Page 22 of Saved by the Cruel Highlander (Lairds of the Loch Alliance #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“ E very time I go down into yer dungeons,” Laird McKinnon commented, “I hope I never find meself in one again.”

“As long as ye take care of yer people and treat yer worst enemies with the dignity they deserve, ye willnae,” Elias replied.

“Aye, I hope ye’re right.”

The narrow tunnels leveled out, and the space began to open up slightly. They reached a large, iron-reinforced wooden door, slightly rounded with a small barred window in the top middle. Elias walked up to it and knocked firmly. A second later, the guard poked his nose through the bars to see who was there.

“Me Laird,” the guard said before unlocking the door from the inside.

He held it open for the two Lairds before closing and locking it behind them.

The sounds hit them before the sights. Low moans came from some of the cells, louder shouts from others as imprisoned men threw insults and threats, and some pleaded to be freed. Unless someone else had been imprisoned the previous day, Elias knew every single person in the dungeons and why they deserved to be there.

The large space was oval-shaped, with wooden doors on each curved side. The air was as cold as it got in the castle, and there was barely enough light to see. Flickering, thick, stubby candles dotted the walls, casting dancing shadows over the floors and walls.

The floor below them was bare earth, slightly damp. The walls on either side were stone, and the wooden doors were strung with iron bars to prevent them from being knocked down.

The dimness didn’t let the rodents and insects be seen as they scurried around in the safest place in the castle for them, waiting for the scraps the prisoners dropped as they tried to stay alive.

Six cells stood on each side, eleven of which were occupied. Inside, shackles were hammered into walls, and they were only used when absolutely necessary. The doors were never opened without at least two men present, in case the prisoners gained some strength and tried to overpower their guard.

Elias turned to the guard, almost whispering in the darkness, “Felix Grant.”

The guard nodded and took the lantern hanging above his chair. He also retrieved the large bunch of keys from his belt. There were far more keys than were needed to unlock the twelve cells and manacles within. The guard jingled them as he walked toward one of the wooden doors, fingering them without looking to find the right one. He held a long bronze key between his fingers and let the others drop to the other side of the metal ring.

Elias and Ruben trailed behind him, both interested in what they might find inside the cell, even though Ruben himself had caught the culprit.

“Did he put up much of a fight?” Elias asked.

“Nay,” Ruben replied. “‘Twas easy once we found him.”

“How about down here?” Elias asked the guard.

The guard shook his head in reply. Still, he unsheathed his shortsword as he put the key in the lock. He turned the key with a fluid movement, then knocked on the door with the pommel of his sword.

“Stand back from the door if ye ken what’s good for ye. Stay to the back of the cell, or I will stick ye, and I ken that’s nae in yer best interests.”

The guard handed the lantern to Laird McKinnon.

Elias tapped the dirk on his belt, but he didn’t draw it just yet—he had no fear of a man who wanted to poison a woman.

The guard pushed the door inward, revealing the interior of the cell.

It was dark inside, so dark that nothing but shadows could be made out at first. The guard peered into the cell, tightly gripping his shortsword.

Elias could make out enough. A straw mattress lay at the back of the cell, and a hunched figure sat atop it, his legs pulled up to his chest.

The other cells seemed to have fallen silent as if they could sense that the Laird had come to visit. The only noise came from the rattle of chains behind locked doors.

Elias nodded to the guard. He entered the small cell first, followed shortly after by Ruben. As Laird McKinnon entered the cell, it was illuminated, and Elias got his first look at the man who meant to kill his wife.

His first impression, from what Holly had explained to him, was of a coward. Felix’s head was lowered, only his hair visible, but it gave an accurate impression. He was a coward, and he lacked manners. He didn’t do the Laird the courtesy of acknowledging his presence, and it irked Elias.

Elias tilted his head to one side, then the other. Ruben stepped further inside to stand beside him, the light further illuminating the incarcerated man.

Felix Grant was of medium height, by the look of his posture, and he was slender. He had thick, brown hair.

“Felix Grant?” When Elias spoke, his voice filled the cell, and there was a thickness to it. “Do me the courtesy of lookin’ at the man who brought ye here.”

“Please,” Felix begged. “Please, I havenae done anythin’ wrong. Ye have to let me go.”

Elias balled his fists, using all his strength not to lash out and smash the man’s nose before he said another word. “Ye have done something wrong, Felix, and ye ken it. Now, be a man and admit it, or ye will feel pain instead of a swift death.”

Felix continued to hug his legs and look down at his feet. His body trembled. “Ye dinnae need to kill me, Me Lairds. I’ll make this right. I’ll do whatever ye want.”

“What I want is for ye to own up to yer scheme. I ken what ye threatened to do, and I ken it’s the truth. Ye’ll admit it to me afore I leave this cell,” Elias said.

“Why did ye bring another man with ye?” Felix asked softly. “Ye really dinnae need to do any of this. Ye can just let me go, and ye will never see me again. I promise.”

“The man isnae here to help me, but to hold me back so ye can have a fair hearin’,” Elias warned. “Do ye want to be in here alone with me? I’ll rip yer head off afore ye can beg for yer life.”

Felix cowered, his shaking form almost moving the entire castle. He didn’t say a word and continued to stare down at his feet.

“Speak!” Elias shouted. “Look at me! Look at me!”

He noticed the slight shudder that ran through Felix.

There was a beat, and then Felix slowly raised his head to look at the Laird. His eyes were dark in the dim light, but they would have been dark without it. His irises were brown but without the golden flecks the Laird had. His eyes were black all around, partly by the dirt and partly by the lack of sleep, though that had not come from his short time in the cell.

There was another darkness, an anger bordering on insanity. He had been afraid to lift his head or even stand in the presence of the Laird, but he was not afraid to glare at him. He leveled him with a murderous look.

“Is that what ye want, Me Laird ?” he asked. “Do ye want me to bow to ye or kiss yer hand? Do ye want me to do a little dance for ye and entertain ye? Either kill me or release me.”

“What is it that ye deserve?” Elias asked.

“How would I ken that? I’m nae the one in control, am I? Ye brought me here for a reason, so how about ye do the decent thing and talk to me, Me Laird .”

“Ye’re testin’ me patience enough, lad. Any more disrespect from ye and those will be the last words out of yer mouth.”

“Aye, it’s true what they say.” Felix’s lips twisted into a monstrous smile. “Ye really are the Beastly Laird, are ye nae? They told me of a beast that walks through the castle, but I didnae quite believe it until I laid eyes on ye. It doesnae matter what I say to ye—yer mad mind is already made up.”

Elias could see it in the man’s eyes and hear it in his words. Something had snapped inside him, and he was the one who had gone mad. He must have already been mad to want to poison a woman for her money, but he had only been driven insane further.

“Aye, a beast with a beastly scar,” Felix continued.

Laird McKinnon stepped forward, and Elias stuck out his arm to hold him back.

“Aye, dinnae bother,” Felix said, still crouched on the mattress. “He wants to kill me himself.”

“Aye, and that is what I’m tryin’ to save ye from,” Ruben said. “The way ye’re talkin’ is only goin’ to make it worse for ye. He has every right to kill ye, Grant. I’m only tryin’ to save him the trouble of torturin’ ye, which ye fully deserve. Yet, ye dinnae warrant the time or energy it would take.”

“Curse ye both and yer families,” Felix spat. “Curse yer clans and yer castles. Curse the ground ye walk on, and curse the dreams in yer sleep. And curse ye, Elias McAllister. Curse ye for takin’ what was mine.”

“She wasnae yers,” Elias told him. “She was never yers. That’s what made it so easy for ye, is it nae? I cannae imagine that a man could kill somethin’ that was his. Dinnae claim Holly was yers when ye meant to kill her.”

Felix looked down again, his eyes boring a hole in the floor.

“At least be a man and admit what ye meant to do,” Elias told him. “Ye were goin’ to wed her, and then ye were goin’ to poison her, were ye nae?”

“What is it to ye?” Felix grumbled.

“She’s to be me wife, so it is everythin’ to me,” Elias replied. The muscles in his back tightened. “If ye come after me clan, ye come after me. If ye attack me betrothed, it’s personal. Ye mean nothin’ to me, but she does. Be a man and admit that ye wanted to kill her and take her money.”

Felix chuckled. “She’s gone now, so what does it matter?”

“She was always gone,” Elias pointed out.

“Nae Holly, ye rat,” Felix replied. “Do ye ken what it is to love someone?”

Elias had loved his brother once until he’d learned the truth and had been forced to kill him. He couldn’t reply to the question.

“If ye kenned, ye would have answered the question by now,” Felix told him. He looked up again, his eyes even darker than before. “Aye, I would have poisoned her. I would have done it slowly and nursed her through it until she died, and they all would have looked at me as a hero. Then, I would finally be with the one I loved. But that willnae happen now, will it?”

“And if I let ye go?” Elias asked.

“If ye let me go?” Felix chuckled darkly, the sound catching in his throat. “Ye’ll nae, but let’s play yer game. If ye let me go, I will find a way to kill her, and then to kill ye, and I’ll kill anyone else who gets in me way.”

Laird McKinnon sighed and shook his head.

“That is how it’s goin’ to be?” Elias asked.

Felix suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the back of his ragged brown shirt scraping against the stone. Ruben took half a step backward, but Elias did not. He stared into the man’s eyes and saw his fate in them.

Felix nodded. His demeanor changed in an instant. Although darkness remained around and in his eyes, his body straightened in one last burst of energy. He kicked forward with one foot, then the other, and lunged at Elias.

Elias’s movements were lightning quick as Felix charged at him. In one fluid motion, he pulled his dirk from its sheath and held it out, pointing it at Felix’s heart. Felix did the rest, reaching out for Elias as the blade cut through skin and ribs. Elias raised his other hand to buffer Felix’s momentum, stepping back slightly before he dove forward and drove his dirk into him, slamming him into the back wall.

Felix was already dead.

Elias held him against the wall as a memory surged in his mind. He saw himself standing over his brother, blood everywhere. Felix had the same look in his eyes right before he lunged. It was the look of a man on a murderous rampage, convinced that he was right and just in what he did.

Elias felt a hand on his shoulder, and he pulled the dirk from Felix’s chest, wiping it on the man’s shirt before he dropped to the ground.

Elias sheathed his dirk and turned to look at Ruben.

“Good,” Laird McKinnon said. “He deserved it, and we didnae need to hear any more of his ramblin’.”

“Aye,” Elias agreed. “He deserved to die for what he could have done. His heart was blackened by his greed.”

And his love of another.

“Now,” Laird McKinnon said. “I shallnae waste me trip to the castle on only this nasty business. I would very much like to meet the fine woman who not only drove that insane ruffian to murderous thoughts but also drove one of the most hardened lairds in the country to such valor.”