The Ranger Read online

  Ranger! That was what the handsome man in the forest had called Arthur. Was that his war name?

  “What are you doing here, Uncle?” It felt strange to call someone only ten years or so her senior Uncle. He didn’t look much older than Arthur, though he must be three or four and thirty.

  “Perhaps I should ask the same thing of you. Why did you flee from your brother and his men?”

  She wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t answered her. He’d either been scouting the area or watching the castle. As they were very close to the coast, she figured he’d come by boat. Lachlan MacRuairi was a seafaring pirate to the bone.

  “You are supporting Bruce’s attack against my father from the sea,” she said, guessing at his purpose.

  He shrugged evasively. “Now, tell me, Lady Anna, why I find you running through the forest.”

  “I need to return to the castle.”

  “Why?”

  She bit her lip, debating what to tell them. But she knew she didn’t have much time. They’d delayed her too long already. She’d be hard pressed to make it back to the castle before her brother caught up with her. Perhaps they would give her a ride?

  “Do you have horses nearby?” she asked.

  MacRuairi frowned. “Aye.”

  She exhaled. “Good. I shall need your help to get back to the castle. I need to make sure Arthur is all right.” None of the men reacted. Nor should they, she supposed. They didn’t know she knew the truth. “I believe you call him Ranger.”

  MacRuairi swore. “He told you?”

  She shook her head. “It’s a long story. I figured out the truth. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one. My father knows as well.”

  He swore again, this oath a vile expletive that even her father rarely used. “Then he’s dead.”

  “Nay,” she said, taken aback by his vehemence. “Imprisoned. My father is questioning him.”

  MacRuairi spat, a look of raw hatred coming over his dark features. “Then he’ll wish he was.”

  What did he mean?

  Reading her confusion, he said, “I’ve been on the other side of your father’s ‘questions’ before. He has rather persuasive and inventive methods of exacting information. If Ranger isn’t dead already, he soon will be.”

  Her stomach turned at what he was suggesting. “My father wouldn’t—”

  It wasn’t the grim expression on his face that stopped her protest, but the memory of the partial conversation she’d heard upon entering her father’s solar. A conversation that now made sense. Get me what I want. Whatever it takes.

  Oh God. Anna nearly buckled over, feeling as if she were going to be ill. Her father was torturing him. She knew such things happened, of course, but it was an ugly side of war that she didn’t like to think about. Nor did she like to think of her father being involved in such cruelty.

  “We need to help him,” she said frantically, tears pricking her eyes.

  Her heart slammed in her chest when she heard a shout go out a short distance away. “Anna!”

  She looked at the three men in panic. “They’re calling for me—we have to go now.”

  MacRuairi shook his head. “There’s no need for you to come. We’ll take care of it.”

  “But—”

  He cut off her protest. “If you come with us, they’ll follow. It will be easier for us to help him if they don’t suspect anything. Return to your brother and continue on your journey.”

  “But you might need my help.” And she wanted to see him for herself. “How will you get in the castle? How will you find him?”

  MacRuairi’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I know where he is.” She shivered, knowing from the way he said it that he’d been there himself. But it was the haunted look in his eyes that chilled her blood.

  God, what had her father done to him? And what was he doing to Arthur?

  “You’ve done enough,” he said. “If Ranger is alive, he’ll have you to thank for it.”

  If he’s alive. Anna bit back her tears and nodded, knowing they were right. The best way for her to help Arthur was to let them go without her. But it didn’t make watching them disappear into the trees any easier. She wanted to go with them.

  He’s alive, she told herself. He had to be. She’d know if he wasn’t. A part of her would have died as well.

  As soon as they were out of sight, she started to run back in the direction from which she’d come. When she drew near a small stream, she answered her brother’s calls. She would have some explaining to do, but considering the subject matter she didn’t think her brother would be inclined to question her too heavily.

  Now, all she could do was pray for a miracle. For that’s what it would take to rescue Arthur from the virtually impenetrable Dunstaffnage Castle before it was too late.

  Arthur let them come. Honing his senses on each scamper and squeak, he let the rats get close enough to catch, then was able to snap their necks with one hand against his leg. Which, as he had only one working hand, was fortunate. Unfortunately that hand was attached to a dislocated arm, so every movement was excruciating. He’d tried to pop the arm back into his shoulder by himself, but he didn’t have the strength or the leverage.

  Being eaten alive by starving rats wasn’t the way Arthur had hoped to die, but he didn’t know how much longer he could fend them off. Each time he passed out, their gnawing bites would wake him. But he’d lost a lot of blood, and with each hour that passed he was getting weaker and his senses were dulling. Soon he wouldn’t wake at all.

  He thought he must have killed fifty of the disgusting creatures already, but there were hundreds of them down here. He shuddered. When they’d held the torch to the hole to drop him in, the entire floor had been swarming in them.

  With the hole closed up it was pitch-black in the pit. He was dependent on his senses, which were slowly fading.

  His eyes started to close. He was so tired, he just wanted to relax for a …

  “Ah!” He let out a sharp cry of pain, snapping back to attention as razor-sharp teeth sunk into his ankle. He kicked, sending the rat flying.

  He supposed he had Dugald to thank for his lasting this long. Those hours spent in the dark storage outbuilding had taught him well. He knew what to listen for and how to anticipate the rats’ movements.

  But his reactions were slowing. More were escaping his grasp, and more of their teeth were finding his hand. He knew he couldn’t last much longer.

  They wouldn’t come for him until the battle was over. As he’d lost track of time hours ago, he didn’t know when that might be.

  Damn. It wasn’t just the horror of the swarming rats that was driving him mad, but the knowledge that his friends were out there marching into a trap and he couldn’t help them.

  He’d failed. Failed. He closed his eyes, wanting to blot out the bitter truth. The heaviness bore down on him. It was getting harder to resist the pull, the drag toward the blissful darkness of unconsciousness. He was so tired.

  This time his eyes stayed closed.

  Nothing could wake him. Not the rats, and not the blast of thunder that sent the guards running to the gate a few minutes later.

  Someone was shaking him.

  “Ranger! Ranger! God damn it, wake up! We don’t have much time.”

  Who was Ranger?

  His eyes snapped open, only to close again as the beam of light from the torch pierced his skull like a dagger.

  He was Ranger.

  But how …?

  He opened his eyes again. Slowly this time, letting them grow adjusted to the light.

  MacRuairi.

  He could see the relief on the other man’s face. “I wasn’t sure you were alive.”

  Arthur’s mind felt dull and sluggish. “I wasn’t sure either.”

  MacRuairi shuddered, and even in the torchlight Arthur could see that he didn’t look well. His face was gray and his eyes flickered around anxiously. He almost looked panicked. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Can you walk