Part 33 (1/2)
”What if Meredith MacAlpin refuses to be wed?”
”She will be given no chance to refuse. And I will see to it that this time she is not s.n.a.t.c.hed from my clutches at the altar.”
Meredith took a step forward, then froze at Gareth's next words to his men.
”Without her clan here to give witness, I will personally see to the woman. I want Meredith MacAlpin wed and then dead. We will take her body back to the MacAlpins for viewing.”
”Why are the MacAlpins not here with you? It is, after all, their leader you fight for.” Brice's voice was low with fury.
”They feared that their mistress would be harmed in battle. They favored bartering with you for her safe return.”
”Then who are all these men who fight alongside you?”
Gareth gave an evil leer.
”I have an unending supply of warriors. It seems the Highland Barbarian has incurred the wrath of many Scotsmen.” With a low, mirthless laugh he added,
”Now, if viewing the body of Meredith MacAlpin is not enough to secure the loyalty of the MacAlpin clan, the rest of my plan will be more than enough.” He studied the bloodied foe who faced five of the MacKenzie's most skilled swordsmen.
”I intend to place your sword through the heart of Meredith MacAlpin for all to see.”
The men surrounding Brice burst into words of encouragement and taunting laughter.
”Every man on the Border will swear allegiance to me in our fight to rid the land of all Campbells.”
”So you admit that it was you who killed the helpless and laid the blame on me.”
”Aye.”
”Then hand me my sword and fight one who is not helpless. I seek to clear my good name.”
”Who would believe the word of a barbarian?” Gareth laughed and lifted his sword until the blade was pressing against Brice's flesh.
”Especially a dead barbarian.” To his men Gareth shouted,
”I will strike the first blow.”
Meredith saw the flash of blade as Gareth plunged his sword. Then, as the others attacked she leaped back into her place of concealment just as Gareth strode from the room. She pressed her hand to her lips to keep from crying out. And while Gareth seemed to take forever to descend the stairs, she was forced to listen to the sound of his men's crude laughter as they continued to thrust their blades into the already fallen Highlander.
When at last Gareth was out of sight, the battle was over. Five bloodied swordsmen strode from Brice's chambers and made their way to join their leader in the dungeons. One of them carried Brice's b.l.o.o.d.y sword, which he laughingly declared to his comrades would be used by Gareth to plunge into Meredith's heart.
On trembling legs Meredith crept from the alcove and made her way to Brice's sitting room. The fur throws that lined the walls and floor were stained crimson. Against a far corner of the room lay a crumpled form.
With tears streaming down her cheeks Meredith stood over Brice's body.
Blood oozed from so many different wounds, she could not count them.
And when she knelt and placed a hand to his throat, he did not move. In her overwhelming grief she could not detect a pulse beat
At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Meredith looked up. From the rumble of voices, there were several men. Brice's men? Or Gareth's?