Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Christopher was intensely on edge as he skulked through the hallways of the castle over the next few hours. He'd gathered everything that he found essential from his rooms already, hiding his bag close to the tower room where he'd go to fetch Morag.
Most of the castle staff were asleep, and the laird himself had long since retired to his rooms. With Ian and his men gone, Christopher could move much more freely throughout the castle, but his stomach still clenched at the thought of Ian being gone.
He was nervous about the secret mission that Campbell had sent his heir on, not able to even begin to understand what it might have been.
As well, part of him squirmed with guilt as he remembered his time at the stables bonding with his brother.
It almost felt like he was abandoning him all over again.
It didn't matter. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stop thinking about it.
Murdoch was long gone, and Christopher knew that if Morag was in danger, there was no way he could concentrate.
So he'd take her and any information he could get and run.
It might be a bit awkward at first with Elsie, but he knew his sister would understand once they explained.
Aila and Lachlan would take her in and protect her, and then…
Hope for what was ahead of him flared within him despite the threat that the Kincaids, the Murrays, and all of their allies still faced.
It was hard to see the threat that was ahead of them as anything other than a temporary fear when a future with Morag at his side was so tantalizingly close.
Knowing that made him feel like he could overcome anything.
Christopher was still thinking hard about this when he noticed a door slightly ajar ahead of him.
He froze, unable to believe his luck as he realized where he was.
This was the main Campbell armory, the secure room where the best weapons for the most elite soldiers were kept safe.
Though Christopher had gained free access to most of the castle, this had remained one of the places that had been off-limits to him.
He wasn't sure why there were no guards and why the door was open, but he wasn't going to pass up the chance to do some damage.
He darted into the room, closing the door behind him.
Shining silver weapons lined the walls, shields stacked on central shelves and swords laid out on display.
He hesitated for a moment, wondering what would be more worth taking and the best way to sabotage the rest. How could he damage such well-made weapons with no tools of his own and without making too much noise?
He'd use them against each other, but figuring out where to start rooted him to the ground for a moment.
His eyes landed on a warhammer in the corner, leaning against a shadowed table displaying a selection of knives, and a small smile flickered across his face.
Just as Christopher moved toward the hammer, though, the door creaked.
Panic shot through Christopher and he didn't have time to think.
He dashed toward the table, falling to the ground and skidding under it, concealing himself in the shadows as much as he possibly could.
His heart raced, pounding in his ears so hard that he could barely focus, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.
He didn't make a sound, afraid to even breathe, as footsteps pounded into the room.
"Why was the door unlocked, ye eejit?" a deep voice demanded.
Christopher's blood ran cold as he recognized Ian's brute, Macbain.
"Bad enough the master left me here, never mind with the likes of ye, Jock."
The other man, Jock, scoffed. "At least me arm's broken. He just left ye because of yer continued failure," he snarled back. "What does it matter if the door was unlocked? Who'd be in here? Grab what ye need, ye fool, so we can go."
There was a thump and a groan, and Christopher saw Jock's shadow stumble as Macbain presumably punched him. "Shut yer mouth," Macbain ordered. "Dinnae forget who I am. His lairdship said we all need tae be in the Grand Hall tae welcome the master back. Everyone's gatherin' there."
"Did he succeed, then?" Jock asked, and there was a scrape of metal on wood as he picked a sword from the row. "M’Laird will be thrilled. And with nae help from ye."
Christopher shivered. The two men continued to bicker as they chose weapons then left the room. He waited a few breaths of silence before he crawled out from under the table, his mind whirring.
Ian was back, and something was happening in the Grand Hall. If everyone was gathering there now, then it was the perfect time to go and get Morag, Beatha, and Splendor and flee this place for good. But…
He knew he couldn't leave. Not now. Not without knowing what happened.
He whispered an apology to thin air and, darting out of the room into the thankfully empty corridor, rushed toward the Great Hall. He'd just stay long enough to listen—only long enough to learn the truth—then he'd go. He still had time before dawn, and he knew that Morag would wait for him.
Just a little longer.
"Ah, me son," Alistair Campbell said grandly as soon as Christopher entered the hall and pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "Come, sit with me. See what your brother has achieved."
The hall was packed with almost everyone, from visitors to soldiers to even servants who were watching the raised dais with bated breath.
Alistair sat at the center, the seats on both sides empty, his advisors and several clan chieftains in a row fanning out from him.
Robert Caindach was there, too, nothing about him indicated the horror he was putting his own daughter through.
Trying to quash his fear and anger, Christopher took his customary seat by Alistair's side, trying to look as nonchalant as he could with his heart in his throat.
"I heard Ian was back," he said to Campbell in a low voice. "Where is he? He isnae hurt?"
Alistair beamed, looking sickeningly pleased. "The opposite, lad. Yer older brother has returned triumphant. He's just preparin' our gift for us. Ye'll be pleased tae see what's waitin' for us—a true symbol of our family legacy bein' reunited once and for all."
Puzzled and even more worried, Christopher remained silent as the whispers and contemplation got louder around the hall. He glanced to his other side and saw Robert Caindach frowning, a thoughtful expression on his face to cover the simmering anger that was clear under his eyes.
Christopher's muscles clenched in worry for Morag, but he stayed in his seat, breathless with anticipation. His instincts screaming that whatever was about to walk through the side door to the Great Hall was going to change the tide of his war forever.
Caindach and another few lairds left the room, though Christopher could not pay attention to where they might be going. His sole focus was ahead of him.
Maybe this was good. Maybe now that Ian was back, he could get him alone and talk to him. Maybe there was time to turn him to the right side and save Morag. He just had to—
The door opened and Ian walked through. He wore a clean bandage around his head and his lip was split and bruised, but he was smiling in triumph in a way that made his injuries barely noticeable.
The room fell into a hushed silence as Ian strolled through and beckoned for his men to follow.
Two burly soldiers did, each of them dragging a bound prisoner.
Christopher fought to keep any reaction off his face as he saw the two hooded, tied-up figures, one with the body and torn dress of a woman and the other the thin, gangly body of a young man. His heart squeezed with pity for them, whoever they were.
"Bring them forward," Ian ordered.
The soldiers did, bringing the prisoners right to the dais and then forcing them to their knees. The young man writhed, and Ian moved forward and kicked him hard. He fell to his side with a muffled yell. The gurgled sound of a woman's sobbing through a gag was the only other sound in the room.
"Father. Brother. See the fruits of our labor. Father, see how Murdoch has finally contributed tae our family name."
"What?" Christopher asked, unable to stop the word from coming out as his whole body tightened with horror. He stared at the figures, the mounting realization too terrible to contemplate. "What have ye done?"
"What ye suggested!" Ian replied. "All this time, we've been preparin' tae attack the Murrays while they gather allies and prepare tae defend themselves.
But I realized somethin' very important when ye introduced me tae that fine horse.
Why put ourselves at a disadvantage? We force the Murrays tae attack us first. We bring them north and into our own terrain. "
He moved forward and put a hand on Christopher's shoulder in a friendly, brotherly way that felt as heavy as a poisonous snake draped around his neck.
"How tae do that? Simple. We need a hostage, one who's important nae only tae the Murrays but tae all of the most powerful parts of their alliance," Ian continued. "Ye gave me the answer, Murdoch. Who better than Seamus Murray's own kin, a daughter of McKenzie, and a lover of the Kincaid heir?"
Christopher had to bite his tongue and put all the remaining control he had toward not outwardly reacting.
As Ian made his proclamation, the two soldiers whipped the hoods off the prisoners' heads.
Though Christopher had already known who he was going to see, his heart still sank and he had to furiously blink horrified tears from his eyes.
Alexandra McKenzie was as beautiful as ever, but a long cut marred her face under one of her blue eyes, and her chestnut hair was mussed and pulled loose from her braid.
Her eyes were red and her cheeks soaked with tears.
Her dress was torn, with bruises and cuts all over the visible parts of her arms and legs.
Rory was even worse off, one eye swollen shut, his left arm hanging at an odd angle as he lay on the floor where Ian had knocked him, though he still struggled against his bonds.
Both of them paled with shock as they saw Christopher staring down at them, and both immediately began trying to scream through their gags.
"Let them speak," Alistair announced, grinning. "I'd hear their protests."
The soldiers ripped the gags from the McKenzies' mouths, and Alexandra immediately cried out, "Christopher! Thank God! Please, ye—"
"Kent ye were a traitor!" Rory exclaimed in the opposite tone from his sister. "I told them, nae matter how much Arran tried tae defend ye—"
"Enough," Ian declared.
He nodded at his soldier, who kicked Rory hard in the stomach. Rory coughed hard, blood spluttering from his lips, and Alexandra screamed with a sound that pierced Christopher's heart.
"There, ye see? Are ye pleased, Murdoch?"
Christopher swallowed the pain in his voice and asked, "How?"
"Me scouts captured a group of Kincaid soldiers a few days ago. We tortured the information from them, and then I laid a trap. It was easy enough tae intercept these two and kill their guards once we knew they were comin’," Ian explained, delighted.
He released Christopher's shoulder and moved over to where Alexandra knelt. Crouching down before her, he held her chin and forced her to look up at him.
"Ye're a bonny lass. When Murdoch told me that Arran Kincaid was sweet on ye, I kent I must have ye for a hostage. Perhaps I'll even allow ye tae grace me bed. Would ye like that?"
Alexandra tried to pull away from him. "I'd rather die!"
Christopher couldn't see Ian's face, but he knew that he was smirking.
"Be careful what ye wish for, lass," Ian warned, releasing her chin and patting her cheek.
He stood straight again. "Yer resistance will make ye all the more fun tae tame.
Ye'll remain untouched until the Murrays fall, never fear.
After that, I'll let ye live as a servant and one of me personal mistresses.
Never let it be said that I'm nae generous. "
"Stay away from me sister," Rory gasped, earning himself another kick.
Christopher tried not to wince as Rory screamed and he heard the sound of something crack.
Ian shot Rory a disdainful look, then turned back to face Christopher and Alistair, smiling once more. "Of course, Murdoch, if ye want her for yerself, ye're welcome tae her."
Some instinct in Christopher sensed a trap.
He didn't respond at all, watching Ian warily.
He realized now that he'd been a fool to ever hope that this man could be redeemed.
Ian Campbell was just like his father, if not worse.
There was no good in him, nothing of the late Fenella who had sacrificed herself saving Christopher and Elsie.
Ian was a monster, maybe even a worse one than Alistair himself.
"And the whelp?" Alistair demanded. "Why have ye brought him here? I dinnae need a traitor's mouth tae feed. Why did ye nay slaughter him with his guards?"
"I brought him for Murdoch," Ian replied, a gleam in his eye. "He's always seekin' a way tae prove himself loyal tae our cause. Well, now, here he has it."
He drew his sword and offered it to Christopher.
"Ye told me that ye've kent the McKenzies since ye were a bairn. That they were once yer friends, before ye learned the truth of who ye are and turned away from them."
"I did," Christopher replied, feeling suddenly hollow as he stared at Alexandra and Rory, barely aware of where he was now. "I did."
"Then take me sword, brother. Prove that yer past is gone and buried," Ian said, extending the weapon in offer. "Do it here and now, in front of everyone. Kill Rory McKenzie."