

"Now," he said through gritted teeth, "I will have it all. Your t.i.tles, your lands and your woman."

In an unexpectedly agile move, Brice leaped aside and turned, pinning Mackay to the wall. With his sword pointed at Mackay's chest he hissed,

"What are you talking about, man? What is this nonsense about t.i.tles and lands?"

Holden Mackay's eyes narrowed.

"I will tell you, if you promise to let me live."

"I make you no such promise. Now," Brice said, bringing the point of the sword closer, until it pierced Mackay's tunic and s.h.i.+rt and drew a faint thread of blood, "tell me what nonsense you speak."

Mackay began talking quickly, as if hoping to postpone the inevitable.

"Gareth MacKerizie offered to share half your land with me, and give me all your t.i.tles, if I would but penetrate your castle and discover your weaknesses."

"MacKenzie. So you have been in this with him from the beginning."

"Aye." Mackay's eyes glittered.

"I have long coveted the t.i.tle Earl of Kinloch."

Brice thought of his own disdain for such things.

"The t.i.tle was my father's. He earned it. What good would it do another?"

"It would make me a t.i.tled gentleman. I would be as acceptable at Court as you."

"All the t.i.tles in the world will not make you what you can never be, Mackay." He ignored the man's look of hatred and pressed the tip of his sword over his opponent's heart.

"What has any of this to do with Meredith?"

"Nothing," Mackay snapped.

"The woman was a personal prize that I decided to steal from you the way you stole her from MacKenzie."

Brice's eyes narrowed.

"You knew all along that I killed the wrong MacKenzie?"

"Aye." Mackay threw back his head and laughed.

"You killed the puny brother, Desmond, whose only crime was obeying his eldest brother."

Brice felt a terrible urge to plunge the sword through this monster's heart. But he cautioned himself to hold his famous temper in check. He still did not know the fate of Meredith.

"Is the lady in your chambers?" Brice asked softly.

Mackay's eyes suddenly burned with a feverish light. By the G.o.ds, the man did not know. What a wonderful irony.

"The lady is someplace where you will never find her."

"You will tell me or I will make your life a living h.e.l.l." As Brice shouted, Mackay suddenly brought his hand upward, revealing the razor edge of his sword. He would have severed Brice's head had Angus not stepped in and thrust his blade through Mackay's heart.

A look of shock crossed Holden Mackay's face as he realized he had been mortally wounded. As Angus pulled back his sword, Mackay slumped to the floor. A great gush of blood spilled down Mackay's tunic, the brilliant scarlet spreading in ever-widening circles. His face grew ashen.

With a sense of horror at the turn of events, Brice knelt beside Holden Mackay and whispered,

"Before it is too late, tell me what you have done with Meredith."

Mackay's lips curled into a smile. His eyes stared straight ahead. And when Brice touched a hand to the man's throat, he realized there was no pulse.

"May you burn in h.e.l.l," Brice whispered. With a growing sense of desperation he raced up the stone steps, Angus just paces behind him.

In the great hall, the last of Holden Mackay's men joined his comrades in death.

Rowena sat in the middle of the floor and tasted her own blood.

Dazed, she wiped a hand across her mouth and stared for long minutes at her bloodstained hand. Slowly, stiffly, she drew herself to a chair and sat, staring at the flames of the fire, seeing nothing.

The lady Meredith had been correct to tie her and cover her mouth.

That alone had probably saved her life. When Holden Mackay had discovered Rowena in place of Meredith, he had demanded an explanation.

Once he realized that his prize had eluded him, he had flown into a murderous rage. Never, never had Rowena seen anyone in such a fury.

He had picked up a chair and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into a thousand pieces. Still not satisfied he had lifted Rowena from the chair and slapped her, beat her, pummeled her, until she begged for mercy. It was only her plea that she had been overpowered that had saved her from certain death. That, and the sound of battle below stairs. When Holden Mackay left the room to join the fighting, he had been gripped by a l.u.s.t for blood.

Rowena knew that she should escape while there was yet time. But she seemed gripped by some sort of lethargy. And so she sat, listening to the sounds of battle, staring into the flames of the fire.

That was how Brice found her.

He raced into the chamber, with Angus just a few paces behind. Both men came to an abrupt halt at the sight that greeted them. The room looked more like a battlefield than the laird of the manor's sleeping chamber.

With eyes dulled by pain Rowena glanced up. In a trembling voice she whispered,

"My lord Campbell."

He was shocked at finding her here.

"Rowena? Did we not pa.s.s you some hours ago outside Mackay's fortress?"

She stared in silence, not seeming to comprehend.

Seeing her shocking condition he went to her and knelt before her. He took her hands in his. They were cold. So cold. In her eyes was a glazed look, such as he had often seen in men after battle.