“She locked me in there with no light…” Duncan’s voice grated quieter now, as he swallowed the nausea that had threatened to overwhelm him. “And I couldn’t stop it from coming. Everything all over again.”
Kinnon went pale. “Christ Almighty…”
Without another word, Duncan strode toward the castle, clenching his fists. The rage he’d experienced with the MacKenzie seemed nothing compared to the feelings raking his heart at this moment. He stopped at the well, pulling up the bucket and plunging his gloved hands into the water. He cupped his palms, bringing them up to sluice the icy liquid over his face.
Standing straight again, he breathed deep. A hard, cold calm filled him, driving out the panic, the terror…the sense of helplessness that had consumed him.She’d gone too far this time.There’d be no more looking the other way. No more humoring her little revolts against him. Aileana MacDonell had declared open war against him this day, and he’d be damned if he’d let her retreat from the battlefield unscathed.
He found her in the great hall, bent over the table, washing a single spot as if she wanted to wear a hole in the wood. His anger pitched higher. How dare she appear so innocent? He tensed as he strode to her, eager to escalate their personal fray. And he knew just the way—a strategic attack that would shred all of her defenses as completely as she’d just tried to destroy his.
Aileana glanced up from her work and felt a stab of pure fear. Duncan charged through the entryway, looking as he had that day on the field outside Dulhmeny—face pale, eyes icy gray, his expression dark and intense, like one of God’s fallen angels. But she hardly had time to gasp before he was upon her, clamping her arm in his wet, leather-covered grip. Wordlessly, he began to drag her to the stairway.
“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded too loud in the unnatural quiet of the hall.
She hazarded a glance at his profile, then wished she hadn’t. He stared straight ahead as he pulled her along, not answering. Ripples of fear multiplied in her belly, spreading outward, until they threatened to immobilize her. She began to struggle against him in earnest.
“Where are you taking me?” She braced her heels against the stone floor and twisted in his grasp. But he was resolute. Strong.
Though she kicked and fought, Duncan continued to take her up the stairway. When he reached the landing, she slammed her foot into his shin with a satisfying thud. He stopped, then. But other than the cessation of movement, he showed no reaction. Aileana swallowed and held her breath. As his gaze met hers, her heart stilled, and she cringed. He seemed to stare right through her as if she didn’t exist, like she was no more than a speck of dust to be crushed under his heel.
“If you do not come with me peacefully, I swear I’ll tie and gag you to get you there if I have to.” His voice echoed low and dangerous.
“I’ll ask you again, where are you taking me?”
“I’m securing you in my chamber.”
Her head felt too light, and a hollow space opened in her belly. “You plan to lock me in?”
Though he didn’t answer, his eyes spoke for him, unyielding and furious.
Trying to still her rising panic, Aileana clenched her fingers convulsively in her skirts. “When will I be released?”
“You won’t.”
Her breath escaped in a rush, followed by a renewed swell of sickness. She despised the pleading in her voice, but she couldn’t stop it any more than she could stop herself from taking in air. “You cannot hold me there. Please…I—I cannot bear to be confined to a chamber again.”
“You’ve left me no other choice.”
Her sob broke off into a shriek as Duncan picked her up by the waist and slung her over his shoulder. All too soon she was set on her feet again inside his room. When she tried to push around him and run out, Duncan stood in her way, his chest as unmovable a wall as any in Eilean Donan.
“Do not try to escape. This lock is strong, and it’s a long way down to the loch from the windows.” He stepped back, preparing to leave. “I’ll be staying here of the evenings as usual. Attempt any more trickery, and I’ll have you moved to the dungeons below.” His steel eyes darkened. “Trust me when I say that you do not want to be put there.”
Aileana’s lips trembled. Although she hated herself for it, she reached out, hoping to stop him, to make him pause at least. “Please,” she said. “I’m begging you, Duncan. Don’t do this. I—”
“I’ll be returning after sundown,” he broke in, cutting short her plea. She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears. Then, as if in a dream, she saw him avert his gaze. He turned his back to her and drew the door shut behind him.
And as he clicked the lock home, it was with the precision of an expert swordsman striking for his mark…landing it directly into the center of her heart.
The shout for departure went up. With the MacKenzie in the lead, the procession of horses, litters, wagons and people started to move. The chief raised his arm in a last farewell, half turning in his saddle to meet Duncan’s gaze once more.
Duncan returned the gesture and nodded. An array of feelings assaulted him as he watched his chief pass through the gate and down the causeway. He’d not forgiven the MacKenzie for his lack of action against Morgana and her clan those many years ago, but at least the burning rage had faded.
“Will you be coming inside now? It’s a good time for a cup of ale, I’d say.”
Duncan looked at Kinnon. “Aye, I’ll be joining you, but not right away.” He glanced up. As expected, Aileana stood silhouetted in one of the bedchamber windows. Her expression seemed to condemn him. She looked tired and drawn, as she’d been each time he’d seen her in the three days since she’d been confined to his chamber.
Kinnon followed Duncan’s gaze up to the window and shook his head. In the next moment she was gone, vanished like a wraith in the mists of the moors.
“You cannot keep her up there forever, Duncan.”
