Relief rushed through Marion as thecaptain released her. The second he did, she cut her eyes at Neil. He caughther gaze and nodded in understanding as she looked from him to the stairs thatled down to the water. The birlinn they were to take was somewhere below them,and their only chance was to reach it.
“Turn around, woman,” Frostecommanded.
Marion swallowed the fear rising inher throat. If she turned around, he’d know for certain it was her, and even ifshe did escape, she knew he’d come after her. They had to chance it.
Now,shemouthed to Neil before she took off in blind desperation. Shouts broke outbehind her, but she reached the stairs, nearly tumbling down them in her haste.When her feet hit the bottom step, she turned to ask Neil which way it was tothe birlinn. The question died on her lips. She was alone, and above her,Neil’s scream of agony filled the night.
Marion’s heart pounded in terror,knowing she had to go back and help him. She could not leave him to Froste’smercy, for the man had none, but maybe, just possibly, he’d grant it this once,as a wedding present to her. She’d only taken two steps up when Froste himselfloomed at the top of the stairs, his angular face lit by the torch he held. Hestared down at her for a long time before he closed the distance between themandjerkedher to his chest. His hand went to her chin in a painful, iron grip. He turnedher face to the left and the right before yanking it back toward his gaze.
“I’m sorry, Marion,” he offered inpitiless voice. “I’msimplysurprised tosee you have risen from the dead. I’ve just come from your father’s and he hadinformed me that you had drowned. What have you to say for yourself?”
Marion tried to beat back the panicrising in her chest. If Neil had not been captured, she’d try to stab Frosteand flee, yet she had to think of Angus’s cousin. “I was taken,” she said,tears of fright coming to her eyes. “That man up there, the Scot, was going tobring me home to Father.”
A smirk came to Froste’s lips.“Odd. The captain claims you were trying to flee England with the Scot. Come,let us cut out the man’s tongue for disparaging you.”
Froste eyed the dagger she stillclutched in her hand. “Sheathe your weapon, my dear. I’d hate for you to cutyourself trying to use it.”
With little choice at the momentbut to obey and fearful if she didn’t he’d take the blade from her, shesheathed it as he dragged her up the stairs. When they reached the top,shegaspedat the sight of Neil swaying on his feet, clutching the left side of his head.Blood streamed from beneath his fingers. He saw her and paled further. “I’msorry, lass,” he murmured, right before he fell to his knees and then faceforward onto the ground.
She moved to go to him but waspulled swiftly backward into Froste. “Leave him,” he ordered.
“What did you do?”shecried out.
“I cut off the man’s ear. He’s athief, and that is the consequence. He was trying to steal from me.”
“What do you think he was trying tosteal from you?” she demanded, her fury making her spit the words.
“Why, you, of course. You aremine.”
She stared at Neil’s still form andprayed the man was alive. “He was trying to help me!”
“Yes,” Froste bit out. “EscapeEngland.”
“No, I told you—”
“Ah, yes,” Froste interrupted as hespun her around to face him. “You claim the captain is lying. Well, thenforgive me for my error,” he offered in a cold tone as he gripped her by thearm and dragged her over to the captain, who stood silently looking fearful.
“What are you going to do?” shedemanded, digging in her heels uselessly.
Froste stared at her, indifferent.“The captain is a liar, so I’ll cut out his tongue.”
“No!” she shouted at the same timethe captain did, but Froste didn’t listen, and with a sharp nod, she foundherself being taken by two knights. Each gripped her by an arm.
Froste grabbed the captain by thethroat and lifted his dagger to the whimpering man’s face. “Open your mouth.”
“No!” Marion cried again,struggling to be released to no avail. She could not let him cut out the man’stongue, even though the truth would seal her fate. “I lied. The captain istelling the truth.”
Froste turned toward her as heflicked a hand at the captain. “Out of my sight.”
Marion watched with a sinkingfeeling as the captain, all too readily, abandoned her. Froste stepped towardher, gesturing to the knights to release her. He moved closer, towering overher, and tangled his hands in her hair.
“I’m going to have to punish you,Marion.”
After locating King Edward’s man and delivering thenews of Marion de Lacy’s death, Iain and Rory Mac made their way out of thefriary and then mounted their horses to ride north to Pilgrim Street. Silencelay thick as a highland fog over Newcastle at this late hour, and each timetheir horses’ hooves struck the stone street, the sound seemed deafening.Though inns crowded both sides of the streets, all had their doors shut andmost were dark, the tenants abed for the night. It made no difference, though.They were headed to the northwest in the direction of yet another friary. Therewas a priest there by name of Father Thomas, who was an old friend of theMacLeod clan, and he had offered to bed them down for the night on their returntrip to Scotland. Iain only wanted a few hours of sleep before departing.
The sound of neighing horsesreached his ears over the clopping of his horse Olaf’s hooves, followedforthwith by the hum of voices. Low voices. Male voices. As they neared the endof Pilgrim Street, torches lit the night near the gate. A group of four menseemed to have formed a semicircle. As Iain and Rory Mac drew closer to thegroup, he caught a glimpse of one of the men’s surcoats—burgundy and gold witha gold snake on the front—Froste’s personal arms that he and his followerswore. Iain had seen the man fight in tournaments, so he knew the coat of arms.
Iain led his horse off the streetso they would not be seen. “Froste,” Iain said under his breath as he quicklydismounted and tethered his horse.
