Chapter 33

33

M aeve hurried down the path leading to Gilbert Hampton's camp. Tears blurred her vision as she tried to control her aching heart.

This is the right thing to do. She could end this for good and return to the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Maeve knew if she didn't do this, then Gilbert would keep threatening and trying to hurt everyone she loved.

I can't let that happen.

As she drew closer to his camp, she dragged in the cold air and filled her lungs with it. Archer wouldn't look for her because he was on his way to visit MacFord. Maeve hoped she would return to the castle before he was done.

She spotted the thick fog of smoke traveling into the sky as she neared the path where she knew Gilbert would be.

She slowed in her tracks, got down, then pulled the horse along with her the rest of the way. She heard the rumbling coming from the hideout behind the thick shrubs and knowing that she was near Gilbert's camp made the knot in the pit of her stomach squeeze tighter.

"Who is over there?" One of his men thundered in a perfect English accent. Maeve halted in her tracks, and a dozen of them pulled out their swords to attack her.

"Leave her," Gilbert spoke from behind them after they circled around her.

She held her breath and watched him make his way past them to get to her.

There was a triumphant grin in his eyes, and she knew he celebrated this as victory.

"I have come to you, My Lord," she said to him. "You wanted me here, and here I am. Now, you leave my family alone."

"You do not tell me what to do, child," he thundered before his lips twisted in a sneer. "No man takes what is mine and lives to tell the tale. Your brute Laird stole from me, and I will end him. Just after I end your foolish little brother. He toyed with the wrong man and humiliated me in England by breaking into my home and stealing my prized ladies. I will end him."

Maeve tried hard not to show her fear even as its cold fingers gripped at her heart. She chewed on her lower lip, knowing that she held the dirk she stole from her brother's study before heading out here.

"Get into the camp and change those disgusting clothes you have on."

Maeve curtsied and bowed her head. She knew the best time to attack Gilbert. He would come to her at night and try to torment her with his whip.

Maeve never understood his obsession with seeing her writhe in pain. She remembered the gleam in his eyes and the excitement he had each time she pleaded with his for mercy.

Maeve shuddered at the thought of being his puppet again.

How would I survive?

She walked into the tent his soldier showed her and took the clothes he offered. Maeve took her time putting on the dress. She gasped as she cinched the corset to her waist and tightened it to perfection.

She sucked in the air, and her chest tightened. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she sniffed hard to get rid of them. Maeve saw her reflection in the mirror and saw her lower lip quiver. Once she finished with her dress, she reached for the dirk hidden in the midst of her former clothes.

Dirk tucked away in her garters, Maeve left her tent and joined the English men at the campfire.

"Eat," Gilbert ordered when she refused the roasted meat handed to her. His harsh tone made her jump, but she did not flinch as she tightened her jaw.

"I dinnae want to eat," Maeve answered, purposely using the Highland accent that she ought to speak with. She knew it would drive Gilbert mad, and just as expected, he reddened and struck her hard on the face.

"You dare challenge me? How dare you." She whimpered as he dragged her to her feet with all his strength then shoved her hard to the ground. "You wench. You should never speak to me with that dirty accent. You speak to me that way again, and I will have your tongue. Do you understand me?"

Maeve spat on the ground then met his eyes with the full burn of her disdain. "Yes, My Lord," she breathed out to calm him down. "I am sorry, My Lord."

"Now eat and drink. Tonight, I shall have you in my chamber. If you refuse me, I shall make sure my men have their way with you to. All hundreds of them."

The sensation of impending doom coming over her was overwhelming.

"You… You cannot do that, My Lord. We are not married in the eyes of the church or by law. It is unchaste and…"

"Not one more word from you," he silenced, wagging a threatening finger at her. "You gave yourself to that Highland beast, and you belong to me. I will have him watch me take you, and then you will watch me cut his throat. No one can save you now."

In his eyes, she saw the intent of his threat. Maeve knew he could do every single thing he threatened, but her death did not terrify her as much as Archer's did.

She felt trapped and paralyzed with terror, but she held her chin high. "I shall come to your tent, My Lord. I am yours, and I shall do as you ask."

Gilbert's pleased smile relieved her for a moment, but once he marched away from her, Maeve picked herself up from the ground and hurried into her tent.

She paced around for the remaining hours of the evening, aware that her feet hurt. Her cheeks, too, stung from where he had struck her earlier.

Her stomach twisted into a million knots of fear and terror. She tried to keep her mind sharp and hold her poise. When she went to Gilbert's chamber tonight, she would not leave till she stuck her dirk in the side of his neck.

A soldier came to find her at the fall of sunset. He peered in from the entrance. "Lord Hampton is ready for you now."

"I will be there."

Maeve licked her lips one more time, stilled her shaky insides, then headed out to his tent.

He stood in only his breeches when she entered, and bile rose in her throat.

"Kneel," he ordered, pointing down at the spot beneath him. Maeve went willingly. She slid her hand under her garters once she knelt and stroked the cool metal of her dirk.

Her heart pounded faster than ever, and her muscles tensed with fear. She had only one chance to end him and run. Once his men found his body, they would stop at nothing to kill her.

She would head back to O'Kane and her brother's men could handle the rest. Maeve just needed to kill Gilbert Hampton first and worry about the rest later.

When he touched her hair and gripped a fistful, she yelped from the pain and arched her neck back to gaze upon his face.

There was madness in his eyes, and a tremble quaked through Maeve. Blood roaring in her ears, she pulled out the dirk, moved quickly, and stabbed his thigh.

His loud groan sliced through the night air. Maeve did not think of anything else as she dragged the dirk out of his thigh and stabbed his arm next.

He hit her hard, and she fell to the ground. Grunting from his pain, Gilbert kicked her hard on her stomach, bent over, and picked her from the ground like she weighed nothing.

She struggled against him, clawed her nails over his face, and finally grabbed the dirk stuck in his arm. Maeve didn't get the chance to strike again before he knocked the blade out of her hands and hit her face hard.

Blood spluttered out of her lips, and she crawled to get away from him, managing to exit his tent before he reached her again.

His men gathered around as he towered above her. Maeve sobbed on the ground and prayed to the heavens for mercy. She would never see her family again or Archer.

I should have told him I loved him when I had the chance. That was her only regret. But still Maeve knew she would die happy because she had loved, and she had felt his love.

She had known warmth, passion, desire… she would die knowing that Archer would avenge her death. As Gilbert's hands closed around her neck and sucked air out of her lungs, her lids fluttered closed, and she slowly started to give up.

Maeve was close to the brink of the darkness when she heard the first primal howl of a war cry. A tear rolled down her cheek as she gave up an exhausted cry. Archer is here.