She jerked her chin free, causing a sharp pain in her neck. “I’m merely wiping the wine from my face,” she snapped.
Fingers, tinged with the strong smell of smoke and rough with callouses, swiped her lips. “I’ll do it for ye, lass,” he said, his voice rough with the distinct sound of desire. Her skin crawled at the thought of Colin’s hands on her.
“Where are we going?” she asked when he finally moved his fingers from her mouth.
“To Arthorn Castle to meet up with my father and Jamie MacLeod,” he responded, surprising her with the answer. She’d not really expected him to tell her. Stark fear swept through her at the fact that they were going to meet Jamie MacLeod and the Campbell laird. The king’s suspicions had been correct: Jamie MacLeod had allied with the Campbells in a plot against Lachlan’s family and the king.
A gust of wind ruffled Bridgette’s hair and made her shivering worsen. Behind her, Colin tugged her snugger against him until she could feel the hard press of the flesh between his legs into her tailbone.
“Unhand me!” she snarled.
He increased his grip with a chuckle. “Ye’re nae able to demand I do anything, Bridgette MacLean.”
She clenched her teeth, a feeling of helplessness rising inside her. She fought against it, knowing if she gave in and allowed her fright to blanket her mind that she and Marion would both be doomed to whatever fate their enemies had planned for them. Colin’s arm tightened like a band of steel across her midsection. She let out a strangled gasp, feeling as if one of her ribs might crack. His hold did not release, though, and his anger seemed to pulse from him into her.
“Ye have cost us a great deal of time, Bridgette, by refusing to marry me and leaving yer home to come to Dunvegan. And ye also cost me my sister, though her time was past.”
Bridgette gasped and tried to pull away once more, but she could not move. She struggled to take a breath. “Ye killed yer own sister! How could ye?”
“I kinnae trust she’d do as she was told. She thought herself in love with Lachlan.” Colin let out a derisive noise.
Panic unlike any she had ever known before welled in her throat. “What of Barclay? Why did ye kill him?” she whispered. Though the man had obviously betrayed the MacLeod clan—and her—she was certain he had thought himself in love with Helena and had been seduced.
“He was always meant to die once he got the flag for us,” Colin said flatly.
Bridgette gasped. “Ye have the Fairy Flag?”
“Aye, Bridgette.” She could hear the triumph in his tone. “Lachlan and his men went to fight at the loch, but the real fight took place when Barclay, Atholl, and I killed the men guarding the flag. Soon all our forces will be assembled, and we will help Jamie and his men take Dunvegan. He is the holder of the flag now, and he will fly it to victory.”
Bridgette’s heart raced, and her gut clenched. “Jamie will nae ever be laird!” she spat, refusing to believe otherwise.
“Aye, he will. And we will be his allies.”
“I’ll nae ever be ally to that man.”
“As my wife ye will do as I command,” he said in an unbending tone.
“I’ll never consent to marry ye,” she snarled, knowing even as she said it that if he threatened to kill Marion, Bridgette would do anything to save her friend.
Colin released a cold chuckle. “Ye ken ye will. I have Marion, and I’ll nae hesitate to kill her if ye refuse to be my wife.”
Her gut clenched on the dreadful truth of the matter as Colin slowed the destrier and guided the beast up a narrow path. To her right, Bridgette sensed the steep drop-off from the cliff, and she heard the rush of a waterfall below. She squinted into the darkness and could just make out the top point of the Black Cuillin Mountains where the Fairy Pools were far in the distance behind them. Her chest squeezed with dread. They were making fast time if they were so far past the Fairy Pools that she could hardly see the high mountains anymore. Normally, it would take three days to reach Arthorn, but it could be done in two if Colin pushed the horses. She knew it would not be long before Lachlan realized she and Marion were gone, the Fairy Flag stolen, and Colin escaped. But how would he determine where Colin had taken them?
Worry clawed at Bridgette. She and Marion had to escape. It was their only hope. They’d never be rescued in time.
As the destrier rode down the path, she glanced around. Her breath caught deep in her throat—nothing but jagged rocks rose high above them on both sides now. Even if they did escape, they may very well die on their way back to Dunvegan. But they had to try.
As they came out on the other side of the valley, a large cluster of tall trees appeared. They passed into the trees, and Colin called out for Atholl to stop. When Bridgette finally came face-to-face with Marion, neither woman spoke but their gazes locked. She read the fear and steely determination on Marion’s face, and the latter gave her comfort. If Marion felt determined, then she was fine for now.
Bridgette offered a small smile and the slightest encouraging nod of her head, and then she narrowed her eyes at Atholl. “Why?” she demanded of the elder council member, wondering if Marion had asked the same question already.
The man gave her a black look. “Because my fealty lies with Jamie and always has. ’Twas nae right that Iain was made laird when Jamie should have been. Jamie was meant to marry my sister, but then his father forced him to wed the Sinclair woman and my sister killed herself over it. But ye’d nae ken that because nae a man or woman but me even remembers my poor sister,” he growled. “But Jamie does.”
“Ye betray yer laird over something he could nae control!” she shouted.
Colin’s hand snaked around her neck and squeezed. “Cease talking,” he demanded and gave another, harder, warning squeeze. Bridgette jerked her head in a nod as Colin clicked his horse forward and the canopy of thick trees gave way to another valley between two tall cliffs.
“We’ll make way to the cave,” Colin said to Atholl, “camp there for a few hours and then ride the rest of the way to Arthorn.”
