Page 51

D uncan awoke, gasping, and snapped up to a sitting position.

His arms lashed out as he tried to fight his way from the fetid, black hole that had been swallowing him again.

It had been the same as always. Darkness.

Pain. The hell of the chamber they’d kept him in.

Only this time there’d been something different.

This time others besides the guards tormented and tortured him…

Colin . Morgana .

As their names uncoiled into his conscious memory, the remaining fog of his nightmare lifted.

He became aware of his surroundings and of the throbbing ache in his head.

Rubbing his sore jaw, Duncan looked around the dim contours of the room that confined him.

If nothing else, it was cold and damp. No wonder, then, that he’d had the dream…

He blinked, and as he lifted his hand to rub his forehead, he brushed against something warm and soft.

Time seemed to stand still, and all movement ceased.

His chest ached with tightness, as his gaze focused on what lay next to him on the pallet.

She was stretched out in graceful repose, her fiery hair accentuating the pallor of her skin with unearthly contrast.

Sweet Jesus, Aileana…

Frantic, Duncan twisted to kneel beside her, a groan of agony welling in his throat.

Just like Mairi . Holy God, she lay just as Mairi had in the moments before she’d died in his arms, so still and silent, with her life’s warmth seeping from her like blood.

His vision clouded and his hands trembled as he reached toward Aileana, the past and present colliding horribly in his mind.

Tensing, he tried to prepare himself to stroke the hair from her brow, to see if a mottled bruise marked her tenuous hold on life as it had with Mairi. God, no…

Pleas that seemed locked in Duncan’s own mind spilled from his lips in a litany of anguish and grief. He couldn’t bear losing Aileana. Not now. And especially not like this.

“I see you’ve found my surprise, Duncan,” a voice purred from behind him.

Half turning, he tensed as she continued, “I must confess that this little scene is almost as entertaining as the first time I arranged it for you. My sister’s imminent recovery, however, is an unfortunate change that mars my enjoyment a bit.

” Morgana stepped from the shadows of the corner, a smile flirting over her lips.

Duncan spared her less than an instant before leaning over to cup his hand over Aileana’s neck.

The witch had said she’d recover, but he wanted proof.

Hope and a kind of harrowing joy jolted to the ends of his fingers as they encountered the warmth of Aileana’s skin, the steady beat of her pulse against his palm.

No bruise hid beneath the sweep of hair at her brow. But she didn’t wake.

“Damn you, Morgana. What have you done to her?”

Morgana’s laughter tinkled through the chamber, piercing him. “Don’t fret so, Duncan. It is nothing that will harm her. Only a sleeping potion to keep her quiet until your arrival. She’ll come to herself soon.”

Rage caught up to the shock that had stilled Duncan earlier.

It coursed from a deep well inside of him, slashing through his body like a cannon shot.

In one fluid motion he lurched to his feet and grasped Morgana by the throat.

“Your lackeys made sure that I never got my hands on you thirteen years ago, Morgana MacDonell, but there’s nothing to stop me from taking my vengeance now. ”

He watched her expression waver. But her eyes spoke the truth, showing him that she had no fear, though his grip was tight enough to prevent her from speaking and to force her toes from the floor.

It was pure physical reflex that made her dig her fingernails into his hand and kick her feet against his shin.

Yet he knew that only a few more seconds of this and she would be senseless from lack of air.

He had to make his decision. Unless he wanted to kill her right here, he’d have to let her go. Anger pulsed through him, making him shake. The need to strangle the life from her was so strong that he felt it in every fiber of his being.

“Release her,” a low voice rumbled from behind him. “Or I’ll run you through.”

Colin. No wonder she’d had no fear.

Stiffening, Duncan calculated the possibility of taking on his brother and Morgana both, with no weapon and while trying to protect Aileana in her senseless state.

It wasn’t promising. With a growl, he shoved Morgana away from him, deciding to bide his time until he could find the chance to finish both of them for good.

Morgana staggered against the wall, gasping for breath, and he turned slowly, coming face-to-face with the razor-sharp edge of his bastard brother’s claymore.

Colin lowered the point, leveling it directly at Duncan’s heart and adding, “A good decision. I would have hated to waste the chance to have you look me in the eye and know who it was that was killing you.”

Duncan arched his brow. “Why? Stabbing me in the back never seemed to trouble you before.”

Colin’s gaze darkened, and his blade sliced into Duncan’s skin with a sting that drew blood. But Morgana stepped up and knocked the sword away, hissing, “You waited long enough to stop him, Colin.”

He shrugged. “I enjoyed seeing your tender reunion after all of these years. But I have to say it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as this is going to be.”

Duncan sensed a tensing in Colin’s arm an instant before his brother pulled back and slammed a fist in his gut.

Too late to stiffen against the blow or deflect its force.

Every scrap of air rushed from his lungs and pain ripped through his belly, making him fall to his knees.

Shaking away the black spots swirling in front of his eyes, he coughed and willed himself to his feet.

Raw anger made him start forward, but the tip of Colin’s claymore dug into him again, forcing him to pull up short.

“You’ll be moving when I tell you to, little brother.”

“Issuing commands does not ensure obedience, Colin,” Duncan answered hoarsely. “A lesson you’ve clearly yet to learn.”

“Enough of this bickering,” Morgana snapped, push ing Colin aside. “I didn’t arrange for your being here only as entertainment, Duncan. I brought you here to give you a choice.”

“A choice?” He had trouble focusing on what she was saying; he kept glancing in worry to Aileana. He had to come up with a plan to overpower Colin and Morgana so that he could get her out of here and to safety.

“I suggest that you listen carefully.”

Something in Morgana’s voice pierced him. He met her gaze, struck anew by the emptiness in her eyes, and wondered how he could ever have allowed himself to think that Aileana resembled her in any way.

“It seems that you’ve been stupid enough to fall in love with my sister.”

Morgana offered her tight comment almost in the form of a question, but Duncan sensed the underlying bitterness in it and remained silent, unwilling to give her any more ammunition to use against him or Aileana.

“Your refusal to answer will not save either one of you,” Morgana continued, as if she’d read his thoughts. “Aileana admitted to your betrothal—and of course the presence of your ring confirmed it.” Morgana’s mouth twitched then and she wrapped a length of her own red-gold hair round her finger.

“I was going to finish you both once I got you here. I’d already decided, even, on how it should happen.

” She glanced to the cot. “But I kept bumping into the realization that killing my own sister might be less difficult, if someone else bore the true responsibility for her death.” She smiled. “And that’s where you come in.”

Duncan kept his gaze neutral, not asking her to explain. He knew he’d hear her plans soon enough, and the less he revealed about the depth of his fear for Aileana, the safer he might be able to keep her.

Morgana tipped her head to one side, fingering the tendril of her hair once more. “Aren’t you curious about your role in killing or saving the woman you love?”

A sick feeling rolled in his gut, but he kept quiet, refusing to give in to her manipulations.

Clenching his fists, he mentally calculated the distance between himself and Colin.

His brother stood a few paces away, partly blocking his view of Aileana.

If he could reach him in time to kick the claymore from his grip, he might find means to disable him before Morgana could…

“I understand that your stay in London Tower was a memorable one, Duncan. My spies tell me your recollections of the place are so vivid that even little reminders bring back a sense of…coming home, so to speak?”

Duncan snapped his gaze to her, reading the twisted satisfaction she was feeling as she spun her web of hate and vengeance around him.

At the mention of the Tower, the sickness in his belly intensified, billowing into an ache.

He tightened his jaw, refusing to answer.

Christ. She was enjoying this the way his torturers had relished each new victim brought to their keeping.

“Aye, Duncan. I see that you remember. And that—” She flicked her gaze to his scarred hand, which was exposed he realized suddenly to her view, his gauntlets having been removed while he was unconscious. “That must be a delightful memory in and of itself.”

He felt rooted to the spot as she turned her attention from him to walk with measured steps toward Aileana.

After staring down at her sister for a moment, she fixed her gaze on him again.

“Since you will not ask, I will simply tell you. Your choice is this. You will submit to imprisonment in my dungeon, or Aileana will die right now in front of your eyes. Painfully.”

Her ultimatum ripped through him, shredding his protective cloak of silence. “You’re a murderous bitch, Morgana.”