Page 46 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
She shrugged. “It dunnae matter. In my mind and heart, he is yers, and he thinks he is yers. He would have gotten Derthshire for ye with more time to continue the raids. He killed for ye, Blackswell!”
Broch crouched low and pressed his face near Esmerelda’s. “Where the devil did yer spawn take my wife?”
“To the caves on her land. He’ll slit her throat,” she said in a pleasant tone as if discussing the weather. “And the Kinntochs will think ye did it.” She stared at Broch. “They will rise against us, and then Blackswell will have his land.”
“Ye are mad!” Broch said, rising as a tremor went through his body. “I have to—”
“It will be too late!” she crowed. “Ye will be too late to save her! In the end, we all suffer for yer fickle heart, Blackswell.”
Blackswell’s hands were fisted at his side, his expression enraged. “My heart belonged to my wife from the moment I laid eyes upon her, and it always will.”
Broch made for the door, footfalls at his heels. He turned to find Brodee behind him, and Blackswell dragging Esmerelda to her feet. “Go,” Blackswell said. “I will see to Esmerelda, as I should have done years ago.”
Broch nodded and strode out the door. Brodee sped up to walk beside him. “Katreine is nae called the Hellion of the Highlands for naught, Broch. If anyone can survive this, ’tis yer wife.”
Broch could do no more than nod.
Eighteen
Katreine awoke to darkness. The salty smell of the sea mingled with the smoky smell of a fire, and the crashing of the water upon the rocks intertwined with the crackling and popping of burning wood. Slowly, she opened her eyes to find Gavin crouched on the other side of a fire, staring at her.
She sat up, glancing around, and realized he had brought her to the caves she knew well. He held a dagger in his hand, and suddenly, he smiled. “I’m to kill ye,” he said in a voice so devoid of emotion that she shivered.
The urge to run nearly overwhelmed her, but she felt certain there would only be one chance to escape and she needed to take a care. “Why?” she asked, striving to keep her own tone as devoid of emotion as his had been.
“’Tis simple, really. If we eliminate everyone who stands in our way, Da will love me and Mother.”
“Da?” Katreine asked, eyeing the dagger sheathed at his hip. Could she grasp that dagger and plunge it into his black heart?
“Blackswell,” Gavin answered, shocking her. “Blackswell is my father. I’ll be the heir when yer husband and Brodee are gone.”
Her mind was reeling with what he was saying. She had no notion if any of it was true. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was surviving to return to Broch. “Did ye kill my sister?” Katreine asked, her heart squeezing with memories and a fresh sense of loss.
“Aye,” he said. “’Twas necessary so that Blackswell would turn from Brodee, but he didn’t.” The man’s face clouded over, and Katreine had an idea.
“I can help ye. Killing me will only make Broch and Blackswell think Brodee is a murderer, but ye will still have to contend with Broch.”
“I plan to,” Gavin said. “I poisoned him once, but my mother gave in to Blackswell’s pleas of her aid to make a cure. I’ll ensure she dunnae do that again. I dunnae need yer aid.”
Her breath seemed to have solidified in her throat. She swallowed and then forced out her words. “My family will declare war upon Blackswell if I am killed, and mayhap kill him and ye. If ye let me live, we could wed after ye kill Broch and be family. All of us.” Her words made her feel ill.
“Ye would wed me?” he asked, intrigue underlying the question.
Sweat trickled down her back as her head pounded. “Aye. To live I would do anything.”
He chuckled at that. “Ye really are a hellion!” he said. “I like that. Ye say ye will do anything to live?”
Dread filled her gut. “Aye,” she croaked.
“Lay with me.” His gaze raked over her from head to foot so that her stomach knotted with disgust. “Willingly,” he added. “I want ye willing and showing me just how much better I am than yer husband,the eldest son,” he snarled.
Rage filled her. Oh, she was going to show him something, to be certain. “All right,” she said, rising to stand, so he did as well. Without a word, she undid her laces and tugged off her gown as her heart beat so hard it hurt her chest.
“’Tis yer turn.” She pointed at his plaid.
He grinned, grasped his plaid, and raised his hands to pull it over his broad shoulders. The moment his vison was obscured by the plaid, she dived toward him, grabbed the dagger sheathed at his hip, and drove it forward, intent on piercing his heart. But he smacked her hand, and the dagger struck his arm, lodging there instead.
He bellowed with rage, and she bolted past him toward the cave opening. She stumbled out of the cave, panic making her slower than she had intended. His footsteps thudded behind her as she ran toward the rocks and the water. He’d outrun her in the woods. The water was her only hope. She just prayed she was not towed under by the pull of the waves.
