WARRIORS Page 9

  “But mi’laird—”

  Waylon’s fierce glare silenced him.

  “Aye, right away.”

  Waylon stormed out of the chapel without a backward glance. By the saints, he could have killed the fool lass, slain her before he’d known. He pulled off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair. To imagine, he’d considered taking this hellcat for his wife. He must be dimwitted to even consider such a ploy.

  Then he remembered how fearless Catrione stood in the chapel, waiting to face her enemy. Braver men cowered beneath his gaze, but she confronted him with courage befitting a warrior. He wasn’t sure how he felt about a woman who could swing a broadsword with ease.

  “Unhand me, you insolent mongrel!” Catrione screamed her grievances, adding a few more colorful words to describe Reid.

  Waylon leveled his gaze on Catrione. Her feet dug into the ground and her free hand pounded into Reid’s arm. His man’s grip held firm and he continued to drag her behind him.

  Waylon looked skyward. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  Chapter Five

  Catrione fought to be free of Reid. She would not allow a Maxwell to kidnap her. God only knew what they would do to her. She would rather face death than be defiled by her worst enemy. She sank her teeth into her captor’s arm.

  Reid let out a curse and released her.

  She spun on her heels and ran headlong into the devil himself.

  “Going somewhere?” Waylon gripped her shoulders. “If I dinnae know better, I’d think ye dinnae care for my company.”

  She met his gaze and inhaled sharply. His eyes were gray as a winter storm and just as cold. She could only contemplate what he had planned for her and she had a vivid imagination. “Let me go and I’ll speak in your behalf to my father. Perhaps he will not sever your head from your shoulders.”

  “That’s verra generous of ye.”

  “Aye, it is.” She thought he would let her go, but the brute ignored her plea. He gripped her hand and headed for his mount. “You must leave me here.” She fought to be free of his grip, but it was like a steel vise.

  “Oh, I think no’, mi’lady. Ye will come with me.”

  “I don’t understand. Why do you do this? Surely you know it will end badly for you.”

  He stopped suddenly causing her to collide into him. He steadied her and his gaze pinned her down. “Yer father took my brother as hostage. To play his game, I thought it wise to have a hostage of my own.”

  “This is not but a game to you?” she screeched. How she despised her father’s endeavors. Fighting, stealing, cheating, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Keep your petty feuding between the men and leave me out of it.”

  “I’m sorry to say, I cannae do that. Ye will come with me quietly or...”

  “Or what?” She poked him in the chest with her free hand. “Or what you bloody barbarian?”

  He didn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer, but yanked her forward the rest of the way to his mount. She tried to drag her heels, but the man was made of steel determination and won in the end despite her efforts of clawing at him.

  She should have known the Devil’s Wolf wouldn’t feel pain.

  He lifted her as if she were no heavier than a bundle of heather. She tried to jump back down, but the man seemed to read her mind on every move and kept her within his grasp. There had to be a way to escape. Her gaze riveted to the bare flesh exposed at his wrist. She lunged forward and bit hard. She took great glee when the wolf yelled. Her triumph proved short lived as he grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. Tears sprang to her eyes. He shook her, forcing her to look up at him.

  “Ye do that again and I’ll bite ye back. I swear, I will.” He snapped his jaws at her and she flinched expecting his teeth to sink into her flesh.

  “My laird! My laird!”

  Waylon glanced at Jon Luc who ran toward them, but his firm grip on her didn’t lessen. “What is it, priest? Do no’ try my patience.”

  “Please, I pray you will let me come with you. For my lady’s sake,” he added.

  Waylon looked ready to refuse.

  “I will help to keep my lady in line.”

  Catrione opened her mouth to scream then bit down on her lips as she realized the priest might be her only salvation, her chance for escape. She stopped struggling and held her breath as she waited.

  Waylon narrowed his eyes at her and loosened his grip on her hair, but she knew by all means he’d grab her again if she made a wrong move.

  “So be it,” Waylon said. He glanced at the red-haired man standing to his right, the brute who had dragged her out of the church. “Reid, take care of the priest. He goes with us.”

  “Aye, Mi’laird.”

  Reid, she’d remember his name and make him pay for working with the Devil’s Wolf.

  “What are ye planning, my wee lassie?” Waylon’s deep voice startled her out of her dreams of revenge. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and she jerked away.

  “Your demise,” she spat.

  He irked her further by throwing back his head and roaring with laughter.

  Chapter Six

  “He did what?” William shot to his feet, his bellow silencing the camp.

  Heuy waited for William to gain control before he repeated the proclamation. “Waylon Maxwell will gladly meet with you to discuss a trade. Your daughter for his brother, Archie.”

  William fumed, pacing in frustration and berating himself for being the fool. He never imagined the Devil’s Wolf would retaliate by stealing his daughter away. If he had, he would have waited at home for his bold arrival, and sliced the man in two for daring to make such an attempt.

  Jaime, the Johnstone’s March warden spoke up. “Do you wish to meet and settle this matter?”

  He whirled on the March wardens, both standing there and spewing words as if they meant nothing more than how his day fared. “Aye, you imbeciles. He took my daughter. I want her back. So help me if he has touched one hair on her head, I will cut him to pieces, slow and long until he screams for me to end it. Then I’ll feed his remains to the wolves.”

  “That reminds me. There is one more request,” Heuy, the Maxwell’s March warden spoke as if he hadn’t heard William’s tirade.

  “What more could there possibly be?”

  “The Devil’s Wolf wants his brother treated as he would treat your daughter. If Archie is harmed in anyway, your daughter will suffer the consequences.”

  William felt the heat boil in his veins and he clenched his hands into a fist. “Leave!” William pointed behind him. “Leave this instant before I forget ye are only the wolf’s messenger.”

  Heuy bowed. “As you wish.” He turned and left with the other Maxwells who had accompanied him.

  William looked over to Donel. “He took my daughter. It is my fault. I left Catrione unprotected.”

  “No one would have thought the Devil’s Wolf would be so bold.”

  William rubbed his face in frustration. He should have married Catrione off years ago. If he had, he wouldn’t be worrying about her now. He looked over to where Archie Maxwell sat against the tree.

  The son of the devil had the nerve to smile. “I never thought my brother would steal a lass.” Archie chuckled as if he were tickled over his brother’s ploy. “Once he sees the fair Catrione, it’ll be over for him.”

  “What are you nattering about, fool?”

  “Love, laird William. Love always wins. Love is the aphrodisiac for the soul, making it come alive. It’s magical, giving us the chance to become immortal.”

  “Pray tell how in God’s name does love make us immortal?”

  Archie’s lips curved wider. “Children. Within them, a part of us lives forever.”

  “Do not speak more! Will someone gag him?” He pointed a finger at Archie. “I’ve heard enough from the blathering imbecile for one night.”

  Chapter Seven

  Castle Caerlaverock stood tall with the huge gatehouse near the
Solway Firth. The equilateral triangle of stone impressed Catrione. The Maxwells may be barbarians, but they were cunning as well. They forged a broad moat to keep the enemy out and with the east tower and the south curtain wall, they would have the advantage of spotting an approaching raid party.

  Catrione knew there was no escape, but still she held onto the hope her father would come for her and end the miserable wolf’s life.

  Waylon Maxwell was a barbarian, of the worst kind. Kidnapping a defenseless woman proved the worst offense. Well, maybe she wasn’t completely defenseless, but that was beside the point. The Devil’s Wolf hadn’t known she could defend herself when he came to claim her.

  She thought back to when she first laid eyes on him. Holy mother, he had set her knees shaking when he burst into the chapel demanding she throw down her weapon. She knew him to be a fierce warrior who had battled much. She heard her father’s men talk. The Devil’s Wolf came with blood on his hands. He appeared invincible, like a god come down to wreak vengeance. When he leveled his stormy gray eyes on her, she feared fire would spew from their depths, eliminating her where she stood.

  A chill ran through her even now at how his thunderous stance made her quake.

  In the chapel, when he discovered he fought a woman, his gaze turned murderous at her deceit. His hand gripped the sword tighter as if he readied for the deathblow, but something curious shifted in his gaze. However, before she could decipher the meaning, his hand seized her arm. He shoved her at one of his men as if she were nothing more than plunder acquired from his reiving. “Reid Halliday,” she uttered the man’s name beneath her breath like a curse. His hair matched his given name, red as a fire’s flame. He will suffer at her father’s hand along with the Devil’s Wolf.

  As soon as they arrived at Castle Caerlaverock, the Devil’s Wolf dismounted and dragged her along behind him. The Devil’s Wolf ordered Reid to bring her to this room, placing her under guard.

  Here she stayed, not knowing of her people’s fate. Questions aplenty plagued her. The Devil’s Wolf had secured Castle Lochwood to kidnap her, but to what purpose? Were the people of Lochwood allowed to live?

  Reivers were unpredictable. She knew this first hand since her father saw fit to raid himself. Quarter was given at the reiver’s whim.

  Frankly, she didn’t care one way or the other who held what lands or cattle. She only cared that the violence stopped. She wanted peace and to know her people would have food and safety.

  Brave men lost their lives when the Devil’s Wolf brought his force with him to her home, but she had no way of knowing how many perished. She’d been locked in the tower all day, waiting to hear her own fate.

  Surprisingly, she wasn’t mistreated. She’d been given plenty of food and was allowed to bathe. She had removed the battle garb she had worn when she fought, replacing the attire for a gown one of the ladies brought up to her.

  The room was sparsely decorated with only a bed, two chairs and a table. The tub she’d used to bathe had been removed after she was through with it. There was one slit window that gave her a view of the mote below and endless land beyond.

  She should have killed the Devil’s Wolf when she had the chance. Now as a prisoner, she could only hope he would grant her a swift death.

  Chapter Eight

  With the stronghold secured and his men on lookout, Waylon felt better about the situation. He had no doubts where his actions tonight would lead. Catrione’s father would seek revenge once he got wind that his daughter was his reluctant guest. However, Laird William was the least of his troubles at the moment.

  Waylon ran a hand over his face as he inhaled deeply. He glanced toward the steps that lead to where Catrione was being held. He didn’t relish the thought of what he must do, but there could be no other choice. He set the plan in motion and he must see it through.

  He glanced at Reid who waited for his command. “Bring the priest to me at once.”

  “Aye mi’laird.” Reid hurried to do his bidding.

  He paced his chambers from one end of the room to the other. He changed out of his battle garb, but still kept his sword. He may be back at Castle Caerlaverock, but he must not let his guard down.

  His gaze landed on the tapestry adorning one of the far walls. Light from the fireplace danced on the woven threads like flickering flames threatening to devour.

  The heavy wooden framed bed sat on the opposite wall. The ropes were pulled tight. He had a feather mattress and fur coverlets for the cool nights. He could not think of the last time he slept in his bed. He often time slept outdoors during the reiving months.

  “M’laird?”

  Waylon turned toward Reid. The priest stood next to him as straight as his hunch figured allowed.

  “Ye will do as I bid, priest,” Waylon ordered.

  Jon Luc looked puzzled, his eyebrows furrowing over the bridge of his nose. “What do you bid me to do?”

  “You shall hear yer lady’s sins.”

  “She has asked for me?”

  “No’ exactly.” Waylon didn’t elaborate more. “Ye will follow me now,” he ordered the priest and headed toward the turret stairs. Waylon led the way with Jon Luc following and Reid taking up the rear of the procession. As they went, Waylon told the priest what fate awaited Catrione.

  Jon Luc inhaled sharply at the news. “Are you sure you do not want to sleep on your decision.”

  “I do no’, priest. Now hold yer tongue until called upon.”

  Waylon hoped the hours of solitude had softened the woman’s disposition. Reaching the door, the guards stepped aside. He didn’t knock before he entered, seeing no need for formalities since she was his prisoner.

  Catrione stood at the window and whirled on him as he entered with the priest close on his heels. Her eyes, like the turbulent sea washed over him, drowning him with her hatred. Yet, she couldn’t have looked more breathtaking and incredibly feminine with her delicate bone structure and smooth, cream-colored skin scrubbed clean from her bath. He had only seen her grimed with dirt and sweat, dressed to the hilt like a seasoned warrior, but now she wore a gown of rich cloth, and her hair left unbound was washed and combed to shine like a raven’s wing.

  “Stand guard, but do not enter unless commanded,” Waylon instructed his men before he closed the door.

  Waylon pushed the priest forward to speak.

  “My lady, I am to hear your sins so you may be pure in soul.” Jean Luc told her as he warily looked over his shoulder at Waylon.

  Chapter Nine

  So that was the way it was going to be. Catrione wondered if her life would be spared. She had her answer.

  She squared her shoulders and met the Wolf’s bold stare. He was even more massive than she had remembered. His shoulders were wide and his arms bulged with muscle formed from wielding a broadsword. He was cleaned now without the berserker look about him. Not a bad looking man for an enemy. His features were strong. His hair dark with streaks of auburn and brown, thick and wavy, and worn to the length of his shoulders. His eyes were so gray, dark and threatening like a storm filled sky raging overhead. Those eyes assessed her, his gaze too bold to be proper, but it didn’t matter. She would not have to endure his looks for much longer.

  She met the Wolf’s gaze. For the Johnstone’s name, she would die well.

  “Father,” she didn’t look at the priest but kept her gaze on her enemy. “I have no sins to confess.” She watched the Wolf’s one brow arch up at this, but she didn’t care that he thought her a liar. “I have no regrets.” She lifted her chin. “I would gladly cut off the heads of my enemy if I were given back my sword.”

  “My lady, please…” The priest looked over his shoulder nervously as if he wondered if the Devil’s Wolf would retaliate. “My lady, I—”

  “Enough.” Waylon silenced him with a wave of his hand. “The lady does not feel the need to confess, then let’s get on with it. I doonae have all day.”

  She sputtered shocked by the callousness of his dismi
ssal. “Oh, by all means let’s get the business at hand over with.” She threw up her hands. “Unbelievable! I would not want to detain you from the murder and pillaging you have planned for the day. Where would you have me?” She glanced around the room. “Should I lay my head over a chair so that you may cut it off swiftly or should I just bow before you and let you do your business?”

  * * * *

  It took Waylon a second to realize what the woman babbled about, but then it became clear. A slow smile spread across his face. “My dear lady, what I have planned for ye is far worse than death.” She didn’t flinch but stood there tall and regal, ready to accept her fate. Hmm, impressive, she further surprised him. “Ye my dear, will become my wife this day.”

  Her mouth opened and closed without a word leaving those luscious lips.

  “The lady has lost her tongue, I see.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I would sooner die than marry a murdering Maxwell.”

  “That can be arranged later, but for now ye will abide by my rules.”

  “I will not.”

  Did this woman not realize, she as the prisoner, had no rights? In two strides he had her in his grip. “Ye shall do as ye are told.”

  She tried to twist away but his grip held. “Now on yer knees, mi’lady. The priest awaits to bless us.”

  Her eyes blazed with fury. What passion this woman held. Such a shame they were sworn enemies. He may have enjoyed the prospect of marriage and the chance to tame her.

  “This will not be legal,” she spat. Her expression plainly told him he could go to hell.

  “Aye, it will be legal, before God and all.”

  She cut him a dark look, daring him to prove it. “I don’t believe you. I want—”

  “Enough! I grow weary of yer prattling, woman.” He leveled his gaze on the frightened priest. “Begin, now.”

  “I will not agree,” she continued to resist.

  On their way up the steps, the priest implored Waylon to be kind to Catrione, that she was a gentle creature who cared deeply, but for the life of him, Waylon could see nothing of this gentleness in her nature. Perhaps it was only her dislike for him that made her a shrew. Dammit, he needed her compliance.