Page 34

S ilence settled on Duncan, freezing him with disbelief.

The insolent woman had shut him in . He took three steps forward, blinking in the pitch darkness.

When he encountered nothing but blank air, a tickle of unease lit in his belly.

He shook it off, scowling and reaching to find the door.

Hell, it was only a few steps farther; the chamber wasn’t that large.

A lancing pain shot up from his toe as his foot glanced off a wooden crate.

Damn . He’d veered too far to the right.

As he rubbed away the ache, Duncan sucked in his breath and scowled more deeply.

He hoped Aileana was enjoying her jest, because in a few short moments she was going to pay for it.

When he got outside this cursed little chamber he’d—

His gloved hands hit something hard. The door . Relief filled him, tingling to the ends of his fingers as he found the hand latch and pushed.

Nothing. It wouldn’t budge.

That set Duncan back on his heels again. Curse her . She’d thrown the bar home. His mouth tightened. There was only one other method of escape that he could think of trying. But he’d need some luck to accomplish it.

Pressing his shoulder to the resisting planks, Duncan used his entire weight to try to jiggle the bar off its latch. For an instant it felt like the bar lifted and teetered, ready to fall off. But then it clunked back into place. He pushed again, just to be sure. It remained fixed. Unmoving.

“Aileana, open the door,” he called. He sounded irritated, and his own voice echoed back at him, mocking him. Silence reigned supreme, emphasizing the knowledge that he found harder and harder to ignore.

He was imprisoned here.

Locked in. Just like he’d been in the Tower .

A cold sweat broke across his brow. No, damn it.

He wouldn’t think on it. He stared through the darkness, searching for even a sliver of light—a tiny flicker to hold onto, to help keep it at bay.

But there was only darkness. Unending blackness.

Duncan fisted his hands and closed his eyes, trying to stave it off, trying to breathe deep and keep his head clear.

He needed to stay calm. It was but a prank, plotted in ignorance. Nothing more.

Clenching his jaw, Duncan repeated the phrase in his mind. He willed himself to break free of the memories, to keep steady. To find a way out. But when he opened his eyes, the familiar, sickening jolt sliced through him. God, he couldn’t stop it. It kept coming.

Relentless.

Cold sweat spread to the rest of his body. The old weakness began to invade his chest, his arms, his legs, making him sink to his knees on the dirt floor, while the tide of images swept over him with the ferocity of a charging army.

A tiny room. Dark. Cold.

He was there again. Trapped and helpless…

Yanked to his feet, his muscles screaming, he was dragged down the hall.

His legs scraped across ragged edges of stone, the shackles biting deep into his flesh.

They threw him to the floor of the chamber.

One of the bastards grabbed his right arm, stretching it out, so that his hand lay, palm down, on the bloodstained, wooden slab at the room’s center.

Fear prickled through him. Nausea and impotent rage filled his throat, choking him. He saw the rock lifted high above his hand, tried to jerk away, strained to pull his arm back, even as the nerves of his fingers thrummed in preparation for the impact. But they held him fast. Laughing, taunting.

The rock cracked down, and he started to scream…

“Nay!” The primal roar burst from Duncan’s lungs as he bolted upright.

He slammed his body into the heavy wood of the storage door, pummeling the beams with his fists.

He heard a crack…and then the solid mass began to give way.

Splinters of light shot into the chamber, blinding him as the door burst open with a crunch of wood and metal.

He pushed through, falling to the ground and gasping for air.

His heart beat thick in his ears, and he gradually became aware of the harsh sound of his own breathing. Dirt. He tasted dirt in his mouth, gritty and cold. But the crushing weakness began to ebb. He pushed himself up on his hands, raising his head slowly. And he saw them. They were all staring.

The MacKenzie, his men, and Kinnon stood across the courtyard, stock still, their expressions aghast. Kinnon moved first, running to Duncan to grasp his arm and pull him to his feet.

“What the hell happened?”

“Aileana,” Duncan rasped. His throat felt seared with the air he sucked into his lungs. “I’ll wring her neck with my bare hands.” He shoved past Kinnon. “Where is she?”

“Aileana?” Kinnon’s brow furrowed.

“She locked me in there with no light…” Duncan’s voice grated quieter now, as he swallowed the nausea that had threatened to overwhelm him. “And I couldn’t stop it from coming. Everything all over again.”

Kinnon went pale. “Christ Almighty…”

Without another word, Duncan strode toward the castle, clenching his fists.

The rage he’d experienced with the MacKenzie seemed nothing compared to the feelings raking his heart at this moment.

He stopped at the well, pulling up the bucket and plunging his gloved hands into the water.

He cupped his palms, bringing them up to sluice the icy liquid over his face.

Standing straight again, he breathed deep.

A hard, cold calm filled him, driving out the panic, the terror…

the sense of helplessness that had consumed him.

She’d gone too far this time. There’d be no more looking the other way.

No more humoring her little revolts against him.

Aileana MacDonell had declared open war against him this day, and he’d be damned if he’d let her retreat from the battlefield unscathed.

He found her in the great hall, bent over the table, washing a single spot as if she wanted to wear a hole in the wood.

His anger pitched higher. How dare she appear so innocent?

He tensed as he strode to her, eager to escalate their personal fray.

And he knew just the way— a strategic attack that would shred all of her defenses as completely as she’d just tried to destroy his.

Aileana glanced up from her work and felt a stab of pure fear.

Duncan charged through the entryway, looking as he had that day on the field outside Dulhmeny—face pale, eyes icy gray, his expression dark and intense, like one of God’s fallen angels.

But she hardly had time to gasp before he was upon her, clamping her arm in his wet, leather-covered grip.

Wordlessly, he began to drag her to the stairway.

“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded too loud in the unnatural quiet of the hall.

She hazarded a glance at his profile, then wished she hadn’t. He stared straight ahead as he pulled her along, not answering. Ripples of fear multiplied in her belly, spreading outward, until they threatened to immobilize her. She began to struggle against him in earnest.

“Where are you taking me?” She braced her heels against the stone floor and twisted in his grasp. But he was resolute. Strong.

Though she kicked and fought, Duncan continued to take her up the stairway.

When he reached the landing, she slammed her foot into his shin with a satisfying thud.

He stopped, then. But other than the cessation of movement, he showed no reaction.

Aileana swallowed and held her breath. As his gaze met hers, her heart stilled, and she cringed.

He seemed to stare right through her as if she didn’t exist, like she was no more than a speck of dust to be crushed under his heel.

“If you do not come with me peacefully, I swear I’ll tie and gag you to get you there if I have to.” His voice echoed low and dangerous.

“I’ll ask you again, where are you taking me?”

“I’m securing you in my chamber.”

Her head felt too light, and a hollow space opened in her belly. “You plan to lock me in?”

Though he didn’t answer, his eyes spoke for him, unyielding and furious.

Trying to still her rising panic, Aileana clenched her fingers convulsively in her skirts. “When will I be released?”

“You won’t.”

Her breath escaped in a rush, followed by a renewed swell of sickness. She despised the pleading in her voice, but she couldn’t stop it any more than she could stop herself from taking in air. “You cannot hold me there. Please…I—I cannot bear to be confined to a chamber again.”

“You’ve left me no other choice.”

Her sob broke off into a shriek as Duncan picked her up by the waist and slung her over his shoulder. All too soon she was set on her feet again inside his room. When she tried to push around him and run out, Duncan stood in her way, his chest as unmovable a wall as any in Eilean Donan.

“Do not try to escape. This lock is strong, and it’s a long way down to the loch from the windows.

” He stepped back, preparing to leave. “I’ll be staying here of the evenings as usual.

Attempt any more trickery, and I’ll have you moved to the dungeons below.

” His steel eyes darkened. “Trust me when I say that you do not want to be put there.”

Aileana’s lips trembled. Although she hated herself for it, she reached out, hoping to stop him, to make him pause at least. “Please,” she said. “I’m begging you, Duncan. Don’t do this. I—”

“I’ll be returning after sundown,” he broke in, cutting short her plea. She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears. Then, as if in a dream, she saw him avert his gaze. He turned his back to her and drew the door shut behind him.

And as he clicked the lock home, it was with the precision of an expert swordsman striking for his mark…landing it directly into the center of her heart.