To Steal a Highlander's Heart(47)

His heart felt like it had shrivelled at the thought. Instead of succumbing to despair, he allowed the boiling heat of anger to consume him. If she'd harmed her, by God...

Besides he was sure he'd know if Alana was dead. That strange connection they had would have told him, just like when the poison claimed her life.

The Old Castle came into view, the morning sun glinting over the top and forcing him to squint. Instead of seeming like a haven, the dark stone sent a dart of dread skittering through him. He studied the landscape but saw no sign of a horse. The muscles in his arms bunched. That didn't mean anything. Margot hadn't taken any mounts from Glencolum so she was likely on foot. He dismounted outside the crumbled walls and hooked Caraid’s reins over a jutting piece of stone. He crouched low, easing his way around the walls until he came to the steps. Stealing another glance around, he crept up the steps and sucked in a breath as he drew his sword. A silent entry was impossible with the ancient oak door so he shoved it open quickly, blade out in front. His knees almost buckled as he spied Alana. Prone on the floor, hands and feet secured with rope, she released a muffled squeal through the material tied across her mouth as she spotted him. One cheek was red, her chemise filthy and tears filled her eyes.

Morgann barely noticed when Margot sprung from the shadows, a dagger held in one hand and a flaming torch in the other. He sniffed, the smell of oil strong in the air. A deep, agonising sickness pervaded through him as Margot grinned, torch held aloft.

"At last," she said. "We've been waiting quite some time, haven't we, Alana? I thought mayhap ye'd abandoned the woman ye love. A change of heart perhaps. But obviously not. Now if ye just lay down yer sword, we can get this over and done with."

He flexed his hand on the hilt. "Aye, ye come over here and I'll make it quick," he snarled.

"I wouldnae or she," she tilted her head toward Alana, "will go up in flames." She waved the torch around and Morgann's heart skipped as fire dripped and fizzled out on the wooden floor, too close to Alana's skirt for his liking.

"Nay!" He breathed deeply through his nostrils and eased the sword to the ground.

Alana released a muffled sound of protest but he ignored her, keeping his wary gaze on Margot.

"I thank ye, Morgann," she purred as she edged around him. "Now step over there." She motioned to the other side of the room with the dagger.

Morgann circled round, gaze darting between Alana and the flame. The heavy thump of his heart smacked against his ribs as the space between him and Alana increased. He longed to run to her, to drag her away from his vile stepmother but the fire dancing dangerously near to her thin shift prevented him. If he wasn’t mistaken, oil stained the linen.

By God, Margot was out of her wits. Even though he’d known for a long time just how black her heart was, he could barely comprehend her wanting to burn Alana. The woman had always kept her distance from her misdeeds but it seemed she was ready to end it all by her own hand.

He swallowed heavily as his back bumped into the wall. This time she held the lass he loved hostage. A bitter tang filled his mouth. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Alana was to die in his arms of old age, preferably together.

Margot pressed the dagger onto the table and reached for Alana, keeping a close eye on him and Morgann tensed his body, ready to snatch Alana from her at any moment.

“I thank ye, Morgann, for making this so easy on me. A few sweet words whispered in an ear and ‘twas simple to find out where ye were. And then ye even abandoned poor Alana here to fend for herself.”

Hauling Alana to her feet, Margot kept the torch dangerously close, the threat of the flame remaining as she crept toward the door. With her feet bound, Alana had to shuffle to stay upright while keeping herself from falling into the burning torch.

Alana’s eyes were wide, fearful, and they clutched at his heart as he tried to communicate a secret promise to her. One that said he’d never let her come to harm, that he’d always protect her, that he’d die before letting her get hurt. He only hoped she understood how vital it was to him that she lived. For the first time in a long time, nothing else mattered. His lands, his family, his father… they were all inconsequential as long as Alana survived.

“Dinnae move,” Margot warned as his feet twitched with the desire to lunge for his stepmother and wring her neck. “I’ll put a torch to her, just ye see.”

Margot inched open the door with her foot and pressed through the gap. Before her head disappeared behind the oak, she shoved Alana forward and flung the torch onto the rushes piled in front of the entrance. The door slammed shut as Alana sprawled to the floor and a blaze raced across the straw. Morgann jumped into action, snatching Alana away from the increasing flames and dragging her to her feet.