Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(14)
She felt the blood drain from her face, and he laughed at her horror. A moment later, she saw his knee as he pushed up and went back to the yard.
Do not look.
Katherine wanted to deny her captors the entertainment of her fear, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from moving toward the window. She had to lift her chin so she could peer out, and when she did, she felt as if her heart had stopped.
But Fate was not so merciful.
No, as she took in the sight of the Gordons digging a hold for the stake, she felt her heart begin pounding hard and fast, as though her body was trying to force her to keep living. She turned around, looking at the cell, frantic for any means of escape. Suddenly, the bitter cold was banished from her limbs as she sought the strength to survive.
All she faced were stone walls. She could see the places around the bars in the window where others had tried to scratch their way to freedom. With only the bars, she heard every sound of the pyre going up. Just as Colum wanted.
Well, she had to think hard and not abandon hope. Marcus had allowed her to train, and she would be more than a frightened female.
She would.
*
Colum peered at Rolfe, but didn’t speak until one of his men brought him a mug of ale. He drew off a long sip that left foam in his beard before he cleared his throat loudly enough for the kitchen maids to hear.
“Aye, I have the offer,” Colum exclaimed. “What I do nae have is a son.”
Bitterness was thick in the old man’s tone. He drew off another sip before slamming the mug down on the table in front of him.
“May the MacPhersons rot in hell for taking me Lye Rob.” Colum’s eyes brightened. “I’ll be paying them back for the loss. Ye’re in time to see it, McTavish. I’ve been handed the means to even the score.”
“If ye are speaking of that stake yer men are putting up in the yard,” Rolfe said clearly, “I want no part of it. Especially since ye’re telling me the woman is no’ a witch, only a MacPherson who had the poor luck to be brought to ye.”
Colum’s face twisted in rage. “She was wearing men’s clothing and…using a dagger like a man. What is that if not the doing of Satan?”
“Spirit,” Rolfe declared. “I think I’d like a look at her.”
“Ye can watch her burn,” the old laird snapped before going back to his drink.
“I meant what I said,” Rolfe replied. “I’ll not have any part of it. The McTavish name will not be associated with any witch burning where there has been no trial.”
“She cut one of me men.”
“More than one lass keeps a dagger in case of men who try to do them harm,” Rolfe explained. “I assure ye, me sister does, and I’m the one who showed her how to use it. That is no’ witchcraft. It’s good sense.”
“Aye.” Diocail Gordon surprised Rolfe by adding to the conversation. “One man’s pride should no’ be a deciding factor. Tyree should learn to drink less when he’s planning on riding out.”
There was a roar from the retainer. Tyree stomped forward, a few of his friends closing ranks behind him to make their support clear. He faced off with Diocail, leaving no doubt that the clan was headed for a split when Colum died. The strongest contenders for the lairdship were gathering.
“No one wants ye here,” Tyree informed Diocail. “Go back to the north where ye belong.”
“My father was Colum’s brother,” Diocail declared loudly. “I am a Gordon.”
“Yer mother took ye away,” Tyree declared. “Ye have no’ served this clan.”
“And ye call burning a lass a service?” Diocail asked quietly. “Only to yer pride, man. I’m wise enough to know it will start more trouble than the Gordons need. Ye are a fool to dismiss such facts.”
Tyree snarled and lunged at Diocail. For all his quiet demeanor, Diocail moved quickly. He dove and dipped and came up with Tyree locked in a choke hold.
“Enough!” Colum roared.
Diocail hesitated for a long moment before turning Tyree lose. The retainer gasped, rage flickering in his eyes.
“I’ll write yer father,” Colum informed Rolfe. “And ye can take the message and be on yer way before I get on with Gordon business.”
There was a crack of thunder so loud it nearly shook the walls. A moment later, rain started to pelt the windows of the castle. The women ran to close the shutters as hail started to come down. A frigid wind gusted through the open doors of the hall, blowing the tapestries. It was bone-numbing, with more than one woman lifting her hand to cross herself.
Colum visibly shivered. For a moment, he looked frailer than before, his joints locking up as he tried to stand but fell weakly back into his chair. And still, the gleam of hatred burned in his eyes. Rolfe offered him a nod before he turned and left.
If the lass was going to live, he’d have to find another way to free her.
*
The Gordons took full advantage of their laird’s frailty and the storm that kept them inside. Drink flowed freely, and before long, the retainers clustered around Colum were drunk. Rolfe only played at drinking. It was a game a wise man perfected early in life if he didn’t want to wake up in a ditch with an empty sporran and no boots.
“It seems to me…” Tyree said, “that the witch shouldn’t die a virgin.”