“Down the stairs. Miss Matheson is being interrogated,” he said as if relating a lesson well learned.
Callum felt alarm tighten in his belly and took off. He heard Sir Simon order William to watch the men and, a moment later, he heard his three companions following him. He reached the cell she had been locked in and Laurel rushed up to the bars. There was a bruise on the side of her face and her lip was bleeding. The sight caused Callum to taste the sour wash of fear.
“They took her off!” Laurel cried. “Ye have to go get them, stop them.”
“Where?” he demanded as Sir Simon stepped up and unlocked the door, causing Callum to wonder why he had not thought of snatching the keys before running off.
“Follow me,” Laurel said, and took off running down the passageway.
Hurrying after the woman he had only ever seen as a pile of rags with an occasional sight of a blue eye peeking at him, Callum realized Laurel MacKray was beautiful. He caught sight of another woman in a cell, weeping as she stood at the front of her cell watching them. He glanced back to see Sir Simon stop to talk to the woman but Uven and Robbie stayed hard on his heels.
Then they reached a closed door and Laurel began to frantically try to open it, pounding on the door when it would not budge. Callum gently nudged her aside and signaled to Uven and Robbie. Those two men kicked it open quickly and as Callum rushed inside the sight that met his eyes caused rage to sweep over him. The sheriff was settled between Bethoc’s legs, his manhood in his hand, and he was reaching for the braies she wore. He yanked the sheriff off of Bethoc and tossed him into a wall. Uven and Robbie quickly took down the two guards as Callum bent to untie Bethoc’s hands and feet from the narrow bed they had put her on.
Bethoc just stared at Callum as he freed her, unable to believe he had come, and just in time. He gently took her into his arms and, despite all her efforts not to, she burst into tears. She knew they were caused by both the fear she had fought to hide and pure, joyous relief. Rape had come too close. The men’s blatant lust had left her feeling dirty.
“Ye are safe now, Bethoc,” Callum said, holding her close and rubbing her back.
“I ken it.” She pulled away and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I need to cease being weak. How did ye get here in time?”
“We found the true killers and had just brought them in.”
“So, ye think that will free me? And Laurel?” She glanced at her friend to see Laurel being kept out of the way of the guards by Uven.
“And Lorraine Halliday,” said a tall, dark man as he stepped into the room, Lorraine staying close behind him.
Laurel and Bethoc both broke free of the men they were with at the same time and ran to each other. For a moment they just hugged. Bethoc felt a sharp sympathy for Laurel. She had been saved that final degradation, but had a better understanding of the terror the woman had suffered. To be so helpless was not something she wished to ever feel again.
“Did they . . . ?” began Laurel.
“Nay.” She pulled back from Laurel and looked at the room. “They have been doing this for some time.”
“Aye, I fear so. What better way to torture a woman, to make her swear to whatever ye want her to. I would have broken soon,” she added softly in a tremulous voice.
“I think it is to be ended now,” she said quietly as she watched the tall, dark-haired man who had brought Lorraine in walk over to the sheriff. “That is a verra serious mon, one who willnae abide lies or evil games like this one.”
He smelled like an old pine, she thought, one of those big, sturdy old trees that stood no matter what storm battered them. She tensed and glanced around then told herself not to be an idiot. People could not tell what she was thinking. Her odd little skill was still a deep, dark secret.
Turning, but keeping an arm around Bethoc’s waist, Laurel watched the man crouch by the sheriff. “Nay, he doesnae, but we shall see,” Laurel said softly.
“Awake?” the man asked the sheriff when he groaned and opened his eyes.
“Aye, aye. Who are . . .” The sheriff began to sit up and caught sight of Callum. “Ye threw me! Weel, ye will pay dearly for that, sir. I dinnae care if ye are a laird. Ye dinnae lay violent hand on a sheriff.”
“Sit,” said the man crouched near him as the sheriff started to get to his feet.
The sheriff gaped at the man. Then, slowly, his expression changed from shock to wary confusion. He carefully sat down.
“Who are ye?” he asked.
“Sir Simon Innes, laird of Lochancorrie. Ye may ken me from a position I once had as the King’s Hound.” He nodded slightly when the sheriff paled. “I have a few questions I would like ye to answer.”
“What questions? And what are these women doing out of their cells?”
“I believe ye have the answer for that.”
“What do ye mean? I am just doing my job.”
“And what part of your job says ‘interrogation’ includes the base use of a woman put in your care?”
