Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(15)

There were snickers in response.

“I think I should give her a taste of a real man,” he continued.

Rolfe knew enough of the man to know he wasn’t going to stop, and there was no one willing to interfere. It was clear the majority of the clan was hanging back, waiting to see whether Tyree or Diocail would eventually be laird.

Rolfe looked at the fading light and exchanged a look with Adwin. His captain nodded and left.

“Finally leaving, McTavish?” Tyree asked. “It was only a bit of rain.”

“We’re going,” Rolfe declared. “I’m tired of waiting on yer laird’s letter.”

“Piss off,” Tyree declared. “Keep yer sister.”

Rolfe turned and left. His men fell into step beside him as he waited in the lengthening shadows of the passageways. Gordon Castle was an older fortification that clearly hadn’t seen much in the way of improvements in the last two decades. Bits of rubble lined the walls, and the stench was strong from the men urinating on them instead of using the jakes. More than one clan still clung to medieval ways, but Rolfe was grateful the McTavishes didn’t.

Today, though, the conditions of the Gordon clan would be to his advantage. The retainers were lax and allowed to do as they pleased. For the moment, that meant a great number of them were drinking in the hall with Tyree.

The staff seemed accustomed to such evenings, because the older women had ushered all the younger females to places unknown hours ago. That left the passageways empty and the wind still howling through them through broken shutters that should have been repaired. But with no one insisting that the men put in a full day, many of them didn’t.

There was a burst of laughter from the hall, and Rolfe recalled himself to his purpose. He sent half his men toward the stables to saddle the horses. The rest stayed with him as he made his way to where the cells were. In the semidarkness, he had to slow down, because water was pouring in through the windows, making the floor muddy.

*

She was freezing.

Katherine laughed at the twist of fate. How very perverse to be saved from burning by an ice storm. The wind came through the window in frigid blasts, the hail hitting her no matter where she moved. There was an added cruelty to the place: whoever had built it had made it face north, toward the coldest weather.

Mud and water and debris from the yard came down the wall, filling the room until she was shin-deep in freezing muck. Time crept along, losing its meaning because she couldn’t tell what time of day it was with the clouds so dark. Outside, the stake was in place, but all work had stopped as the hail came down with fury.

She found herself looking at the door, willing it to open. When it did, she stared at it in disbelief. Clearly she’d gone mad, and that was disappointing, because she should have liked to believe she was strong enough to last more than one day before insanity claimed her.

Yet it had, because as the door opened, she blinked, seeing Rolfe McTavish before her.

She shied away from the thought, wanting to cling to sanity, to life. He lifted his hand, beckoning to her.

“Come with me, lass.”

His voice was soft now, enticing. It was so tempting.

“Tyree will be coming next, and what he plans is not pleasant.”

It was Tyree’s name that cut through to her. She jerked and blinked, and Rolfe was still there. She was still so cold it hurt, which made her realize she was not awash in the fold of insanity.

The insane did not feel pain.

But she did. So much of it that she clamped her jaw shut to keep from moaning. It was true agony, but Rolfe was waving her forward and she leaped toward him, slipping right through the door before he moved, without a care for how improper it was to brush against his body.

Freedom from the cell was the only thing that mattered.

“Hold up, lass.”

Rolfe was right behind her. He reached out to cup her shoulder and she wrenched free, stumbling along the passageway as her heart pounded with the need to escape. There was no other thought in her mind, and her blood was roaring in her ears now.

He jerked her back, pulling her into the shadows as he listened for any approaching footsteps.

“Easy now,” he offered in a low voice.

His body was hard and warm. It broke through the strange bubble surrounding her mind, allowing her to think. The impulse to run was still strong, but she clamped her jaw tight and forced herself to stand in place as she listened.

The Gordon stronghold was as close to hell as she had ever been.

She turned and looked at the man behind her. She’d wondered if she’d imagined how big he was, but her head didn’t quite reach his shoulders. The night was new, and the moon hidden behind the clouds made him seem even more a creature of shadows than the previous times she’d encountered him.

She wondered what he looked like in the light of day.

A hoot and a round of laughter sent a bolt of dread straight through her, for she recognized Tyree’s voice. He was coming down the passageway, heading for the door of her cell.

“Witch,” he declared as he pulled the bar up. “I’ve come to make yer last night a memorable one!”

He was laughing, but the laugh died as he looked into the cell. “Bloody—”

The shadows shifted, and Tyree was suddenly slumping onto the floor with a splat as he hit the mud and muck. His companions had a similar fate. Rolfe’s hand had tightened on her, keeping her in place.