CHAPTER 1 #3
The other torchbearer stared at his dead partner in shock. Then he tossed his torch onto the arid nest at her feet.
The red-haired, drunken warrior at her left heaved his bucket of ale over it, extinguishing the flames. Then he slammed the pail hard onto the guard’s head, spun him around, and gave him a solid kick to his backside, sending him flying into the crowd of astonished MacSweens.
“What’s happening?” demanded Laird MacSween, straining to see through the crowd. “Is that red-haired fellow truly so drunk—”
“Stop him!” roared Robert as Mad MacDunn began to gallop toward the stake. He sprang to his feet, knocking over his chair. “Stop MacDunn!”
The flames from the first torch had spread hungrily through the branches untouched by ale and were now lapping at the hem of Gwendolyn’s gown.
The bear warrior leaped onto the platform and hacked at the ropes binding her to the stake as Mad MacDunn thundered forward on his horse, his great broadsword raised high in warning to anyone foolish enough to get in his way.
The astonished MacSweens obligingly parted, realizing he truly was mad, or perhaps thinking this was some terrible feat of magic Gwendolyn was working.
As MacDunn reached the burning platform, Gwendolyn felt the last rope give way.
She started to fall, but the enormous warrior easily lifted her off her limp legs and threw her onto MacDunn’s horse.
“Hold on to me!” commanded MacDunn. He jerked her arm forward around his waist.
One of Robert’s men was racing toward them, his sword aimed at the chest of MacDunn’s horse. “You’ll not get away so easy, MacDunn,” he swore, drawing back his blade.
An arrow sliced through the air and neatly punctured the warrior’s back. Gwendolyn glanced up to see the elflike warrior in the window positioning another sharply carved arrow against the string of his bow.
“Surround them!” shouted Robert, jumping from the dais and running toward his own horse. “Don’t let them escape!”
MacDunn began to thrash mercilessly with his sword at the advancing crowd, forcing them to part as he urged his horse toward the gate.
Gwendolyn clung to him, her arms wrapped around his waist, aware of the power emanating from him as his muscles shifted and flexed beneath her hands.
His plaid was soft against her skin, but the body it covered was rock-hard, and she leaned closer, drawing courage from his strength.
Someone grabbed her leg and began to drag her off the charger.
“MacDunn!” she cried.
MacDunn turned and drove his sword into the man, then swiftly pulled the dripping blade out and speared another MacSween who had been about to hack his ribs open with an ax.
The man crashed heavily against MacDunn’s horse, causing the animal to rear.
Gwendolyn began to slide backward. MacDunn’s hand clamped painfully onto her arm and held her fast as he continued to use his other arm to hack at anyone daring to come near them.
“Hold on!” he commanded furiously.
In that instant Gwendolyn saw another of Robert’s warriors taking aim at MacDunn with his bow and arrow.
Suddenly remembering the sharp stone hidden in her hand, she hurled it through the air.
The warrior howled and dropped his weapon, then raised his fingers tentatively to the ugly cut leaking blood just below his eye.
“Jesus Christ,” muttered MacDunn.
Gwendolyn sensed he was impressed, but he wasted no time thanking her, for they had nearly reached the gate.
“The gate!” bellowed Robert, who by now had mounted his own horse and was thundering toward them. “Close the bloody gate!”
The MacSweens surged toward the gate, each one clamoring to get there first. This resulted in a great deal of tripping, cursing, and ultimately wrestling among themselves.
From the corner of her eye, Gwendolyn could see both the bear warrior and the elf were now mounted and racing toward the break in the curtain wall.
She leaned into MacDunn and pressed her face into the warmth of his plaid.
Thank you, God.
The wooden portcullis crashed to the ground.
Having reached the end of the courtyard, MacDunn was forced to abruptly halt his horse. The snorting animal reared once more.
“You really must be mad, MacDunn,” Robert called out scornfully as he rode up to them, “to attempt such a ridiculous abduction.”
It was over, Gwendolyn realized. For some reason these men had risked their lives to save her, but they had failed. Now they would all be killed.
“I am sorry,” she said to MacDunn, her voice ragged. “You shouldn’t have tried. Now you will all die.” She eased her grip on his waist, preparing to slide off his charger and meet her fate.
His hand clamped firmly over her wrist, holding her to him.
“I really think you should open the gate and let us pass, MacSween,” said MacDunn pleasantly, ignoring Robert.
Laird MacSween, who had not ventured from his honored seat on the dais, looked uncertainly at Robert.
“I don’t believe you quite understand your situation, Laird MacDunn,” drawled Robert, his tone heavily mocking. “Permit me to enlighten you. You are surrounded by my warriors.”
MacDunn lifted a brow in surprise. “Forgive me. I was under the impression that your brother was laird.”
“He is,” Robert conceded stiffly, “but I lead the MacSween army. And by my estimation, there are but three of you against hundreds,” he added, gesturing to his clan.
“You are right,” agreed MacDunn, not sounding overly concerned. “But if you do not permit us to leave, I am afraid we will have no choice but to kill her.”
Gwendolyn gasped and tried to wrench her hand away. MacDunn tightened his grip, holding her fast.
Robert regarded him in disbelief. And then he threw back his head and laughed. “This is your threat to me?” he sputtered. “By God, it seems you really are light in the head. Kill her, then, MacDunn, if it pleases you. You will merely be saving me the trouble.”
“Really?” said MacDunn. He appeared genuinely perplexed. “I would have thought you were fonder of her than that.”
Robert’s amusement increased. “I care nothing for her,” he assured MacDunn. “Do what you will.”
MacDunn contemplated this a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “Very well, then. Kill her, Brodick.”
Gwendolyn squirmed to get down, but MacDunn did not release his iron grip.
“Papa!”
Everyone turned and gasped. Isabella was seated on a horse in front of the same MacDunn warrior who moments earlier had been making her breathless with desire. Her need for air seemed even greater now, but that obviously had something to do with the dagger he was pressing to her throat.
Laird MacSween’s wife stood, screamed, then fainted dead away.
“Are you sure you want her dead, MacDunn?” asked Brodick. “She’s rather comely.”
“I don’t want her dead at all,” MacDunn assured him. “Robert does. He doesn’t care for her.”
“Release her!” snarled Robert.
“Really, Robert, I wish you would make up your mind,” said MacDunn. “You just finished telling me I should kill her.”
“You know bloody well I wasn’t talking about Isabella!”
“Then who would you like me to kill?” asked MacDunn, trying to be patient.
“Papa, do something!” pleaded Isabella.
Laird MacSween opened his mouth to speak but was instantly cut off by his brother.
“What can you possibly want with this witch?” Robert’s expression was reserved, but Gwendolyn knew he feared MacDunn had somehow learned of the stone. Affecting a more persuasive tone, he added, “Surely you must realize that by stealing one of our clan, you risk war.”
“I am mad,” replied MacDunn, shrugging. “Mad men do mad things. Besides”—he tilted his head toward the blaze now raging around the stake—“I thought you were finished with her.”
“She is evil,” Robert persisted gravely. “And a murderess. You cannot take her, MacDunn. She must be killed or she will destroy you and your people.”
MacDunn smiled. “Thank you, Robert, for your concern. I am deeply touched. Now raise the portcullis or Brodick will slit fair Isabella’s throat.”
Robert hesitated.
“Papa, make them open the gate!” squealed Isabella.
Laird MacSween finally rose from his chair. “Surely you are not so heartless, Laird MacDunn, that you would kill a helpless young woman.”
MacDunn studied the anguished father a moment. Then he sighed. “You’re right, MacSween,” he conceded. “I’m not.”
Robert smiled, realizing his adversary was now trapped.
“But Brodick is,” MacDunn assured him pleasantly. “Aren’t you, Brodick?”
“Aye,” replied Brodick, giving Isabella a little squeeze.
Isabella whimpered.
“Raise the portcullis,” ordered Laird MacSween, “and let them go.”
Gwendolyn watched as Robert battled his frustration. Reluctantly, he lowered his sword.
“Now, that is the decision of a rational man,” commented MacDunn appreciatively.
“I’m impressed. Your entire clan will fall back, Laird MacSween, permitting us to ride through the gate.
If anyone attempts to harm us as we leave, or if any of your fine warriors come after us tonight, Brodick will cut your charming daughter’s throat.
If, however, you exercise patience and restraint, then fair Isabella will be released unharmed tomorrow morning.
I am certain with their considerable abilities, Robert and his men will have no trouble finding her and returning her safely to you. ”
“I will have your word, MacDunn,” said Laird MacSween, “that she will not be harmed.”
MacDunn regarded him seriously. “You have my word.”
Satisfied, and having no other choice, Laird MacSween signaled for the portcullis to rise.
“His word is nothing!” protested Robert, enraged. “He is a madman!”
“So they say,” agreed MacDunn cheerfully, adjusting his plaid as his warriors rode through the open gate.
“You know, you were absolutely right, Robert,” he reflected, tossing a final glance at the burning stake. “It really is a spectacular fire.”
He winked at him, then turned and thundered into the advancing darkness, leaving the MacSweens staring in bewilderment.