To Wed A Wicked Highlander bboth-3 Read online

* * *

  Sybella’s head throbbed and her body ached, but nothing would keep her from seeing the man who had tried to take aim at her head. After Alex departed with Ciaran, Sybella told Rosalia that she wanted to rest. Her words weren’t totally untrue. She did want to rest, but there was no way she was going to miss what was happening in the bailey.

  She made her way down the steps, and as soon as she stepped out the door, she found an unoccupied wall and stood quietly. She couldn’t see a damn thing. A mountain of men encircled something, but she wasn’t able to make anything out.

  Sybella walked slowly along the edge of the wall, trying to get a better view. Was it just her opinion, or were all Highland men extremely large? She stood on the tips of her toes, but broad shoulders blocked her ability to see the archer who had tried to kill her—twice.

  Ciaran moved, and she saw Alexander raising his arm and striking the man who knelt before him. Sybella bent over and watched through the legs of the Highlanders as the man fell to the ground. She had to restrain herself from walking over and pushing the men aside to see the miscreant who had tried to harm her.

  Someone pulled the man to his feet, but she still couldn’t see his face. Ciaran asked the archer a question, and when the man didn’t answer, she watched in awe as her husband punched the arse forcefully in the gut. The man bent over briefly, but Alex’s guard promptly pulled him upright. The archer could barely stand, with his legs bent and about to collapse. She gathered that the only reason the bastard remained standing was because two men held him up by his arms.

  “Ye will answer me!” bellowed Alexander.

  The archer must have spit in Alex’s face because the men gasped as Alex wiped his face with his arm. Ciaran balled his fist into the man’s face, and Sybella cringed as she heard something crunch beneath the forceful blow. No doubt the MacGregor had broken the man’s nose or face. Frankly, she wasn’t sure which. Perhaps both.

  “Who sent ye?” asked Alex in a raised voice.

  Perhaps she could get a better look from the other side. She tried to circle along the wall unnoticed. The way Alex and Ciaran’s men surrounded the man, she didn’t think anyone would pay much attention to a lady—well, at least she hoped not. She could just make out the top of the man’s head while she approached the other side of the bailey.

  One of the guards shifted, and she managed to get a view of a black, yellow, and red tartan, the clan colors of the MacLeod of Lewis. Praise the saints. Rosalia was right. Sybella was nothing more than a pawn in the game of men. She knew her father had disputes with the MacLeod of Lewis, and now the MacLeod was coming after her for her father’s ways.

  “Throw his arse in the dungeon,” Alex ordered his men. “We will find a way to make him talk. An diobhail toirt leis thu.” The devil take you. Alex turned to the captain of his guard, and something unspoken passed between them.

  When John grabbed the man’s arm, Sybella was finally able to get a clear view of the man who had attempted to kill her.

  As she took a step forward, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

  * * *

  Alex rubbed his knuckles, which stung and bled. In truth, the blood was of little consequence; of far more importance was whatever he would be able to gain from this savage MacLeod. Alex was sure there was valuable information to be had, if only the man would talk. The archer had made a grave error in judgment by keeping his mouth shut. John could be very persuasive, for Donald had taught him well.

  “Let him rot in the dungeon. He will eventually speak the truth. And if he doesnae, there are ways in which he can be persuaded,” said MacGregor. He looked over Alex’s shoulder and his eyes narrowed. “Wash the blood from your hands. Your wife watches ye.”

  Alex turned to see that Sybella’s face was paler than normal. Damn. He didn’t mean for her to see him beating the man. However, she should understand that he would do anything to keep her safe. He wiped his hands on a rag and then walked toward her. She remained perfectly still.

  “Ye were supposed to be abed.”

  Sybella paused. “Aye, but I wanted to see the man who tried to kill me.”

  “He is a MacLeod, but he will nae speak. ’Tis only a matter of time before he does. Once he confirms his orders, I will deal with the MacLeod.”

  “Ye are keeping the man in the dungeon, but ye donna keep him guarded below?” she asked as John and his men returned to the bailey.

  “He cannae escape. When my father built the Rock of the Raven, he made certain there was nay means of escape for any prisoner. Ye are safe, Ella.”

  “I am relieved to hear it.”

  Alex noticed the tremor in her voice. “Come inside. Ye have had enough excitement for one day.” He placed his arm around her shoulder and guided her into the great hall.

  MacGregor was already there, speaking with Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail. Upon Alex and Sybella’s approach, Rosalia walked over to Sybella and embraced her. “Ye must be so relieved that the man was caught. At least ye nay longer have to fear,” said Rosalia, giving Sybella a compassionate smile.

  “Aye. And I must thank ye, Laird MacGregor, for all ye have done to assist my husband.”

  MacGregor nodded. “Ciaran. And there is nay need for thanks. Your husband did the same for Rosalia.” MacGregor wrapped his arm around his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

  “That’s what kin are for,” said Rosalia.

  Sybella smiled, but she looked tired, worn. “If ye will pray excuse me, I think I need to rest.”

  “I will walk ye to your chamber,” Alex said.

  “Nay, I will be fine. Truly.”

  “All right, but I will be in to check on ye later, Ella.”

  Alex watched Sybella take her leave and knew from her wobbly stance that her body was still sore from where he had thrown her into the wall. At least she was not permanently injured and no longer had to fear for her life. She would be well enough in a few days.

  “Alexander, ye caught the man responsible for trying to harm your wife. Your father would be proud. I am somewhat surprised it was the MacLeod’s doing. We’ve always had trouble with the MacKenzies, and now it seems that we have a new enemy among us,” said Aunt Iseabail.

  “Some of my men traveled to Lewis to support the MacKenzie’s efforts. The MacLeod will be dealt with.”

  “I should hope so after he tried to harm your wife.”

  “Pray excuse me,” Alex said to her.

  He needed to clear his head. He walked to his chamber and poured some water into the bowl. He washed his hands and then bent over and splashed water over his face. As he reached for the drying cloth, he sighed. Something had unsettled him, and he could not quite place his finger on it. It would come to him eventually. Thoughts like this always did.

  He tossed the cloth on the bedside table and approached the adjoining door. He lightly tapped on the door and opened it quietly in case his wife slept.

  “I’m awake, Alex.”

  He walked through the door and closed it behind him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gave Sybella a smile. “How do ye fare?”

  “My body aches, but I’m sure I will be fine.”

  “Would ye like me to order a bath for ye? The water may help to soothe the soreness ye feel.”

  She reached out and touched his arm. “Nay, but if ye donna mind, I shall sup in my chamber this eve and seek my bed early.”

  He smoothed her hair. “I donna mind. ’Tis probably best for ye. Is there anything else I can do for ye?”

  “Nay, I only wish to rest.”

  “Then I will leave ye be.” Alex stood and kissed Sybella on the top of the head. “Ye can sleep well this eve, knowing ye are safe. Donna hesitate to call upon me if ye need anything—anything at all.”

  “Thank ye. I will.”

  Alex walked out into the hall and closed the door. Sybella would rest, and she would feel better with each passing day. As soon as he spotted the arrow, his first thought had been of his wife. At that moment, he realized that
Sybella meant more to him than he had been admitting, even to himself. He’d known from the beginning that there was something special about the lass.

  He briefly wondered how John fared with the MacLeod’s whelp in the dungeon and knew there was only one way to find out.

  * * *

  Sybella waited until the darkened hours of the night. She threw on her black cloak and walked out into the hall, softly closing the door behind her. With the main torches extinguished, she could easily keep to the shadows and find her way to the dungeon. The guards would be watching the wall, not concerned with anyone inside the castle. At least, that was her hope.

  Fortunately, Alex had left her alone and she had gotten just enough rest to see to the task at hand. Even though her ribs still pained her, nothing would keep her from her purpose. Once she had seen the man in the bailey, her thoughts became more puzzled by the moment. She needed answers. She needed to know why.

  She had taken a step forward when she spotted a guard who sat against the wall. Damn. She quickly backed up. When the man let out a snort, she realized he slept. Surely she could sneak by him unnoticed. She proceeded cautiously toward him but had to walk quickly to not be spotted by other men who might be wandering about. She cast the man a hastened glance, and even in the shadows of the night, she thought the man looked like Ian.

  If Alex found out that Ian had neglected his duties yet again, he would…She wasn’t exactly sure what he’d do, but she knew that Ian’s fate would not be pleasant. Yet she silently thanked the guard who slumbered because his lack of attention definitely worked in her favor.

  Sybella descended the stairs to the dungeon. Her heart was beating fast, and she had to stop briefly to rest against the darkened wall. She took a deep breath, realizing that she had made it this far. It was too late to turn back now.

  When she reached the last step to the dungeon, she stopped. There was an eerie chill that hung in the air, sending a shiver down her spine. She lit the candle she had confiscated from her bedchamber and illuminated the unsavory pit of hell. Some kind of unidentifiable muck lay upon the ground. Sybella held the candle in one hand and hefted her cloak with the other. There was no time to study where her feet placed her. Frankly, she didn’t want to know. Her senses were overwhelmed with the smell of sweat, blood, and only the gods knew what else.

  Heavy stone walls and iron bars lined what she could only refer to as a center path. She inched her way to the first door and held the candle between the bars. She waited a moment until the flickering light stilled. She felt somewhat relieved that the cramped quarters were empty.

  As Sybella made her way to the second door, she gasped when some kind of vermin ran over her boot. Her entire body stiffened in shock, and it was virtually impossible to steady her erratic pulse. She had no trouble hunting animals, but for some reason, rats unnerved her. There was no time to be fainthearted. With an unsteady hand, she again lifted the candle between the bars, this time to see shackles lining the wall. She couldn’t help but cringe. When she heard a moan, she quickly walked to the next door and raised the candle.

  She jumped.

  White eyes stared back at her from a blood-smeared face. The archer sat shackled to the wall, and blood also covered most of his kilt. The putrid stench from within the chamber smelled of unwashed bodies, urine, and decay.

  Sybella stood momentarily speechless and resisted the urge to gag.

  “Who are ye?” she whispered through the bars. The man merely smiled and displayed empty spaces where his teeth should have been. No doubt Alex’s guard had removed them.

  “Why have ye come here, Lady Sybella? This is nay place for a lady.”

  She gasped. “Ye’re my father’s man. I thought I recognized ye in the bailey.”

  The man spit and blood splattered from his mouth. “Aye. Better run along, lass. Off with ye now.”

  “Why are ye here? Why are ye dressed in the MacLeod tartan?”

  “’Tisnae your concern, my lady. Ye best seek your bed before your husband finds ye missing.”

  “But ye wear the MacLeod tartan. Ye donna understand. My husband will kill ye. Tell him ye are a MacKenzie and spare your life.”

  “That isnae part of the scheme, my lady.”

  Sybella’s jaw dropped. “Part of the scheme? What scheme? I demand answers, and ye will give them. Now.”

  The man laughed. “Och, lass, MacKenzie blood still flows hot through your veins.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Look around, lass. I donna think I’m going anywhere soon.”

  “Ye will speak to me before the guard comes. Tell me what this is about. I will nae ask again.”

  He paused. “The MacKenzie wants his stone back.”

  “What are ye talking about?” she asked with exasperation.

  “I shot the arrow in the woods to force the MacDonell to keep ye inside the castle walls so that ye could hunt for the stone.” He shifted, wincing at the painful movement. “Your father was giving ye ample opportunity to search for the stone. I assume ye havenae had any luck.”

  “Ye shot the arrow? Ye barely missed my head.” She wasn’t about to tell the man she hadn’t begun to search for the damn rock.

  He chuckled in response. “I am a good shot, my lady. Besides, I had to make it appear real enough that the MacDonell would try to protect ye. I succeeded, did I nae?”

  “Ye could have killed me.”

  “But I didnae.”

  “I still donna understand. Why are ye wearing the MacLeod tartan?”

  “Your father is a verra cunning man. Your husband would ne’er suspect the MacKenzie now that he has wed ye. The daft fool even sent a score of his men to Lewis to keep the MacLeod under control. The MacLeod tartan colors suit our purpose, solving two problems with one solution, so to speak.”

  Sybella seethed with mounting rage—mainly at herself for being such a fool. And with the MacKenzie man’s declaration, she found herself clenching her teeth. She knew that when she was crossed, her temper could be almost uncontrollable. God help her. Her chest was going to burst. The MacKenzies may want the stone, but they also had another goal: to destroy Alex. They wanted him to purposefully destroy the MacLeod. Her marriage was a mockery, only a pretense to do her father’s bidding. And having the truth confirmed before her very eyes…This was not what Sybella had agreed to.

  She felt as if her breath was cut off. Her own father. Colin was right. The man would do anything to get back this stone. Had she been blind all of these years? She’d believed her father was a true and just man. She shuddered when she thought of what her poor mother might have thought of this situation. The woman would be so ashamed. For the first time in her life, Sybella was thankful for her mother’s passing because this whole scheme would surely have broken her heart.

  Although Sybella did not currently hold Alex in a favorable light, she could not stay the feelings that he stirred within her. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, her husband was right. He didn’t trust the MacKenzies, and in truth, her clan was no better than the bloody Campbell that Alex had talked about.

  She was furious and her nostrils flared with anger. But she had come here with an intention, and she would get all of the answers she sought. A pulsing knot within her demanded more.

  “Ye said that ye shot at me in the woods so that the MacDonell would keep me within the walls of the castle. He did. I donna understand why ye would take another shot at me upon the parapet.”

  “Your father was making it easier for ye to find the stone. And I didnae say I was aiming for ye upon the parapet, my lady.”

  Fourteen

  Before Alex broke his fast, he sought the captain of his guard in the bailey. The words John spoke were not exactly what Alex had expected to hear first thing in the morn. When his eyes widened, John confirmed what Alex already knew.

  “He is dead,” repeated John. He leaned back casually against the wall. “Ian found him this morn.”

  “Did he say anything about the
MacLeod or anything at all?”

  “Nay.”

  “’Tis of little consequence. Break your fast and then gather some men. We travel to Kintail. When I tell the MacKenzie of the threat upon his daughter, I will use our alliance as a means to take the MacLeod’s head. The MacLeods of Lewis will nay longer be a problem to the MacDonells or the MacKenzies. And King James will be pleased that there will nay longer be constant turmoil on Lewis.”

  John turned and walked away as MacGregor approached Alex. “Any word?”

  Alex shook his head. “The man is dead.”

  “Verra unfortunate.”

  “I didnae need for the archer to speak to know his orders were given by the MacLeod. Even though the MacLeod wars with the MacKenzies and I donna agree with the way the MacKenzies killed innocents, the MacLeod made a grave error in judgment by aiming to kill my wife. Sybella is a MacDonell, and I protect my own. We ride to Kintail to speak with the MacKenzie. One way or another, I will have the MacLeod’s head.”

  “I will ride along with ye. I donna necessarily want to leave Rosalia and Lachlann to travel to Lewis, but I will support ye in any way I can,” said MacGregor.

  “Ye have my thanks. Let’s break our fast and then I’d like to leave with much haste.”

  Sybella was already seated at the table when Alex walked into the great hall. He took his seat beside her and noticed that she played with her food. She sat with a worried expression on her face, and he sensed that she was disquieted from last eve.

  “How do ye fare this morn?”

  “I am a wee bit sore but nae nearly as bad as yester eve.” She kept her eyes down on her trencher.

  “MacGregor and I travel to Kintail after we break our fast. My cousin will be able to assist ye if ye need anything.”

  Her eyes widened and her expression darkened with an unreadable expression. “Kintail? Why?”

  “There are matters I need to discuss with your father.” He took a drink from his tankard and could feel Sybella’s stare drilling into him. When he turned his head, she continued to keep him under silent scrutiny.