Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(13)

Refused…

*

“I’m thinking ye need to be knocked on the back of yer thick skull again,” Adwin said. “The Gordons will ransom her.”

Rolfe sent him a warning look. “And if they do no’? I am nae content to turn me back on the lass. She put herself between us and trouble. Honor demands we make sure she is no’ harmed.”

Rolfe was silent for a long moment because they all knew there had been plenty of time for her to suffer through the night. He didn’t linger on the thought of what the Gordons might already have taken from her. What mattered was the moment at hand, and there was no way he would be riding home while a woman sat in the Gordon stronghold because she’d shielded him.

“Aye,” Adwin admitted. “Ye’re right, we can nae be leaving the lass’s fate unknown. But who knows what manner of welcome we’ll receive from the Gordons?”

“Leave that to me,” Rolfe informed his men.

They waited until midmorning before they mounted and rode toward the gate of the Gordon stronghold. Rolfe heard the bells being rung at a frantic pace, summoning the Gordons to arms. He pulled up and waited for their war chief to ride out to meet him.

Diocail Gordon hadn’t been raised at the castle. It was only after Bhaic MacPherson had killed Lye Rob Gordon that Colum had brought his nephew Diocail down from the north country because he needed a clear blood heir. No one knew just what to make of the man, except that he was a Gordon—and that was something Rolfe needed to remember. Clan allegiance ran bone-deep in the Highlands. Men who failed to heed that fact often ended up dead.

“Come calling, have ye, McTavish?” Diocail asked.

“No’ on me own account.” Rolfe offered a similar tone of disgruntlement. “Me father is seeking an answer to his letter concerning the matter of me youngest sister wedding a Gordon.”

“Christ,” Diocail muttered. “That father of yers enjoys his alliances.”

“Ye Gordons do nae live as close to the Lowlands as we McTavishes,” Rolfe explained. “Morton is a bastard, and me father wants to ensure he stays off our land.”

Diocail nodded in agreement. “I’ve no’ been told to send ye on yer way, but I’d advise ye to lay yer head some place more Christian.”

It was a warmer welcome than Rolfe had been expecting. The Gordons closed ranks behind them as they rode toward Gordon Castle. But Rolfe’s stomach twisted when he made it into the courtyard and spied a pyre being built.

“Aye.” Diocail came up beside him. “Colum has it in his mind to burn a MacPherson witch.” He pointed toward a small window at ground level. “Even wants her to watch the stake being readied for her.”

Rolfe reached out and grabbed Diocail when the man went to step away. “Are ye mad, man? Colum will be long dead when the MacPhersons come for their vengeance. Ye will be the one who has to live with it.”

Diocail sent him a hard look. “Ye’ll learn something about Gordons, McTavish, and that is that the laird’s word is law. Perhaps ye’ll be better off getting back on yer horse.”

Rolfe made a scoffing sound in the back of his throat. “Me own father expects no less from his men, and being his son means I’d better lead by example. I’ll see Colum.”

“We all do what we must in this life.”

*

“I’m impressed.” Adwin spoke softly as he stood near Rolfe. The laird of the Gordons had yet to rise from his bed, so they were waiting for him while the Gordons contemplated them.

“I did nae think ye could manage to get us through those gates without lying,” Adwin finished. “No’ too bad.”

“Me sister will likely not agree with ye,” Rolfe answered. “I believe she prefers a convent to a Gordon.”

Adwin glanced back toward the stake being raised in the yard. “I can nae say I disagree. Nasty bit of business. No lass deserves it.”

Rolfe nodded. He was tense as he held back the instinct to fight. There were too many Gordons and too many retainers on the wall for a straightforward attack. No, this was a fight he’d have to win with his wits first.

But he would win, or he’d be dead before they lit the pyre. His father would likely argue with his impulse to interfere, but his sire had also taught him that honor wasn’t something a man could turn his back on. Whoever she was, her plight was a result of shielding him.

So he wasn’t going anywhere.

*

Katherine slept past dawn.

Considering how many hours she’d sat in the darkness shivering, it wasn’t any wonder her body had taken as much rest as it could.

But she awoke to the sound of men building.

The sounds of wood being broken and something being dragged in behind a team of horses.

“Wake up, witch!”

There was a clang as someone hit the bars over the small window. Now that there was light, she could see the mold blackening the walls of the cell. It was no more than four feet by four feet, and she had to stand to see out the window because the cell was mostly below ground.

No wonder it was as cold as ice.

Tyree was peering down at her, fresh stitches running along his jaw where she’d sliced him. His eyes narrowed as he noticed where her attention was. “I brought ye a good stake. Sturdy and strong enough to last long past yer last breath.” He smiled at her. “I’m going to make sure the lads set it deep, so when ye burn, it will hold fast and keep ye there for the flames to lick. We’ll keep the fire low enough to ensure ye are alive for a good long time.”