Page 53 of Tempting the Highland Captive

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Ron awoke to find himself alone in the dark neglected confines of his mother’s cottage. It was clear that no one had lived in it since his mother’s death. His hands and feet were bound to a wooden chair, his back to the hearth. Memories of his childhood tumbled through his mind until they were all pushed aside by the image of her dead body lying in a pool of blood at his father’s feet. He had walked in on the scene and promptly attempted to kill his father in retribution. Failing, he had been thrown into prison and left to hang for his supposed crimes. He had never thought to see this place again and yet there he now sat drowning in the pain of his past and his present.

The door to the cottage creaked open and Michael Rossell stepped over the threshold. He came to stand in front of Ron and stared down at his offspring in disapproval. “Ye, my son, have cost me a great deal o’ difficulty. Ye have proven tae be a great disappointment tae me.”

“As ye have tae me,” Ron snapped bitterly. He did not like being at his father’s mercy. It reminded him too much of the past when he was under his cruel control.

“The Lady Amelia McAlpine was tae be my wife if all had gone as planned, but somehow she is married tae ye. How do ye explain such a thing when ye are supposed tae be dead at the end o’ a noose?”

“The king’s mercy,” Ron replied, happy to have foiled his father’s plans to wed Amelia.

Rossell snorted. “I should have dashed yer head against the stones the day ye were born.”

“I should have killed ye the day I was auld enough tae hold a sword,” Ron growled.

Rossell chuckled. “Aye, maybe ye should have, for I will certainly be yer end now.”

“Tae what end?” Ron asked, attempting to ascertain what good killing him would do after his father’s little speech about Rossell blood being in control of McAlpine lands due to his marriage to Amelia. “If ye kill me, yer blood will end. As yer only son, I carry with me all o’ yer hopes for the future.” Ron would never willingly do his father’s bidding, but he needed to know the older man’s plans so that he might better be able to protect Amelia if he could manage to escape.

“Once I have killed ye, I will take the Lady Amelia by force just as I did yer maither. She will be tae ashamed tae return tae her own people, just as yer maither was, and I will have her pupped afore the year is out.”

Ron would have torn his father’s head from his shoulders with his teeth if he could. “Ye underestimate her at every turn. She will ne’er come tae ye willingly, nor will her warriors allow ye anywhere near her. Even if ye were tae take her by force as ye say, she is stronger than ye think. She would ne’er remain with ye, nae matter how great the shame.”

Rossell snorted. “She is nae but a lass. Her own faither did nae see fit tae trust his people tae her care.”

“He was mistaken.”

Rossell studied Ron’s face and a light of understanding passed across his features. “Ye care for her. I thought that ye married her tae spite me, but ye truly love the lass.” He laughed then, a hysterical maniacal laugh that turned Ron’s stomach and made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. “How much better will it be when I kill ye knowing that I am about tae bed the woman ye love.” A thought dawned on him, and he moved to look out of the open doorway. “Mayhap, she will come for ye and make things a bit easier for me.”

“Ye will nae lay a hand on her,” Ron growled menacingly. His mind worked furiously at how he might free himself of his bonds.

“Oh, but I will.” He laughed at another thought. “Perhaps she will enjoy it. Yer maither did.”

Ron let out a roar that thundered throughout the cottage with such force that it dislodged some dust from the ceiling overhead. “I will kill ye, auld man!”

“Ye have ne’er been strong enough tae see the task done. Ye will die in the shadow o’ yer failures.”

Ron howled with such fury that he lifted his body and the chair he was tied to in one violent motion, crashing back down upon the floor with such force that he heard the chair crack. He did not pause to see if his father noticed, but immediately lifted the chair and slammed it down once more. Rossell moved to stop him, slamming his fist into Ron’s jaw. “Cease,” he commanded, short and brutal another fist flying to strike at his cheek. The taste of blood filled his mouth, the scent of copper overwhelming his senses as pain juddered through his jaw. Rossell positioned himself to deliver another blow, but a cry outside from the cottage caused him to turn and run out of the door. For a moment, Ron rejoiced in being left alone so that he might break free of his bindings, but another warrior entered in his father’s place to stand guard.

“What has happened?” he asked the man, his face throbbing in pain.

“It would appear that yer wife has come for ye,” the warrior answered with a humorous snarl, allowing himself a lascivious chuckle at Ron’s expense. “Yer faither can now have her in front o’ yer verra eyes afore he kills ye.”

A war cry rent the air and Ron recognized the voice. “Oh God nae, Amelia,” Ron groaned, fear and despair for her life overtaking his soul.

* * *

Amelia and her men made their way through the forest towards the place where Lucas had last seen Ron. There had been no direct way to get to the stronghold without being discovered and there was no sure way to know where he was being held, so they had settled for following his abductor’s tracks. Lucas had been right about the number of Rossell men out on patrol. They had been fortunate to have men trained to be stealthy in such close quarters and had managed to kill the Rossell guards before they could raise an alarm. They made it nearly to the small clearing in the forest where Lucas had reported the cottage to be before the alarm went up signaling their arrival. The element of surprise gone, Amelia leaned forward in the saddle and let out a battle cry of such horrible passion as to curdle the blood of her enemies. Drawing her sword, she charged forward, her men at her side.

The battle was close and brutal. The Rossell men fought like demons devoid of conscience. Amelia’s men fought with honor but were just as fierce knowing what was at stake if they lost. Amelia met Rossell’s eyes across the clearing standing in front of the cottage and she knew without a doubt that Ron had to be inside. She prayed that they were not too late and that her husband was still alive. She had been wrong about him and would never forgive herself if he died before she was able to tell him so. “Rossell,” she yelled his name, pointing her sword at him in challenge. The two leaders waded through the sea of combatants toward one another, Rossell’s eyes alight with glee.

“I will have ye as my whore afore this day is done,” Rossell proclaimed as he came to stand before her, his sword slashing down toward her sword arm.

Seeing he meant to unarm her straight away, Amelia took a step back and raised her sword to block his blow. “I am nae man’s whore, least o’ all yers,” she grunted as their blades clashed. The sounds of metal upon metal rang out across the clearing, men grunting and yelling as they fought one another breaking the once still silence of the forest. “Where is Ron? What have ye done with him?”

“He will soon be dead, but nae before he has watched me take ye upon the cottage floor.” Rossell grunted as he lunged forward attempting to grab her. It was clear that he did not wish to kill her but preferred to capture her instead. Amelia hoped that such knowledge would work to her favor. She increased the ferocity of her attack giving him no choice but to fight back. She moved him away from the cottage and towards the edge of the clearing in hopes that he would not have time to order Ron’s death before she killed Rossell herself. She had lost sight of Lucas in the melee and prayed that she would be strong enough to take Rossell’s life on her own. He was a seasoned fighter, strong for his age.

When she finally caught sight of Lucas, he was emerging from the cottage with Ron at his side. Joy filled her heart and she miss stepped in her brief distraction. Rossell took advantage of this and grabbed her arm as she fell. Bringing her up against him, he pressed his sword to her throat. He turned to face the group of fighting men and yelled to be heard above the din of battle. “I have yer lady. Surrender yer swords or watch her bleed out at yer feet.” The men nearest them, turned with horror in their eyes at the sight of their lady at the mercy of Rossell’s sword.