The Laird's Captive Wife(82)

In helpless anger Ashlynn could only watch as a horseman swept alongside and seized her reins. She heard shouts and then both horses were pulled to a plunging halt. Moments later she was surrounded. Only then did she realise what it was that been eluding her: the costumes might have disguised their identity from a distance but the cropped hair marked them immediately as Normans. Wild-eyed she looked around and saw with rising horror that Jeannie had been taken too. The other women were unmolested and fast disappearing into the distance. Then a man’s voice broke into her consciousness and her stomach lurched as she recognised the speaker. De Vardes! For a second he favoured her with a gloating smile before turning his attention to her companion.

‘Tell McAlpin that if he wants his wife back he must win her in single combat.’

Jeannie’s face was pale but her dark eyes flashed fury. ‘Against whom?’

‘He’ll know.’

‘Where?’

‘The circle of standing stones beyond Glengarron. Tomorrow at dawn. He’s to come alone.’

‘No! Don’t do it!’ Ashlynn broke in. ‘Tell him to stay away!’

‘You’d better pray he doesn’t, my lady,’ replied De Vardes. ‘Otherwise we’ll return you to him a piece at a time.’ He looked back at Jeannie. ‘Just deliver the message.’

‘I’ll deliver it,’ she replied. ‘I’ll tell you something too: if you harm Lady Ashlynn there won’t be a corner of hell for you to hide in after.’

‘The lady will not be harmed, so long as McAlpin does as he’s told. However, any attempt to follow us now will result in me cutting her throat the moment we sight pursuit.’

With that he jerked his head at the man holding the reins of her palfrey. He relinquished his hold. Jeannie threw Ashlynn an eloquent anguished look and then reluctantly turned her horse and rode away towards the wood. For a moment De Vardes watched her go. Then he brought his mount alongside Ashlynn’s. Without a word he pulled the reins from her grasp and drew them over Steorra’s head. Then, he led her away.

* * *

Iain heard his sister in expressionless silence, his eyes like iced flint in the pallor of his face. Beside him Ban turned white. All around them the others fell silent too as they listened to the message, every countenance registering anger and disbelief.

‘He said you’d know your opponent,’ Jeannie went on. ‘What did he mean? Who is it, Iain?’

‘Fitzurse.’

‘Dear God, not he.’

‘The same.’

Ban shot him a piercing look. ‘Fitzurse! Was not he the man responsible for the destruction of Heslingfield?’

‘Aye, he was.’

‘You know him by more than repute, I think.’

‘Aye, I do, and but for circumstances I’d have slain him long since. But he’ll not escape again. This time I’ll rid this earth of him once and for all.’

‘What are you going to do?’ asked Dougal.

‘Meet him. What else?’

With that he turned his horse for home. For a moment they watched him go, then gathered their wits and set off in his wake, silent and grim-faced.

Iain rode mechanically, his mind elsewhere and his gut knotted with cold rage. Eight years rolled away, to another day and another hunt. Two women he had loved; two women taken from him by the same man. This time however, there was going to be a different outcome. He had once thought that he could never love again, a mistaken belief if ever there was one. It was a love hard earned but all he could see now was Ashlynn’s face. Eloise had been the glorious passion of his youth, a wonderful romantic dream whose beauty would remain with him always. This was different again, a love found in maturity, slower to grow but engendering a deep and lasting need, an emotion that engaged mind, body and spirit. His love for Ashlynn had made him whole again. With her image came the knowledge that this wasn’t just about settling an old score now, it was about his reason for living and his hopes of a future.

* * *

The swift pace brought them back to Glengarron an hour later. Within a very short time of their return everyone at Dark Mount knew what had happened and the atmosphere so cheerful before became brooding and angry. The insult to the laird was an insult to them all. However, it was Ban whom Jeanne watched now, not her brother. The young man’s face was so white it looked bloodless. Guessing only too well at the thoughts behind, she laid a gentle hand on his arm.

‘Have no fear,’ she said, ‘we’ll get her back.’

‘Aye, but alive or dead, my lady?’ he replied.

‘Fitzurse will not harm her,’ said Iain. ‘She’s too valuable to him alive. He means to use her to get to me.’