Chapter 19
As soon as Lachlan Ferguson had left the room, Callum leapt to his feet.
He turned and walked out, his brow creased in a deep frown.
“Come with me, Eileen. I need to see if Margot is all right.” He tried to tell himself that Ferguson’s words had been nothing but a cynical dig at him, a remark designed to upset him, but he knew it was more than that. Something was very deeply wrong.
Eileen nodded in agreement, frowning as she followed him. “I don’t like it, Callum. I know him too well. He’s planning something. I know it. You have no idea how vicious he can become when his plans are thwarted.”
“I think I do,” Callum replied. He was taking the stairs two at a time, and Eileen was struggling to keep up with him, but she persevered, running behind him as fast as she could. “I have heard of his exploits.”
They reached Margot’s room, and after one loud, peremptory knock on the door, Callum entered, followed by Eileen. They stopped in their tracks, however, since there was no light in the room at all, and it was suspiciously quiet.
“Margot? Are you here?” Callum asked, but there was no answer.
The silence was deafening.
Callum found a candle on the table by the door and lit it, then moved around the room lighting other candles so that at last they could see well enough to establish that Margot was not there.
Just to make sure, Eileen even looked under the bed, and it was as she stood up that she saw the crumpled sheet of paper on the floor and picked it up.
She straightened it out, then read it then let out a gasp and a squeal of terror.
She looked up at Callum, and her expression was one of absolute fright.
“What is it?” Callum rushed to her side and took the note from Eileen’s trembling fingers. He read it once, then once again, then he let out a roar of pure rage.
“This is Lachlan’s writing,” Eileen said, her voice trembling. “See, he has made it into a scrawl to disguise it, but I would know it anywhere. It’s one of his tricks. He has taken her.”
Callum spun on his heel and sprinted out of the door while Eileen followed as best she could, although she had neither the speed nor the strength to catch him.
As soon as he reached the stables, Callum yelled for his horse to be saddled, and summoned every guard within earshot to follow him.
“We are going to the village as fast as we can. A life may be at stake!” he cried. He leapt onto his stallion in one bound, then circled to see how many men were coming with him.
At that moment, he spotted one of the Ferguson guards who had somehow managed to be left behind when the others departed. The man was sidling along the wall holding his cloak over his livery and trying not to be seen.
“You!” Callum pointed to the man who cowered back as though he were trying to disappear into the masonry. The rest of the guards descended on him and dragged him towards Callum, who looked down at him fiercely.
“Where has your master gone?” he asked.
The man was silent for a moment before one of Callum’s guards twisted his arm upwards at the elbow. “Answer the Laird!” he cried.
“I-I dinnae know for sure,” he said desperately. “But I think he took the road tae the inn.”
He saw Eileen, and looked at her desperately for help, but she turned away.
“Hurry, Callum,” she said, her voice desperate. “You must save her.”
“I will do my best, Eileen,” Callum said, hoping his best was enough to save the woman he loved.
“Take care!” she called as he rode away.
Callum had only just gone through the massive outer gates when he heard one of his guards calling him and turned to see Ronan, Eileen’s lover, riding up to him.
“M’Laird, that swine is lyin’,” he said grimly.
“I know Ferguson. He isnae goin’ on the straight road intae Kilmuir.
He will try tae fool ye by goin’ through the pines.
It’s quicker. An’ I have seen some o’ his men at the auld barn before, they sleep there sometimes if they get drunk at the inn. They might be there.”
Callum leaned over and patted his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, then called for the rest of his horsemen to follow him, praying that Margot had come to no harm.
He was terrified, but even more than that he was filled with the same kind of uncontrollable rage that he had felt the night he had rescued the young wife from her beastly husband.
If anything happened to Margot, Lachlan Ferguson was a dead man.
Margot spat at Ferguson, her green eyes blazing. She could beg, she could plead, but that was not in her nature, and anyway, she doubted it would do her any good. Ferguson was a sadist; he enjoyed inflicting pain of any kind, and asking for mercy would only increase his pleasure.
“Coward!” she snarled. “If you had any courage at all you would have picked on a man—and one of your own size. But then bullies are always cowards, are they not?”
Ferguson laughed heartily at that, then took another swig of whisky from his flask and shook his head.
“Oh, goodness,” he said, still chuckling.
“I hear that you English say we Scots are savages, but it seems that you are just as bad, wee Sassenach lassie. You can spit insults at me for as long as you like, my dear, but it will make no difference. Your fate will still be the same.”
Unable to stop herself, Margot twisted her hands, trying to break her restraints, and lunged at Ferguson. She was not quite sure what she would have done to him, since she had no weapon and no way to free her hands, but her anger was fuelling her strength.
Her effort was futile, however, since two guards rushed in to pull her away from him. He stood for a moment looking at her and shaking his head in feigned sadness.
“I was lying about the grave. The ground is frozen, and I don’t want my men wasting their strength on you.”
He looked at the two guards, who were both armed with daggers and swords. “Finish her off then leave her for the boars. They will eat anything and leave no trace. Goodbye, Margot Tewsbury. I would like to say it was good to know you, but I would be lying.”
Then, with a final scornful glance, Ferguson walked out of the tumbledown barn, leaving Margot alone with the two armed men.
They smiled at each other and one of them said, “This one’s mine,” before he stepped forward to grab her arm. He raised the dagger to plunge it into her heart, but Margot’s survival instinct was too strong, and she ducked and twisted involuntarily, evading his grasp.
The blade came down on her, and for a fleeting second Margot thought her life was over, then she felt a searing pain as the dagger grazed her side, tearing her clothes but doing no serious damage. She let out a piercing scream.
Then she heard the thunder of hoofbeats as what sounded like dozens of horsemen arrived; shouts, clashing weapons and the screams of wounded men announced that a battle between the Fergusons and the Mackintoshes had begun.
The man who had attempted to stab Margot stumbled and landed on the floor, but he picked himself up and raised the knife again. However, before he could bring it down on Margot, the door of the barn burst open and Callum entered with a roar of fury, followed by Ronan.
The two guards went for their swords, but they were too late as Callum and Ronan were already holding their weapons. They put up a panicked resistance for a few seconds, but were quickly dispatched with a few strokes of their enemies’ swords.
Ronan spat on the corpse and looked over at Callum, who was bending over Margot, then he strode outside. He had other business to take care of.
Callum had rushed to Margot’s side and pulled her into his arms as soon as he had taken care of her attacker. For an awful second, he had thought that she was seriously injured.
“Callum,” she whispered. “I thought I would never see you again.”
Callum drew away from her a little to look into her eyes, and Margot was astonished to see that his eyes were shining with tears.
“Oh, god, I thought I had lost you, Margot,” he breathed. “I couldn’t bear to have you leave me. If anything happened to you…” He shook his head and looked down at the spreading blood on her clothes and his eyes widened with shock. “Margot, you’re injured! What did that swine do to you?”
He noticed her bound hands at the same moment, then he growled and cut the rope with his dagger.
“It is just a little scratch,” Margot said soothingly. “It will heal, Callum. He tried to kill me, but I managed to get out of his way. I don’t think I could have done it again, though. Thank you for coming to save me. Thank you for my life.”
The love in Callum’s eyes as he looked at Margot was almost too much for her to bear without weeping with happiness. “No, thank you, sweetheart. You saved me from a life of unhappiness, Margot. I love you so much, and if anything happened to you, I would not want to go on living.”
“And I love you just as much, my darling Callum,” Margot whispered. “But let’s not talk any more about dying when we have so much to live for.”
Then, because he simply could not resist any longer, Callum kissed Margot, softly and tenderly, loving the feel of her pliant, yielding lips against his.
How had he lived without her? How had this brave, fierce, beautiful woman managed to bring out the essence of the true man in him, the protector and champion he had always wanted to be?
When they drew apart Margot smiled at him, then, with a contented sigh, leaned her head against his shoulder.
“We should have your wound seen to,” Callum said anxiously.
Margot laughed. “My goodness!” she exclaimed. “I had almost forgotten about it.”
“You are truly wonderful,” Callum said, smiling at Margot as he helped her to her feet, then swept her up and into his arms before walking outside.
However, when they went outside, they saw Ronan engaged in a fierce battle with Lachlan.
Both men were swiping and stabbing at each other with their swords and roaring filthy insults.
The clash of metal on metal was almost deafening.
It was clear that the fight had been going on for some time, since Ferguson had blood on his shoulder and appeared to be weakening fast. Ronan, on the other hand, was fit and well-trained, and the outcome looked inevitable.
Then Ferguson stumbled back a little, putting a few yards of distance between them, pulled out a musket from his belt, and aimed it straight at Ronan.
“Stand down!” he yelled.
Ronan did nothing of the sort, but put his head down and charged at Ferguson with his sword extended point first in front of him. It seemed Ronan was prepared for Lachlan to pull a shady trick in their fight and did not hesitate for even a second.
This was all for Eileen, for the woman Lachlan had forced to obey him and verbally diminished for years. Ferguson had no time to aim before his heart was pierced by the lethal blade so forcefully that it sliced through his body and emerged from his back. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Ronan stood over the corpse for a moment recovering his breath, then turned to Callum and said grimly, “Lachlan Ferguson willnae be botherin’ ye any more, M’Laird.” He wiped the blade of his sword on the grass.
“He deserved his fate,” Callum declared. “Thank you, Ronan.”
“Will Eileen be happy about his fate?” Margot asked, as Callum lifted her onto the horse. “Love him or hate him, Lachlan was her brother. I hope she can forgive Ronan.”
Callum swung himself onto the stallion and said grimly, “We shall soon see, Margot, but I think she will. Love conquers all, and she loves Ronan very much.”
Margot laughed softly. “I had no idea you were such a romantic!”