Page 88 of Wicked Highland Wishes
A slow, gleeful smile came to Lena’s lips. “Ten men remain here. Most left with the Campbell and Jamie to rally to strike Dunvegan, and after Colin and Graham fell into the water and were pulled out by Colin’s men, Colin sent all but ten to meet with his father. He thinks himself invincible. No men guard the room he’s in, but he’s deadly by himself. Ye ken?”
Anger set Lachlan’s teeth on edge and had him gripping both swords. “I ken,” Lachlan growled, “but Colin is about to ken that he’s nae strong enough. Lead the way.”
They crept through the dark corridors in utter silence, and as they moved, Lachlan noticed Lena was limping. “Are ye injured?” he whispered.
“’Tis nothing. It will heal,” she said dismissively.
Accepting her word, Lachlan followed her down a tunnel that led to the outermost wall of the castle and into a larger tunnel that led to a single room. Despite the thick stone walls of the room, Graham’s guttural cries rang out.
Lena jerked to a halt with a gasp. “He’s nae cried out in pain once since the torment began. He uttered only barbs afore.”
Fresh hot rage flowed through Lachlan as he made his way to the closed door. Lena produced a key with a grim smile and held it out to him. “I stole it.”
Lachlan took the key, and as his fingers closed over the cool iron, his entire body tensed in anticipation. He inserted the key and unlocked the door, not overly concerned with being quiet because Graham’s bellows would drown out the small noise the key made. He paused, though, needing the arrangement of the room and handing Lena Graham’s sword, which she took with wide eyes. “In case ye need to defend yerself.”
She nodded.
“Will Colin be facing the door, ye believe?”
“Nay. All Jamie’s horrid devices line the far wall, so Colin likely will be turned away from the door. He has commented in the great hall to Jamie how much he likes to use Jamie’s iron chair.”
“God’s bones!” Lachlan shuddered to think of Graham strapped to a spiked chair that Colin would be slowly driving into Graham’s flesh. With that thought, Lachlan threw open the door and charged into the room with his sword raised.
Shock froze him the moment his mind fully grasped the scene. Graham was not in the iron chair. There was a boy who looked to be no more than nine summers slumped in it. Blood trickled over his shoulders and down his legs. His head was drooped forward.
Lena’s enraged scream filled the space. “Ross!” she screeched and tried to race past Lachlan. He grabbed her around the waist and shoved her back as Colin swung around to face them. Graham was strapped to a post that faced the iron chair. Lachlan understood at once that Graham’s bellows had been for the pain the boy was enduring, not his own.
“I kinnae say I’m pleased to see ye,” Colin said, withdrawing his sword.
Lachlan’s response was a roar as he charged toward the man and barreled full speed into him. They went flying backward and hit as one against the unforgiving iron of the torture chair and then the cold floor. Colin moved to lift his sword, but Lachlan was upon him, knocking the blade away and then repeatedly pounding his fist into Colin’s face without mercy. Revenge for what had been done to his brother, his sister, and Bridgette drove him to near madness. Grief for what had been lost in Bridgette fueled his anger. And guilt for failing to protect her blinded him to any pain his relentless beating of Colin caused himself.
When Lachlan was too tired to hit Colin any more, he struggled to his feet, stunned to find the boy removed from the chair and now being held in Graham’s arms. Graham and Lena stared at Lachlan, and Lachlan glanced down at his bloody fists and then at the near-lifeless Colin. He bent down, secured Colin under the arms, and dragged him to the iron chair where he shoved him into the seat and then set about doing to Colin what he’d done to the boy…and God alone knew how many others.
Before Colin took his last breath, Lachlan leaned close to the man and whispered in his ear, “For Bridgette.” Then he removed one of his daggers and plunged it into the man’s black heart.
They rode toward Duart Castle without stopping through the remainder of the night and until late afternoon the next day. Along the way, Lena told them of happy years raised by a priest in England and seeing Jamie no more than a dozen times in those years. She shared her memories of Atholl saving her from the loch, and then of Jamie telling her the castle had been attacked and overtaken and that all her family was dead but the two of them. She finished by telling of how Jamie had come to get her and told her she was to be married, and when she protested, he had told her he would kill her if she did not do exactly as he said.
Lachlan was overjoyed at their reunion with Lena, but he also felt a deep anger and a need for vengeance against the Campbells and his uncle. He could tell by Graham’s twisted face that his need for vengeance was as great as Lachlan’s. And when Graham spoke, his words obliterated any doubt that Lachlan may have had.
Graham’s gaze met Lachlan’s. “I will destroy the Campbells.” He turned to Lena. “I am so verra sorry for failing ye.”
Lena waved a dismissive hand at him, but he turned his face away.
Lachlan was worried that Graham would retaliate without thinking, and he was worried for Lena’s future, given what she had likely endured at the hands of Jamie and the Campbells, but at the moment, his biggest concern was Bridgette. The need to see her, to tell her she was free from Colin, and to begin the process of helping her heal drove Lachlan, and he, in turn, drove his horse—and the one they had taken from one of Jamie’s unsuspecting men—relentlessly. He rode with the boy, Ross, secured in front of him, and Graham rode with Lena.
He inhaled a long, shuddering breath. He did not know what awaited him with Bridgette. He was not sure how to help her heal or if she would ever be exactly as she had been, but he didn’t care. As long as they were together, things would right themselves. They had to. He could not imagine never touching her again, holding her, cradling her in the protection of his arms.
His need to be with Bridgette overwhelmed him, and when Duart came into view, he broke his horse away from the others and raced the destrier to the courtyard. The castle bustled with activity. Men hurried to and fro with weapons, and women scurried around with worried looks upon their faces. Lachlan dismounted and handed his destrier off to a servant to be fed, watered, and cooled down. Then he turned to make his way inside and seek out Bridgette.
Alex stood with his arms crossed over his chest in the doorway of the castle. He regarded Lachlan for a long moment without speaking and then moved his attention to Graham, who had only just ridden up. Alex gave a nod. “’Tis good to see ye alive, Graham.” He smiled and looked to Lachlan. “Both of ye. I only arrived this morning to rally my men. We’re away to help yer brother defend Dunvegan. Yer uncle—”
“I ken,” Lachlan interrupted, his need to see Bridgette consuming him. He motioned behind him to where Lena stood with her arms protectively around Ross. “Lena told us.”
Alex’s brows dipped together. “Lena? Who is this—”
“Our sister,” Lachlan interrupted again, desperate now to see Bridgette. “Graham will explain all shortly.”
“Lena!” Alex exclaimed, brushed past Lachlan, and embraced her.
