Chapter Seventeen

"Anna's sister? Do you mean the blind lass?" Colin asked.

"Aye, if 'tis her." Neacal squinted into the distance at the well-armed soldiers approaching. Finally, he saw the female, resting facedown across the lap of one of the men on horseback, her hands and feet bound. He did not know what Lady Kristina looked like. He saw a bit of long blond hair, the same color as Anna's, escaping her arisaid . That didn't mean 'twas Anna's sister, but still, he felt gored.

Had to be her. Why would they bring anyone else?

The approaching forces fanned out. The archers took position and nocked their arrows.

Neacal gave the command for his own archers on the wall-walk to follow suit.

A large, ginger-haired man dragged the woman off the horse and she screamed again.

"Who is the lady?" Neacal yelled.

"I'm sure you must have guessed!" a man with shoulder-length black hair returned, a grin on his face. "Send my wife out to me and Lady Kristina will not be harmed."

Someone scrambled between Neacal and Colin.

He glanced around to find Anna, her face ashen.

"Kristina?" she yelled, her panicked breath coming hard and fast.

"Anna, is it really you?" her sister called.

"Aye. Release her at once, you blackguard!" Anna demanded, her voice hard with fury.

Blackburn laughed. "Lady Kristina wanted to travel with us to get you, my sweet. She misses her sister."

"Oh dear God," Anna whispered, tears in her eyes. "I'll have to go with him. I won't have a choice."

"Nay," Neacal growled. He would die before he'd give her up now.

"Blackburn will kill her, don't you see? He cares naught for her. He already blinded her and cut her face."

"We'll come out!" Neacal called out to the enemies. "Let's go," he murmured to Anna and Colin.

They followed him down the narrow winding steps inside the keep to the great hall.

"Damn the man," Anna muttered, wiping angry tears from her eyes. "When Kristina is away from him and safe again, I'll kill him."

"Nay, I'll do it," Neacal said, trying to keep his fury under control so he could think clearly. "And you're not going out to him."

"I have to! He'll kill her." Her anguished eyes pleaded with him.

"And what makes you think he won't beat you to within an inch of your life as punishment for running away and evading him all this time?"

She squeezed her eyes closed, a tear trailing down her face. "Regardless, I can't simply leave Kristina in his clutches."

"You won't have to," Colin said, a calculating look in his eyes.

"Do you have an idea?" Neacal asked.

"Someone disguised as me won't work, if that's what you're thinking," Anna said. "He likely won't even release Kristina. If I go with him, he'll bring her back with us to use as leverage against me for as long as I live."

"Saints!" Neacal said, grinding his teeth. What the hell were they going to do? If Colin had a plan, he wished he would spit it out.

Before he could, another guard rushed into the great hall. "Chief! Sleat and the MacRankins have returned and are coming up behind the MacCromars."

***

Blackburn turned about to face the clan approaching from the rear. Had the MacDonalds somehow split their force and slipped around to their back? The kilted warriors, coming forward at a non-aggressive pace, carried many weapons, but had not yet drawn them.

"Get Kristina on your horse and hold onto her tight," he told Red Holme, then turned to his other soldiers. "Half of you guard the lady and half come with me." He guided his horse across the wet sand again to face the newcomers who wore metal-studded leather armor. "Who are you?" Blackburn demanded, stopping a few feet away.

"Chief MacDonald of Sleat," the burly, bearded leader said in an aggressive tone. "Who are you?"

Upon hearing the name MacDonald, Blackburn's hackles rose. "Stay back or I'll have the lady killed!"

"What lady?" Sleat asked, his eyes searching those behind Blackburn.

"Lady MacCromar's sister."

"MacCromar? Ah, the lady Neacal was helping?"

"Aye. She's my wife and she's being held prisoner in this castle!"

"What do you think, MacRankin?" Sleat asked the man with short brown hair and beard beside him. "Neacal MacDonald has stolen another man's woman."

"Whoreson," MacRankin hissed, sending a murderous glare toward the castle.

"Are you the MacDonald chief, or is Neacal?" Blackburn asked.

"Both. We're distant cousins and lead different branches of the clan, but he is my worst enemy."

"Indeed?" Blackburn had no problem believing that. The situation in his own clan had been similar… when he'd been forced to kill his own cousin to gain what he deserved.

"For a certainty. He and his men killed my son," Sleat said, his nostrils flaring. His sideways glare toward the castle was both anguished and lethal.

This was a man Blackburn wanted fighting beside him, for his rage and need for revenge would drive him to fight harder. "I'm sorry to hear that. Looks like we're on the same side, then."

Sleat nodded. "I plan to lay waste to this castle. If my son can't have it, no one will."

"Two years ago, the bastard turned my betrothed against me, and now she's dead." MacRankin clenched his jaw tight. "Mayhap you can flush him out and I'll kill him."

"As long as he's dead, I don't care who kills him." Blackburn smiled. These men appeared strong and they had a large force of men with them.

MacRankin nodded. "We've been watching the place for days, waiting for the whoreson to leave the castle. When we saw you approaching, we wondered whether you're friend of foe."

"Enemy of my enemy is my ally, I say," Blackburn said. "And we all want the same thing—Neacal MacDonald dead. He killed over a dozen of my men days ago."

MacRankin snorted. "Singlehandedly?"

"At first I doubted it. I figured it must have been the whole clan, but nay. The head of my guard said 'twas only one man. He hid in the darkness and shot them with arrows."

"Stealthy bastard, aye?" Sleat said.

"Nay for long," Blackburn growled.

One of his guards shouted, "Galleys approaching!"

Blackburn, Sleat and MacRankin eyed the loch. Several galleys quickly glided into view from the west end of Loch Moidart, their white sails filled to bursting with the strong wind. In the sky behind them, dark gray clouds rolled in from the sea.

Blackburn counted the galleys—ten. And each one appeared to be filled with between ten and twenty men. Were they friend or foe of Neacal MacDonald?

"Who the devil is that?" Blackburn asked.

"'Tis the damned MacKenzie," Sleat growled through clenched teeth, his eyes narrowed. He muttered several more curses.

"I've heard of them. Friends of yours?" Blackburn asked dryly.

"Nay, I hate the whoresons. One of the MacKenzie's brothers married Neacal's sister. So they're allies."

Blackburn cursed.

"He has almost two hundred soldiers with him. We'll be outnumbered." Sleat looked around frantically as if counting men.

Blackburn glanced at Red Holme, charged with holding Kristina. "We'll keep the upper hand as long as I have the lady."

***

"Stay in here and keep the door barred," Neacal told Anna as he rushed her into his chamber. "Do not open it until I return."

"Make certain you do return," she said urgently, tugging him down for a fast kiss.

"I will," he murmured against her mouth. A surge of adoration for her smashed into his chest. "I love you."

"And I love you. Please be careful," she begged, tears in her eyes. "And remember Blackburn is completely ruthless."

"Aye. I'm going to leave a guard posted just outside the door."

"Chief!" Leith yelled from the corridor. "The MacKenzies approach in their galleys!"

"Thank the saints!" Neacal said. How had they gotten here so quickly? No matter. He would owe them a grand debt. The rest of the MacRurys that the chief had sent for had not yet arrived, so Neacal was doubly grateful for the MacKenzies. "I must go." After giving Anna another kiss, he stepped from the room and closed the door. Once he heard the bar fall into place, he turned to Leith. "Do not leave this post for any reason. You're to guard her with your life. And don't allow her to leave the room."

"Aye, chief."

Neacal rushed down the stairs, across the great hall and out into the bailey. Dunn ran to greet him. Damnation, he couldn't risk Dunn being killed in the coming battle. He'd meant to leave the dog safe inside the keep with Anna. He had no time to spare now to take him back in. He had to update the MacKenzies before the battle began.

Grasping Dunn's collar, Neacal ran with him to the kennels where the other hunting dogs were kept, near the stables. Multiple dog barks echoed and Dunn tried to resist being confined. Finally, Neacal locked him inside.

Fully armed with a sword, targe, and four dirks, Neacal emerged from the walls through the postern gate, several of his men following. They hastened down to the shore as the MacKenzies pulled their galleys in.

Saints, he couldn't believe the number of twenty-oar galleys. And there had to be almost two hundred men aboard them.

Strong westerly winds blasted against Neacal's face as he raced across the sand. Leaden black clouds rolled overhead signaling an approaching gale storm.

He hoped that, since the MacKenzies hadn't needed to row, they would be well-rested and ready to fight. Either way, they were highly trained and had incredible endurance. Three of his own men, whom he'd sent north only a day ago, dragged his small galley into shore also. How on earth had they had time to travel such a great distance in a short time?

Chief Cyrus MacKenzie and his brothers Fraser and Shamus, all of them tall, dark-haired and well-armed, leapt onto the wet sand, then their many clansmen followed. Neacal was heartened to see such a large garrison of allies. He could thank Maili for this; she'd secured this alliance by marrying Shamus MacKenzie. And Neacal had had no idea at the time how much he would need the clan.

"You came quicker than expected!" Neacal called once he was within earshot.

"Maili sent us," Shamus said, his long hair in a queue.

Neacal stopped and waited for them. "What do you mean?"

Shamus and his two brothers joined him. "She had a vision of three clans attacking you."

"She's right. 'Tis happening now." Neacal motioned toward the mainland. Maili had second sight and never had it come in so handy for him. "I thank you for coming."

"We're glad to help. Who are we fighting?" Cyrus was known far and wide for his thunderous, warlord reputation.

"Sleat, MacRankin and MacCromar."

"I know Sleat, but not the other two." Cyrus frowned darkly, his brownish-black eyes scanning the forces gathered further up on the mainland shore.

"MacRankin is the whoreson who tortured me two years ago," Neacal said. "And MacCromar… he's even worse than the other two. Sleat's son was killed in a skirmish here a few nights ago, so he'll not give up until he's dead."

Shouts and the clang of weapons rang out from the mainland. "Hell. 'Tis starting." Neacal ran toward the center of the fighting.

"Who's helping you?" Cyrus asked, keeping pace beside him.

"A few of the MacRurys, and several dozen Camerons. Close allies of ours for many years."

"I know the Camerons. Let's crush these other bastards."

***

The fierce wind whipping at him, Blackburn kicked his horse into a trot toward the shouting and conflict on the sandbar causeway leading to the castle. Three men jumped Red Holme and Kristina. One grabbed Holme's knife hand, another yanked his left arm, and the third caught Kristina as she slid off the horse.

"Nay, you bastards!" Blackburn yelled.

The tawny-haired enemy soldier, a Cameron, threw her over his shoulder and ran, while the remaining two dragged Holme from his mount.

In the melee and the start of the fighting, Blackburn could not see where the whoreson who'd snatched Kristina had gone. Why had his men not been guarding her as he'd ordered?

Holme hit the ground between the other two Camerons. One of them kicked the dirk from his hand while the other held a sword to his throat. Blackburn charged them on horseback. One of the men swung his blade at Blackburn's leg, but he blocked the blow with his own sword at the last moment.

Blades clanged all around him. He wheeled his horse about, scanning the area for Kristina. Someone leapt onto his back and dragged him from his mount. He plummeted to the ground, pain shooting through his hip. One of his guards engaged the enemy in swordplay above him. He crawled from beneath them, and leapt to his feet, keeping hold of his sword.

He glanced around but did not see Lady Kristina anywhere. "Where did she go?" he yelled to his men but they were otherwise engaged, fighting enemies along the trail leading to the castle. Kristina couldn't have been taken that way or she would still be within view.

Blackburn snarled curses. Where the hell was she? Had the bastard taken her into the wood? His leverage was gone. Rather than look for Kristina in the forest and fight Camerons there, 'twould be far easier to slip inside the castle and take Lady MacCromar by force while everyone else was busy fighting.

He ran along the sandbar which led to the castle, passing his own guards and other men clustered about in sword fights, too busy to notice him. He climbed the hill and hid behind a large boulder before the enemies charging down the hill saw him.

Once they were gone, he crawled the remainder of the way up the hill among the heather, then ran alongside the high stone wall. At the postern gate, a guard stood inside.

"Who are you?" the guard demanded.

Blackburn thrust his sword through the iron bars, but the guard leapt back.

"Are you helping Sleat?"

"What do you think? I'm Chief MacCromar and my wife is being held inside. I must rescue her."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" The guard took out a key and unlocked the gate.

Blackburn was stunned. "Who are you?"

"Gegrim. Make sure Sleat kens I helped you rescue your wife."

"I'll tell him. And I thank you. Where is she?"

"Inside the keep somewhere, most likely barred in a chamber on the second floor. Go in through the kitchen." Gegrim pointed.

Although Blackburn didn't fully trust the guard, he ran in the direction indicated, then found a doorway. Indeed, 'twas the kitchen, strangely empty but still very warm. No doubt the servants were hiding someplace.

Blackburn hastened up the steps into the empty great hall and ran up to the floor above. Finding a carved oak door with a padlock on the outside, he frowned, then knocked.

"Who is it?" asked the female voice inside.

Was that Susanna? Nay. Didn't sound like her. But maybe all the women were locked in the same chamber.

He stepped back and kicked the door with all the strength he possessed. The hasp pulled out of the door frame and the door swung open.

He charged in, wielding his sword and the young blond woman inside screamed and ran to the other side of the room. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Blackburn MacCromar. Where is Anna Douglas?" He glanced about the room, finding it empty.

The young lady's eyes widened. "Oh, you're Anna's husband!"

"Aye."

"I'm Constance Gordon, the one who sent you the missive, letting you know where she is."

"Aha. I'm glad you did. 'Haps you can help me further by showing me where she is now."

"I've been locked in here for days, so I'm uncertain." She stepped into the corridor. "But we'll find her. You must promise me something first, though."

"What's that?"

"That you will take your wife away and never allow her back here."

"Of course. That's my plan exactly."

"Good. I would wager she's in Neacal's bedchamber."

"Bedchamber?" Blackburn growled, rage burning over him. "I'll kill the bastard if he survives the battle."

"Even better." Constance smiled and rushed along the corridor.

He followed, his anger growing with each step he took.

She paused at a corner. "Wait here," she whispered. "I'll see if Neacal left a guard."

Blackburn nodded. "Tell her that her sister, Kristina, has been brought into the great hall," he said in a hushed tone.

"'Tis a great idea." The lass stepped around the corner out of sight.

"How did you escape your chamber?" a man yelled, further along.

"Leith, I must see Anna Douglas immediately," Constance said in an urgent tone.

"Nay. This door is not to be opened until the chief returns."

"But her sister has been brought into the great hall!" Constance shouted. "And… and she's injured. She's asking for Anna."

Blackburn grinned. What a talented liar the lass was. Listening carefully, he heard a door being unbarred and opened.

"What? Kristina is here?" 'Twas Anna's voice echoing along the hallway. Victory surged through him and he could hardly contain his eagerness. He'd been searching for her for so long, and now what he wanted most was almost within his grasp.

***

Anna gripped the hilt of Neacal's dirk, her quick heartbeat thumping in her ears. Oh, dear God, Kristina. "I must go see her, Leith! Come with me."

"Nay, m'lady," he said. "The chief said you are not to leave this room until he returns. I'll have someone bring her up to you."

"If she lives that long." Constance shrugged and strode away. "I was only trying to help," she called back, then disappeared around the corner.

Anna glared at Leith, blocking her path with his massive bulk. "Let me pass! I must see my sister."

"M'lady…"

"Aye, let her pass or you shall find a dirk in your back," said a sinister male voice behind him.

Leith spun, drawing his own dirk and striking out. Then Anna saw the man behind him—Blackburn.

"Nay!" she yelled as the two men locked together in a knife fight.

Blackburn hooked his foot around Leith's ankle, knocking him down, then stabbed him in the upper chest near his shoulder.

"You bastard!" Rushing forward, Anna jabbed the dirk she held into Blackburn's back, but it hardly penetrated his tough leather armor.

He rose up, yanked the dirk from her hand and shoved her into the chamber.

A rush of terror and alarm shooting through her, she backed away from Blackburn. His eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Where is Kristina?" Anna demanded.

A sneer on his face, Blackburn bolted forward, grabbed her and shoved her against the wall. "How dare you stab me, bitch? The only reason you're alive right now is because I allowed it." He crushed his mouth against hers.

She gagged. Turning her head aside, she pushed at him but he wouldn't budge. She yanked her knee upward, smashing it into his groin.

He growled. "Damn you!" He grabbed her hair, yanked it painfully and threw her on the bed, face down.

Fury and panic consumed her. "Where is my sister, you bastard?" she yelled, kicking at him and trying to pull away, but he held her in place on the bed.

"Is this where you sleep with that Neacal whoreson?" he thundered.

"Nay! I want no man touching me!" Anna knew she had to lie, else he might kill her in a fit of jealousy.

"Then why are you in his bedchamber, slut?"

"'Tis the safest place."

Blackburn gave a humorless laugh. "Or so he thought."

Dear God, please keep Neacal and Kristina safe, she prayed. She would endure much hardship if only she could be sure they were unharmed.

"I ken where your sister is," Blackburn said. "If you'll be quiet and cooperate, I'll take you to her." He drew her hands behind her back and tied something around her wrists.

He was lying, she knew. But even the smallest chance she would see her sister stilled her actions.

"Is she all right?" Anna asked, starving for the least bit of information. "Is she in the great hall as Constance said?"

"Nay, she's outside the walls and fit as a fiddle." He gave a short laugh that made her nauseous.

"Did you hurt her in any way?"

"Nay! Now cease your questions." He clamped her legs between his, wrapped her skirts tightly around her ankles then tied them together.

She prayed her sister was well, but she knew better than to trust the word of this devil.

If only she could get to the other knife secured on her leg, but that was impossible now.

"How could you drag a blind lass across the country?" Anna asked. "What kind of monster are you?"

"The kind who wants his wife back," he muttered, wrapping his hand around her throat and breathing heavily against her ear. "If you want your sister to live, you will do everything I say. By the way, you have become very fetching of late, much prettier than when you left." He ran his hand downward and squeezed her breast. "Did you allow that scarred whoreson to bed you?"

"I already told you nay . Get off me, you bastard!" She shoved backward, trying to dislodge him.

"Such unladylike language, my sweet." He laughed. "But I like it." He ground his hardened shaft against her derriere.

"Ugh." Chills of revulsion covered her. Though she struggled against him, he forced a twisted piece of material between her teeth, then tied it behind her head. While she lay on the bed, he rolled her up in the plaid blanket, covering her from head to toe.

"Now, I'm taking you home, m'lady." Blackburn threw her over his left shoulder, the hard muscle and bone jabbing into her stomach painfully, near knocking the breath from her. He carried her out into the corridor.

She wished she could see if Leith still lived but could see naught beyond the blanket. She said a quick prayer for him, then tried to scream but the sounds emerged muffled behind the gag. She smashed her knees into his chest, but in response, he merely clamped her legs tightly to him and kept going down the spiral steps. Anna's head upside down, dizziness assailed her.

He carried her through the warm kitchen then out the door. His feet tramped across the wet cobblestones as the high winds roared overhead.

"Halt!" a man yelled off to her left.

"Leave him be!" another man ordered.

Sword clangs rang out a few yards distant, as did the grunts and curses of the two swordsmen.

"I thank you, Gegrim. You'll be rewarded." Blackburn ran with her, jostling her about.

Gegrim? Anna remembered that guard. So he was the traitor? If only she could tell Neacal. Where was he? Beyond the walls, fighting?

Turning this way and that, Anna could not escape Blackburn. The blanket slipped a bit and she glimpsed the edge of the postern gate as they passed through it. The wind drove the rain sideways, dampening the blanket and her clothing. Though she could not see much beyond the plaid, she heard shouts, sword clangs and sounds of battle in the distance. She prayed again that Neacal had been unharmed while fighting and that he would stay safe.

***

Constance braved the gale force winds and the rain on the ramparts to see what was happening below. She watched as Blackburn carried someone—Anna, she assumed—rolled up in a blanket across the courtyard and out through the postern gate. She switched her attention to the battle happening a hundred yards distant on the mainland. Neacal fought and killed soldier after soldier of the enemy clans. She narrowed her eyes and ground her teeth, hoping his rival's next strike would kill him. But it didn't. Damn him and his hawk-like focus.

She could not wait until he learned that his beloved Anna had been taken away, that she was lost to him forever. Constance wanted to see the devastation in his eyes, the same devastation she felt every minute since Neacal had killed Farquar.

She ran down several flights of steps to the great hall, and then out into the bailey, being careful not to slip on the wet cobblestones or slick mud. She passed Gegrim and another guard, lying dead in their own blood, near the open postern gate. Had they killed each other, or was an enemy lurking about? Not pausing to find out, she dashed outside and along the wall, ignoring the wind and rain. She wanted to be the one to tell Neacal that Anna was gone, that he would never see her again. She wanted to be the one to break him, to shatter him, mind and soul, while at the same time distracting him. Then his opponent would deliver the death blow. Finally, she would have her revenge for Farquar's death.

***

Blackburn ran down a hill, jarring Anna painfully against his firm, bulky shoulder. The gag in her mouth prevented her from screaming to draw attention and gain help.

He sprinted over flatter ground, first grass and then wet sand. The roaring sound of the loch and the tide reached her ears. The wind and rain buffeted against her. Where was he taking her?

His feet thumped against wood as he climbed into a small boat and lowered her into the bottom of it. The boat shook as he leapt off and shoved it from the shore.

Was he mad? Going out on the loch during a gale storm? The wind could easily capsize the tiny vessel. A new flood of terror consumed her.

She heard the oars splashing through the water as waves tossed the wherry about. Moidart was a saltwater loch, subject to the tides. And though the waves were not like those at sea, the wind and tide churned the water enough to rock the small boat. He was a madman. If the boat should capsize, she would be dead. Not that she knew how to swim even if she was untied. She tried to calm herself and focus on breathing. She must come up with a plan if she was to survive this.

She twisted about, hoping he wouldn't notice as she dislodged the blanket. Finally, she could see him and the turbulent gray and black sky overhead. Good heavens, 'twould be a fearsome storm and this was only the front edge of it. A cold wind and icy raindrops stung her face.

She couldn't see the shore or the castle from her position in the bottom of the boat. Where was Neacal? He obviously thought she was still safe inside the castle. She would have to depend on her own wits to survive this time. It would not be the first time.

The craft pitched up and down violently upon the waves, making her nauseous. Moments later, it bumped roughly against sand or rocks. Blackburn leapt off, splashed into the water and lugged the boat onto the shore. Where were they? He lifted her and when the blanket slipped away, she saw that they were on a small island not too far from the castle. She had observed the bush-covered island many times from the ramparts.

Blackburn carried her over his shoulder while the storm lashed at them. Was there a cottage or building on this island that she didn't know about? At least it was safer than a boat.

Moments later, Blackburn carried her into a windowless structure and lay her down on old, moldering straw. It appeared to be a byre. Although the stone building contained no door, it sheltered them from the wind and rain.

"Since we're far from the others, I'm going to remove your gag. No one will hear you if you scream."

She nodded.

He cut the gag loose.

"What on earth are you doing bringing me out here?" Anna asked.

"Once the storm passes, I'll take you further along the loch. We'll disembark on the bank of the mainland and walk up toward Loch Shiel. There, I'll hire a galley to take us further inland."

"You're a madman. You'll never get away with it."

"Get away with it?" he growled. "You're my wife and I have every right to take you home. Anyone who stands in my way will be cut down!" He threw off his sodden cloak and pulled at his belt buckle.

A prickle of warning went through her. "What are you doing?"

"I've waited too long to consummate this marriage."

Revulsion shook her. "Nay! I am not your wife."

He smirked. "I have a certificate that says otherwise. It contains your signature."

"A forced marriage is not a legal one," she declared.

"'Tis also signed by a priest." He raised his brows smugly.

"A corrupt one you paid a great deal of money."

"Do you think that matters? In the eyes of the law and the church, 'tis legal."

Anna had to focus on what mattered, the whole reason she'd been forced to sign the damnable document. "Where is my sister?"

"Would you cease about her for a quarter hour?" Blackburn said through clenched teeth.

"Nay, I will not! Did you hurt her?"

"Not yet. But I will if you don't hold your tongue and submit to me." He leaned toward her. "I'd much rather have your tongue twined around mine."

She grimaced, not caring if he saw. "Keep your hands off me!"

"As your husband, I have every right to put my hands on you anywhere, anyway and anytime I wish."

Bastard. She had to think of something fast to prevent him from carrying through with his plans. She forced herself to speak in a docile tone. "At least untie me… so I can enjoy myself."

His eyes widened, then searched her face. "Ha. If only I believed you. I ken you will fight me."

She dropped still, pretending to be submissive. "I won't fight you. If you promise not to harm my sister, I'll do my wifely duty."

He cut the rope from her ankles. "Have you lain with that Neacal bastard?"

"Nay. How many more times will you ask me this?" She had no choice but to lie if she wished to live. Now, she only need convince him to cut the rope from her hands and she could grab the knife on her ankle, hopefully before he saw it. The building was dark and that would work in her favor.

"I didn't think so… once I saw his face while you two were on the ramparts. He's scarred so hideously, I'm certain no woman will go near him. Unless he forced you." His eyes narrowed. "Did he?"

"Nay, of course not!"

Blackburn nodded. "If you birth a bairn which is not mine, I'll know it."

She frowned, wondering if he was insane and arrogant enough to think he would know such a thing.

"I won't harm your sister, if you cooperate with me. We both ken you're no virgin, so there is no need for me to be gentle, aye?" He laughed.

Nausea consumed her. "On second thought, I prefer to wait until we have a bed to officially consummate our marriage. 'Twould only be fitting for a chief and his wife. We are not peasants. 'Twould be beneath us for our first time to be in a byre like animals."

"You're right, but I suddenly feel animal-like." He gave a nasty grin. "You've stirred my lusts to boiling. And I find I'm an impatient man. I've waited long enough for you. I can wait no longer."

Anna ground her teeth. "Then surely you will untie my hands, aye?" she asked in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. "'Tis uncomfortable with them behind my back."

He observed her for a long moment. "I'm thinking you could be a good wife. You're far calmer than you used to be. Mayhap our marriage could work."

Saints. The man had a grand imagination if he thought she would willingly accept him as a husband after all the horrid things he had done to her and her family. All she had to do was pretend amiability for a few more minutes, until he untied her hands. If she didn't succeed in her plan, then so be it. She would rather die than submit to him and his lusts.

She forced her lips to curve upward the slightest bit, watching him with what she hoped was a friendly expression.

"If you'll behave yourself, m'lady, I'll cut the ropes off your hands. Do you promise?"

"Aye, of course." She knew exactly how to behave toward him. Much in the same way he'd always treated her. With ruthless calculation. She had to, if she ever wanted to see Neacal again.