Immortal Desires (Well of Souls) (17 page)

Ian stifled the growl rising in his throat as he hurried to find out who Munro was talking to. The man sat at the table with an ale in his hand, leaning forward like one who enjoys collecting gossip. His demeanor changed when he saw Ian, trying to swallow his drink and rise from the table all in a single motion.

"I'd best be on my way." He grabbed his pack and hurried out the door as Ian stared after him.

"Who was that?"

"Him? Just a courier," Munro said and held his drink up in a salute. "He was delivering a notice to me from my son."

"Why were you telling him about Deanna—especially that she's a Cameron? Someone's trying to kill her. We dinna need strangers causing more trouble for her." Ian glared at his friend and dropped down on the bench so heavily it rocked beneath his weight.

"Relax, Ian. He was a courier, no a spy for the Cameron. What has you crabbit?" Munro poured him a drink and Ian swallowed it in one gulp.

"Deanna is determined to go to the wedding."

Munro shrugged. "Lock her in her room."

"I canna do that." Ian ran his hand through his hair, wanting to pull it out by the roots for a distraction. The woman's logic infuriated him but he admired her convictions, too. He'd make the same choice in her place—which worried him.

***

Highlands, June 1505

Deanna smiled as she watched Mairi take her vows to the younger son of the Mackenzie Laird. More than a week had passed since the night she and Ian had slept together—most of it spent in traveling to this neighboring clan. During that time she'd come to realize that Ian had only been trying to protect her, not take away her freedom. Perhaps it was time to forgive him, after refusing to speak to him on the trip here. They'd both been miserable because of her insistence on making a point. She owed him an apology as well.

A young child slipped his hand into hers and tugged on it. Deanna looked down into a cherubic face wearing a broad smile. He couldn't have been more than five or six. Was he lost?

She glanced over at Ian but he was deep in conversation with several of the Mackenzies. Deanna didn't want to disturb them so she let the little boy pull her along until they were outside of the tiny chapel and into the crowd of villagers who waited for the festivities to start.

"Where are we going?" she asked. He said something to her in Gaelic and kept walking toward the edge of the crowd. Deanna moved with him, enjoying the night air and the way the torches seemed to make the trees dance with their flickering light. The chapel had been hot and stuffy with so many bodies crammed into it.

A man yanked the kid away from her and hustled off with him, his low voice muttering in angry tones. Deanna glared at the man's retreating back. Honestly, if parents would keep a better watch over their children, they wouldn't wander off in the first place.

She realized she was in a darker section and started back toward the crowd again. A strong hand clamped over her mouth and a masculine voice hissed something in her ear. He pressed his body against her back and held her in place. Her gorge rose at the smell of dung on his fingers.

Deanna struggled against the arm wrapped around her waist and kicked back into her attacker's shin. The man jerked her harder and released her mouth. Before she could scream, he hit her on the back of the head and her vision went black.

***

"Where did Deanna go?" Ian spun around trying to catch sight of her in the crowd. He'd told her to stay next to him at all times and she'd promised she would. Did that woman not take anything he said seriously?

"I wouldna worry overmuch," Mackenzie said. "She was talking to one of the laddies awhile ago. Mayhap she stepped outside for some air."

A search through the crowd outside took time and Ian's stomach balled into a hard knot as he shoved between the people milling about. Mackenzie had ordered the portcullis closed but what if it was too late and somebody had already taken her? The ancient magic that surrounded Deanna still had him unable to sense her whereabouts.

The crowd seethed and compressed around him, oblivious to his mounting desperation. They squeezed the air from his lungs until he fought through the masses, reaching an empty spot in order to think straight. It'd been too long since anyone had seen her. If anything happened to Deanna, he'd never forgive himself.

The eastern sky had taken on a golden hue when Ian concluded that Deanna wasn't among the revelers. If someone left with her before the gate closed, they had several hours head start by now. The portcullis rose and several Mackenzie guards charged in on horseback. Ian ran to them to hear their report.

"We found Angus and his wagon tipped over in the glen," the captain of the Mackenzie guard said. "Before he died, Angus told me several men had taken his wife and children hostage to gain his cooperation. They used a child to lure your Lady to them, then put her in the wagon. He thought they might be Cameron."

A red haze filled Ian's vision at the captain's words. "Then they've taken her to Achnashellach. Prepare to ride."

The voices of his men rang out as one, yelling the Mackay war cry. Ian turned to Mackenzie with a request. "I'd ask that my mother be allowed to remain here with you until I return for her."

"Of course. Godspeed to you. Take whatever supplies you need for the journey."

Munro slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm going with you. This is my fault. If I hadna opened my big mouth to the courier, our Deanna would be here safe in our midst. I'll help you retrieve her."

Ian nodded, biting back the harsh remark on the tip of his tongue. Pointing out Munro's error wouldn't help bring Deanna back. "We leave in fifteen minutes."

His mother's vision came to mind, the one where she'd seen Deanna riding with the Cameron. He wished he'd remembered it earlier. It would have saved time—time that worked against them now. Ian ran to the stables, determined not to waste any more precious minutes.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Deanna groaned as she slowly came awake, the stench of animal hair and sweat filling her sinuses. Blood pounded in her head and a rhythmic bounce pummeled her body with each downward motion. She cracked her eyes open and saw hooves kicking up dirt as they swung back and forth in her field of vision. She was laying upside-down on a horse. Why?

She screamed as she tried to shift her hands and pain shot up her arms, jarring shoulders that felt like they'd been ripped from their sockets. The skin on her ankles burned as well. That's when she realized she was trussed up like an animal ready for slaughter. Nerve endings all over her body checked in now and the pain overwhelmed her, preventing any rational thought from seeping through.

One thought managed to beat against her psyche—she'd been kidnapped. By whom? Did Ian know? An eerie keen erupted from her throat.

A fist punched her already tormented shoulder as a voice spoke harshly from the front of the horse. Deanna didn't understand the words but she gulped back the sounds she'd been making.

The dawn light illuminated the path below the horse. The trail fell away into a canyon with a boulder-strewn river below. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on not slithering off the horse.

When they stopped later to let the horses rest, Deanna was hauled off of hers and dumped on the ground like a sack of grain. She must have passed out because two men stood over her arguing when she opened her eyes again. One walked away while the other rolled her onto her back, forcing Deanna into a splayed position with knees bent outwards and her wrists still tied underneath her.

The man's eyes raked her body before reaching down to rip the front of her dress. With a screech borne of rage, she attempted to slide her feet sideways and knock him off-balance. It didn't work. She got a slap across the mouth for her efforts, splitting her lip open.

Her yell brought the other man back, at least. He shouted at the first one, who spit on her before walking away. The one who remained untied the rope binding her ankles and wrists.

A second scream tore from her throat as her muscles reacted to the sudden freedom. She lay on the ground panting, sweat dripping from her face, as the blood-starved tissue jerked and convulsed.

The man standing over her spoke as he hunkered down close to her face. He was older, his hair mostly gray, and showed compassion in his brown eyes.

"I don't speak Gaelic," Deanna mumbled through clenched teeth, her lip already swelling. She swallowed blood and wondered if she could keep from throwing up.

His eyebrows rose but he repeated his words in English. "If I leave ye untied, do ye promise to behave?"

His question would have been funny if Deanna wasn't so terrified. She doubted she could even walk at this point. "Yes."

He nodded, satisfied with her answer and helped her to sit up. "I'll get ye something to eat."

The man returned with a cup of oats floating in cold water. Deanna choked it down, not knowing when—or if—they'd decide to feed her again. Her bladder shrieked for release as well. As if being aware of her discomfort, the man lifted her up and set her down behind some rocks. He didn't leave but turned his back to her and waited.

"Why have I been kidnapped?" Deanna asked as she hobbled over to lean on the man again.

"Kidnapped? Nay. Rescued be more like it." He spat on the ground and looked at her again with kind eyes. "We're reuniting ye with your kin. Although it troubles me that ye dinna speak the Gaelic. Where are ye from?"

"Far away." Deanna grunted as he scooped her up in his arms again. She hurt all over. These men must be Cameron, thinking she was kin. "I don't belong in the place you're taking me to. Please let me go."

"I canna do that, lass, though I'm inclined to believe ye." He carried her over to the horses as the other seven men mounted.

The one that originally dropped her on the ground and tried to rape her started toward her with the ropes in his hand and a leer on his face. Deanna clutched at Kind Eyes' chest. She had a feeling she was better off with this man than the others. He waved the other away with a guttural spiel of words.

"I dinna think it's good for ye to be tied up and tossed about like a sack of neeps. Give me your word you'll behave and ye can ride with me."

"I promise." Anything was better than lying over a horse with her head about to strike the ground. A tremor traveled through her body at the thought of it.

He sat her on his horse and mounted in front of her, breaking into a run almost immediately. Deanna wrapped her arms around his chest and hung on for dear life, terrified of sliding off the back end. Her shoulders twisted with pain but she didn't dare relax her grip. How long would she be able to keep this up before falling and getting trampled by the horses behind her?

Her chest tightened at the thought of Ian having to come rescue her after she'd ignored his warnings of danger. What if he got hurt…or killed? Deanna almost hoped that he wouldn't come. This was all her fault. She wept against the back of the stranger and tried to block her imagination from running wild.

They were within sight of another castle when someone at the back yelled and everybody stopped. Kind Eyes pushed her off the horse and whispered, "Go hide."

She didn't need to be told twice, scrambling up the bank and into the trees, her muscles burning with both pain and adrenalin. Deanna collapsed into a ball under a large bush and tried to will her body into running some more but her limbs froze in position. The Cameron men drew their swords and wheeled the horses around, blood-curdling cries sounding savage to her ears.

Was it Ian who they were going to attack? Deanna bit the inside of her swollen cheek to stem the shiver of fear. Now was not the time to freak out. She had to get to him somehow.

Easing out of her hiding spot, she limped toward the sounds of yelling while keeping to the trees. It was a futile gesture—she could see them now, half a mile away—but she had to do something. Men were dropping to the ground as swords swung against each other but Deanna couldn't tell who was who.
All your fault,
her mind shouted at her in an endless litany as she trudged toward the sounds of agony and death.

A few riders galloped back her way and Deanna ducked out of sight. It was the Camerons. They didn't stop to search for her, continuing on at a dead run. Her heart shuddered with an icy chill. What if they were going for reinforcements? She scrambled down the bank as soon as they were gone, falling and tumbling down the hillside as she headed in Ian's direction.

A lone rider charged at her. Ian. Deanna locked knees that threatened to buckle and ignored the pain of being pulled up to straddle the horse behind him.

"Are you hurt?" Ian shouted into the wind as his horse turned and ran back in the other direction.

"No." She doubted he could hear her but one hand briefly clasped hers as she hugged his chest. Deanna knew they weren't safe yet.

Ian pulled her off the horse when they reached his men, examining her anxiously. Deanna reached for his blood-soaked shirt, moaning at the sight of the cuts he'd received.

"Dinna worry, most of the blood isna mine." His fierce tone was a direct contrast to the tender way he held her close to him. "I know you've been rough-treated but we need to leave quickly."