Highland Hellion (Blades of Honor #1) (5 page)

The second guard lit another torch and placed it in a sconce on the wall. “I will meet you for a drink in the alehouse after you finish here,” he said, then trotted off.

Arya eyed a dirk hanging at Niall’s side, the thought of grabbing it and using it against her captor crossing her mind. With her hands still free, and Niall’s attention focused on his friend’s departure, it might be her only chance. But he grasped her wrists before she had time to act upon her impulse and snapped a band of iron around each one.

Arya tested the strength of her bonds. But there was no way she could break free. The chains were long enough to allow her to sit on the floor, but only if she tucked her legs beneath her.

Niall closed the gap between them. His chest pressed against hers, forcing her back to the cold stone wall. “You are lovely,” he growled in her ear, then nipped at her throat. He tugged at the drawstring on her trews. “I have no idea why a woman would dress like a man and accompany her kinsmen on a raid, but it matters not. Are you as fierce when rutting as you are on the battlefield?” He cupped her breasts and squeezed, before reaching for the laces at the neck of her tunic.

Arya spat in his face. “You will never know,” she hissed. “Get your hands off me, you filthy bastard. I would rather die than have a disgusting swine like you touch me.”

Niall dragged his sleeve across his cheek, scowling at her. “That could also be arranged. I care not if you are alive or dead when I fuck you. Or better yet, I could take you here and now, then once I’ve had my fill, slit your throat. Tell the Lord you grabbed for my dirk and tried to escape. No one would fault me for defending myself. There would be no witness to say otherwise.”

“Are you so hard pressed for a lady’s favor that you would resort to rape and murder?” she challenged. “Do you not care if your reputation as a warrior, not to mention as a man, is sullied when you admit a woman bested you?”

“You’ll not be so high and mighty when the Campbell has you stripped naked and publically flogged before he tosses you into the pit to drown.” Niall pinched her chin between his thumb and fingers, forcing her to look at him. “And if I choose to touch you or do anything else that suits my fancy, who is going to stop me?” He grabbed the crotch of his trews, pumped his hips in a lurid manner, then ran his hand up her inner thigh. “Of course, there is always the pear,” he said, an evil smirk tugging at his lips.

“You are a deplorable, disgusting—”

“Niall!” The second guard returned. “The Lord of Argyll wishes to speak to us. Best you not keep him waiting.”

“I’m coming,” he said, then glowered at Arya. “This is not yet finished. I will be back, and next time, you willna be spared. After you’ve spent a little time in here, you may even accept me willingly.” He released his grip on her, then sauntered toward the door.

“When there is frost in hell,” Arya shouted at his retreating form. But he did not turn around. Once the guards left, she sank to the floor and released a heavy sigh, her mind racing with questions.

What happened to my captured kinsmen? Were they executed? Is Garrett alive or dead? Mother, who will care for her if I dinna get out of here?

Her mind riddled with questions for which she had no answers, she lowered head, her heart heavy with despair. Her mam was right, she should not have accompanied the men on this raid. She had been a fool to take such a risk. But it was too late to worry about that now. She did what she felt she had to do and was now at the mercy of the Campbell, awaiting her fate.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, Lord, let Garrett be alive and let him come for me. Dinna end my life this way. My mother needs me,” she said aloud, tears now tracking down her cheeks. “And while I give Garrett a difficult time, I truly care deeply for him, despite what I claim. Grant me the chance to tell—” But her plea ended when she heard the sound of footfall coming down the hallway, toward her cell.

Chapter 6

Arya’s heart pounded as if it were trying to claw its way out of her chest. The echo of approaching footfall grew louder and her gut twisted with fear. Had the guards who’d tried to accost her returned to finish what they’d started?

“Unlock the cell, Niall, and wait for me out here,” a man ordered.

“Are you sure you dinna need me to accompany you, m'lord? She’s a feisty one. A real hellion,” Niall said.

“I’m counting on it,” the man replied, then laughed with an evil cackle that made sent a shiver clamoring up her spine.

“Stay here. I do not wish to be disturbed, and will call if I need you. Is that clear, Niall?”

“Aye, m’lord.”

Arya didn’t recognize the gravelly voice. Niall called him m’lord, so he must be someone of importance. But there was no point in speculating, she’d find out soon enough.

The metal keys clinked against the bars of her cell, the lock clicked, then the rusty hinges creaked loudly as the door opened. Arya stiffened. Regardless of who he was, she’d not cower before him. But she couldn’t help wishing that Garrett would rescue her.

A dark figure approached, carrying a torch. Arya squinted, hoping to get a better look at her visitor. He was not overly tall and appeared to have a much smaller frame than most warriors, but she could not make out his features. As he moved closer, the stench of death and decay permeating from every inch of the dungeon was suddenly replaced by the scent of rose water and mint. A far cry better than the sickening odor of unwashed flesh and foul breath she’d endured when Niall tried to kiss her. This was a man of high standing, of that she was certain.

“Well now, I see they have you chained to a wall. How unfortunate.” The man raised the torch, then dragged his knuckle down her cheek. “Such a shame to have a comely creature hidden away in a deplorable place like this.” He brought a square of perfumed linen to his nose and inhaled. “The cell is absolutely ghastly. And the putrid scent is enough to make a man, or woman in your case,” he quickly added, “ill. However do you stand it?”

“I dinna have any choice.”

“Nay, I dinna suppose you do at that,” he said with a snicker.

He held the torch a little higher, and she could finally see his face. He was not an attractive man by any stretch of the imagination, with a protruding forehead, gaunt cheeks, large aquiline nose, and thin lips.

“I suppose you are wondering who I am, and why I have come to visit you in this hellhole.” He grinned, revealing a set of straight white teeth.

“It matters not who you are,” Arya replied. “You could be a king, and I still wouldna care. Not unless you are here to set me free and allow me to be on my way.”

“I will tell you regardless. I’m Mason Campbell. My father is the Lord of Argyll, and you, my dear, are his prisoner.”

“You came down here to tell me that?” Arya shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Unless—” She paused, her blood running cold when the thought of the likely reason sprang to mind. “Do you plan to rape me? If so, I’ll warn you, I willna submit without a fight.”

“Do you honestly think I would bed you here? In this disgusting place, with you smelling like gutter swill? I hardly think so.” He brought the scented square to his nose again.

“Then why did you come?”

“Curiosity.” Mason cocked his head while he studied her from top to bottom.

“I dinna understand.”

“I heard you were a lass of rare beauty and I wanted to see for myself. But the rumors dinna do you justice.” After placing the torch in a sconce on the wall, he stepped closer, and wrapped his fingers around her throat. “Lets see what else you have to offer, aside from a comely face, shall we?” He slid his free hand inside the front of her trews, cupping her sex.

Arya twisted against her bonds, yanking on the chains until the shackles bit into her flesh and blood dripped down her forearms. “Dinna touch me. I may be your father’s prisoner, but you have no right to lay hand to me.” The words escaped before she could stop them.

He laughed. “I hardly think you are in any position to object to my advances, or to stop me.” He nipped at her neck, then jabbed his fingers into her most intimate place. “You are as tight as a falconer’s glove. It has been a while since I sampled a virgin.”

Arya bit the inside of her cheek and stared straight ahead. And while she wanted to cut out his heart and serve it to his father on a platter—and would if the opportunity presented itself—she was helpless to do anything. Where all the men in the Campbell clan disgusting swine?

“As tempting as fucking you now may sound, that was not the reason I came to your cell. Mason withdrew his hand and took a step back. “Care to hazard a guess?”

She remained silent, avoiding eye contact.

“Are you not in the least bit curious?” He twisted a strand of her hair around his fist, then snapped her head back. “You are a feisty wench in serious need of taming. True, I could pummel you now if I choose to, but instead, I have a proposition for you.”

“I am not interested in anything you have to offer.”

“Hmmmm. Not even an exchange for your life?” He asked. “Considering what my father has planned for you on the morrow, one would think, you’d welcome any alternative. Being stripped naked, flogged within an inch of your life, then drown in a pit of stagnant water is a horrible way to die. However, if you agree to my terms, I could speak to my father.”

“Does your sire always condemn his prisoners without a trial?”

“You came here to steal from my father’s estate, did you not?”

“We only wanted enough food to feed the bairns. Necessary supplies your father has denied us.”

“As is his right. But you also took part in a raid during which several of my father’s men were wounded or killed.”

“We had no choice but to defend ourselves. We were given no other option when they showed no quarter. They outnumbered us five to one and we never stood a chance.”

Mason shrugged. “The law states that based on your crimes, my father can execute you without a trial. Unless I do something to stop that from happening, he intends to make an example of you.”

“What could I possibly have that would interest you enough to intervene on my behalf? Surely you can rut with any lass you desire. Or do you get pleasure by taking advantage of women who are not able to defend themselves and loath you?”

“I do enjoy a challenge and you are hardly a helpless wench. But I am to be married in a fortnight to the daughter of one of the most powerful lairds in the Highlands and am not impressed with my father’s choice.”

“And what has that to do with me?”

“If you’d seen my betrothed, you would understand. Homely doesna describe her. She is not only a rotund woman, but she has the face of a sow. The thought of bedding her makes my stomach sour. However, my father is convinced the union will strengthen his alliance with her clan.”

Arya glared back at him, appalled by the arrogance of this scoundrel. “And you wish me to marry you in her stead?” She didn’t bother to hide the disdain in her voice. Not only did she find Mason unattractive, but the thought of spending her life married to him was a fate worse than death.

“Dinna flatter yourself. A union between you and I would serve no purpose.”

“I’m confused. If you dinna wish to marry me—” Arya stopped speaking as the realization of what he meant came into mind.

He nodded. “Now that I’ve confirmed the rumors of your beauty and virtue are true, I wish to make you my whore. You would, of course, have to pay for your crimes, but I am sure I could convince my father to have you flogged, then locked in the tower for the rest of your life rather than executed. At least, until I’ve had my fill or find someone more appealing.”

“You arrogant bastard! I would rather die than lay with you.”

“That would be a pity,” Mason scoffed. “While you do have a firm round arse, I do prefer my women with meat on their bones and more than a handful of breast. But you’ll do.”

“I’ll gladly face death rather than warm your bed.

“Dinna be so quick to decide. I will give you till morn to think about it. After spending a night in this rat-infested hole in the ground, you may change your mind.” He plucked the torch from the wall, then leaned in and kissed her. “Until then, I bid you farewell,” he said, then turned and walked away.

Arya spat on the floor. “I’ll not change my mind. I would rather dwell with rats,” she shouted. But he did not favor her with a reply.

After the cell door slammed shut and the sound of footsteps faded, Arya sank to the floor. There had to be some other way to get out of here. Being the concubine of Mason Campbell was not one of them.

With Logan’s assistance, Garrett arrived at Scotia’s croft. But as he reached for the door latch, he hesitated.

“Are you sure you dinna want me to come in with you?” his cousin asked. “You’re still pretty wobbly on your feet.”

“Nay. I must do this alone. It is going to be hard enough telling Scotia that Arya was captured. I dinna need an audience when she tears a strip off my hide for allowing her daughter to come along.” Garrett squared his shoulders and knocked. “Best get this over with.”

Logan nodded. “I dinna envy you. From what I’ve heard, Scotia is so ill she can hardly lift her head. I’d be worried the news might kill her, rather than fearing her wrath.”

“She may be gravely ill, but she is as feisty as they come. I am sure that is where Arya gets her spirit and tenacity. Her father was a brave warrior, but a very quiet man who would do anything to please his wife and daughter.”

“God’s speed, cousin.” Logan patted Garrett on the back. “When you’re through, I’ll be waiting for you at the clearing. The rest of the men will meet us there after they have seen to their families. Most are moving their wives and bairns higher into the mountains in case of a retaliatory attack. Once assembled, we can work on a plan to free Arya and the others.”

“I pray we’re not too late.” Garrett rapped softly on the door, but when he got no reply, he knocked louder, then entered.

“Is that you, Arya? I was beside myself with worry when you dinna come home in time for the evening meal,” Scotia said in a strained voice that was barely above a whisper.

Her companion, Isla, rose and faced Garrett. “Is Arya outside?” she asked hesitantly.

“Arya?” Scotia called.

“Nay.” Garrett moved closer. Caught off guard by a sudden bout of dizziness, and the feeling like his legs might buckle, he clutched the back of a chair for support.

“You’re injured.” Isla rushed forward and grasped his elbow. “Sit before you fall.”

“I’m fine,” Garrett lied through clenched teeth, his shoulder aching and his head throbbing again.

“Where is my daughter?” Scotia glared up at him.

“I am afraid she is being held prisoner by the Lord of Argyll.” Garrett hung his head in shame.

“I dinna understand. You promised you wouldna take her on any more raids. You swore to me that no matter how much she begged or pleaded, you would stand firm.” Scotia brought a shaky hand to her mouth to stiff a coughing spell.

Isla went to Scotia’s bedside, lifted her friend’s head, then brought a mug to her lips. “Have a drink.”

Scotia brushed Isla’s hand away. “I dinna need any ale. I want answers. I want my daughter.” She narrowed her eyes, her glower intensifying. “Explain to me why Arya is being held captive, when I made it clear she was not to accompany you.”

Facing Scotia was harder than he’d anticipated. “Your daughter is a very persuasive lass, not to mention as stubborn as sin. I did my best to convince her to remain behind, but she’d have none of it.”

“Are you a man or coward?”

“I asked myself that same question,” Garrett replied, shaking his head. “I tried to reason with her, but she vowed if I dinna allow her to come, she’d wait until we’d left, then follow. In the end, I thought it was better she come with us so I could keep an eye on her.”

“Well, you obviously thought wrong.” After a moment’s pause, Scotia continued. “However, I am partly to blame.”

“What do you mean? Arya’s capture is my fault, not yours,” Garrett replied.

“I should have known Arya was up to something when she asked Isla to stay with me, and should have forbidden her to leave the croft.”

“You couldna stop her any more than I could make her stay behind. If there is one thing I’ve learned about Arya, once she makes her mind up to something, there is no changing it.” Garrett paused to stifle a chuckle. While her temerity was frustrating, it was also one of her many traits he found refreshing and appealing. He cleared his throat. “The Lord of Argyll might have her, but rest assured, we will do everything in our power to get her back safely. I promise or will die trying.”

“If only I had received a response to my letters. Perhaps we could have avoided this.” Scotia cradled her face with her hands.

“Your letters?” Garrett asked.

“Aye. But it matters not. They went unanswered, and now it is too late. Arya is the Campbell’s prisoner and he will most likely have her executed.”

Garrett scratched his head. How letters could have prevented her capture was beyond his comprehension, but Scotia obviously had hatched a scheme, the details of which she’d kept a secret. “We’ll get her back,” he said with conviction, then headed toward the door.

“I pray you can,” Scotia sobbed.

Garrett flicked his hand at Isla. When she joined him, he lowered his voice so only she could hear what he had to say. “Can you stay with Scotia for a few days more? She canna be left alone.”

Isla nodded. “I am happy to do anything I can to help. Rest easy, I willna leave her side until you’ve returned. With Arya, God willing.” She crossed herself.

“Are you aware that most of the families are moving higher into hills in case the Lord of Argyll orders an attack?”