The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(111)

A chill slid down his back. He lurched forward, taking her hand. It was as cold as ice. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Before the words were out of his mouth, he had his answer. His head jerked around at the sounds coming from outside as a swarm of soldiers descended around them like vultures.

No. His mind warred with his heart. He raced back to the open door, not wanting to believe what was happening.

But when he saw Despenser and Comyn emerge from the trees, he knew the inescapable truth: Bella had led him right into a trap.

Shock permeated every fiber of his being. But the pain of betrayal that followed cut like a knife through his heart.

Not again. He couldn’t have made the same mistake again. She loved him; she would never betray him. There had to be an explanation.

As the men came forward to take him, he turned to look at her. “Why?”

If he hoped for a denial, he was to be disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her face crumpling in despair. “Oh God, Lachlan, I’m so sorry.” The men grabbed him from behind. He let them drag him away. It was true. “They have Joan. They have my daughter!”

Twenty-one

They’d lied to her.

Bella thought the moment they dragged Lachlan away, seeing the shock of betrayal written on his face, was the worst moment of this hideous nightmare. But being brought back to Berwick Castle, tossed in the guard room, and told she would not be reunited with her daughter after all—that her daughter didn’t even know she was here, and that it had all been a lie to trick her into betraying Lachlan—made it so much worse.

Her daughter had never been in danger. According to William, she rejected any connection with her mother and enjoyed her position in England. Bella was relieved to know her daughter was safe but refused to believe the rest.

She was ashamed by how easily she’d been duped. How once again they’d used her fear for her daughter to control her, this time inducing her to betray the man she loved.

The look on his face when he’d realized what was happening would haunt her for the rest of her life. She sank back against the stone wall. However short that life might be.

Despair flooded through her. To have found happiness after all these years and have it wrenched away so cruelly was a crushing blow. Lachlan would never forgive her. Just like his wife and mother, she was just another woman who’d betrayed him.

Even knowing she hadn’t had a choice didn’t make it any easier. He had a chance in prison; her daughter didn’t.

He was right. Everyone was capable of betrayal because everyone had a weak spot. And they’d found hers.

She bowed her head on her knees, her heart twisted with anguish. Where was he? What was happening to him? Were they hurting him? Was he cursing her name right now for what she’d done to him?

She couldn’t bear to think about it.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, burning like acid. God, how miserably she’d failed! Not only Lachlan but her daughter as well. Now they were all at the mercy of Edward and his men.

Dear God, what would become of them?

The English were taking no chances of his escape.

The last thing Lachlan remembered before being doused with cold water was Bella’s anguished face as he was being dragged away. They’d manacled his hands, and then he’d felt an explosion of pain behind his ear. From the violence of his headache, he gathered a war hammer or the hilt of a sword had struck him from behind.

The ice-cold water brought him harshly back to consciousness. He sat up, only to feel his head explode in pain, followed by a surge of instantaneous nausea. Rolling over, he retched uncontrollably on the damp ground beside him. His vision blended into doubles.

“Looks like he’s awake,” he heard a voice above him say.

He looked up, seeing a man peering down on him from a square opening about ten feet above him. It was the only source of light in the dark pit, and Lachlan took a moment to memorize as much of the room as he could before responding, knowing that as soon as the guard closed the door it would be as black as Hades in there.

Bile threatened again, but Lachlan refused to let himself think about it. He needed to keep the panic at bay. But it snapped in the back of his mind unrelentingly.

The walls seemed to be closing in around him. He was choking, and he had to force even breaths through his lungs.

The pit was ten feet by fifteen of solid, jagged, rough-cut rock that had been built by God, not man. The floor was sandy dirt and rock. Bones, pieces of old straw, and hardened human excrement appeared to have been pushed to one corner by the last occupant. Though he saw no evidence of rats, he could almost hear the squeaks and scampering.

Sweat gathered on his icy brow. Stay calm. Think.

He found what he was looking for in the far corner.

When Lachlan didn’t respond, the man threw another bucket of icy water on him.

This time he realized the full horror of his predicament. The water hit naked skin. Before they’d dropped him in the pit, they’d stripped him of every last piece of clothing. He didn’t have his tools, his weapons, anything.

How the hell was he going to get his hands free?

Reflexively, he pulled against the manacles pinning his hands behind him. The iron bands suddenly felt tighter—stronger—now that he knew he wouldn’t be able to unlock them.

Panic snapped a little louder, a pack of rabid dogs just waiting to be set free.