"Now, ye shall pay for what your husband did to me."
Backing away from him, Islaen wished the hut was not so small. “He did as any mon would when what is his is threatened."
"He near killed me."
"He wanted to. Aye and ye deserved no better. Ye are lucky he didnae do more, but let ye leave."
"Lucky?” he hissed as his arm darted out and he grabbed her by the hair. “Ye bitch, he scarred me, crippled me."
Islaen bit back a cry as he slammed her up against the wall. His grip on her hair brought tears to her eyes. When he tore the front of her gown and chemise she felt terror grip her but fought it. She needed a clear head if she was to fight him at all. That calm was nearly impossible to gain when he began to maul her breasts, cuffing her soundly when she scratched his hands.
"Do ye ken what else he did to me? He unmanned me,” Fraser hissed. “The whoreson unmanned me. Aye, but his fair wife will be my cure. By Christ's foot, ye will stir the life in me again or die trying.” He started to unlace his braes.
His grip loosened as he struggled to expose himself and Islaen took quick advantage of that. Her fingers curled like talons, she slashed at his face. When he screamed and his hands instinctively went to his face, she darted away. The injury was not severe enough nor was she quick enough. With a savage growl he grasped at her skirts. They tore as he yanked and she fell. Before she could scramble to her feet, he was upon her.
Pinning her arms over her head, he rubbed his flacid organ against her breasts. Islaen choked on the bile of revulsion. She tried desperately to buck him off but he laughed at her efforts. Islaen felt a chilling fear for the child she carried, certain that it could never survive much of the ordeal he so clearly planned to put her through.
Seeing a slight movement to the side, Islaen felt a brief flare of hope. Unfortunately, Fraser, despite his distraction, also sensed danger. Even as Storm stuck him with her dagger, he turned to deflect her blow.
"Bitch. Sassanach bitch,” Fraser hissed as he caught Storm's wrist in a bruising grip, then slapped her. “Ye will pay for this."
Storm cried out softly as Fraser twisted her wrist. Islaen watched the dagger fall from Storm's hand. Fraser then threw Storm to the floor and leapt upon her. Islaen watched in shock as he put his hands around Storm's slim throat. He seemed oblivious to the way Storm clawed at his hands as he choked the life from her, cursing her all the while.
Terrified that he would kill Storm before she could stop him, Islaen scrambled for the dagger. Without any thought of what she was doing save that she needed to stop him, she plunged the dagger into his back. He bellowed and swung at her, sending her slamming into the wall, knocking the breath from her body, and leaving her groggy.
She nearly wept when she saw him stand up and turn towards her. Struggling to her feet, she prepared to meet him but then, still glaring at her, he fell to his knees. She knew a moment of sheer terror when he grasped her skirts but then his eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. Then he sprawled facedown upon the dirt floor and did not move. Islaen looked to Storm who was on her hands and knees gasping for air. Carefully avoiding Fraser's body and tearing off the piece of skirt he still clutched, Islaen rushed to Storm's side.
"Is he dead?” Storm rasped as she collapsed in Islaen's arms.
"I think so. I have ne'er...” Islaen began in a shaking voice.
"I know what ye are feeling but t'will pass as soon as ye are o'er the shock enough to recall what he planned to do to us.” Storm shook her head. “My fault. I did not plan my strike. I woke up, saw what he was doing to ye and simply went for him. I wanted to stop him before he could perform that final indignity."
"I dinnae think he can. Seems Iain did something to him when they fought."
"Ah, aye. Considering what the man was trying to do, Iain could well have delivered a damaging blow or two. There lies the seed of his madness."
"So I thought. What do we do now? If his men discover this they could weel kill us. They might actually be loyal."
"I doubt it, but best we not take any chances. Come, we will work at that weak place on the back wall. Did ye hear something?"
"Aye, I...” Islaen's words strangled to a halt as she looked to see Fraser standing up. “God's teeth, he isnae dead."
At that moment one of Fraser's men burst into the hut. “The MacLagans have come. They killed five men e'er we e'en kenned they were about. Best ye flee now, m'lord. The game is lost."
"Nay, not completely. Kill these bitches."
The young man looked at Storm and Islaen in horror. He not only seemed shocked by the order but by the clear evidence of their having been roughly handled. Islaen wondered if the lad had not listened to Fraser, who had undoubtedly made his plans very clear, or, perhaps, simply had not believed any of it. She knew in her heart that he would not kill them, could read it in his light grey eyes.
"I cannae,” the youth croaked. “Ye ne'er said ... what have ye done to them? They are but lasses, wee lasses. I willnae do it."
"Fine. Then die with them."
Islaen cried out when Fraser thrust his sword into the youth. The man stumbled back a few steps staring at Fraser in surprise, then crumpled to the floor. She and Storm tensed, readied for Fraser's attack but he just laughed and went out the door. When Islaen heard him bar the door from the outside she thought a little wildly that he had at least planned well for keeping them captive, then hurried along with Storm to see if Fraser had killed the youth.
"He isnae dead,” Islaen said with relief when she felt the youth's heartbeat.
"I do not know why we fret so. He is one of Fraser's men."
