“It’s mine.”
“Likely story. You stole it when you killed the cook, didn’t you? You’re a witch. Come on, admit it. You’ve addled Cam’s mind. Why else would he keep us MacKenzie’s here? You want a war between us, don’t you?”
Two of the men reached out and grabbed her, holding her in place as the woman grew nearer. She reached out, pulling the necklace from Rachel’s neck. “Was it worth it? Murdering an innocent woman?”
“I didn’t kill anyone. Let go of me.” She fought to free herself but they had too tight a hold of her.
“Come on. We’ll take her back with us.”
“Where are you taking me?”
They began dragging her toward the door. One of the men sneered at her. “We’re going to sacrifice you to the barefoot man. Save us all before it’s too late.”
“No time for talking,” the woman replied. “Quick, before he finds out.”
A voice from the stairway beyond the door. “He’s already found out.”
Cam moved so fast, by the time Rachel worked out what was happening it was over. Cam had flashed his sword so close to her face she felt the wind whip by her.
Her three attackers were no longer holding her. They were all on the floor, blood pooling under them, their bodies perfectly still. Cam’s sword dripped as he stood over them, waiting to see if any of them moved again.
“What just happened?” she asked, staggering backward. “Did you just kill them?”
“Are you all right?” he asked, dropping his sword and placing his hands on her shoulders.
She couldn’t help herself. She threw her arms around him, closing her eyes tightly. “I want to go home,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he replied. “You will soon enough.”
“You killed them,” she said, realizing she was pressed against him. She could hear his heart through his chest. It was steady, calm, unlike her. “I can’t believe you killed them.”
“They were going to murder you,” he replied. “I heard them talking as I was coming upstairs.” He nudged the nearest one with his foot. “Now to try and explain to Hubert why I killed three of his clan.”
As he spoke, a trumpet rang out in the courtyard, stopped, then rang again. “What’s that?” Rachel asked.
“The patrols are back.”
Chapter Nine
Cam’s mood darkened as he listened to one tale after another. He had sent out three separate patrols to ascertain the truth of the barefoot man’s assault on the Highlands. The patrols had come back as one for protection, something that they’d never done before. Safety in numbers was the only reason they were alive.
He sat in the great hall on his dais. Hubert sat beside him as a mark of respect between the two clans. Cam had decided to wait until after the patrols had finished their reports before telling him about the death of three of his own.
He had left her in his chamber with three guards outside. He wasn’t risking anything happening to her again. It felt as if control was slipping away from his fingers. In all the wars and intrigues of the Highlands it had never been like this. Perhaps there was some truth in the rumors that the barefoot man was demonic. How else could he explain a murder in his own castle, the killer still roaming free somewhere?
Angus was talking. He was a grizzled man of more than fifty and Cam looked at him closely. He had never seen fear in Angus’s eyes but it was definitely there. He stood stock still, a long ugly looking scar on his right cheek. “They came upon us in the night. We heard nothing, my Laird.”
“Go on,” Cam said, glancing across at Hubert to see the old man also showing a flicker of fear.
“They took out half a dozen of us before we knew what was happening. Martin ran while we were fighting. I have not seen him since.”
“Martin has been dealt with. Did you see the barefoot man?”
“We saw no one. They were little more than shadows. Once we started to gain the upper hand they simply melted away.”
“What of the Western Isles?”
Angus shook his head. “The darkness has spread to them, my Laird. Half are empty, the rest belong to him now.”
