Cat had to take action. She couldn't sit around and leave Torr in the grasp of the witch's talons.
"I'm going to rescue him." She remembered how they had gained entrance to the manor house before. That route should still be open.
"'Tis far too dangerous for a lass alone," Finnian said in a gruff tone.
She didn't want to go alone, but what other choice did she have? Unless... "You must come with me and help me rescue Torr with your magic."
Finnian gave a slow, dejected shake of his head. "I ken little about the ways of magic, lass."
"Aye, you do! Do not tell me you're afraid, Finnian."
"Of course not!"
"You're as white as a specter. But you, dear sir, are a powerful wizard, whether you admit it or not. Surely, you have spells that we could use against Wilona MacRae."
He gave a brief shrug, then seemed in deep thought. "Torr told me the chain I charmed could not hold the witch. She is too powerful, and my spells are too weak."
"Mayhap you could search one of your tomes and find a better spell," Cat suggested.
Finnian shook his head. "I can think of naught."
Suddenly annoyed beyond reason, Cat glanced around the great hall. Her gaze landed on a broadsword displayed on the wall.
That's it. I shall kill the harpy.
Cat climbed onto the massive oak chest and took the sword from the wall. 'Twas heavier than she'd expected. "I shall take care of her myself with this."
"Nay, lass. If Wilona dies before Torr and Brodie defeat their curses, they will never be free of them."
"Oh, aye, I remember now. Blast!" Drained of strength and ideas, she laid the sword on the table. "Then what shall we do?"
***
TORR AWOKE TO COLDwater splashing in his face. Groggy, he blew it away and slung his head. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was in human form, sitting on a straight wooden chair, his arms bound painfully behind him. He pulled at the restraints, but his strength was gone.
Something tight around his throat nearly choked him—the leather reins of the magical bridle. That's how the bitch was controlling him.
He glanced around at the sunlight spilling through the windows. This was the same bedchamber where he and Cat had found the keek-stane. How much time had passed since Wilona had captured him? His stomach gnawed with hunger, but he craved water more than food.
"Oh, excellent. You're awake." Wilona strode in front of him and smirked.
Never in his life had he wanted to strike a woman, but he wished he could knock her to the floor. With all his strength, he yanked at the ropes. The pain blinded him, but naught budged. How had she tied them so tightly?
He tried to move his feet. Glancing down, he found them tied with ropes. A plaid had been thrown over him...the weave told him 'twas one of Alpin's. He cringed, not wanting a dead man's plaid on him. But 'twas better than being naked.
"Untie me," Torr demanded.
"Remember when you bound me and stole my keek-stane? 'Twas a foul trick."
But what she deserved. He only wished Finnian's chain had worked better. "What are you wanting from me?" he demanded.
She narrowed her eyes. "To see you suffer as my son did."
"I did nay kill him," Torr growled.
"Your best friend Gavin did, though, aye?"
"'Twas a fair fight! Everyone has the right to defend themselves. Silas and Alpin ambushed us and attacked with swords. 'Tis nay our fault Silas was terrible at swordplay, and Alpin fled like a coward."
