Page 66 of The Cursed Highland Bride

Morgan’s eyes widened in surprise. “How could she have kenned such a thing?”

“My Katarina is more than she seems.” Dunn gave him a knowing look that said the older man should not think about lying further. “She has told me a great many things o’ late.”

“Ye ken who she is then?”

Dunn nodded once. “I do.”

“Is it vengeance for the lie, vengeance for the attack, my true daughter, or yer Romani bride that ye seek?”

“Perhaps it is all.” Dunn let the subtle threat hang in the air and watched the rest of the color drain from Morgan’s face.

“If ye kill me, ye will never leave this place alive,” Morgan warned.

“Give me a reason tae care. Where is my wife?”

“Faither?” a soft feminine voice questioned from the doorway.

Dunn turned to find a young woman that was nearly the image of his wife. Had the voice not been different, he would have sworn that it was her standing there in the shadows. In two strides, he was at the door and had taken her by the arm. “Scream and I will kill yer faither before yer very eyes,” he warned, his eyes burrowing into hers with steel determination.

The threat appeared to work, as the lass did not utter a sound. She did not even make a move to harm him or defend herself. Instead, she stood there silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her father was a different story. In the time that it had taken Dunn to grab the girl, Morgan had arisen from bed and was reaching for his sword. “Touch it and she dies,” Dunn snapped, closing the distance between them once more.

Morgan withdrew his hand and stood to face Dunn. “Ye would nae harm a defenseless woman.”

“Perhaps nae, but I would gladly kill ye.”

“Ye kill me, ye dinnae get what ye came here for,” Morgan reminded him. “Take what ye wish. I care nae. All ye need do is leave me and my daughter alive. Ye ken if ye kill me, the king will come after ye. Ye will never ken rest or peace again. Ye and yer people will be ripped from this earth like the unwanted weeds that ye are.”

Dunn brought his sword back to Morgan’s throat. “I will ask ye one last time. Where is my wife?”

Morgan spat at Dunn’s feet, standing to his full height in defiance. “Yer wife is dead.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Katarina sat huddled in the corner nearest the door, waiting with her knife clutched in her hand. She had not lost hope that eventually one of Morgan’s men would come to bring them food. She was not certain how long that she had been waiting there, but it had been long enough for her to lose all feeling in her legs and feet. Her back and shoulders ached from the tension. She had dozed off and on, unable to remain awake the entire time. In truth, she had lost track of all sense of time entirely.

She could hear her sisters breathing in the darkness. From the quiet even sound of it, they were asleep. Katarina stifled a groan as she shifted her feet. Alistair Morgan had better not leave us to starve down here. There is no justice in dying that way.

The faint sound of footsteps pattered overhead, and Katarina’s heart sped up in anticipation. She clutched the knife tighter and eased forward. She strained to listen to see if whomever the footsteps belonged to was moving toward the cell door, but it was so quiet that she could not tell for certain. For all she knew, the person could have been leaving instead of just arriving. Sighing in frustration, she waited until the sound disappeared entirely before she fell back against the wall in exhaustion. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she dashed at them with the back of her hand.

She did not know how long they could go on as they were. It was one thing to go without food, but to go without water was another matter. They had tried screaming for help, but no one had come. No one had even told them to stop. They had screamed until their voices grew hoarse. The girls had told her it would not work. They had tried it themselves more than once. The men came when they came and at no other time, no matter what else transpired. Katarina had hoped that they were wrong. Out of respect for her wishes, they had tried again, but the girls had been right. No one had come. Unwilling to give up, Katarina had taken up her stance by the door and waited. She had been waiting for what seemed like a very long time.

Suddenly, the sound of metal scraping against metal filled the dark space around them, and the door swung open. A faint light glowed in the corridor beyond, outlining the figure of a man. Katarina steeled herself and leapt, knife in hand. The blade sank through flesh and muscle until it hit bone. In the darkness, she had no way of knowing who she had stabbed or even what body part she had stabbed, but she had aimed for what she hoped were the most lethal parts. The man screamed and dropped the trencher of food he was carrying.

Katarina withdrew the knife and stabbed again. “Romani bitch!” The man lashed out at her, and she fell back against the wall. Grappling in the darkness, the man staggered forward and grabbed her around the neck. His fists closed in around her throat, and she gasped as she struggled against him. She attempted to stab him once more but dropped the knife. Metal clanked against stone, and it felt as if all of the air had gone out of her body and there was no way to replace it. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her head began to pound.

The sound of the man yelling must have awakened her sisters, for a shadowed silhouette came out of the darkness, launching itself onto her attacker’s back. Another shadow passed beneath her feet, and she heard the scrape of the knife against the stone as it was retrieved from its landing place. Another yowl from the man told Katarina that one of her sisters had managed to stab him again. He released his hold on Katarina’s throat and staggered back. Her sisters jumped clear of his body so that they would not become his next victims.

Katarina gasped, gulping for air. Her lungs burned as she slumped down to the ground, her head reeling. Her sisters scurried to her side to help her. “Katarina!”

“Is he dead?” she managed to croak out around her bruised throat.

“I do not know,” Leonor replied. “I stabbed him, but I was too afraid to get any closer to him.”

“He is a big man,” Idalia admitted. “I fear what he might do if he gets his hands on one of us again.”

“Leave him,” Katarina croaked out. “We must go before anyone knows what has happened and attempts to stop us. Do you have the knife, or is it still in him?”

Leonor shifted uneasily. “It is still in him.”