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He reached up to help the beaming child from the stallion and saw her safely ensconced in the saddle before Duncan. “See the lassie safe, then come back to join us.” He patted the horse’s rump as the animal turned to skirt around the flattened area of grass.
“Robbie, Alastair, I shall be needin’ your aid, if ye please.” He waited until Duncan and Annie were out of sight then he drew his dagger from his belt.
Chapter Twelve
The bobbing gait of the horse almost caused Roselyn to gag. She hugged her abdomen with one arm and clung to the pommel with her other hand as she twisted her neck to glare at her brother who was mounted behind her.
“Are you quite deranged? How can you even start to imagine you can escape with the abducted wife of a laird? The McGregor will hunt you down, and—”
Her brother’s fetid breath almost caused her to gag as Alan leaned in close. His arms tightened brutally around her chest as he dragged her hard up against his body. “Shut your mouth, slut, or I shall be pleased enough to shut it for you. Sister or no, you could yet meet the same fate as that other Scottish whore.”
Rage drove Roselyn’s tongue, and mounting terror caused her to fight his grasp, her struggles becoming ever more frantic as he carried her from the home she had come to love. “You must be utterly deluded if you think you can get away with this. I am wife to The McGregor, I am to bear his babe in just a week or so. He will never let you escape, not this time.”
“He may try. He did before, but I eluded the fool and I shall again.” He grabbed her chin in his hand and twisted cruelly, forcing her face up toward his. “Christ’s blood, I had forgotten how those empty eyes haunt me. Sir John must be mad to still want you, but I am thankful that he does and in return for your worthless carcase I shall secure him as my ally.”
“You cannot force a match now. I am already wed.”
He cackled with mirth, the unnerving giggle ringing in her ears. Was he always so repulsive? Or quite so deranged? Her brother managed to curb his glee enough to gloat. “You might fancy yourself wed to a Highland savage but it is a marriage made without your family’s agreement and under duress. The union is already annulled under English law.”
“You have no right, this is lunacy.” Roselyn jabbed her elbow backwards to catch him in the midsection, causing his merriment to cease in a sharp ‘oof’ of pain.
Moments later her ears rang as he slapped her hard on the side of the head. “There will be more where that came from. I was ever too soft with you, lenient because I felt sorry for you in your affliction, but no more. You will obey, bitch, or I shall teach you something of the consequences. And have no fear, your future husband will not be perturbed by a bruise or two, though I doubt he’ll be minded to give house room to another’s bastard. Still, a Scottish whelp should be easy enough to be rid of and most will be none the wiser.”
Roselyn’s struggles increased anew as terror seized her. “You cannot harm my child. Blair will kill you. Better still, I shall kill you myself.”
Her threats elicited more callous chuckling from her brother. “You, madam, will do well enough to hang on to your own miserable life let alone be fretting about some worthless barbarian brat. And your so-called husband, your precious Highland warrior scum, is nowhere to be seen. He will never catch us. We shall be at the crossing to the mainland in a few hours, and once we cross the water there is all of Scotland for us to hide in. Your Highland mongrel can scour this Godforsaken barren wasteland for as long as he cares to and he will never find you. You are mine now, and soon you shall be wife to my friend and ally, John of Hexham. Be glad of it, Roselyn, for matters could go far, far worse for you. The fools at Mortain discovered that, to their cost. They might have been spared but they would insist on seeking to protect their miserable few coins.”
Bafflement loosened Roselyn’s tongue and she blurted the question which had plagued her since learning of her brother’s heinous acts. “Why? Why did you do as you did? Why be so brutal when the taking of hostages would have been the more lucrative course? If you needed funds so badly, why squander that opportunity? You must have known that Blair would have paid a fortune for the safe return of his sister, as would her husband.”
Alan let out a snort of disgust. “Aye, and I should have had that chance but for that vicious hellcat. My men had bested her husband but the bitch would not let it be. She insisted on retaliating. At first she wept, crouching beside him, cradling his head in her lap as he died. I would have taken her hostage, guaranteed her safety, and I told her as much. She had but to surrender. Instead, she seized her dead husband’s sword and came at me, screaming and heaping vile curses upon my head. I had no choice but to strike her down. She deserved the end she met.”
“She was pregnant, close to her time, just as I am. Are you really asking me to believe that you could not subdue a woman in that condition without recourse to such brutality? Are you even a man at all, brother, that you make war on women and children?”
He ground his teeth. “The shrew grated on my nerves,” he snarled. “I had had enough of her. Ransom or not, I needed to be rid of her, to silence her screeching, her vile accusations. She brought it on herself.”
“You hit her with your mace. You cracked her skull open…”
“Her fault,” he spat. “All of it hers. I was ready to be merciful, to spare her and that mewling rabble of miserable, filthy peasants who surrounded her, but she would not let it be. The screaming, the howling, the fucking din… So loud, so shrill… it had to stop. It had to just fucking stop…”
“You are mad,” Roselyn breathed. “Quite deranged.”
“You think so? Yet still I have succeeded in outsmarting you and that slack-wit you think you married. I had only to wait in the hills and watch his rat-hole of a castle for less than one day and you trotted out, right into my arms. He never suspected a thing.”
Roselyn opened her mouth to issue another angry retort but was silenced by a second ringing blow to her right ear which left her head spinning. She felt sick, her back ached, her neck hurt from his cruel grip, and her belly felt heavier than it ever had. Harsh, gripping pain seized her and she stifled a scream.
She could not go into labour now. She absolutely refused to do so. As long as her baby remained within her body she could protect it. Her maniac of a brother would not harm her, at least not seriously, not as long as he saw the prospect of marrying her off to his equally delusional crony. But she had no doubt at all that he would toss her newborn child into the nearest burn the first moment he could.
The horse jolted her cruelly as her brother kicked it into a gallop. The beating of hooves on either side told her that he had several men with him. She would estimate at least eight, all mounted and riding hard for the ferry crossing which linked the Isle of Skye to the Scottish mainland. She vaguely remembered the short voyage when she had been brought to Duncleit, the gentle swaying of the small boat, the splash of oars. She had clung to the edge of the tiny craft and had heaved a sigh of relief when firm but capable hands had aided her back onto dry land.
Her brother was correct in his ramblings, up to a point. Pursuit would be more difficult once they crossed Loch Alsh, the strip of water which divided Skye from the mainland, but if Alan imagined that a mere couple of miles of brine would defeat The McGregor he was sorely mistaken. Her husband knew this land, he had friends scattered the length and breadth of the Highlands, allies who would gladly aid him in his search. No one would hide her brother, there would be no help anywhere, no shelter, no haven. She never doubted that Blair would track Alan down and he would rescue her. But would he reach her in time?
Helpless for now, Roselyn clung to the horn of the saddle, gritted her teeth with each wave of clenching pain as her abdomen cramped, and she prayed.
She lost track of time, but was aware of the cloying chill in the air, a sure sign of evening. It would be dark soon, if not already. She had been seized perhaps three hours ago, Blair must be aware of her abduction by now. He would without doubt lead a search party when she failed to return by dusk, and they would find the abandoned cart. What of her driver, young Harry? And Meggie? Where were her companions?
More time passed, and Roselyn could no longer contain her moans as her labour progressed. She had heard that a first babe took a while to arrive, so perhaps she had time yet. She swayed in the saddle and would have fallen but for her brother’s vise-like grip.
“What’s the matter with you? Be quiet or I shall ram a rag in your mouth. If you think to attract any to your aid you may think again, for there is no one for miles about us.”
