Chapter 19
Amanda was dragged down the worn stairs with such speed and violence that her feet bumped and twisted against the edge of each step.
By the time they reached the passage to Struan’s chamber she could hardly walk, but the guards cared nothing about that, even when she begged them to stop for a moment.
“Stop your girnin’!” one of the men said, raising his fist, “or ye will get a wee taste o’ this!” His voice was threatening, and his face was screwed up and ugly with fury.
Amanda, terrified, struggled along as best she could.
Her eyes were streaming with tears, caused not only by the pain in her feet, but the pressure of the guards’ hands as they held her upper arms in a crushing grip.
They were determined to make her suffer as much as they could, it seemed, but through her terror, Amanda held on to her determination to fight.
Struan McNeill could not get better without her, and without her services, he might even lose his leg; she clung to that thought.
They arrived at the chamber door, and as soon as the Laird’s voice bid them enter, the two guards opened it, and she was flung inside.
Amanda screamed as she stumbled across the room, her arms windmilling as she tried to keep her balance.
However, just as she thought she was going to end up in a heap on the floor, Amanda managed to grab hold of a heavy chair and keep her balance.
She looked up and opened her mouth to address Struan McNeill, but never got the chance.
A tremendous roar split the air, and she saw that he was writhing and twisting on the bed, his face screwed up in anguish.
He had managed to tangle himself up in the blankets and sheets, but as soon as he saw her, he cried out again.
“You bitch!” he cried. “You poisoned me!”
He grabbed a vase of flowers from beside his bed and threw it at her with all the force he could muster. It fell short of her, but Amanda jumped backwards, causing a bolt of pain to shoot up her leg from her bruised feet.
At that moment, she saw he had risen from bed and was struggling to stand up. When he finally managed to do so, he began to lurch towards her. His face was a mask of rage, his blue eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks almost crimson with fever and fury.
“What did you do?” he yelled as he came towards her.
He stumbled, but one of the guards caught him, yet he thanked the man by shaking him off violently and swearing at him. When he turned his attention back to Amanda, he screamed, “You tried to kill me!”
Amanda felt a surge of rage, but she knew from experience that the best thing to do was to try to calm him down.
“I would never do such a thing, my Laird,” she said evenly. “My work is to heal, not to kill. What makes you think I was trying to harm you?”
Struan’s face twisted in pain. “I am in agony,” he replied. “What poison did you give me? Tell me, or I will set my men on you!”
“I did not give you any poison,” she replied. “I gave you milk of the poppy to take away your pain and help you sleep, but the effects have obviously worn off, and your pain has come back. Please lie down, My Laird, and let me take it away again.”
She clasped her hands together behind her back so that he could not see them trembling, and tried to school her face into an expression of calmness, but it was hopeless; she was too frightened.
But Struan was not listening. He advanced towards her, his eyes gleaming with spite. He had picked up a candlestick and was waving it around threateningly, and for a few seconds Amanda was frozen to the spot.
Then she looked down at his leg and realised that he could not move as fast as she could, and she turned on her heel to make for the door.
However, she had reckoned without the guards, who both dived forwards to grab her, holding an arm each, and no matter how much she struggled and screamed their grip was relentless and brutal.
She saw Struan coming towards her, and she could hardly bear to look at the expression of pure hatred on his face. He was an ugly man under any circumstances, but at that moment he was almost unbearably so.
He raised the candlestick and watched the terrified expression on Amanda’s face with dark glee. He was enjoying his moment of triumph and was milking it for all it was worth.
“Please don’t—” Amanda pleaded, but Struan only laughed.
“Oh, I love to hear women begging!” he said, his voice loaded with spite. “Are you frightened, my dear?” Then his expression changed again to one of utter rage as he raised his arm to strike.
However, the blow never came, since at that moment a deafening bang was heard behind them. It came from deep within the castle and reverberated like a huge drumbeat from every wall and passage.
The guards turned and ran out, letting go of Amanda’s arms, but as she moved backwards to escape from Struan, he lunged forward with a last desperate effort and wound his arm around her neck.
“Now, you whore,” he muttered, “I will give you just what you deserve for disrespecting me!”
Hamish was consumed with fury and determination as he and his men rode towards the castle under the cover of darkness. He would have loved to spur his stallion on to move at a thundering gallop, but there was not enough light, and stealth forbade the lighting of bright lanterns.
Gregor looked over at his friend’s harsh expression. He had never seen Hamish looking so focused and determined before, or so angry. He looked as though he would smash his fist through the first person who gainsaid him.
“Hamish,” he called. Hamish looked around, and even in the extremely dim light Gregor could see fury in his eyes.
“Keep calm, Hamish,” he said. “Ye will be nae good tae us if ye lose control o’ yoursel’.”
Hamish nodded, then said, “I know you’re right, Gregor, but if he does anything to Amanda, I swear it will be the last thing he ever does.”
“Ye love her,” Gregor said.
“With all my heart,” Hamish replied. “And I will fight to the death for her, Gregor.”
He knew he could not allow his heart to soften as he thought of Amanda, however. Now he needed it to harden to do battle with Struan.
If he took Struan alive his half-brother would spend the rest of his miserable life in a dungeon, and although Hamish thought it would be more merciful to kill him quickly, he was not a cold-blooded murderer.
He would only resort to taking Struan’s life if it was a matter of self-defence or protecting Amanda.
Amanda, he thought desperately, wait for me. Please, I love you. I will die for you if I have to. Please don’t leave me.
As the lights of Inchkeith Castle drew near they were able to speed up, and their horses thundered up over the wooden bridge to the gate, where Hamish leaned over to the guard on duty.
“Bring McNeill here,” he barked.
“Who’s askin’ for the Laird?” the man asked, surprised by Hamish’s lack of deference.
Hamish wasted no more time. “I am the rightful Laird,” he growled. “Now let us in, or I will kill you where you stand.”
Moments later, all of Hamish’s men galloped over the bridge, riding over and mowing down anyone who stood in their way, leaving a trail of destruction behind them.
When they arrived inside the castle, Hamish’s men dismounted and began to advance through the long passages of the inner building, every one of them yelling for the Inchkeith guards to submit or die.
They met little resistance, since it seemed that only a few of Struan McNeill’s men were loyal to him.
As well as that, Hamish’s men were all skilled with swords, daggers and muskets, but their biggest advantage was their will and motivation. They were fighting for justice, to take back what rightfully belonged to them, and nothing would stop them.
The inner castle was a maze of rooms and passages, but Hamish knew every inch of it, and he made a beeline straight for Struan’s chamber. He was fuelled by rage and fear of what Struan was doing to Amanda because he knew the lengths to which his half-brother would go to achieve his ends.
He did not even slow his pace to open the door but raised his foot and kicked it in, putting all his weight and strength behind the blow, then dived inside. The door opened with a deafening bang and smashed against the wall.
The first thing Hamish saw was Struan standing behind Amanda with his arm around her neck, the candlestick raised to strike her head. He pulled Amanda’s hair, making her look at Hamish with a cruel smirk on his face.
“Ham—” Amanda did not get to finish as Struan pushed her to the floor, making Hamish’s rage boil.
“Sneaking in like a rat in the dark?” he sneered. “After I kill you, I’ll finish off your whore!”
Hamish snapped. A wave of sheer rage swept over him, and giving himself no time to think, he acted instinctively, sprinting across the room so fast that Struan did not have time to react. He barrelled into Struan, who let go of Amanda, allowing her to scramble away.
Hamish stood in front of Struan, staring at him with hate-filled eyes. “One last chance, brother,” he said. “Stand down, and I will let you live.”
However, Struan could still fight, and now he charged at Hamish, throwing all his hate and fury into the battle with his brother. Hamish began to pummel his face and head with his large fists, which were akin to clubs when all his weight was behind them.
Struan was no pushover, and fought back as hard as he could despite his injury, but he did not have his brother’s sheer power. After a few more blows, it was clear that he was weakening, and Hamish paused.
“One last chance, Struan,” he said through gritted teeth. “Stop fighting and I will let you live.”
However, instead of submitting, Struan threw another punch which landed on his brother’s jaw, whipping his head around. It was not strong enough to cause any injury, but Hamish responded with a sideways swipe that hit Struan so hard that his neck broke instantly with an audible crack.
He fell onto the floor in a heap; he would never move again.
Hamish took a second to make sure that Struan was dead before rushing over to Amanda, who was sitting propped up against Struan’s bed.
Her lip was bleeding and there was a bruise developing on her cheek, both of which had been caused by her falling against Struan’s bed. Hamish gathered her into his arms, breathing a deep sigh of relief.
She was safe.
“Amanda,” he murmured. “I am so sorry I was late. I came as soon as I could.”
She smiled and raised a hand to caress his cheek. “But you came, Hamish. I knew you would.”
“How could I not?” he asked. “I love you, Amanda. I promise that no one will ever hurt you again as long as I live.”
“I love you too,” she answered. “And I always will, Hamish, my hero.”
At that moment, they heard a roar coming from outside, and they rushed up to the turrets to look down on Hamish’s men holding up their weapons and crying out in a triumphant chorus of victory. Hamish and Amanda joined in at once, their hearts soaring with joy.