The gate creaked open. Ian gripped the hilt of his dirk as Father Brian picked up the cart handles and pushed it forward.

"Since we're celebrating a wedding, I'm sure ye will be wanting to make a gift of that wine," a guard said.

The blood in Ian's veins turned to ice at the mention of a wedding, and he prayed he was not too late to save Sileas from rape.

"There will be no taking the wine until I have payment in my hand for the good monks' work," Father Brian said, as he brought the cart to a halt inside the bailey yard.

As Ian had predicted, the guards were not inclined to wait. When the first one lifted the tarp, Ian stuck his dirk under the man's raised arm and killed him before he could utter a sound. There were only five other guards around the cart. As he sprang to his feet, he drew his claymore and swung into one of them.

The others who had crowded around the cart, intent on relieving the priest of his wine, stepped back quickly. The ever-helpful Father Brian stuck his foot out, causing one of them to fall backward with a shout. When one of his companions turned to look, Ian's sword whooshed through the air, nearly severing the man's head from his body.

By now, the other guards had their swords out and ready. There were only two of them standing, though. Ian moved toward the pair swinging, anxious to finish the job.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the man Father Brian had tripped get up and charge the priest with his blade drawn. A moment later, the guard lay at Father Brian's feet, and the priest was wiping blood from his attacker's blade on his robe.

Ian swung in a full circle, and one of his opponents shrieked as Ian's blade struck the man's side. d.a.m.n, they were making too much noise. The last guard charged, believing Ian would not be quick enough to recover from his last swing.

It was the last mistake the man would ever make.

Ian scanned the walls. When he didn't see anyone, he a.s.sumed the two who had been on the wall earlier had come down for the wine and were among the dead. He ran to the gate and waved to signal his father and brother.

"Ye weren't always a priest, were ye, Father?" Ian said, as the two of them dragged the bodies of the dead men into an empty storeroom built against the wall.

"I thought I'd put my fighting days behind me," the priest said. After they had moved the last man, he crossed himself and wiped his hands on his robe. "There should have been more guards here. Where do ye suppose all the other men are?"

"Inside the keep."

Celebrating a wedding.

Angus's ma.s.sive frame appeared at the edge of Sileas's vision. As if from a great distance, she saw him drop his plaid and lift his shirt. She shivered, her body sensing the danger, as she struggled to push aside the images of her mother and the weight of the grief that pinned her to the bed.

But when Angus's beefy hands gripped her thighs, she came back to herself with a jerk. She could not bear to have this vile man touch her. Before she could gather herself to fight him, Angus looked over his shoulder.

"What?" Angus said. "Are ye going to stay and watch me?"

"I want to be sure it's done. Capturing her does us no good unless she bears a child."

She could not see beyond the mammoth man standing between her legs at the edge of the bed, but it was Murdoc's voice she heard.

"I can't do it when she's staring at me like the dead," Angus complained.

"We both know what ye need to take a woman," Murdoc said. "So do it."

At Murdoc's words, Dina's advice came back to her: Lie still. As Angus turned back to her with his arm c.o.c.ked to strike her, she steeled herself to take the blow.

But then, Angus froze in place, his eyes fixed on something above her. As an eerie keening filled the bedchamber, Sileas looked up to see the translucent form of the Green Lady floating above her. She was weeping, making a pitiful sound.

Angus staggered back from the bed. "The wretch has called up a ghost with her curse!"

Angus held his arms in front of his face as the Green Lady's wailing grew louder. The sadness in the ghost's voice was enough to make the angels weep.

"She's coming for me!" Angus stumbled over his own feet as he turned and fled from the room.

Sileas sat up and met her stepfather's eyes. The Green Lady's intervention had given her time to get her courage-and her anger-back.

"It is you who makes her weep," she said. "You have always made her weep."

Murdoc crossed the room in three long strides and shoved her down on the bed.

"Her weeping never stopped me before," he said. "And it will not now."

Sileas stared up at him, terror gripping her heart. "I am your wife's daughter. Not even you would commit such a grave sin."

Murdoc held her shoulders fast and leaned over her until she felt the heat from his body.

"I will tell ye the same as I told your mother," he hissed in her face. "I need a child of my blood."

The Green Lady's weeping had grown soft, as if she knew it would do no good against Murdoc.

"After being such an ugly child, ye have become a pretty thing," Murdoc said, leaning back to fix his hard black eyes on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "If Angus can't do the job, I'm sure I'll have no trouble."

CHAPTER 38.

"We'll see if the wine works a second time," Ian told the others. "Father Brian, are ye willing to take the barrel into the hall to distract them?"

The priest nodded.

"Once all the men inside gather around Father Brian, we'll go in as quietly as we can," he said to his father and Niall. "If Sileas is in the hall, we'll take her and be gone before most of them notice we're there."

Or so he hoped.

"If she's not in the hall..." Ian swallowed at the thought of what that would mean. "Then Niall and da will guard the stairs while I go up and fetch her."

It was a poor plan, but he could think of none better.

Father Brian said a quick prayer for them, and they all made the sign of the cross. As Ian and the priest carried the cart up the steps of the keep, he turned to watch his father crossing the bailey yard. Seeing how slowly his father moved, he feared he was leading all the men of his family to their deaths.

"G.o.d is on our side." The priest patted Ian's arm as he spoke, then opened the door and wheeled his cart inside, calling, "Good evening to ye, MacKinnons!"

Ian waited a few moments, every muscle taut, before he eased the door open and slipped inside. No guard was posted at the door-or if there was one, he had left his post to join the throng of men gathered around Father Brian and his barrel. When Niall poked his head inside, Ian waved him forward and moved along the wall into the shadows.

He scanned the dimly lit hall, searching for Sileas. There were fifty MacKinnon men in the hall, to his four, but there were almost no women-and Sileas was not among them. His stomach tightened when he realized that Angus and Murdoc were also missing from the hall.

His eyes went back to one of the women. What was Dina doing here? Her gaze was fixed on him. His muscles tensed as he waited for her to give them away.

After glancing about her, Dina removed the torch from the wall bracket beside her and dropped the torch onto the rushes on the floor. Then she met Ian's eyes again and nodded toward the stairs.

She was telling him they had Sileas upstairs.

As he ran through the arched doorway to the stairs, the rushes were already beginning to flame. The spiral of the stone staircase was built clockwise to give the advantage to the defender, who could swing his sword arm freely, while a right-handed attacker going up had his sword arm cramped against the middle of the spiral. The advantage was lost, however, when the attacker had taught himself to swing equally either way. As Ian sprinted up the stairs, he shifted his sword to his left hand.

Other footsteps echoed above him. An instant later, a huge man barreled into him, sending them both tumbling down the stairs. When Ian saw that the man on top of him was Angus MacKinnon, rage nearly blinded him.

"What have ye done to her?" he shouted, as he plunged his dirk into Angus's gut.

Angus was strong, but he fought with wild, panicked punches, as if he were mad. In no time, Ian was sitting on Angus's chest with his dirk at the man's throat.

"I asked what ye have done with my wife." Ian pressed his blade against Angus's throat until he drew blood.

"I saw her ghost!" Angus cried out. "It was hovering over me."

Ian's heart stopped in his chest. He had feared they would rape Sileas, but he'd never thought they would murder her.

He heard an eerie, unnatural sound, and a coldness pa.s.sed over him. G.o.d, no. Don't let her be dead! Ian slashed his blade across Angus's throat and ran up the stairs.

When he reached the next floor, the open door from the stairs led into a large bedchamber. Through it, he saw a man leaning over the bed, a woman's bare knee, and a bit of bright blue fabric hanging over the side of the bed. The blue was the same shade as the gown Sileas was wearing when last he saw her.

White hot rage pounded through him. With a roar, he burst into the bedchamber swinging his claymore.

CHAPTER 39.

Murdoc clamped his hand over Sileas's mouth as she fought to get out from under him. She could not hear the Green Lady's weeping over his harsh breathing.

Even the castle's ghost had deserted her.

"Your mother was a weak vessel," Murdoc said. "Poking her was dull work. But a lively la.s.s like you will surely give me a strong son."

Murdoc suddenly released her as a murderous war cry rolled through the room like a thunderclap. Relief washed over her.

Ian had come for her.

Murdoc spun and drew his sword with lightning quickness. Although he blocked Ian's thrust from reaching his heart, blood seeped down his arm, soaking the sleeve of his shirt. The clank of swords filled the room as the two men moved back and forth.

Sileas hugged her knees to her chest as she watched and prayed.

Ian looked glorious, with his dark hair flying, and his blue eyes as piercing as a hawk dropping from the sky for a kill. The muscles of his body clenched and released as he swung the heavy two-handed sword in deadly, rhythmic arcs.

Behind the controlled violence, she felt Ian's pulsing rage. Time and again, he attacked, his blade slicing through the air with lethal force. Another slash and blood ran from the top of Murdoc's thigh, near his groin. Another, and his shoulder bled. Yet Murdoc fought his way back each time. He was a strong man and an experienced warrior, and he was fighting for his life. The men grunted with the effort of their swings.

Blood sprayed the bed as the fight moved closer. When Murdoc fell backward against the bed, she scrambled to get out of his way. But Murdoc's arm shot out, and she shrieked as he caught her ankle in an iron grip.

"Arrgh!" Murdoc screamed as Ian's sword went through his belly, pinning him to the bed. In quick successive moves, Ian grabbed Murdoc by the hair, drew his dirk across Murdoc's throat, and pulled his sword from Murdoc's gut with a great sucking sound.

Ian stepped over Murdoc's body and lifted Sileas off the bed into his arms. She held onto him with all her strength.

"Hush, hush. I'm here now." He soothed her with soft murmurs as he rubbed her back and kissed her hair. "I'll keep ye safe."

"Ian! We must go."

At the sound of a man's deep voice, she turned and saw Father Brian in the doorway. Smoke was billowing out of the stairwell behind him.

"Hurry," the priest shouted. "The castle is burning."

Ian lifted her in his arms. As he carried her out, she looked over his shoulder at the bedchamber that had been the place of so much of her mother's suffering. Smoke was filling the room so rapidly she could barely make out Murdoc's body on the floor. The last thing she saw gliding through swells of gray was the flash of a pale green gown.

The smoke was so thick in the stairwell that she could not see Father Brian ahead of them, but she heard him coughing. Her eyes watered and her throat burned. When they reached the bottom, Niall and Payton were waiting for them just inside the hall.

The two were surrounded by the bodies of dead men.

As soon as Ian set her on her feet, the four of them ran along the wall toward the front door of the keep. The smoke was not as thick in the hall, because the fire was hot here. Everything that could burn-rushes, tables, overturned benches-was ablaze. As she watched, flames shot up from the high table and ignited the wooden ceiling.

She prayed that Dina had escaped, for there was no one else in the hall but the dead.

"I'll go first. They may have men just outside, ready to cut us down as we come out," Ian warned before he opened the door.

That was what he would have done, but when he stepped outside, it appeared that the MacKinnons had abandoned the castle altogether. The bailey yard was empty save for Dina, a goat, and a few squawking chickens.

"Ye should have seen Niall," his father said, as he came down the steps of the keep one at a time. He was covered in blood and leaning on Niall for support, but he was grinning as if he'd never been happier. "We stood together, with him covering my weak side, and cut down every MacKinnon who dared come near the stairs."

Ian tightened his arm around Sileas. He couldn't join in their good humor over their success. The vision of his wife held down on a bed with a man standing between her legs was still with him-and would likely haunt his dreams for a long, long time to come.

"Father Brian was a sight to behold," Niall said, laughing. "He didn't want to use a sword or dirk, so he went 'round hitting MacKinnons on the head with a silver candlestick holder."

"There was little fight left in them by then," Father Brian said. "Between retching and the fire, they fled like rabbits."

"Dina and I poisoned their ale," Sileas said in a quiet voice.

"Clever la.s.ses," his father said, beaming at her.

While the others continued sharing stories, Ian pulled Sileas against his chest and closed his eyes. Praise be to G.o.d he had found her.

His eyes flew open at the sound of boots on the wooden planks of the drawbridge. He pushed Sileas behind him and drew his claymore just before a dozen men poured through the gate.

"It's Grdan," Sileas said.

Ian relaxed his stance when he saw that it was, indeed, Grdan, and he was leading a group of MacDonald men.