Page 35 of Bride of the Wicked Laird (Sparks and Tartans: The MacKinnon Clan’s Romance #11)

CHAPTER TWO

I sabeau woke with a start, breath catching in her throat. She expected darkness or at least to be in her chambers, warm under the covers and woken by nothing more than an unpleasant dream, but the reality she faced was vastly different. A grey sky peeked through the branches that formed a brilliant green lattice over her head. The ground was hard and bumpy under her and the wind that howled through the trees bit into her skin, leaving her chilled to the bone.

She was not in her chambers; she was not even in Castle MacGregor, and something told her that she was terribly far from it and her entire family.

Everything seemed to ache. Her head throbbed, a pounding headache gripping her from the moment she opened her eyes. Her back hurt from the way she had carelessly been tossed to the ground, and the skin on her wrists felt raw, painful. When she looked down at her hands, she found them bound with rope, the skin of her wrists rubbed pink.

Memory resurfaced slowly for Isabeau, each moment coming back to her in snapshots. She remembered being in the forge with Tiernan to pick up the daggers she had commissioned for her brothers. Then, she remembered the attack. There had been three men, cloaked and hidden by the shadows. Tiernan had fought valiantly, but even he couldn’t fight three men at once and win. Isabeau could feel the phantom grip of one of them, his hand circling her wrist and keeping her still as he pressed a foul-smelling rag to her face. After that, there was nothing but darkness, her consciousness slipping away from her within moments.

A wave of panic threatened to pull her under, bile rising to the back of her throat. Frantically, she managed to push herself to her feet and stumble through the clearing, her daze and panic blurring her vision. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t even know if she was alone there, if they had simply abandoned her to fend for herself.

Isabeau forced herself to draw in a deep, calming breath. Looking around, the first thing she spotted was Tiernan, and the relief that washed over her was so great that it almost brought her to her knees, turning her legs weak. He, too, was bound, but whoever had brought them there had made sure to tie him to a tree, making it impossible for him to move. He was awake, though, and when he spotted Isabeau, he let out a sigh of relief, eyes falling shut for a mere moment before he looked around once more, scanning the tree line with his gaze for any signs of danger.

Still in a panic, Isabeau approached him, leaning close. She didn’t know what to say, though; there were so many questions racing in her mind that speech evaded her, her thundering heart drowning out everything else.

“Are ye alright?” Tiernan asked in a whisper. “Are ye hurt?”

The sound of his voice helped Isabeau calm herself a little. Tiernan was there and he was calm, so that could only mean he had a plan—she truly hoped so.

He will make sure we survive this. He kens what tae dae.

Isabeau only had to put her faith in him and believe that everything would be fine. After all, she couldn’t see any signs that the men who had taken them were still there, so perhaps they had left them alone.

But then why would they capture an’ bind us in the first place?

“I’m alright,” she confirmed, keeping her voice to a low whisper as well. “It’s only me head… it hurts terribly.”

Her headache had grown to the point where she was nauseous, her vision swimming every time she took a step, but otherwise, she was unharmed. It was more than she could say for Tiernan. Now that she could take a good look at him, she noticed all the blood that covered his hands and his clothes, the bruise that bloomed over the right side of his face. His lip was cut, and though he seemed alert, Isabeau didn’t know how much of that blood belonged to him and how much belonged to the three men who had attacked them.

Before she could ask him if he was alright, she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. When she turned around, she spotted four men—three of them wearing the same cloaks as those who had attacked them and another one, who walked ahead of them, who didn’t bother obscuring his face.

He was broad-shouldered and stocky, bald, with a short-trimmed, greying beard and the kind of confident gait that came with knowing one was in control. He was the kind of man who exuded an air of power, someone Isabeau would have avoided at all costs, and when his gaze fell on her, his grin was one that sent a chill down her spine.

“Ye remember me, dae ye nae?” the man asked and Isabeau glanced at Tiernan to find him glaring. There was a familiarity in that look, though, something that proved to her Tiernan did, indeed, know the man.

“Beag Sinclair,” Tiernan said through gritted teeth, the name dripping with poison. It was then that Isabeau’s heart stopped, her blood running cold in her veins.

She hadn’t known who the man was until now that Tiernan had spoken his name, but even she had heard of Beag Sinclair. His reputation preceded him; a ruthless merchant who was said to collude with criminals to get what he wanted—more power, more wealth, even titles. His past was drenched in blood and Isabeau’s stomach churned at the thought of what that man could do to them if he so wished.

It was one thing to be pursued by brigands, captured and bound in the middle of a forest. It was another to be taken by Beag Sinclair and to have a personal connection to him, one which had clearly caused the man to hold some sort of grudge. Isabeau couldn’t help but fear that he had taken Tiernan there to kill him and she had somehow been caught in the middle of it, with no way of escaping.

But I dinnae have anythin’ tae dae with this! Why would he take me too?

She didn’t dare point that out. She didn’t dare speak at all, fearful of what could happen if she drew the man’s attention to herself. It was better to let Tiernan do the talking, she thought. With any luck, he wouldn’t kill them.

Besides, if he had wanted Tiernan dead, then it made no sense to bring him all the way out here, in the woods, Isabeau reasoned. He could have had him killed in the forge instead of going into all the trouble of transporting him to the middle of nowhere, so that could only mean that he needed something from him.

“I have finally caught ye,” Beag said with a satisfied grin, opening his arms wide as to invite their praise. “Dae ye ken how long I’ve been searchin’ fer ye?”

“I’m guessin’ fer several years,” Tiernan said. “Ever since I stole from ye?”

“Precisely,” said Beag. “I’m glad ye remember me.”

All this over a few items?

Isabeau could hardly believe it. Surely, Beag Sinclair could afford to buy himself anything he wanted! Surely, some stolen things couldn’t be worth all this chase, one that spanned several years, from what they were saying.

“How could I forget?” Tiernan asked. “I never did manage tae get that sword though. Me sword.”

Beag chuckled, but there was no mirth behind it, no warmth. If anything, his gaze seemed to grow colder at Tiernan’s goading and Isabeau couldn’t help but wish that he would be more careful about the way he spoke to him. The last thing they needed was to enrage him, but Tiernan seemed to enjoy provoking him and all Isabeau could do was shoot him a warning look, one he couldn’t even see, focused as he was on Beag.

“Well, ye have a debt tae repay,” Beag said as he began to pace back and forth in front of them. At the snap of his fingers, one of the cloaked men approached Isabeau, and though she quickly backtracked, trying to put some distance between them, he was quick to grab her arm and pull her back. She couldn’t help the scream that tore itself from her throat. She couldn’t help the panic, the way her heart jumped to her throat, threatening to project out of her.

“Let her go!” Tiernan demanded as he strained against his bonds, desperately trying to reach Isabeau. His efforts were in vain, of course. There was nothing he could do to get himself out of those ropes, no matter how much he tried.

Isabeau struggled against her captor for a few moments, trying to get free, but it soon became clear to her that all she managed to do was exhaust herself. Her head was still spinning, her muscles ached, and every movement was a fight. Before long, she sagged in the man’s grip, surrendering herself to her fate. All she could do was remind herself that Beag was keeping them alive for a reason. There was a debt, he had said, one that Tiernan had to pay.

Waving a hand dismissively, Beag said, “Naethin’ will happen tae her… well, as long as ye dae as I tell ye.”

At that, Tiernan stopped struggling and leaned back, his expression turning into one of stone. It wasn’t calm; there was nothing calm about him. Isabeau could see it in the way he held himself, shoulders tense, the tendons of his neck showing against his skin. He simply didn’t want to give anything away, and that scared her more than being held captive did, as it could only mean that Beag was both capable and willing of taking advantage of any weakness he found.

“Here’s what will happen,” Beag said as he approached Tiernan. “Ye will kill Constantine fer me an’ then ye an’ yer lassie will be free tae go. An’ I’ll consider yer debt paid off.”

Isabeau’s breath hitched at the mention of that name. He, too, was a man everyone in the Highlands knew—the most feared mercenary the area had ever seen, as ruthless and violent as he was skilled at his job. The mere name inspired fear in everyone Isabeau had met. Constantine was more of a legend than a man, and his reputation was so fearsome that few even dared utter his name, fearful that they would somehow summon him.

“An’ why would I dae that?” Tiernan asked, still expressionless save for a raised brow. “Ye may as well kill me now.”

“If I kill ye, I’ll have tae kill the lassie,” Beag said, as though it was obvious and the natural course of things. There was no reaction from Tiernan once again; it was as though he had truly turned to stone, a motionless statue that displayed no emotion. “The bastard has been after me, an’ I need ye tae rid me o’ him. We all ken he willnae stop until one o’ us is dead.”

“Why me?” Tiernan asked. “Ye could have yer men dae it.”

“He kens me men,” said Beag. “An’ besides, dae ye think I havenae already tried it? They all ended up dead. I cannae spare more, and nay mercenary agrees tae take the job.”

That didn’t surprise Isabeau at all. What did surprise her was Beag’s apparent belief that Tiernan could be the one to defeat Constantine. She knew, of course, of his past as a mercenary and a brigand, but she didn’t know just how far his skills extended. Was he capable of killing Constantine? Was he truly that much better than any other man Beag had sent to kill him? Or he was simply Beag’s last hope?

For a long time, Tiernan said nothing. He only sat there, watching Beag like a hawk. Beag remained silent, as well, the two of them locked into a staring contest.

“Release the lass an’ I shall dae it,” Tiernan said, but before Isabeau could feel any relief, Beag laughed, shaking his head.

“Why would I dae that?” he asked. “She’s here tae motivate ye. If ye fail, she dies. If ye work against me, she dies. If ye dae anythin’ other than what I tell ye, she dies.”

Tears stung Isabeau’s eyes, her breath coming in short pants as she was plunged into the depths of panic once more. With her gaze on Tiernan, she silently begged him to say something, anything—to try and argue, to get her out of this situation, but he never said a thing. He only sat there, expressionless, taking in what Beag had said.

“I’ll have me men watchin’ ye,” Beag continued. “An’ she will be the perfect cover fer ye. Nae one will suspect what ye’re about tae dae if ye travel together.”

There was a subtle shift in the way Tiernan held himself. It was as though he deflated, the air leaving his lungs, his shoulders sagging. Isabeau recognized it for what it was—resignation. Anger quickly bubbled up inside her, breaking through her fear. She wanted to scream at him, to demand that he do something, but still, her voice was caught in her throat, the word dying on her tongue before they could ever make it past her lips.

“That’s what I thought,” said Beag, recognizing Tiernan’s surrender, too. “I figured ye would be easy tae convince when I realized ye were in that castle fer so long. That was yer mistake, Tiernan. All this time, I couldnae get tae ye because ye were movin’ so fast, but then ye stayed there fer months… months! That can only mean ye wish tae go back.”

Tiernan once again said nothing. It was as though he had completely shut down, never once uttering a word. For a few short moments, Beag waited for a retort, but when it didn’t come, he snapped his fingers again and the man who was holding Isabeau cut the rope that bound her wrists and finally released her. Instantly, she took several steps back, trying to get far away from those men, just as Beag advanced towards Tiernan, only to bring his fist down to his cheek. The punch held so much strength behind it that Tiernan’s head snapped to the side and Isabeau couldn’t help but cry out in horror, fearing for his safety.

Slowly, Tiernan turned his head to face Beag again, his gaze defiant in a way his mouth wasn’t. Crouching down, Beag leaned in close, the two of them eye to eye.

“That was fer the ring ye stole,” he said. “I truly did like it.”

Tiernan said nothing as Beag straightened his back, standing tall. He seemed terribly pleased with himself, as though that one punch was enough to reward him for all the trouble, he had gone to in order to find Tiernan.

“Constantine is somewhere in these parts,” Beag continued. “Nay one kens where, exactly, an’ that is why I need ye tae track him down. Ye’ve always been good at this, have ye nae? So, put yer skills tae good use an’ ye will be rewarded. I’ve brought ye close enough tae where he was last seen. I’m sure ye’ll dae yer best tae find him from here.”

With that, the four men were gone. Isabeau watched until they were out of sight and then waited even longer, making sure they were truly gone before she stumbled over to Tiernan, trying to undo the knots with shaking hands.

It was impossible. She was working automatically, barely registering her movements, but she couldn’t undo them.

“Take me knife,” Tiernan said. Isabeau didn’t hear him until he repeated it a few times, and then she reached for the blade strapped to his calf, sawing at the ropes clumsily.

It took her a long time to cut through it and even longer to realize that she was crying, tears carving hot paths down her cheeks. The moment she had released him, though, Tiernan reached for her, taking her face in her hands and searching for any signs of harm.

Gently, he wiped away her tears, shushing her quietly.

“What will we dae?”

Isabeau’s voice was barely a whisper. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it all. She couldn’t imagine what would happen now.

“We dinnae have a choice,” Tiernan said, so gently that Isabeau could almost convince herself everything would work out fine in the end. “I’ll find Constantine, but I’ll make sure ye return tae yer family. I promise ye. But until then, I’ll take care o’ ye. I swear it, Miss MacGregor.”

The weight of his oath settled heavy between them. As Isabeau stared into his eyes, it was easy to believe him, even as she was filled with dread that ran like ice in her veins. Tiernan would take care of her. He wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself.

Even in her fear and her panic, his promise was enough to warm her heart.