Page 46 of A Rogue and a Noble Lass

“Warnock demands yer presence,” a voice cried out.

“Then he can come down here and see me. I’m sure this place befits him,” she fired back.

“If ye dinnae climb now, we hae ways of making ye.”

“Are ye gaeing tae piss on me?”

“We’ll fill the pit with oil and then throw a flame down. Ye can either climb, or ye can burn. Saw a man who chose the latter once. The screams were unholy. I hae never heard anything like it. Watched the skin peel away from his flesh, showing the bone underneath. There’s probably still some of it down there.”

Beitris shuddered as she cast her gaze around her feet, not liking the sound of that at all. Her stomach churned with nausea and if there had been anything to throw up then it might well have spumed out of her. Reluctantly, grimly, she took hold of the rope and pulled herself up.

It wasn’t easy. Her arms were on fire and she was light-headed. When she made her way to the top she collapsed, her feet teetering over the pit again. There were three men waiting for her, all of them with their swords drawn. Warnock wasn’t taking any chances.

They grabbed her arms roughly, pulling her to her feet and dragging her into the Keep. Beitris didn’t try to resist, not this time, for she would need her strength to strangle Warnock.

The stones that built the Keep were dark. Her feet scraped against the surface. There was a ghostly wind that whispered through the place, cold and chilling. Beitris wasn’t sure where it came from. It might have been born from the cries of the dead, the spirits that were so anguished they could not rest. For all she knew, her sorrow would be added to them, and while her soul was defiant, she knew how ruthless Warnock could be. If she did not die swiftly, then her suffering would be immense. She intended to bear it all, at least until she saw Logan again, but even she had her limits.

Her throat was already dry, feeling as though sand had been poured into it. Knives were in her stomach. There were dark corridors all around her. In the distance, she heard a scream, although it might just have been a trick of the mind.

Beitris was taken to the Great Hall, although that name was a misnomer. It was a hollow thing, a room of stone and bitterness and shadows. One of the walls looked as though it was about to crumble, and barely any light crept through the windows. A dark figure was sitting on a stone chair, shrouded in a cloak. He moved slowly, and from the abyss of the hood came a dark, mocking laugh.

Two guards stood at the door, near enough to rush and strike her if she tried to kill the man. Warnock came creeping towards her like an insect, his eyes hidden from her. He used a thick wooden cudgel as a cane. His legs wobbled. She wondered how old he was. He might well have been as ancient as the stones around them.

“Ach… sae I finally meet Beitris Knox.”

The words came out in a wheezing breath. The sound of his voice turned Beitris’ blood to ice. His right hand gripped the cudgel. His left hand rose. Skeletal fingers, pale and spotted, reached for her. The nails were long, like talons, and yellow in shade. His fingertip touched her chin and she trembled all over with a mixture of fear and revulsion.

“Ye are lovelier than I would expect a Knox tae be.”

“Get yer hands off me,” she snapped.

Her spine was straight, her head tilted up, while her eyes blazed with the strength that she had inherited from her parents. She batted his hand away and then dark eyes flashed beneath the hood.

“Ye will nae be insolent with me, girl,” he rasped, and then struck her across the face with the back of his hand. There was a black ring on his finger, and this slammed into her cheek, nearly tearing her skin apart. Her head twisted to the side. Pain prickled over her skin and stars danced before her vision. Spittle flew from her mouth and the pain lingered. Tears stung her eyes.

She did not give him the satisfaction of crying out in dismay.

“Kneel before me,” he said.

“Never,” Beitris replied, and this time she spat at him.

He grunted in frustration. Beitris knew this was her chance. She didn’t care about the guards. She didn’t care about anything. This man had terrorized the Highlands for too long and she could bring an end to his schemes and machinations. Her hands twitched and she started to move, ready to clamp them around his throat and drain the life from him.

He moved with surprising swiftness. He shifted back and brought the cudgel around, slamming the heavy end against her elbow. This time she did cry out in pain, for the surprise was just as shocking as the impact itself.

“I said kneel!” he yelled as the hood flew back from his head and she gazed upon his terrible features for the first time.

His nose was crooked, his lips thin and pale. His cheekbones were high and one of them was marked with a scar. His hair had thinned and the oval dome of his scalp was visible, spotted and marked with blue veins running beneath the skin. But it was his eyes that transfixed her the most, however, for they were filled with evil and malice. Never before had she seen such a terrifying sight.

He brought the cudgel around again, this time it crashed into her thigh. She buckled, falling to one knee, but that wasn’t going to be enough for him. He hit her other leg, this time at the back of the knee. She crumbled, falling forward, having to steady herself by placing her hands on the ground. The impact stung her palms. She was about to push herself back when a third blow struck her, this time at the small of her back. Her body arched as she sprawled across the floor.

Warnock paced around her.

“I will nae tolerate any defiance, lass, nae from anyone, especially nae a Knox.”

The words poured out of him, trickling like dark blood.

“Ye will hae naething else from me,” she replied, pushing herself back to her knees, but that was as far as she could get. The pain was too much to bear.