"I can hardly wait to have her in my grasp again," Girard said, grinning like a maniac.
***
A knock sounded at Angelique's bedchamber door. Lachlan had insisted she bar it when he arose before dawn.
"Who is it?" she asked near the door.
"'Tis me, Lachlan," he said in a low tone.
Good, she must see him before his departure to Draughon. She could hardly bear that he was going to fight a battle, and with her so far away. She prayed he would not be injured.
She opened the door but Lachlan did not wait outside. Girard and Bryson stared back at her. Sharp chills paralyzed her a moment. She shoved the door to close it, but the two men forced their way inside.
"No!" She screamed. "Help!"
Girard shut the door. "Hold her. Cover her mouth," he told Bryson and the man obeyed. "You will not escape me this time, whore."
She screamed behind Bryson's dirty, bloody hand. How could the man who'd been her own father's sword bearer turn traitor? She kicked and twisted, dislodging his hand, then screamed again.
Girard slapped her hard across the cheek. Everything went black and numb for a few seconds, then she found herself face down on the floor beneath one of them. Pains shot from her elbow and knees where she had fallen on them. The side of her face burned and ached.
"Bastard!" If only she could reach her dagger, strapped to her calf, but Bryson was too strong. Despite twisting and kicking, she could not escape his iron-like grasp.
"Gag her with this," Girard commanded.
Bryson shoved a thick piece of material into her mouth and tied it behind her head.
"No, damn you!" she tried to shout, but it sounded like a moan.
"Bind her hands."
"You said you wouldn't hurt her," Bryson said.
"I said I wouldn't kill her. At least not now. But Kormad will kill your wife and son if you do not obey me. Besides that, you have just murdered five MacGrath guards. What do you think the rest of the MacGraths will do to you if we turn you over to them?"
Angelique emitted muffled shouts as Bryson tied her hands so tightly the thin rope bit into her wrists. Why had she not thought to take out her knife before opening the door?
Lachlan, where are you?
One of the men yanked her to her feet and threw a cloak around her shoulders. Dizziness overwhelmed her and she swayed. Sacrebleu! She had no chance of reaching her knife now. What would they do to her?
Girard poked his head into the corridor, then motioned them forward. Bryson guided Angelique out and along the passage to what must have been the back servants' stairwell. Very narrow. Glancing around, she saw no one about. She tried to scream or yell for help, but the sound only sounded like a loud moan.
"Quiet," Girard growled and shoved her toward the stairwell. Her feet tangling in her skirts, Angelique fell into Bryson, in front of her. He turned, catching her, and hauled her to her feet again, wrenching her shoulder. Mère de Dieu! She was going to die. Girard was finally going to get his revenge.
Stop crying, damn you. Think! But she could hardly see for the tears burning her eyes. She only stayed on her feet in the stairwell because of Bryson holding her up. How would she get out of this? She'd been in worse fixes. Or maybe not.
When they reached the kitchen, Girard waved a pistol before him. The women servants screamed and backed away. Bryson dragged Angelique, stumbling, outside into the snow of the kitchen garden, then around the side of the castle toward the barmkin and stables. The shock of an icy wind buffeting her snatched her breath. A shiver convulsed her body and stiffened her muscles. Bryson shoved her forward, keeping hold of her upper arm.
Where was everyone? She glanced wildly about for a familiar face, for someone who might help her.
They approached Kormad and the rest of the traitorous Drummagans, waiting in a protected corner, their clothes blood-spattered. No! It appeared they'd fought a battle already. How had they escaped? Two MacGrath guards lay on the ground nearby, their blood melting the snow. Nausea arose and icy tears burned her eyes. Mère de Dieu, where is Lachlan?
Kormad's gaze lit on her and he laughed.
Bastard. I will kill you.
"Now we go," Girard said.
Her legs were so stiff she could scarce walk. She stumbled and slipped on the icy cobblestones but Bryson kept her upright. The wind flung her cloak back, chilling her despite the wool dress. Through the blur of tears, she watched a few older MacGrath clansmen and lads scurry back wide-eyed as the force of Drummagans moved toward them.
"MacGrath!" Kormad yelled from behind her.
She twisted, tried to jerk away. A strong hand tightened on her arm, securing her in place as a shield in front of them. The cowards.
Lachlan and his brother appeared in the castle's portal.
No! Go back, away from danger, she wanted to shout. Then she wished Lachlan would kill both Kormad and Girard.
Kormad chuckled. "He looks very surprised."
"You damned bastards, release her now!" Lachlan demanded and drew his sword.
"Why would we be doing that?" Kormad's tone was unnaturally cheerful.
"If you hurt one hair on her head…." Lachlan spoke through clenched teeth. His face was dark and his gaze as sharp as the blade he gripped in his fist. He eased forward.
"Stop there," Girard said. With his only hand, he pressed a cold pistol barrel against her ear.
Shivers shot through her, making her teeth chatter. She clenched them together so hard her jaw ached. Mother Mary, I pray you….
"What do you want?" Lachlan growled.
"I think you ken," Kormad said.
"Release her and take me instead," Lachlan said.
Angelique shook her head. No, no! They would kill Lachlan sooner than they would her.
"I like that plan." Kormad snickered. "All of you MacGraths, lay down your weapons."
Lachlan murmured something to his brother, just behind him, then lay down his sword.
"Any daggers, dirks and pistols, too," Kormad commanded. "Tell your brother to back away and call off the men."
Non, Lachlan, imbecile!
She would rather die than lose him now.
Lachlan held up his hands in surrender and eased a few steps forward. "Release her." A blast of harsh wind carried his sharp words away and flung his hair back from his face.
"Not until you're over here."
When Lachlan drew closer, one of Kormad's men rushed out and grabbed Lachlan. He didn't fight, his eyes riveted on Angelique. "Release her!"
Something in Lachlan's face turned wild, the untamed warrior, and he broke away from the man holding his arms. He launched himself toward Angelique. A blade materialized in his hand, aimed at Girard. The quick movement knocked Girard's pistol aside. It fired in a deafening explosion by her ear. Lachlan landed on top of her on the ground. His hand cushioned her head, and his weight covered her so completely she gasped for breath.
More pistol shots exploded, swords clanged around them, shouts echoed. A battle. Her hearing was distorted, muffled. She tried to see what was happening, but Lachlan's hair curtained her face.