Page 14 of The Thief (Castle Blackstone #3)

Kate, jolted out of a sound sleep, screamed as someone grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her head backward. A man tried to slap a hand over her mouth while another, one with fetid breath and broken teeth, grabbed and twisted one arm behind her, then tried to grasp her other. Pain suddenly burst to life behind her eyes. Blood...she saw only blood. Dear God!

She fell backward, praying that at least one of the men behind her would topple with her and crack his head on a rock. Hearing a grunt and feeling her arm come free she tried to scramble to her feet, only to be yanked backward again by the hair. She screamed and lashed out behind her, her fingers curled like claws.

The man holding her hair shouted, “Damn it, Kieth, leave the destrier be and give me a hand with this friggin’ bitch!”

Kate’s gaze flew to the right where she had left Snowball tied to a low-hanging pine bough. Totally consumed with her own terror, fighting the men who had awoken her, Kate hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the horse.

She heard panicked whinnies and jerked to the right in hopes of seeing him. Her hair was pulled again and she screeched in pain, sure she had just lost a fistful. She toppled sideways and caught sight of Snowball just before a vicious blow landed on her cheek and she saw stars.

Snowball, spinning on his hind legs and pawing the air, was also fighting for his life. A rangy man in rags held on to his reins while another tried to grab on to a stirrup.

Oh please, please don’t let them hurt him!

Suddenly a tremendous weight pinned her legs and painful fingers dug into her thighs. Searing cold shot up her spine as her hips were pressed into the unyielding stones beneath her. The stoutest man—-the one who had been trying to catch Snowball’s stirrup--was now straddling her and pushing at her skirts. Having no success he hauled out a knife and started slashing at the bodice of her gown.

“ Nay! ” She clawed at the stones with her free hand. Clutching one, she swung. Blood spattered onto her face and the man collapsed onto her chest, knocking the wind out of her.

I can’t breathe. Oh, Merciful Virgin, I can not breathe.

As suddenly as the weight had landed, it lifted, the pain at the back of her head subsided, and her arms were free.

Not daring to look, heart broken that she should come to so inauspicious an end so far from home at the hands of ruffians, to never be able to write to Ian and tell him how sorry she truly was, she curled into a ball and sobbed in earnest.

Hearing a deep, bone-rattling scream then cries of pure anguish, grunts and more screams, Kate covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear to see what other horrors awaited her.

And what would become of poor Snowball? It didn’t bear contemplation and she sobbed all the harder.

Suddenly she was being lifted. Oh God, now what ? She could do naught but scream.

“Shhhhh, Katie, shhhhh, ‘tis I.”

Strong, warm arms wrapped around her and began rocking her.

“Ian? Ian! ” Her arms flew above his shoulders and she buried her face against his neck. She continued to sob, this time from pure joy. Oh, he was alive and well, and he smelled so good despite the sweat. He was as strong and beautiful as ever, and she was alive. She could apologize for coshing him on the head, and tell him—

His pulse vibrated at a horrendous rate against her lips as he asked, “Did he...did the bastard rape ye, lass?”

Kate shook her head, her face still buried against his neck. “Nay, you came...in time. ”

And she would love him forever if only for that. Yes. Had he not come when he had, she and Snowball would have-

“Snowball!” She bolted upright. Not seeing him by the tree, she struggled to stand. “Where is he?”

Ian brushed the hair from her face with a gentle hand. “They’re all dead.”

Kate looked behind her then. Blood. Severed limbs. Bodies lay everywhere. Seeing the carnage Ian MacKay had wrought in rescuing her, she suddenly grew light-headed.

Bile rising, gagging, she covered her mouth and took hold of his arm to keep from falling. The scene--far worse than she had envisioned—-wasn’t, she reminded herself, Ian’s fault. Had she never come he never would have done this. Would never have even contemplated doing this. It’s not his fault, but my God, he had proved himself dangerously lethal all the same.

She took a deep breath. “Snowball. We have to find Snowball.”

He frowned at her. “Who?”

Kate flapped her hands and frantically scoured the shoreline for even a splash of white. “The beautiful destrier I stole--borrowed from Stirling.”

Ian gripped her arms and held her out at arm’s length. “Snowball.” He made a disgusting sound at the back of his throat, then let loose an ear-piercing whistle that nearly startled her out of her skin.

Oh oh. Ian’s face had turned ruddy and something in his eyes told her not to utter another word if she wanted to see sunrise.

Within a heartbeat bushes began thrashing, wood was snapping and the ground began vibrating beneath her feet.

On the next beat Snowball, snorting, peered over Ian’s shoulder at her.

“Oh.”

Ian’s gaze shifted to her rent bodice and exposed breasts. “Katherine Margarita Templeton, meet Thor .”

I’m in soooo much trouble.

She clutched at the fabric trying to cover herself. “Had I know he was yours, I never--”

“Silence!”

Without saying another word, he picked up her cape, gave it a shake and threw it at her. He then picked up his bloodied broadsword and hauled her by the arm to the water’s edge where he rinsed the sword off. She flinched when--with the flip of one powerful hand--his claymore sang as it swung through the air and slid into the sheath at his back. He then hauled her, tripping and stumbling, through the woods. A moment later she was tossed onto a black horse—-the one that had tried to kick her, if she wasn’t mistaken--and tied, wrists together, to its saddle.

She twisted her wrists. “Is this really necessary?”

Ian growled deep in his throat to keep from shouting himself hoarse. The wench wouldn’t get away from him again. Teeth clenched, he untied Albany’s mount and led it toward Thor, who patiently awaited him.

He had never been as frightened as he had when he stole up to the loch’s edge with claymore in hand and found Kate flat on her back, keening for all she was worth with that fat pig lying on top of her. Blind rage had sent blood pounding into already-tense muscles, and he saw naught but red. What happened after that he couldn’t say. All he knew when the fury ebbed--when Kate was finally in his arms--was that which his eyes saw. Four dismembered men lay at his feet.

He shook, dispelling the image and reached inside his saddle bag for Thor’s lead rope. He growled seeing Kate’s frippery, then pushed the garments aside, found the rope and tied it to the black gelding’s bridle.

Without a backward glance at Kate, he vaulted into his saddle and turned Thor due north.

He had missed yesterday’s General Council meeting but he’d be damned if he’d miss today’s. Snowball. He shuddered, dropped his reins, and nudged his heels into Thor’s sides. When the destrier immediately responded, moved into a collected trot, he relaxed a wee bit. Had Kate ruined his mount, he’d have skinned her on the spot. His very life depended on Thor responding without direction from the bit should his hands be occupied in battle.

Hearing Kate groan Ian glanced over his shoulder and found Albany’s mount frog-hopping like a fool and throwing his head. Examining Kate’s bruised face, picturing her bruised thighs, his gut inexplicably twisted, and he picked up the reins. Thor immediately slowed to a sedate walk.

As angry as he had been when he heard her speak English-- had realized she’d been playing him for a fool, as furious as he’d been when he found Thor gone, none of that could compare to his blind fury finding her fighting for her life beneath that animal.

And why that should have driven him insane, caused him to blindly slaughter, didn’t bear pondering since he had yet to come up with the perfect torture for Katherine Margarita Templeton, spy extraordinaire.

Ack!

A mile up the road while slogging through bog, Kate murmured, “How is your head?”

He gritted his teeth and hunched his shoulders. She’d dropped all pretenses and spoken in English. And his head still ached and would bear a scar, its first, thanks to her.

A mile later while climbing through dense forest Kate murmured, “I’m sorry for causing you such trouble. I truly am.” He again ignored her. She didn’t know the meaning of sorry but soon would.

Four miles farther, deep in a field of grain, she murmured, “I’m thankful naught untoward befell Snow—-Thor because of me.”

That he could believe. She had appeared most distressed thinking Thor injured or gone. Too bad she hadn’t the same concern for him when she smashed that bloody chamber pot over his head.

After a mile more she asked, “I don’t mean to bother you, but do you have any food?”

He turned in the saddle and glared at her.

Blanching, she tucked in her chin and mumbled, “Forget I asked.”

Now how the hell could he do that? He hadn’t eaten either in almost a day thanks to her. Augh!

In another three hours they’d make Airdrie. While he dined on whatever the publican had to offer, he’d see to it that she had bread and water. Enough to keep her alive until he could come up with a truly fiendish torture for her.

At a bubbling burn an hour later, while the horses drank, he, deep in thought, stared blindly at the water splashing and rolling over the moss and lichen-covered boulders. He’d heard tell they dunked witches on a long pole. Nay, she’d scream then likely drown, and then he’d be no wiser as to why she’d come to Scotland than he was now.

But water did have appeal. ‘Twas not sharp nor hard. Surely he could use it in some fashion to drive her insane without causing her pain. Have her begging for mercy, willing to answer any question. Hmmm.

Hours later, riding along a shale cliff, Kate shouted, “I need stop.”

Humph. “Nay.” They had to make Airdrie within the next hour if he was to make the afternoon session. Albany was an effective administrator but not a warrior and tempers were likely at a boiling point in Stirling.

“But I need...privacy.”

He rolled his shoulders. “I said nay.”

Kate huffed, “Fine,” and after a moment added, “I’ll simply...piss in your saddle, then.”

“Ack!” He pulled up short and spun to face her. Teeth bared, he growled, “Dinna ye dare.” Albany would have his hide.

She glared back. “If you’ll not stop, then what choice have I?” She turned away, muttering under her breath.

“ Grrrrrrr. ” Aggravated that she had a point, he looked about. A narrow, isolated glen lay beyond the deep, rock-strew glack to their immediate right, but there was also scrubby pine and cedar near the cliff edge that could offer her bit of privacy. Better, there was nowhere for her to run. Perfect.

He dismounted and stomped back to her. “If ye want down ye need to answer a question first. Were ye ever married to Robbie Campbell?”

Her gaze downcast, Kate shook her head.

Thank God for that. He reached for the rope and his fingers brushed hers. Feeling cold metal on the middle finger of her left hand he examined her ring for the first time. Dented and scratched, the thin gold band appeared older than she. “Then whose ring do ye wear?”

Blushing, she looked away and shook her head.

“ Humph . Mayhap sitting in chains in a dark, rat-infested donjon for days on end might make ye a bit more talkative.”

She looked at him then, her magnificent sky blue eyes huge in a now stark-white countenance. Good. There were no rats at Stirling, hadn’t been since they’d introduced the wee wiry terriers after they discovered the rats were eating all the cats they’d brought in. But she needn’t ken that.

He started untying the ropes. “If ye so much as breathe wrong, ye’ll wish ye had died at the hands of those swine back there.”

She nodded, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“As long as we ken each other.” When the rope fell away, he grabbed her waist. She placed her hands on his shoulders and slid toward him. Catching her, her breasts pressing against him, looking her in the eyes, something tightened in his chest.

Damn you for making me feel this, this ...Ack!

He let go, and she dropped the four wee inches that separated them in height and staggered back. It took all his willpower not to reach out and steady her.

Jaws clenched, he pointed to the dense clump of brush and trees that hung perilously close to the fifty-foot drop to his right. “There, and be quick about it.”

Muttering, “Thank you,” she slowly hobbled away.

The moment Kate squatted behind the dense brush, she burst into tears. The donjon. Rats! Good God, she had to get away and quickly. But how? A cliff sat at her back and he stood between her and the horses. Oh, she never should have come, visions or not. Good intentions or not. Rats.

A sob escaped her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t let him know how frighten he’d made her.

A high-pitched call caused her to look up. The kite soaring above her cried out again as a gust blew open her cape and slapped at her exposed chest, making her skin prickle. Oh, that I too could fly from here. Sitting hip deep in brittle grass, she looked over the ravine’s edge. Mayhap she should just throw herself over the edge and be done—-

I could without actually doing it! Why not? Hope bloomed in Kate’s chest as she tore off her cape and pulled her gown over her head. Shivering, she stuffed her gown with the weeds at hand and then pulled off her hose and stuffed them with grass. Using the lace from her hair she hurriedly attached her stockings to the bottom of her gown. Cursing the loss of her headdress, which would have added a bit more reality, she tucked it into the gown’s bodice opening then kicked off her slippers and shoved them onto her hose, what she hoped would appear to be her legs from a distance.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Ian yelled, “Make haste, woman! We have not all day.”

Her heart thumping near to breaking her ribs, Kate managed to squeak, “Aye, just a moment!”

After tying her cloak over her gown, she sat and, using her feet, shoved her headless straw self over the edge. If it all fell apart upon landing, then so be it. At least she tried. Not able to stand the suspense any longer she peered over the edge. Ha!

The dummy had landed chest-down between two boulders, appearing at a distance as if her head had dropped down between them.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Hope for escape blooming, she picked up the largest rock she could reach without showing herself and scrambled backward into a prickly thicket. Murmuring a quick prayer, she heaved the rock over the edge and screeched, letting her voice fade as if falling away.

Ducking down, she heard Ian shout, “Oh shit!” and then his running footsteps. He barely came to a stop at the edge of the ravine before dropping onto his belly and scrambling down over the edge, cursing himself and every living thing on the earth as he went.

Hearing the way he called her name, hearing him keen, “Please God, don’t let her be dead,” Kate’s eyes filled with tears. Oh, he did care for her...in some fashion. Not so much or in the manner she cared for him, but at least now she knew.

But still she had to go. Muttering, “Forgive me,” she rose and raced around the copse to where Ian had left the horses unattended. She reached for the black’s reins, only to have him shy and prance away.

“ Frig it .” Tears streaming down her face she reached for Thor’s reins. God, she sounded like one of the Tower guards.

Her possessions, the cloth pony and Ian’s gift were all still in Thor’s saddle bags anyway, and she had no time to transfer them, much less dress or chase down the black and coax him into standing still. She had no idea how quickly Ian would climb back out of the ravine, and she certainly did not want to be around when he did.

Finally mounted, she glanced at the ridge and whispered, “I’ll return Thor to you, I promise.”

She then turned Thor’s head south and kicked for all she was worth.