“I will do it,” Kate promised. “But you will release her now.” When the earl laughed, she continued quickly. “If you do not let her go, I will not move from this spot. Are you prepared to die, Uncle? It is only a matter of time before Callum’s men come barreling in here. You stand no chance against them, I assure you.” Her muscles spasmed when he inched his blade closer to Maggie’s flesh, ready to refuse her demands. “Do it,” she challenged him, suppressing the need to scream, the urge to throw herself at his feet and plead for Maggie’s life. “And then cut my throat, as well. But know this, you will die this day, also.”
She almost staggered with relief when he tossed Maggie aside. When Kate moved to go to her, her uncle snatched her by the back of her neck and dragged her to the door.
“Betray me,” he warned silkily against her ear while he covered his face with his plaid, “and I vow I will escape and return to Kildun—and to your brother.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ROBERT GROANED and struggled to open his eyes. Searing jolts of fire shot through his head. He brought his hands up to cradle his forehead and felt warm, sticky blood drying over his eyes. He waited a few moments and lifted his lids slowly. A swath of bright noontide sky greeted him. He blinked as the memory of the night before returned to him. His uncle had struck him with something, a tree trunk if his tormented skull had anything to say about it. With a tight moan and a muttered oath, he pushed himself up on his elbows. He looked around, already knowing Duncan was not there with him. The madman was most likely dead. Robert hoped it was so. He dragged himself to his knees, too weak to stand, and began to crawl down the sloping hill toward the castle. He had to find Kate. If MacGregor found him first, so be it. He would worry over it when the time came.
He almost crawled over the dead body of one of the Menzie men. “Och, God.” Robert moaned. His gaze glided a little to the left, where he found the others, as dead as the first. Sickened, Robert had no doubt about who had killed them.
He turned his attention to the fortress ahead. Where was his uncle? Was he already inside? Everything was too quiet. If the MacGregors had discovered Duncan and killed him, the entire holding would be alive with commotion. The Earl of Argyll was still alive, lurking somewhere, waiting for an opportunity to kill. Rising to his feet, Robert fought the desire to pass out from the pain exploding through his skull, and he began to run.
When he was just a few yards away from the castle, the heavy doors began to open. He skidded to a halt, his heart crashing against his ribs.
Someone stepped outside, his mop of golden curls glimmering like a halo beneath the sunlight.
Graham Grant!
The commander looked around and then stopped dead when he saw Robert. “Christ!”
Robert lifted his palms to quiet him. “Nae, Graham, wait.”
“Guard!” Grant bellowed, dragging his sword from its sheath at the same time.
Robert shouted his name. “My uncle is here somewhere . . .” He looked around at the vast landscape. “. . . hiding.”
“Step closer!” Graham commanded.
Robert took a step forward and then swayed. He rubbed his head to help clear it, but it only made the ground spin faster. The MacGregor was being alerted. Soon the chieftain would rush out of the castle and kill him. “Graham . . . damn you, hear me. My uncle is here and he means to kill Margaret Mac—”
Graham began running just as Robert fell flat on his face.
Without pausing at the barn door, Graham kicked it almost off its hinges and braced himself for an attack. “Maggie!” he shouted over the angry honks and squeals of her barn friends. His eyes settled on a body sprawled in the hay. “Nae,” Graham choked and then rushed forward. When he reached his brother, he dropped his sword and fell to his knees. “Jamie! Callum!” he screamed toward the door for help.
Men began racing into the barn, blocking the sun from the entrance. Callum led them, his sword drawn. He slowed his pace when he saw Graham leaning over Jamie, but he did not stop. Panic engulfed him, so terrifying it made his legs feel like butter. He shoved heavy bundles of hay aside as if they were as light as leaves. Searching . . .
Brodie found her first. When Callum reached them, he crouched before the trembling form of his sister. He reached out and touched her shoulder and she reeled back, her eyes huge and haunted. But she did not scream.
Callum controlled himself from going mad as he looked at the dried droplets of blood on Maggie’s face. She was too far away for it to be Jamie’s blood.
“Maggie, where is Kate?”
At the sound of his voice, Maggie suddenly grabbed for him. “He . . . he killt Jamie.”
“Nae,” Brodie soothed her. “Jamie lives. He was hit too far to the right to cause a fatal wound,” he said, more to Callum. “He has lost much blood, though. Graham and Angus have already taken him to his sisters. They will know what to do.”
Callum closed his eyes in silent thanks. When he opened them again, he stood up and roared a command of orders that made his sister shrink back. He wanted men searching the castle, the stable, and every bothy in the vale. He wanted others saddled within the instant and ready to cover every inch of his land, in every direction. He wanted Kate found. Now!
As he strode toward the door to leave, Angus returned from the castle with Graham close behind him and Robert Campbell’s collar clutched in his fist.
“Mayhap he can tell us where to find her,” the beefy Highlander suggested.
Callum took a step forward and lifted his sword. There was no mercy in his gaze, only raw, uncontrolled rage. Robert closed his eyes and turned away. Callum whirled his massive blade over his head, preparing the most lethal blow he could deliver. Angus released his prisoner and leaped backward to avoid being cut in half along with Robert.
“Nae!” Graham leaped forward and landed with the full weight of his body on Callum. Both men tumbled to the ground. The sword flashed beneath a beam of light as it hurled end over end into the shadows. Callum sprang to feet, his fury fully unleashed. He snatched fistfuls of Graham’s plaid and lifted him until their eyes were level. Then, as if his commander weighed nothing more than a thought, Callum flung him into the nearest wall.
With determination void of anything save its single purpose, Callum reached Robert and hauled him closer using only his fingers wrapped tightly around Campbell’s neck.
