“I need to go after her.”
“I sent one of my men and he should be back by now. Let’s go to the bailey and see if he returned with your wife.”
Alex and John were walking out into the bailey as the rider dismounted from his horse. The rest of Alex’s men stood around, preparing to travel to Lewis.
The guard approached them, shaking his head. “Lady MacDonell had too much of a start. Her horse was too fast. I lost her.”
“Damn. Which direction was she headed?” asked Alex with concern.
“Toward Kintail.”
Alex ran his hand through his hair. “God’s teeth. This is naught short of a disaster. Mount up. We ride to Kintail.”
“I shall be here when ye return. Donna worry about Sybella.”
Alex turned around to see MacGregor standing with Rosalia. “I donna have time to explain, but I donna travel to Lewis. We take our leave to Kintail to bring back my wife.”
Rosalia’s eyes widened. “Kintail? When did Sybella leave for Kintail?”
Alex felt guilty enough. He didn’t need his cousin placing a dagger through his cold heart.
“Do ye want me to come with ye?” asked MacGregor.
“Nay, if ye could stay here and keep an eye on Aunt—”
“Nay worries.” MacGregor slapped him on the shoulder. “Bring back the stone in one piece.”
“I could care less about the stone. I will bring back my wife.”
MacGregor’s only response was an approving smile. “I told ye she loved ye.”
“What are ye two talking about?” asked Rosalia.
MacGregor draped his arm across his wife’s shoulders and led her away.
Since the men were already prepared to travel to Lewis, they didn’t need long to be ready to ride. Alex probably didn’t need to take as many men as he was, but he would rather have too many by his side than not enough, especially because he didn’t know what he would face when he met up with the MacKenzie.
The bastard was ruthless, using Sybella to do his bidding. Not only did the man have someone try to kill Alex, but the fool had someone take a shot at Sybella—his own daughter. What if the archer would’ve hit her?
The men mounted up and thundered out the gate. With a score of his best men, Alex pushed his mount faster. Fire fueled his veins and his eyes were dark, dazzling with fury. And to think he was supposed to travel to Lewis to take the MacLeod’s head. He only knew one thing for certain.
He would come back to Glengarry with his wife by his side and return with a head that was not the MacLeod.
Sybella’s bedchamber door opened and she sighed. “Mary, I donna really want to talk to ye right now.”
“Well then, mayhap ye will speak with me.”
She jolted upright. “Father.” He closed the door and Sybella rose from the bed, wrapping a blanket around her.
He walked over to the sitting area and sat down in a chair. “Please, join me.”
Sybella reluctantly sat down and faced her father, his arm resting casually on the table.
“Where is my stone, Daughter?” A sudden chill hung on the edge of his words.
She shot him a cold look. “Where is your bloody stone? Ye donna ask if I’m all right. Your archer took aim at me in the forest, and then your man tried to kill my husband. Ye blame the attempt on the MacLeod and then try to have my husband do your bidding. ‘I need ye to gain your husband’s trust and be a dutiful wife. That is all I ask of ye.’ How dare ye! Ye used me to get your precious stone and still planned on harming Alexander. I am your only daughter. Why, Father? I demand to know why.”
Her sire had the nerve to chuckle in response. “Ye know naught of politics, Daughter. The MacDonell was naught but a thorn in my arse for years. If ye want the truth, I’ll give it to ye. The truth is that I was going to marry ye off to the MacLeod in order to stay in His Majesty’s favor. The truth is that Colin had a better idea to wed ye to the MacDonell so that ye could bring back our stone. The truth is that ye are merely a woman and what ye think doesnae matter in the ways of politics. Now I ask ye again, Sybella. Where is my stone?”
Her voice was cold and lashing, and she mocked his tone. “The truth is, Father, that your precious stone is gone—forever out of your grasp.”
“I donna have time for your foolish behavior. Ye were always a willful child. Howbeit ye are a clever MacKenzie. Even if the MacDonell discovered what ye were about, ye would’ve still taken the stone and preserved what is ours. Now where is it?”
“I donna have it.”
He grabbed her forcefully by the arms. “The last Ennis predicted was Lewis. I need to give him that stone, Sybella.”
“Ennis? Anabel’s father is your seer?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I will nae ask ye again.”
“Then I will only need to respond once. ’Tis sleeping in the cold depths of the loch where it waits for your cold, black heart.”
His eyes darkened. “Enter!” Two of her father’s guards opened her bedchamber door. “Take her.” Each man grabbed Sybella by the arm and started to lead her out the door. Her father’s voice was soulless. “I know ye have the stone. Until ye come to your senses and give it to me, ye can sit—”
She whipped her head around. Shock and anger lit up her eyes as she faced him. “In the dungeon? Ye would place me in the dungeon for a rock?”
“That stone is our clan’s future. Ye, my dear, are nae. What kind of father would I be to place ye in the dungeon? Throw her in the pit.”
She paled.
In the middle of the night, she walked through the darkened halls in her bare feet dressed in nothing more than a nightrail and a blanket. She shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. The pit was where her father threw the most unsavory of men…until they died. Their faint screams could sometimes be heard from the kitchens. Perhaps her father only had the men escort her to frighten her. Of course, that was it because her sire would never treat her this way. He couldn’t. She was his daughter. The daughter of the MacKenzie laird. A lady.
Sybella quickly pushed back the thought when they descended the cold, damp stairs. The smell overwhelmed her senses, reeking of bodily excrement and making her gag. The guard reached down and lifted the gate from the floor while the other lowered a ladder. They forced her to climb down.
She took one step and tears welled in her eyes. “Please donna do this. I beg ye.”
“We donna question our laird’s command. Please climb down, m’lady.”
With no choice but to descend into the devil’s dungeon, she reached the bottom and the men lifted the ladder. The gate locked over her head and she was embraced by darkness. Muck of unknown origin squeezed between her toes and when she tried to step, she slid and fell into something thick and wet.
She screamed.
The hole was dark and foreboding, and she felt a wretchedness she’d never known before. A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed her. She pulled herself to her feet, and when she slid again on the slimy floor, she sat down.
Sybella felt something move on her lap. She reached down and grabbed a ball of wiry fur, whipping it away from her body. Dear God, her father left her alone with the rats. She gulped hard, hot tears slipping down her cheeks. Perhaps Mary or Colin would hear her.
“Please help me! Please help me! I’m here! I’m here!” she screamed. “Mary! Colin! Help me! Let me out!” When she heard no response, she bellowed, “Mo mhallachd ort!” My curse on you!
When cursing her father didn’t work, Sybella’s tears choked her. Her throat was raw from her screams of terror, her teeth chattered, and her body trembled. A sensation of intense sickness and desolation swept over her.