Read Warrior of the Isles Online
Authors: Debbie Mazzuca
Warrior of the Isles (26 page)
Her heart leapt to her throat and her limbs went weak.
A woman's muffled scream penetrated her panic, then a sharp crack, followed by silence.
“One of ye come here and get the whore. Take her to the coach. The master and Lady Ursula await ye there. We'll follow ye as soon as I've tied up the loose ends,” a man rasped.
Syrena recognized his voice. It was the man Ursula referred to as Colin, the man with the full-face mask.
Heavy footfalls pounded from the other end of the corridor behind them. “She's gone, Lord Lamont. There's a lad tied up in the bed. He's unconscious.”
Connor! Thank the heavens, they'd left him unharmed. It was only after releasing a relieved breath that she realized what the other man had said.
Lamont?
Aidan had said they'd all died in the fire, unless this man, like Angus, was one of their cousins.
Aidan had said they'd all died in the fire, unless this man, like Angus, was one of their cousins.
“What the hell are ye tellin' me fer? Find her! And find her fast. We're leavin' fer Glastonbury within the hour.”
The name caused the fine hairs on the back of Syrena's neck to stand on end. Glastonbury was where one of the doors to the underworld lay.
“I thought we weren't leaving until tomorrow morn.”
“Change of plans. It seems Jasper's sister made a few remarks to people she shouldna.”
“Do ye want us to silence her?”
“Nay, 'tis too late fer that. Just find the woman so we can get the hell out of here.”
“What are we to do with her?”
“Kill . . . nay, keep her alive. The master will want to have his way with her.” Lamont rolled Aidan onto his back with the toe of his boot. Her white-knuckled grip on Nuie's hilt tightened. “And him. We'll let Laird MacLeod listen to his brother and his wife scream like I did mine. Aye, we'll let him watch them die in front of him the same as I did, helpless to do anything. And then I'll rip his heart out fer killin' my family.”
Hearing what he planned for all of them, Syrena gritted her teeth and held herself back. He didn't have her. That was his first mistake. And she would make him suffer for all he'd set in motion. But there were six of them, and she had to be patient. If she attacked now, they would kill Aidan. Fear no longer held her prisoner; a cold, deadly rage was all that remained within her.
A rough hand clamped over Syrena's mouth. She struggled, lifting Nuie, but powerful fingers secured her sword arm. “Nay. 'Tis me, Callum.”
She nodded and the big man released her. Tugging on her hand, he pulled her silently into an empty room. He closed the door and leaned against it, his blond head bowed. The eyes he lifted to her were haunted, sorrow filled. “They killed the three lads, my lady. All three of them. Slit their throats while they slept.”
“No,” she cried. Heartsick, she buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “I'm sorry, Callum. I'm so sorry.”
“What madness is this, my lady? What . . . Oh, Sweet Jesu, Connorâ”
Syrena wiped her eyes, pushing aside her grief for the three innocent lives lost. She couldn't save them, but she could and would avenge their deaths. She placed a reassuring hand on Callum's arm. “He's safe, for now. They're holding Lachlan in Glastonbury and it is where they plan on taking Aidan, and the Lady Davina.”
“Do ye ken where the place is?”
“No, we'll need Bess and Samuel's help. Find them and bring them to my chambers and stand watch over Connor.”
“Aye, but what about ye and Laird MacLeod?”
“Don't worry about me. I'll get Aidan.”
“But ye're onlyâ”
She lifted Nuie, who flamed red, vibrating with blood lust. “I have my sword. I don't need anyone else.”
“Aye.” He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Aye.”
Syrena inched the door open. Two men ran down the corridor. A third staggered behindâover his shoulder was a body wrapped in a blanket. A strand of long red hair escaped from the gray wool.
Davina.
She quickly weighed the odds. The risk was too great. She had to put Aidan's safety first.
Davina.
She quickly weighed the odds. The risk was too great. She had to put Aidan's safety first.
“Remember, meet us back at my chambers. Hurry, we don't have much time.” She squeezed his hand. “Be careful, Callum.”
“God go with ye, my lady.”
“And with you,” she said, watching him slip silently back the way he'd come. But on this day she would need no one but Nuie's strength and power to guide her. This day she would give herself over completely to his power.
She crept from the room and went back to watch from behind the stone wall.
“He's a heavy bastard,” a man complained. Standing, he wiped his brow.
“Quit yer belly achin',” his partner ordered.
They went back to dragging Aidan along the corridor. Lamont walked behind them, stopping at each door to check inside. She had to time it right. Take out the two men moving Aidan while Lamont searched the room. Syrena kept her eyes off her husband. She couldn't look at him, couldn't worry about his injuries. There would be time for that later.
Dragging in a deep breath, Syrena focused her strength. The moment Lamont stepped into the second room, she lunged from her hiding place. Wide-eyed, the men dropped Aidan's arms and legs and reached for their weapons. Nuie whistled through the air, once, twice. The two men were dead before they lifted their swords.
She positioned herself in front of Aidan. Widening her stance, she gently nudged him against the wall with her heels.
“Remind me no' to make ye mad, angel.” Aidan's groggy voice came from behind her.
A warm gush of relief loosened her knotted muscles, and she couldn't keep the smile from her face. He was alive. But there was no time to see to him; Lamont had stepped from the room.
He jerked his gaze to Syrena, taking in her blood-spattered gown, the dead men at her feet. Without saying a word, he turned on his heel and ran down the corridor. She couldn't go after him, not with Aidan unprotected.
At the sound of pounding feet coming their way, she shifted. A door slammed from the opposite direction, the one Lamont had taken. As she marked the place in her mind, she heard glass shatter from behind the closed door. The man was a fool. He'd die if he attempted to jump.
The footfalls drew nearer and she prepared for battle.
“Lady Syrena!”
Callum, Bess, and Samuel rounded the corner.
Syrena released a relieved breath and dropped to her knees beside Aidan, who struggled to sit up. He winced, rubbing the back of his head. “Bloody hell, who hit me?”
“Don't try and get up, not yet.” She looked over at Callum, who dragged one of the dead bodies into an empty room. “I thought I told you to meet me in my chambers.”
He lifted a broad shoulder. “Aye, but we heard the commotion and thought ye might be in need of our help.”
Samuel and Bess joined her on the floor and removed the ropes that bound Aidan's wrists and ankles. Syrena left them to it. “I'm going after Lamont.”
Aidan's gaze shot to hers and he pushed Samuel away. “Ye're no' goin' after anyone.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “And what do ye mean, Lamont?”
Syrena met Samuel's gaze and tipped her chin at Aidan. He nodded his understanding and she rose to her feet.
“What the hell is goin' on? Sweet Christ, did they get Davina?” At the desperation in Aidan's voice a suffocating ache filled Syrena's chest. She turned away. He hadn't recovered from the blow to his head, and she couldn't tell him what the madman had in store for Lan and Davina. A woman Aidan had once loved, quite possibly still did.
“Syrena!” Aidan yelled after her.
“Callum, go get Connor.” Ignoring Aidan, she ran in the direction Lamont had taken.
Samuel came up behind her, sword in hand. He shrugged. “He didna want ye to go alone.”
The knowledge Aidan worried over her melted a little of the ice that had frozen her heart. She pointed her sword at the room she was certain Lamont had entered. “He's in there.”
Kicking the door open, she prepared for his attack. Wind whistled through the open window. The heavy green draperies snapped in the breeze.
Not taking any chances that it was a ruse and Lamont was hiding, waiting to pounce, she cautioned Samuel, “Careful.” She released a frustrated breath when Samuel ignored her and strode to the window.
She protected his back, swiveling from left to right, scanning the room. Once she was certain Lamont was long gone, she joined Samuel at the window. It was no coincidence Lamont had chosen that room. With the wide balcony beneath it, he could shimmy down the columns then jump the next ten feet to the thick shrubbery below.
“The bastard got away, didna he?”
Syrena whirled, the solid wall of Aidan's broad chest the only thing she could see. She tipped her head back and looked into his stone cold gaze. “I thought I told you toâ”
“Fire! Fire! Lamont's setting the staircase ablaze!” Callum bellowed from the direction of the gallery.
Chapter 23
A dull ache pounded in the back of Aidan's skull. His vision wavered, but he refused to give in to the weakness. He had to get them to safety, away from the madness in the house, a madness Lamont was a part of. He didn't understand how Colin lived, but he did, and Aidan couldn't waste valuable time piecing everything together.
He looked into Syrena's pale face and touched her cheek. Wishing there were time for him to hold her. But there wasn't. He shifted his attention from her to the man at her back. “Samuel, is there another way down?”
“Aye, the staircase the servants use is off the grand hall and leads to the kitchens.”
“Good, take my wife and yours. Once you've made it below, round up anyone ye can find,” he directed. Needing something to smother the flames with, he grabbed the dark green coverlet from the bed.
“Aidan, no! I'm not leaving you.” Syrena's fingers dug into his forearm while she tried to shake free of Samuel. “You can't fight the fire. You have yet to recover.”
He met Samuel's worried gaze over her head and nudged Syrena through the doorway. “Doona fight me on this, angel. There's no time. We have to stop the flames before they take hold up here.” He wasn't about to let the fire put innocent lives at risk.
Looking back down the corridor, he remembered Davina and cursed. “Samuel, get Davina. Bess, ye and Syrena go on ahead.”
Syrena watched him closely. Her voice thick with emotion, she said, “She isn't there. Lamont and his men have her. They're taking her to Glastonbury. Aidan, it's where they hold Lachlan.”
He searched her face, wondering how much she knew. How much he should tell her. Remembering Davina's fear for her child's life, Aidan clenched his hands into fists. How many lives were to be lost because of the ravings of a lunatic?
Before he had a chance to question Syrena as to how she'd come by her knowledgeâwhy the bloody hell she wasn't safe in her roomâthe acrid smell of smoke banished all thought but the encroaching flame.
“Go on, get out of here.” Expecting Syrena to fight him, he was baffled when, without a backward glance, she disappeared into the shadows of the gallery with Bess and Samuel. He should have been grateful, but something didn't feel right, and it was more than just her fear for their brother.
Shaking off his concern, he ran toward the upper landing, ignoring the dull ache in his head. Black smoke billowed from below, and the toxic heat seared his lungs. He ripped off his tunic.
“Callum, Connor,” he yelled at the two men who attempted to smother a pocket of flame between them. Sweat streaked their soot-blackened faces. “Take off your tunics and wrap them like so,” Aidan commanded, tying the ends at the back of his head.
He'd battled a blaze at Lewes. They'd been lucky to escape without injury, but he knew it was the smoke that would get them before the flames.
“I doona ken if we can hold it back, my laird,” Callum shouted, stamping on a flame that flared to life inches from his foot.
Pulling his tunic over his head, Connor stumbled, and his sleeve dragged over the smoldering banister, igniting the fabric. With a startled yelp, the lad flung the burning ball and it landed on the woolen runner behind them. Connor gasped. “Sorry, my laird.”
Aidan grabbed the edge of the carpet and flipped it over to contain the fire. He stamped on an errant spark and put it out before it touched the paneled walls of the gallery. If the wood ignited, their battle would be for naught. An ominous groan rippled through the air, followed by a muted crash as a lower chunk of the banister fell to the floor below them.
Between the three of them they put out one fiery eruption after another. Aidan didn't know how much longer they could keep at it before exhaustion and fumes overcame them.
The clamor of male voices drew his attention. He wiped the soot and sweat from his eyes, squinting to search past the smoke to the floor below. Directly beneath them, a handful of men in varying states of undress waved frantically for Samuel and several others who rushed in carrying buckets of water.
He searched for Syrena, but couldn't see her. The knowledge Samuel would make certain that she and Bess were safe before battling the blaze alleviated some of his concern. He heard the gush and sizzle of water as it hit the flames, and stepped back before he was engulfed in steam. He fought with renewed determination. They had a chance now.
Four panting servants ran up from behind them, water sloshing over the rims of the buckets they carried. Aidan recognized two of the men from earlier in the evening in the grand hall. Disgust roiled in his belly. Unlike Samuel and Bess, these two had appeared to take pleasure in doing Ursula's bidding.
Before he had a chance to react, Callum grabbed hold of the dark-haired servant. Quicker than Aidan thought a man of his size could move, he'd hauled the servant over an untouched segment of banister to dangle him upside down by his legs.
“Stop . . . stop!” the man screamed.
“Bloody hell, Callum, what are yeâ”
“'Twas him, Laird MacLeod. 'Twas him I saw comin' from the stables. He killed the lads while they were sleepin'. Didna ye, ye snivelin' bastard? Well, now ye're goin' to pay fer it.”
“Nay . . . nay. 'Twas Lamont's men. They were the ones. Please, I have a wife and young 'uns. Please don't kill me,” he begged.
An image of the three lads, full of life, laughing and joking with one another in front of the campfire, haunted Aidan. If not for him, they'd be alive. He'd dragged them into this hellhole. He should've come for Lan on his own.
The man's denial broke Aidan free of his self-flagellation and he grabbed hold of one of the servant's stick-thin legs.
“Callum, he says he didna do it. Save yer anger fer the one who did. Ye doona want the blood of an innocent man on yer hands, do ye?” They had no proof, and if there was a chance the servant was innocent, Aidan would not see a family deprived of their father.
Callum grunted. Pulling the man over the railing, he shoved him aside. The servant's legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, scrambling away from them. His companion lifted him to his feet, shooting an uneasy glance at Callum.
The landing grew crowded as others came to replace the four men. With the fire under control, Aidan motioned for Callum and Connor to follow him.
They walked in silence through the grand hall toward the back stairs. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the eerie quiet of the shadowed hall. Candles sputtered, burned down to the quick in the silver branches atop a black marble altar in front of the cavernous room.
Aidan forced himself to keep walking. He hadn't noticed the idolatrous piece of furnishing earlier. The room had been too crowded. He wondered if it would have made a difference if he had. He thought back to Syrena's comment when they'd first arrived, her belief that evil resided in the house on the Strand. He wondered if she knew how bad it really was. Christ, could it only have been hours ago? It felt like a lifetime.
“I'm sorry about the lads. The ones responsible will be punished. I can promise ye that much,” he said in a dry rasp, his throat raw from inhaling the smoke.
They both offered him a jerky nod.
Aidan stood on the narrow landing at the top of the stairs. “After what ye've seen, I can understand if ye wish to return to Dunvegan. I willna hold it against ye if ye do.”
“Nay, I willna rest until I see the ones responsible brought to justice.” Callum's white teeth glinted in his blackened face, and he glanced at Connor. “Besides, ye need me. Yer wife is deadly with her sword and ties a fine knot, but there's too many of them fer even the two of ye.”
Connor, the tips of his ears pink, glared at Callum then said, “I'll be comin' with ye as well, Laird MacLeod.”
Aidan glanced from one to the other. “Am I missin' somethin'?”
“Callum here thinks 'tis amusin' that yer wife knocked me unconscious and left me hog-tied in her bed,” Connor muttered.
What the bloody hell had she been up to? Instinct warned Aidan he wouldn't like the answer. “Do ye have any idea why she did so?”
The lad shrugged his shoulders, looking none too pleased. “All I ken is she was verra anxious to speak with ye.”
Callum clapped Connor on the back. “Ye should be grateful, lad. In all likelihood, Lady Syrena saved yer life. Lamont's men went to her chambers to get her. If ye would've been guardin' her door instead of lyin' abed unconscious, ye would be dead.”
The question of why she wanted to find him was pushed aside by the thought Lamont had been after Syrena as well.
“How do ye ken they meant to take her?”
“I heard them. We both did. Lady Syrena was searchin' fer yer brother when she came upon ye.” Callum's gaze skittered past Aidan. “Ye doona wish to ken what they meant to do to ye and yer wife, or yer brother.”
“Lachlan lives?”
“Aye, Iâ” Callum clamped his mouth shut. Several of the servants, their buckets empty, walked toward them.
“We're wastin' time,” Aidan said and gestured to the stairs. He needed to find Syrena, to see for himself that no harm had come to her.
“I ken ye're anxious to reach yer brother, my laird, but if we doona rest before we head to Glastonbury, we'll be of no use to him.”
Callum spoke the truth. Weakened from battling the fire and the blow to his head, Aidan could barely remain upright. If he thought he would put Lachlan in further danger by not setting out sooner, he'd damn the consequences, but Davina had said the ceremony would not take place until nightfall. And he wouldn't risk his brother's life by going to his rescue unprepared. “We'll set out at dawn's first light.”
They met up with Samuel in the entryway. “Good job, lads, ye saved the place. The neighbors are mighty relieved. Lady Stanton took in yer wee wife, Laird MacLeod. 'Twas no' an easy task to convince her, but she was dead on her feet. I agreed to the Stantons' offer of lodgin' on yer behalf. I hope that's all right?”
“Aye, thank ye, Samuel. Do the Stantons have room fer Callum, Connor, Bess, and ye?”
“Aye, we've been given rooms in the servants' quarters.”
“Good, we'll be leavin' at first light on the morrow. Do ye ken of any men who would ride with us?”
“Aye, there are a good many God-fearin' folks who didna condone the goin's-on in the house. They'll ride with ye as will Bess and I.”
“Be sure they ken what we ride into, Samuel. 'Twill be dangerous.”
“I ken that well enough. Doona fret, Laird MacLeod, we'll get yer brother and the Lady Davina back. The others can roast in hell fer all I care, and I'd like to be the one to send them there.”
As would Aidan.
Bess walked beside Aidan along the corridor of the Stantons' town house to his chambers. “Poor wee thing,” she said, quietly opening the heavy door. “She fell asleep by the fire and I didna have the heart to wake her.”
Curled on top of a blanket by the hearth lay his wife with her sword clutched to her chest. Aidan was overcome with emotion. He would do whatever it took to protect her.
Bathed in firelight, her beauty was ethereal. She looked like an angel, but his desire for her at the moment was far from pure. The voluminous white night rail did little to conceal the heavy weight of her breasts, the dusky shadow of her nipples, and the sweet curve of her behind. He wanted to bury himself inside her, rid himself of the stench of death, the pervasive sense of evil that weighed him down.
Bess gave him a knowing smile and patted his arm. “I'll have some water sent up fer yer bath, my laird. I'll see to it that whoever comes is quiet so as not to disturb yer wife.”
Although it did not speak well of him, Aidan planned on disturbin' his wee wife as soon as the door closed behind Bess.
“Thank ye, but I doona wish to trouble the household.”
“As far as the Stantons are concerned, ye and the lads are heroes. Ye could ask fer whatever yer heart desired and they'd give it to ye.” She winked. “But I'm thinkin' ye already have yer heart's desire, my laird.”
His gaze strayed to Syrena. “Ye're a wise woman, Bess,” he murmured.
“I'll tell my Samuel ye said so,” she chuckled, the door clicking closed behind her.
Aidan crouched beside his sleeping beauty, her clean floral scent a fragrant balm to his senses. He reached out to touch her cheek. Noting his blackened fingers, he hastily pulled them away. He sat back on his heels and leisurely perused every glorious inch of her.
His gaze came to rest on her sword, glowing golden in the flame. Tentatively he touched the simmering jewels at its hilt. The blade heated and glowed red, a blazing hot, angry red. Bloody hell, 'twas like the thing was alive. And if it was, Aidan had the distinct impression it didna like him verra much.
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