A chill creeped down her spine. How was she supposed to live another day without him in the world? Why should she care about living or dying? She didn’t. But she did want to face her captor. MacBain had not kept his promise to keep Constantine safe. Their bargain was broken.
She had strength enough to throw back her head and scream. Why had he brought his men to Tor Castle? MacBain had mentioned his chief wanting her. Was she the reason they attacked Tor?
“MacBain!” she bellowed. She leaped from the bed and hurried to the door. She struggled to open it but it was locked. She hurried for the chair, intending to pick it up and throw it next.
She paused hearing footsteps coming closer to her door.
She still had strength to throw the chair at him directly. She readied herself as the door creaked open.
When she saw who was on the other side, she let go of the chair and looked around for a place to run.
“What are ye doing here, MacRae?” Her voice shook with fear and anger.
“I have come to help ye,” he smiled and took a seat in a heavy chair by the window.
Did he think himself her protector? She quickly rejected him in her own head. She didn’t need his protection. She needed an escape route. “Save it, MacRae,” she said scathingly. “I dinna know how I came to be in yer possession, but I demand ye release me.”
He laughed. “What a filthy tongue. Ye’re a treasure to potheth. Other men will envy and admire my ability to tame the wild wench.”
Och, how could it be that after all the running andhiding, for all the blisters on her feet, and the nights she’d gone to sleep hungry, he caught her.
“Let me go. I am the wife of—”
“Yer marriage to that unholy Highland outlaw will be annulled,” MacRae advised, rubbing his purple jaw. “Then I will wed ye, ath planned. Though now that I have caught ye, ye are nae longer appetizing.”
“Good!” she exclaimed, sick to her stomach by him. “By the way, ye sound like the blithering fool ye truly are.” She wanted to weep but she wouldn’t show MacRae any weakness. How long could she go on without screaming until she never stopped?
What if Constantine was dead? How could he leave her?
Wait. If Constantine had died, MacRae wouldn’t need to have the marriage annulled.
He hadn’t left her, she told herself with a sudden burst of strength coursing through her. He was alive! He had to be. “He promised to come fer me.”
“What?” MacRae looked up from his fingers.
“He is going to come fer me, MacRae. And when he does, he is going to kill ye.”
The chief paled and swallowed. “He wath fatally injured. He willna be coming fer anyone.”
Constantine was fatally wounded? How long ago had it been since she saw him lifeless on the floor? Did she dare believe MacRae? She shook her head and swallowed back her tears. “He will kill ye whether he is dead or alive.”
He laughed but it sounded forced to Ismay’s ears. He was afraid, and he should be. If Constantine was truly gone, she would do the killing.
“Where is MacBain?” she demanded. “Did he deliver me to ye? Was my mother involved in this?”
MacRae shrugged his beefy shoulder. “I heard the Camerons werelooking fer him.” He smiled at his last words and shrugged again. “Dead or alive, he did hith duty.”
So, Ismay told herself, reading him easily, MacBain had, in fact, delivered her to him. But by whose order? MacRae wasn’t powerful enough to order an army to invade Tor. She asked him.
“Yer rescue wath ordered by the Clan Chief Chattan. Ye are a MacPherthon by yer own dear mother’s oath. She wanted ye out of the hands of the outlaw Cameron.”
“She told them I was a MacPherson?”
“I did, actually, with her mark on a document of yer identity.”
Ismay swore quietly. This just kept getting more mad! “So, mymotherinformed the Confederation of my identity to get me out of the hands of the Cameron, and into yers?”
“Aye.” MacRae nodded with a satisfied grin. “We did ye a great favor, Ithmay. Once the Lochiel discovered who ye are, he would have likely raped ye. Now we know he forced ye to marry him.”
