Part 50 (1/2)

She thought about shouting for help. But who could hear her in the forest? And to invite Mackay's wrath was to invite pain. It would probably please him to have an excuse to silence her with as much force as possible.

With the surefooted ease of horses heading home, the animals picked their way across a swirling river. Meredith studied the depth of the water, nearly to the horses' bellies. If she managed to break free of Holden's grip, how far and fast could she swim before being caught?

Worse, could she swim with her hands bound? Or would she risk being sucked beneath the swirling waters? At the moment, drowning seemed a better fate than the one contemplated by her captor.

As if reading her mind Holden Mackay tightened his grip at her waist and gave a low grunt of laughter.

”Thinking of slipping through my clutches, my lady?” He bent toward her, his voice sending chills along her spine.

”My men would spear you like a fish by the time you hit the water.”

”At least my death would be quick.”

”Aye. But far less satisfying for me.”

A tremor pa.s.sed through her. She bit back the words that threatened to spill from her lips. Now was not the time to goad him. She would wait. And watch. And listen.

Up ahead through the mist loomed the Mackay fortress.

Though not as graceful or elegant as Brice's, it was every bit as well fortified. Built into the side of a rocky crag, there was only one way in or out. Its ma.s.sive twin doors were surrounded by a courtyard. On either side of the doors stood armed guards, their swords at the ready.

They saluted their leader as the door was thrown open and servants hurried out to a.s.sist the tired men.

The servants did not seem surprised by the presence of an unknown woman, and Meredith found herself wondering whether Holden Mackay often brought other unfortunate females to his fortress.

A sullen-looking woman stepped forward. Her dull gaze, Meredith noted, remained downcast, as though afraid to look directly at her master. How many beatings had she endured at the hands of this man?

”Shall I take the woman to your chambers, my lord?”

”Nay. No one touches the female. She will go with me.”

He lifted Meredith effortlessly from the horse and set her on her feet.

And though she swayed a moment he made no effort to steady her.

Catching her bound hands he led her roughly across the courtyard and up great stone steps to the upper floor. He paused outside a door and threw back a heavy timber that barred it. Opening the door he revealed a small windowless room.

Thrusting her inside he set a taper in a sconce along the wall and growled,

”You will stay here until I am ready for you.”

She saw the smile that gave him a cruel, feral look. He withdrew a dirk from his waistband and advanced toward her, watching her eyes.

Meredith noted the blood that still oozed from his shoulder. Did he intend to retaliate for the wound she had inflicted? She thought of the dirk at her own waistband. In close hand-to-hand combat, Mackay would have the advantage. He was twice her size and weight.-And she had already tasted his strength.

He saw the flicker of fear in her eyes as he moved closer. But though she was bound to be afraid of him, she lifted her chin in a defiant gesture and faced him boldly.

d.a.m.n the woman! Why did she not beg, or at least flinch?

He stood before her, the blade of the dirk glinting in the candlelight.

Without a word he caught her hands and brought the knife cleanly through the rope that bound them.