Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

Agnes's skin felt too cold, her head spinning, and she thought she might be sick. The way Flora bounced back and forth between lucidity and this monstrous side of herself—she was not well. Couldn't these men see that? She was spiraling into some hell of her own making, and if she went through with this…

Agnes shook her head. It terrified her when Flora spoke of people, as though they were playthings—as though they weren't real…

There is no reasoning with her when she slips into madness. And I'm afraid if she continues down this path, she'll never turn around.

And this enemy—was this the man who'd disfigured Leo? Who'd killed his parents? Who now would come for Agnes and ruin her, then kill her?

And Flora had orchestrated it all.

"I was so foolish, though," Flora sighed. "I didnae think the scars would be so bad, even though Jack told me he cut Leo's face with fire and oil."

Jack.

A dry heave seized Agnes. So, yes, that was Leo's enemy's name. All these years later, all the fires, and all the hell her husband had been through, and now Agnes knew the name of the man Leo had been looking for.

I have to get out of here. I have to tell him.

Meanwhile, Flora prattled on. "And then Leo seemed to nae want our money, even though MacLarsen needed it. He was supposed to be in our debt, and he just…" She heaved a frustrated sigh. "I couldnae stand to look at his proud face sometimes, and ugh, that dreadful mask only exacerbated it."

A man let out a soft snort and muttered, "Aye, and now we're indebted to Jack, that devil, and his wicked men."

"Dinnae say such things, Malcolm," Flora hissed. "Jack has played his part. Besides, she doesnae need to ken that."

Malcolm bobbed his head. "Sorry, Me Lady. But it isnae like she can tell a soul." He nodded at Agnes. "Besides, once we give Jack his enemy's little wife, we willnae be in his debt nay mo'."

A deep chuckle came from one of the other men, and then a voice rasped, "P'raps I'll become the new man-at-arms and wed his pretty sister. Heard she's plump with child."

"Ach, we'll have to kill ol' Fergus in his sleep—though he's a good lad," Pip grunted. "Needs must."

"And their old witch of a grandmaither. She's a scary one."

They began to discuss the women of MacLarsen as though they were goods at the market. Agnes's head spun, and she struggled against the ropes to no avail. Tears pricked her eyes, but she knew that at the first opportunity, she had to get free—she had to warn Briorn, to save Granny Ro, Kristie, Fergus, and everyone else.

And Leo.

Agnes eyed Flora, noting how the woman's face lit up with a slow, cruel smile, her eyes darting from man to man, and she inhaled, as though drawing a dark glee from their hideous speech.

A shudder went through Agnes. If her hands were free, she might have crossed herself for the first time since leaving Craeghil.

Again, she had the feeling that Flora was feeding off all of this. But in the right place, perhaps she could be saved. Agnes had to believe that.

At that moment, she felt eyes on her and looked over to see Pip scowling at her. His eyes flicked to Flora and became worshipful, and then he looked back at Agnes with contempt. "Oy, there, Englishwoman. Is it true that ye grew up in a convent because yer noble parents preferred yer twin sister to ye?"

Agnes flinched as though she'd taken a blow, and Pip's smile grew crueler, while the other men turned. These were real beasts, converging at a whiff of innocent blood. Eyes raked over her, and she tried to lift her chin, but she knew she was near tears.

Flora, meanwhile, let out a shriek of maniacal laughter. "Och, Pip, is that true?"

"Aye, I overheard the maids chatterin' about it, somethin' about her ma visitin' and helpin' her learn how to run Briorn Castle."

"I heard they feared she was some kind of changelin'," Malcolm added.

"Och, this is better than I could have dreamt," Flora said and clapped her hands together. Pip gave her a foppish, adoring smile. "Thank ye."

Malcolm stood up and came over, looking Agnes over. "Explains why she's so strange, eh?" He caught her chin and grinned as he gave it a hard squeeze. She couldn't pull away and glared up at him. "What a shock it must have been to go from chastity to the Beast of Briorn's lair."

Laughter rippled through the room, and one man sneered. "Surprised she can even walk after the Beast had his way with her."

"Well, perhaps they havenae consummated their marriage—" Flora said in a breathless tone.

Agnes jerked free of Malcolm and fixed her eyes on Flora. "Oh, we have. And you shall never have him. Even if I am gone, he will never be your husband."

Pip started up with a snarl, drawing a small blade. "Oy, dinnae speak to me lady so?—"

But Malcolm beat him to it, casually backhanding her with such force that her ears rang. Bright agony lanced through her cheekbones, and she thought she might be bleeding as a sob tore out of her.

"Mind yer tongue, ye English wench." Malcolm smirked down at her, but his eyes were as empty as a newly dug grave. "Yer husband killed me braithers. Told ‘em to be cautious while bringin' ye here, and I?—"

"Enough," Flora commanded and stalked forward. "Jack willnae be happy about this, ye fool. He likes his wenches untouched."

Malcolm shrugged. "We'll tell him she got it in the struggle."

"Hmph, perhaps." And now Flora grabbed her face in a clawed grip, digging her nails into where Malcolm had landed his blow. "And I can tell from yer voice that the marriage was recently consummated, so nay matter. Ye will be dead soon, and Leo cannae remain a widower, nae when Briorn Castle might be attacked again."

At that moment, the door flew open, bringing in wind and rain, and then Laird Grierson and another man hurried in, shaking out their cloaks.

"Jack will be here by dawn," the Laird said. "And we have ensured that nay one kens we're here." His eyes landed on Agnes, and he shook his head. "What a pity."

He spoke in the tone of a man who must drown a kitten and thinks nothing of the squirming, innocent life he holds in his hands.

Flora let go of Agnes and stepped back. "When ye are out of me way, Leo will remember the love we once shared—we will find it again." She sounded dreamy as she touched her lips. "Together."

"Love?" Agnes asked in a quiet, intense voice. "You consider yourself capable of love?"

Again, Malcom hit her, and she spat out blood from her cut lip. Laird Grierson looked away as Agnes lifted her head, the room spinning, and Flora lay a calming hand on his arm.

"Thank ye, but I have a better idea. Cut her loose and stick her in the storage chamber."

Agnes, at first, felt a thrill of hope, but then she was roughly cut loose and yanked upright. Malcolm shoved her forward, with Flora following behind, and the rest of the men snickered. A narrow stone door into a yawn of dark was thrown open by Pip, and Agnes tried to step back.

"No, no please, " Agnes cried, but she was flung forward, landing hard on the stones.

As she scrambled around, her head spinning, trying to get up, Flora stood in the doorway and looked her over. She offered Agnes a pitiless smile as she got to her feet. "Mother Superior sends her regards."

And the door slammed shut, leaving Agnes alone in the darkness.

Agnes had no idea how long she had been kneeling in the dark, heaving breaths sawing out of her, the only noise in that room, as a scream built and built in the back of her throat. But she could not make a noise—she was back at Craeghil, and if she made even one sound, she would have to stay in here longer.

No, I am Lady MacLarsen.

Agnes tried to push herself upright. She shook all over like a spooked horse and still could not move.

And Leo will find me. Her eyes closed. We always find each other, don't we?

But what if she'd dreamed the whole thing? What if she was still at Craeghil, locked in that room, and all of this had been nothing but a delirious fancy of a lonely, terrified girl?

Agnes curled back, gripping her head, swallowing her scream—lost in her fear until she caught a whiff of smoke.

Briorn.

She would not let her home burn—she would protect her people. Her head snapped up, and she opened her eyes, though the dark had not changed, nor could she smell the smoke.

Standing up, she swayed and stumbled toward where she thought the door was. Though she could not see anything, or hear anything, she stood up straighter and screamed .

Nothing happened, and she moved along the wall, feeling it with her hands, when her fingers abruptly met wood. She slammed her hand on it, and a burst of fresh, wet air hit her cheek. She screamed again and slammed her fist on the wood.

More wind seeped through, along with a smatter of rain, and Agnes pounded away at the wood with all her strength. The wood burst free and fell with a clatter. Moonlight lit up a rustling forest as clouds tore through the sky, as though racing after the storm. Then she realized that the sky was lighter. Dawn couldn't be far off.

I can escape.

Grabbing at the sill, she heaved herself up and peered out. It was not a steep drop, maybe as tall as Leo, and she could run to the forest. She'd make her way back, somehow.

The wind seemed to brush urgent, invisible fingers against her cheeks, and she tried to get free when a sudden grind of stone sounded from behind her.

"What in the hell—I told ye I heard somethin'!"

"No," Agnes gasped and tried to shove through, but someone grabbed the back of her dress. With all the energy she had left, she all but roared her plea into the night.

"Briorn Castle is in danger! Warn the Laird, please!"

Someone grabbed her, and she gasped, then raised her voice even higher, her throat burning.

"Tell Leo that his enemy is called Jack!"