Highlander Unchained Read online

  She turned back to Hector. “You orchestrated the elopement?”

  He sank back in his chair, stretching his legs out before him, looking well pleased. “Aye. And it was a brilliant plan. It would have worked perfectly had Coll not interfered.”

  Flora thought of the fate that she’d narrowly avoided. “I won’t marry Lord Murray. He is a coward who left me to the mercy of brigands.”

  Hector gave her a hard stare. “Yes, little sister, you will.”

  He said it with such confidence, a shiver ran up her spine.

  Like Lachlan, Hector was a fierce and ruthless Highland chief. But Hector had a cruel and brutish streak that Lachlan lacked. A lump of dread settled low in her belly. Without a doubt, she knew she’d made a mistake in coming here.

  Hector was looking at her strangely. “What’s that?” he asked, indicating her amulet. “I’ve seen it before.”

  Flora resisted the urge to cover it with her hand protectively. “It belonged to my mother.”

  He frowned, and before she could stop him he reached for it. Turning it around in his hand, he examined the inscription on the back.

  His eyes lit with excitement. “The old curse…it’s the Campbell amulet from Lady’s Rock.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Lady’s Rock,” he repeated. “That’s it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  But he only started to laugh. Laughter that chilled her blood and made the hair on her neck stand straight up.

  A few hours later, she would learn why.

  It had taken Lachlan all morning to rally his men…and to convince Rory MacLeod not to challenge him to a sword fight.

  They were about one hundred strong—including a dozen of Rory’s men who’d accompanied him to the wedding. There simply hadn’t been time to send for more. Although Hector’s warriors numbered close to four hundred, only half that number were on Coll.

  “If you are wrong about this,” Rory said as they tied the birlinn to the dock at Arinagour, “I will take my men and return to Dunvegan—after we settle our differences.”

  “I’m not wrong,” Lachlan said with more confidence than he felt. “Flora was angry. She acted rashly in running to Hector—which I’m sure she has come to regret. She will be happy to see us.”

  “Knowing Hector, you are probably right. But as to the validity of your ‘marriage,’ I am undecided.”

  Lachlan opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut just as fast. Rory was right. Though every instinct in his body screamed to hold what was his, it would be Flora’s decision whether they stayed married. “I will not press my claim if she does not wish it.”

  “Damn right you won’t.” Rory was still furious with Lachlan’s deception—as he had every right to be. Only the fact that Lachlan had convinced him of his love for his sister had kept the MacLeod at bay. If it came to it, Lachlan and Rory would be well matched—Rory was bigger, but Lachlan younger—but he didn’t relish finding out who was the better swordsman.

  It took some time to unload his men from the boats, and Lachlan was surprised when they didn’t encounter any resistance. Hector had left the beach and docks at Arinagour largely undefended—something he would never have done.

  It was strange.

  Rory must have come to the same conclusion. “I wonder where our greeting party is.”

  Lachlan shook his head. “I don’t know. But it makes me wary.”

  “Aye,” Rory agreed.

  After they’d marched south the few miles to Breacachadh, they had their explanation.

  Hector stood outside the gate with only a handful of men behind him. The rest, Lachlan assumed, were stationed in the castle, ready to repel an attack.

  The boldness of the man was mind-boggling. Lachlan could easily kill him right now. Though tempted to do just that, he stepped forward. “You have something that belongs to me.”

  “Your castle? I’m afraid you can’t have it. I’ve rather grown to like it here.”

  “No, my wife.”

  Hector pretended not to understand. “If you mean my sister, I’m afraid you can’t have her, either.” He sneered. “Unless you can swim.”

  He pointed behind Lachlan out to sea. Lachlan turned, and his blood ran cold. For a moment, he couldn’t process what he was seeing. He didn’t want to believe it.

  Less than a hundred yards from shore, Flora stood marooned on a rock, surrounded by nothing but merciless blue water. But that wasn’t all. He’d been wrong about the location of Hector’s men. Nearly his entire garrison must be lined up on the beach—a human wall of defense between him and Flora.

  Worst of all, Lachlan knew he didn’t have much time to reach her. The tide was moving in fast.

  Flora had never been so scared in her life. She was cold, wet, and horribly aware of the rising water all around her. She shivered, the thin white sark she wore like some hideous virgin sacrifice a useless barrier to the elements. Except she wasn’t a virgin, and she had no intention of going to her death without a fight.

  She gazed out to sea, watching and waiting with burgeoning dread. Oh no, here comes another one. Holding her breath, she turned her face as another huge wave crashed against the rock, pelting her with a deluge of icy seawater. Her fingers slipped for an instant with the force, causing her a moment of heart-stopping panic before she found her grip again.

  God, how much longer could she hold on before he came? If he came.

  Was this how Elizabeth Campbell felt? Forsaken. Left to die. Praying for someone to come? Never had she felt such compassion for what her kinswoman must have gone through on Lady’s Rock. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like in the dark…alone. At least she could see what was taking place on the shore.

  She stood on the side of a jagged rock that protruded from the sea in a sharp peak. There was barely enough room for her to keep her feet flat, and she had to stand with her arms around the slippery rock in almost an embrace to avoid being knocked off. The castle seemed deceptively close—close enough to see the anticipation on her brother’s face and hear the orders that he shouted back and forth to his men. So close, but infinitely far away.

  The rough waters of the sea were nothing like the placid water of the Faerie Pool, precluding any thought of testing her new water skills. Just the thought of going under…

  She fought the wave of panic rising in her throat as the memories assailed her. The cold black water covering her mouth, her nose, her head. Struggling to breathe. Flailing wildly, trying to capture one more breath of air.

  Not again. This couldn’t be happening again.

  She’d thought Hector was joking. How could her own blood do something like this? He’d remembered her fear of water from her near drowning in the loch all those years ago and had decided to use her as bait to destroy Lachlan by staging this macabre re-creation of the incident that had befallen Elizabeth Campbell so many years before at Lady’s Rock.

  She’d stared at him dumbly when he told her of his intentions, believing it only when he’d ordered his men to take her. She’d fought, but it had been useless. There were too many of them. He’d ordered her to remove her gown, and she’d refused—until he’d pointed out that his men could do it for her. Part of her still couldn’t believe it…until she saw the boat. She’d panicked, and it had taken half a dozen men to drag her down the beach and force her into the waiting birlinn. Her terrified pleas had fallen on deaf ears. He’d claimed that she wouldn’t be hurt—if Lachlan cooperated.

  Lachlan…

  God, what a fool she’d been. Lachlan was nothing like Hector. She could see that now, when it was too late. Lachlan would do his duty as chief, but his ends were noble: to help his clan and save his brother. Her brother acted for ambition and greed and without compassion. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she could perhaps see why Lachlan had chosen not to confide in her: Her own fears would have prevented her from understanding had he told her the truth.

  She was still furious at him for