Celtic Fury Page 20

  “Ye’ expect me to train yer’ men to have them come and slaughter my people? I dunna’ think that will happen.”

  “Think again, Rory MacCollum, because the punishment for killing my clansman is yer own death. Rumor has said ye’ were to be wed this week. Surely ye’ dunna’ wish to leave yer betrothed and make her a widow for the second time.” The muscle worked in Rory’s jaw.

  “What do ye’ know of her and how did ye’ learn of her in the first place?”

  “Only that she is an English widow and that she is seeking refuge at MacCollum Keep and that her beauty rivals the heavens. Ye’ know how word spreads among the clans. I was surprised really to hear that ye’ were going to wed. I always thought the Highland Wolf was not the marryin’ kind. Now, think about my generous offer, Ruiri. Do ye really wish to leave her alone in a strange land?” Rory was trying to control his fury.

  “Did ye’ call for her harm?” Stephen eyed him levelly.

  “I would never use a woman or endanger one for rival disputes. Despite what ye’ think of me and my clan, I dunna’ harm innocents. Nay she is still safe at MacCollum as far as I know.” Rory swallowed down the gall in his throat. He knew in his heart Brielle was not safe and he really needed to get home to her.

  He murmured, “She is not…English. She is a highlander. She is…a Campbell and she is already my wife by Ancient Rite.”

  “A Campbell,” Stephen MacDougal spat. “Why that is worse than marrying an English girl. Ye’ jest!”

  “Nay. I sense she is in great danger, and if not by yer’ command, then by both those Satan spawn brothers of hers. I was going home when yer’ fine band of men here, stopped me.”

  Stephen was still shocked at the revelation that the Highland Wolf had married a Campbell, and by Ancient Rite, no less. All the clans knew of how his betrothed had been killed by the Campbells years ago. Stephen knew that for Rory to take the Ancient vows meant that his rival was in love. Ye’ dunna’ take the binding rite for political gain or for a marriage of business. It was hard to think of the Wolf as a man who could fall that deeply in love. While he knew that much of what had been told of Rory MacCollum was more legend than truth, still Stephen marveled at that news. But holy Christ…a bloody feckin’ Campbell! Stephen MacDougal was sure who hated the Campbells more; MacCollum or MacDougal.

  Knowing how much Rory hated the Campbells, Stephen said, “I am sorry, Ruiri. But as I said, I am in severe threat of clan destruction.”

  What if ye’ let me go and I promise to help as soon as…” Stephen MacDougal cut him off.

  “Ye’ know I trust ye’ as much as ye’ trust me. Our years as rival clans have fostered that.”

  “I am a man of my word, MacDougal.”

  “I am afraid it must be this way. You have two choices. Train my men or face certain death.”

  The MacDougal saw Rory’s eyes darken. Rory was fighting the darkness which was burbling up inside him and he was not sure this time he could quell it. Rory hadn’t missed the darkness once Brielle had started to banish it with her love. Now it was seeping through him like faithful poison in his veins.

  He barely heard Stephen MacDougal say, “Look, I have spent too much time at court. I should have vested more time with my warriors. I admit that. I need yer’ help Ruiri, willingly or no.”

  “So, I must pay for yer’ lacking as a leader?” The MacDougal’s head whipped around at the sound of Rory's voice. It seemed different; as if it had come from someone else. How odd!

  “No need to be insulting.”

  “I didna’ start this fight. Ye’ raided our land. Ye’ let yer men lay waste to our meadows and set out traps for me or my kin.”

  “What…what is wrong with yer’ voice?” Rory knew that when he was trying to block the darkness, his voice changed. He knew it sounded more like a growl than his regular speaking timber. He could not control it. It was part of the sickness.

  “T’is from the smoke,” he lied. But as he said those words, the MacDougal could see Rory was speaking carefully.

  Hold on, Rory. Push the darkness back. For Brielle; you must hold on for Brielle. Rory fought with himself. The MacDougal did not press him further, realizing that mayhap some of the legends about the Wolf of the Highlands were born on truth after all. At any rate, Stephen MacDougal knew that this was not a man to be trifled with. He could see there was a raging fury inside the man he had captured and he knew better than to provoke it. He would hold his tongue for the remainder of the journey to MacDougal Keep. Keeping a wary eye on his prisoner, MacDougal charged their retinue forward.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Caleb and Shawn carefully picked their way to Castle Campbell. Caleb was certain Brielle had been taken there. Besides getting there, they didn’t have much of a plan. Caleb knew the brothers were unpredictable and cruel. He even thought that quite possibly they had deteriorated almost to the point of complete. He wasn’t sure they would be able to be effective in rescuing Brielle, but he knew he had to do everything he could and try.

  Oh, the tongue lashing Morag had given him! Imagine being the Laird of the clan and yet, that old woman had made him feel like a boy caught with his hands in his pants! With a sigh, Caleb thought, she was right. He had failed. If a laird could not protect one wee lass, how could he be the leader of a clan? The weight of Brielle’s abduction weighed heavily on Caleb MacCollum that day.

  *****

  Jerome dragged Brielle before Roderick. She was so weak and battered from the trip, she stumbled forward. Her heart was broken and she had little fight left in her.

  “By God, ye’ look like hell, Gabrielle. Ye’ dishonor yer’ clan and for what? Look at ye’! Ye’ dare to wear his plaid before me. And ye’ stand before me looking more like a street whore than a highland lady, and this when I had ye’ set well to live in a rich man’s manor.”

  “What do ye’ want from me? I dunna’ look like this from the MacCollums. T’is yer’ man who did this to me. They have treated me like a queen. They have aided me and cared for me.”

  “What of yer husband, Gabrielle?”

  “He was an old sick man…He didn’t love me…and he died…I know ye’ didn’t want me…why couldn’t ye’ leave me alone?”

  “Because ye’ dishonor me and ye’ dishonor the clan.”

  “The Clan? There is no clan. Ye’ saw to that. All that is left are renegade outlaws. I am ashamed to be called Campbell because of what ye’ have done to the clan. Grandfather would be horrified at what ye’ have done to ‘the clan’.”

  Roderick’s hand, swift and stinging slapped her hard. She was almost numb to it at this point. Nothing mattered anymore, anyway. If she could not be with Rory, there was no physical hurt that could break her. And, she couldn’t be with Rory. She would never endanger his life at the hands of her twisted brothers. With eyes glazed over, Brielle barely even flinched as he struck her.

  She said, “Ye’ can abuse me all ye’ want but I know the truth.”

  “Well after yer’ precious warrior comes for ye’, and I finish him, as I should have years ago, ye’ are going back to Val ‘Cour.” At this proclamation, Brielle’s restraint snapped.

  “It was you…you are the one who killed Rory’s betrothed. I didna’ want to believe it.”

  The sneer that twisted Roderick’s lips made Brielle know that he had been completely taken over by evil.

  He said, “The arrow was meant for him, only his harlot got in the way. I understand she was breeding his spawn…how lucky we prevented bringing more of the Rabid Wolf’s offspring into the world.”

  Suddenly feeling like a madwoman herself, Brielle flew at Roderick, screaming, “She was just a girl. She never did anything to ye’…Ye’ bloody bastard…” Roderick almost seemed amused by hour outburst. He laughed at her as she lunged for him with the maniacal cackle that foretold of his madness.

  She tried to strike at him, but he grabbed her hair and yanked it hard, causing her to snap her head back and wince.

&nb
sp; “I see ye’ and she have much in common, only know this. If ye’ carry his seed, I promise to choke the life out of it upon its birth.” Brielle kicked at him as hard as she could, but he managed to sidestep the blow.

  Smiling like an evil specter, Roderick said, “Take this whore out of my sight. I can smell the stench of the MacCollum taint about her. And burn that filthy plaid so I may never see it disgrace these halls again.”

  Jerome McManus nodded in a bow of acquiescence. Dragging the girl up the stairs, he looked forward to stripping her of that plaid and watching her cry as he tossed it to burn on the dung heap in the bailey. She thought she was so high and mighty. She had emasculated him and he was going to make her to pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Caleb had camped outside of Castle Campbell for three days. The keep was in horrible disrepair. Parts of the outer bailey were actually crumbling in ruin. There was no teaming village life surrounding the keep. Only a handful of ill cared for serfs resided in small huts on the outskirts. Caleb tried to remember the layout of the keep when he had visited long ago when Gavin was still alive and theirs were just rival clans without an actual blood feud. He had gone to the Campbell keep for a war council, but he had been so young then. His own father had still been Laird.

  Caleb pondered it and dug deep into his memory. He could see the battlements were not well guarded. Still it would be dangerous to try to sneak past whatever watch there was. These men were not honor-bound, therefore there were no rules of engagement to be followed. The only thing he could do would be to sneak in to the keep as one of the local gentry bearing breads and grain. That part had been easy. The down-trodden man was no match for Shawn, who had accosted the shuffling servant. He demanded the man hand over his cloak and wares. Shawn restrained the man while Caleb donned the disguise.

  No one really paid him much mind as he hobbled his way inside. He kept his head bowed, but tried to scope out the site. He put the bread and grain into the buttery and then snuck through the corridor. He was horrified at the disrepair of the castle. Old Gavin Campbell must be spinning in his grave at the terrible state of his legacy. There was actually refuse and garbage piled in the corners of many of the rooms. The fetid smell of rancid food wafted into Caleb’s nostrils and he fought the urge to gag. He was certain he saw rodents scurrying through the debris in much more abundance than in a keep that was well maintained.

  The normal castle gentry that were needed to manage a keep were far and few. Tapestries and draperies hung in tatters. Caleb had to find Brielle. He could not leave her in this dreadful place, but he did not know where to look. Brielle could have been anywhere. Caleb hoped that she was not locked in some dungeon because he would never find her, if that were the case. Caleb ducked into the shadows when he saw a man approaching. It was none other than Roderick Campbell, who was carrying a flagon of wine into the antechamber near the great hall, staggering, already well into his cups. After Roderick had locked himself into the room, Caleb carefully and silently stole up the main staircase. He hoped there was a solar or a bedchamber close at hand. With the hood shadowing his face, he slunk through the hallway, peering in doorways, hoping to at least get a glimpse of Brielle. Most of the rooms were devoid of furnishings, as if they had all been sold off. With each room he entered, Caleb’s frustration grew as he could not find Brielle. Some of the rooms were locked, and though the doors looked rotted with age, and he could easily batter his way through, Caleb knew that would alert someone of his presence, so he just set now to the task of searching the unlocked rooms.

  Caleb's heart was full of dread that perhaps Brielle was locked below…or God forbid, worse. He did not want to think that harm had befallen the mate of his youngest son. He had to concentrate not to think the worst and continue on his quest to find the girl. He knew her life depended on it. He heard footfalls approaching and he dashed inside a small dark room, closing the door behind him. What he saw when he turned gave him the strength he needed, for there sitting woodenly facing a window was the very lass…their little Brielle. Only, upon gazing at her, Caleb thought there was something terribly amiss. What was wrong with her? His heart thudded and he blew out a sigh of relief, only upon looking at her, Caleb’s distress rose further. It was like she was entranced; mayhap drugged. When the door clicked home, he noticed her flinch, but she remained mostly still. Caleb went to her and knelt next to her and he touched her hand. She jerked her hand from his touch, as if some horror awaited her.

  Throwing back his hood, he said, “Lass, I’ve come to take ye’ home.” In a dazed stare, Brielle thought she was seeing a ghost. She had been sure that Caleb was dead. As she could feel the warmth of his hand on her, the reality hit her and she burst into tears. Brielle threw her arms around him. The dazed spell was momentarily broken.

  “Oh Caleb…Jerome told me he killed ye.”

  “Nah lassie, he never even laid a hand on me. Come now. Shawn is waiting, too. We are going to take ye’ home.”

  At his words, Brielle seemed to sink back into despondency. Brielle knew she could not oblige him. The blank look came back into her eyes and she broke from his embrace.

  “I canna’ go wi’ ye’.” She backed away from him as if he was a monster come to claim her and he said, “Of course ye' can. T’is my fault ye’ were taken. Can ye' forgive me, lass?”

  She raised her tearstained face to Caleb and he gasped. She had been beaten more than once. Her face bore the marks from repeated strikes.

  “Caleb…this is my world. I dunna’ belong in yers.”

  “Of course ye do. Ye’ are Ruiri’s wife.” She burst out, “Nay. I am not. Ruiri was…a mistake. I mean…I am grateful for what he did for me, but I dunna’ love him.” She nearly choked on the bitter lie.

  “Brielle, I know that is not true. Dunna’ break my lad’s heart. Come home with me now.”

  Mustering up her courage to portray her act, she said, “Ruiri did not come for me…ye’ did. Ruiri does not love me. He has been the embodiment of the Legendary Wolf too long. I was naught more than a passing fancy. Ruiri’s heart has forgotten how to love. I belong here. This is my world and Ruiri would do well not to tread too close to this world. We are too different, he and I. He is the son of a powerful laird, and a prosperous clan. I dunna’ fit in his world…or yers’.”

  Caleb knew she was lying. She was terrified; he could see that. She was mentally and physically abused by the hands of these monsters.

  “They have hurt ye’, lass, I see that. Ye must come with me. I canna’ leave ye here.”

  Anger boiled over in her voice. She had to make Caleb understand. She had to convince him, or else it would end up with Rory or more of their clan being killed. Brielle would never let that transpire.

  “Don’t ye’ understand? They will come back for me until…someone is killed. Please Caleb. Leave me be.”

  “I canna’ leave ye’, Brielle.”

  “I will be going back to Val Cour,” she lied. “It wasn’t so terrible living there. Ye’ must go now before ye’ are discovered. And ye’ must convince Ruiri not to come. Convince him I no longer love him…. that I never loved him.” Again, her throat closed even speaking those lies.

  “Ye are a very bad liar, Brielle.”

  “I don’t love him,” she stated again. “I confused gratitude with love.”

  A muscle worked in Caleb’s jaw, so much like her precious Rory. Quiet fury raged inside him.

  “So ye’ will not come with me after I risked safety to come for you.”

  Brielle did regret that, but she had to think of the future; a future where the clan MacCollum were safe; a future without her Ruiri. That meant she had to be believable in her resolve.

  “I am sorry Caleb. I canna’ go with ye’.” Caleb did not miss that she said ‘cannot’, and not ‘Will Not’. So, that was it. She was terrified. Still he persisted in saying, “Ruiri deserves to hear it from yer’ own lips, Brielle. Ye’ owe him that much.” She laughed bitterly.

  �
�And just how shall I do that? He sent ye’ to come for me instead of coming himself.” Caleb’s head dropped.

  “He didna’ send me lass…because he has not yet returned.” Once again, Brielle felt the squeezing of her heart in her chest. She couldn’t take much more and she could not uphold her lies too much longer, either. She wanted to scream that of course she loved Rory; that she would always love him. The lies tasted like bitter bile in her throat, but she could not admit it, not now, not ever…when admitting that would put him in more danger. She had to follow through with her ruse; else Rory would be lead to a trap. She would sooner die than lead him to certain death after being hideously tortured, for she was sure Roderick would not let Rory die quickly. That thought struck fear in her heart to the point of swooning. Just the thought of the cruel painful things Roderick could do to her beloved Rory made her sick inside. But now, Caleb said he had not returned. Mayhap he was already hurt…or worse. She prayed silently for his safety.

  “Caleb, ye’ must go. I will send Ruiri a letter to explain and to apologize.”

  “A letter? Ye’ think the Ancient Rite can be undone with a letter?”

  I know it cannot! “Nay, but it is the best I can do. When he comes home, convince him not to come here. It will only get him killed.”

  So there it was. Brielle still loved his son; so much so that she did not want him to endanger himself. But what she should have understood was that Rory would never accept that. Nor would he ever give up on Brielle. Caleb knew she could not comprehend that. No one had ever stood up for her. No one had ever made her feel like she was worth something. She only knew pain and rejection. She had only been made to feel worthless.