Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

E dan stirred after another cold and uncomfortable night. Once more, he had pressed his body against Caitlyn's to keep her warm, though the necessary heat was not the only thing he had felt as he had lain beside her.

During the day, he had been consumed with finding a way to escape. Once settled for the night, though, his mind had wandered to the strength of the woman who lay beside him. She had denied his observation of her courage earlier, but Edan knew bravery when he saw it.

She had been terrified when MacTavish had leered over her, abusing her ears with his disgusting desires, but not then or since had she broken down or become inconsolable, which was pretty impressive given their circumstances. Pressing his face into her hair, he had fallen asleep, shrouded in the soft scent of rosemary.

The guard arriving sometime later woke Caitlyn, and the same routine as yesterday occurred. They were taken to the privy, and afterwards, given porridge to share. Shortly afterward, the guard had returned, had taken the bowl, and secured Caitlyn's hand. When the door slammed closed, they were left alone again.

"What is he waiting fer?" Caitlyn asked.

"Who?" Edan frowned.

"Laird MacTavish." By her tone, she was worried. "He has us captured here, but what is he waiting fer?"

Caitlyn had a point. This was now their second day of imprisonment. The man had threatened to do them great harm, and yet, they hadn't seen him since. But his lack of presence did not give Edan any hope. The man had a reputation for being evil and callous. He was simply biding his time.

Ye cannae say that tae her.

Of course, he couldn't.

Instead, Edan tried to sound as convincing as he could. "Maybe he's waiting tae hear back from yer faither. If he's sent word that he has us, and he wants yer faither tae pay, nae doubt he'll have given him a time tae dae it."

"Dae ye think he'll pay?" Caitlyn sounded uncertain,

"Och, o' course he will," Edan replied lightly. "I've told ye ‘afore, Caitlyn. He loves ye."

While she expressed a small hint of relief, Edan felt nothing of the sort. Perhaps Caitlyn had forgotten MacTavish's plan. Or maybe, denying the fact that the laird had every intention of killing them rather than returning them, was the only way she could cope. Either way, Edan decided not to remind her.

It was not long after that, that the door to the room burst open. And as though they had conjured him up by talking about him, Laird Brendan MacTavish strode in.

Edan immediately stiffened as a mixture of anger and hatred flooded through his body.

The laird turned to the guards who stood behind him. "Get him up."

Seconds later, Edan found himself yanked roughly to his feet and being marched from the room.

"Nay!" Caitlyn screamed behind him. "Leave him be."

"Shut up, wench," MacTavish barked back.

Even in the corridor, he could hear that Caitlyn was not going to give up.

"Where are ye taking him?" she shrieked.

Stay quiet, Caitlyn.

He was worried that her persistence, as brave as it might be, would result in a harsh strike. He heard the door slam behind him, and spinning around in panic, Edan released a heavy breath of relief at the sight of MacTavish.

He was snickering. "Did ye think I might be staying behind tae give her a good seeing tae?"

It was like the man was reading his mind. The guards slowed, giving MacTavish a chance to catch up. "Och, dinnae ye worry. I will. When the time's right. I might even let ye watch."

Edan felt sick to his stomach at the delight he heard in the laird's voice.

"Have ye had her yet?" he continued excitedly. "What was she like? Did she taste sweet? Was she nice and tight fer ye?"

"That's enough," Edan barked, feeling even more angry that his hands were tied, and he could not put this man on his back with a hard fist.

MacTavish laughed loud and hard, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting to Edan so much. "I'll bet she is. I'll bet she's as sweet and juicy as a ripe plum. I cannae wait tae taste her."

Not caring that the rope sliced into his thick wrists, Edan yanked at his binding's with all his might, desperate to get his hands free. The guards tightened their grip, trying to control him as he thrashed back and forth.

"Ye should save yer strength, lad," MacTavish growled. "Ye're going tae need it."

The guards shoved him into another room further down the corridor, and suddenly, Edan stopped struggling. His eyes flew wide, and as the rage left his body, terror swiftly rose in its place.

Lined along a bench that stood against one wall were ropes, sticks, knives, and swords. Several chairs were in the room, as well as buckets of water. Tossed over a beam in the roof, was a noosed rope. The other end of the rope was tied to a metal bracket on the wall beside the large fireplace.

"Aye. Nae so feisty now, are we?" the laird sneered. "I have something special planned fer ye, lad. Something I'm going tae enjoy very much."

Edan was dragged over to a chair and, with great force, pushed down onto it. When the guards dragged the noose over his head, the coarse rope scratched at the flesh on his face. As they tightened it around his neck, Laird MacTavish paced back and forth, expressing his thoughts.

"I was only telling my advisor the other day, how fortune has shone down on me. My plan would've worked with the MacMillan girl alone. But now, I have ye. In some ways, I see it as poetic justice." MacTavish threw a smirk at Edan. "Ye're one o' the reasons MacMillan got so cocky, after all. If ye hadnae agreed tae be his ally, I would have crushed the man long ago."

"Ye're gone in the head," Edan growled. While the fear of what was about to occur sat firmly in his gut, he wasn't going to let the laird see it. "Conor MacMillan arranged this union years ago with me faither."

"MacMillan only made that arrangement after refusing me." MacTavish spat. "Or didnae ye ken that? O' course ye wouldnae. Sure, ye were still a boy back then."

Edan growled. "Then he was as wise then as he is now. He made the smart choice. Besides, I ken Conor MacMillan very well, and he wouldn't join with ye if ye were the last clan in Scotland."

MacTavish shrugged indifferently. "Perhaps ye're right. But his stubbornness will be his undoing. Had he agreed tae me terms, I would have let him and his family live. Now, Clan MacMillan and the land it occupies will be mine. But first, I must destroy the man."

"Laird MacMillan will fight back," Edan said confidently. "He willnae be overtaken so easily."

"Even with his daughter slaughtered?" MacTavish snarled. "And what o' ye? He has been relying on yer support tae strengthen his forces. How will he battle when yer death results in nae union between yer clans?"

Edan's wedding with Effie had not yet occurred, and thus, the union between the MacLachlan and MacMillan clans had not been finalized. With him out of the way, the lairdship would be forced onto Darach's shoulders, but even so, there would be no time for any agreement before MacTavish attacked. By his own admittance, his advance would be imminent. Edan breathed heavily, trying to control his rage. For all his evil tactics, Laird MacTavish was a clever man.

"Nay, Laird MacLachlan," MacTavish continued in Edan's silence. "I believe ye'll discover that the death o' his youngest daughter will break the man. Learning o' yer demise will destroy him so much, he'll nae have the heart tae fight. It will be an easy win."

The laird was clearly very pleased with himself, for the smugness was written all over his face. "Now, tae make certain o' our victory, and tae ensure I sustain as little loss o' me men as possible, I want tae ken the chinks in MacMillan's armor. I want tae ken all the weaknesses in his army, and ye're going tae tell me."

"Go tae hell," Edan spat.

MacTavish chuckled and walked across the room. Bending at the waist, he curled back his top lip, narrowed his eyes and glared at Edan, his face not an inch away. "Och, I've been there, lad. I've been there many times," he said, his low, gravelly voice sounding more dangerous than ever. "And believe me when I tell ye, by the time I'm finished with ye, ye'll be begging tae go there too."

Before Edan had a chance to notice the laird retracting his arm, air propelled from his body as his huge fist collided with Edan's stomach.

MacTavish stood and paced around Edan's chair like a lion stalking his prey. "Tell me what I want tae ken, and this will go much easier fer ye."

"Then it looks like I'm taking the harder route," Edan growled.

"Very well."

A second later, the noose tightened around Edan's neck, and he found himself yanked into the air. Gasping for breath, his legs kicked beneath him, the rope cut into his throat, and he could feel his eyes bulging from his head. He hung there for likely less than a minute, and then felt himself falling at great speed. The chair had been moved, and his knees buckled as his feet hit the stone floor. Agonizing pain shot into his knees as his full weight landed on them.

Someone tugged at the noose to loosen it, and Edan opened his mouth, gulping in great gasps of air, while at the same time, coughing and choking. He was still coughing and spluttering when he felt the guards lift him to his feet.

"Tell me what I want tae ken," MacTavish said.

Edan swayed a little, trying to balance himself, but shook his head. A right hook caught him across the jaw, sending him sprawling across the floor. The coppery taste of blood seeped into his mouth, and he spat it out. Once more, the guards lifted him to his feet.

"I'm only getting started, lad. Are ye sure ye want tae put yersel' through this?"

Edan nodded. He would die there if that's what needed to happen, but there was no way he was going to betray the MacMillan clan. How could he, knowing what MacTavish planned? He'd be better off dead, rather than know he had caused any part of the MacMillan's downfall.

"Very well, lad. But dinnae say I didnae warn ye."

The punches and blows continued, but Edan, even in pain and agony, remained tight-lipped. MacTavish was determined he could break him, but there were things about him that the laird did not know. Like the fact that this was not the first time he had been tortured.

James MacLachlan, Edan's cousin, was a weak man of little character. He also had a terrible gambling habit. Worse still, he was a dreadful card player. He had left Scotland many years before to seek fame and fortune in the warmer and more arid climates of Spain. Every so often, Edan would receive a letter from him. It was usually a begging letter disguised as correspondence, but Edan had never sent him money.

A while back, Edan had received yet another letter from his cousin, or so he thought. However, it had not been from him. The letter described how James had lost a rather hefty amount of coin to a huge and wealthy family in Castilla. James had been kidnapped, and would not be released until his debt was paid.

For good measure, and to state the seriousness of their conviction, they had sent one of James's fingers with the note. The letter promised more of James's body parts if they did not receive their money. A weak man, James might be, but he was still family.

Knowing he was being held against his will, Edan had organized a small group of his men and rushed to Spain to save him. He had no intention of paying what was owed, and instead, managed to free his cousin from their clutches. The family, however, did not give up so easily, and in a turn of events, captured Edan. They spent two weeks torturing him, before James and Edan's men had been able to gather enough support to charge the house and free Edan from the hell he had endured.

MacTavish used similar tactics; Edan was punched, whipped, kicked, struck, cut, and nearly drowned him, along with the occasional hanging. It was relentless. MacTavish had been at him for several hours when, covered in Edan's blood, he staggered back breathlessly. He had given him his all, but Edan, as weak as he now felt, had not broken.

His left eye had swollen so much, it had closed over completely. Coppery blood was all he could taste in his mouth. His throat was dried and ragged from the systematic choking, and though he was injured in other places over his body, he was nearly too exhausted to feel it.

"Tell me what I want tae ken, ye bastard!" MacTavish panted.

Edan could barely see or hold his head up. He had been knocked unconscious too many times to count. Nor could he stand. Currently, he sat slumped in a chair, the noose still hanging around his neck, wondering when the world would go black again.

"Me laird," a calm voice Edan didn't recognize, seeped into the room. "I dinnae think ye're going tae get any sense out o' him now."

MacTavish muttered a reply that Edan could not hear, and then he said. "Get him out of here."

If Edan had been capable of feeling anything, a sensation of relief might have washed over him. But he was too exhausted to even feel that. He winced as the guards grabbed at him with little care, dragging him off the chair with great effort because he could barely support his own weight.

Desperately trying to put one foot in front of the other, he stumbled ahead, swaying from one side to the other while his head lolled forward on his chest. As they reached the door, MacTavish stopped in front of them, halting them in their tracks.

"Dinnae think this is the end, lad," he growled. "Today was just the beginning. I will break ye. I will wear ye down until ye tell me what it is I need tae ken. Only then, will I let ye die."

Even if Edan had a reply, he could barely speak to give it. Nor did he have the capability to acknowledge what the laird had said. He was in too much pain, too tired.

MacTavish remained standing in the way, waiting for Edan to speak. When he realized Edan could give him nothing more, the laird finally stood to the side. "Get him out o' me sight," he spat.

The walk down the corridor and back to the room seemed to take forever. The guards groaned and huffed, struggling to carry his weight as Edan's feet dragged across the floor, unable to support himself.

"Get the door," one of them grunted when they finally reached the end.

Edan heard the bolt slide across, and then the door was kicked open. The sound that followed pierced him to the very bone, for upon seeing him, Caitlyn screamed in despair.

"Oh, me god! What have ye done tae him? Ye bastards. What have ye done tae him? Oh, me god."

While he could not see her, he knew she was sobbing through her words as she wrenched them from her body. He could imagine what he looked like, he just didn't particularly care. What bothered him, even through the pain and exhaustion, was the fact that she was suffering such anguish. Her pain was palpable, and he was helpless to comfort her. He had tried, since their capture, to reassure her that things would be all right, but he could not do it this time.

He felt himself being lowered to the ground. At least the guards did not throw him, which was a surprise. Then Caitlyn was screeching at them again.

"Bring me some water. Bring me some water right now. Are ye animals? Dae as I tell ye."

One of the guards murmured something back, but Edan didn't hear it. The door closed, and a second later, Caitlyn was beside him on the floor. With her hands bound, she struggled to place his head onto her lap. But Edan knew what she was trying to do, and with the last bit of strength he had, he lifted his head and dropped it onto her legs.

The door opened again, but at this point, Edan was slipping. The voices seemed distant, as though his whole body was floating above and away from them.

"Ye think I'm going tae escape and leave him like this? He cannae walk. Untie me hands this minute."

Inside, he smiled weakly at Caitlyn's feistiness, but not for long, as he was just too tired. MacTavish had tried to break him, and now he needed to rest. No number of strikes or blows or attacks to his body would make Edan betray the MacMillan Clan. He had held fast, and he would continue to do so. As long as it was his body that took the pummeling, he could handle that.

There was only one way MacTavish could get Edan to talk. One way that would convince him to tell every single thing the laird wanted to know. He would spill his guts and more, if he had to. That way was right there, staring MacTavish in the face. Edan could only hope the man didn't figure it out before he and Caitlyn managed to get out of there.