Chapter Thirty-two

 

 

Catherine leaned against Tory as they walked upstairs and turned toward the master bedchamber.

“Why did you not tell me you were having back pains?” Tory frowned as she helped Catherine out of her outer tunic and into bed.

“Because you would not have gone with me and I needed to walk. I did not want my confinement to start so soon. I wish to wait as long as possible.”

Tory moved pillows around Catherine, then sat on the edge of the bed. “What can I do to make you more comfortable?” She reached out to hold Catherine’s hand.

“Nothing, I...” She stopped, unable to go on.

“Cat? Tell me.”

Catherine’s eyes met and held Tory’s, imploring her to listen. “I do not wish to start my confinement yet. I spent so much time alone when I hurt my back and leg. I do not want to do that again. I...”

Tory squeezed her hand. “I shall stay with you. ‘Twill be a long time yet since your pains just begin in earnest, but I will stay until you have your babe.” Looking at her friend, she smiled. “’Tis all right to be frightened you know. You needn’t hide it. For now, just rest.”

“I did not tell Duncan my pains began. I feared he would panic.”

Tory laughed. “Your husband fought in many a battle, came close to dying many times. You believe he would panic just because you have his bairn?”

Catherine shrugged, uncertain what to say.

Tory kept laughing. “Of course he will, silly girl. Grant falls apart every time I give birth! Duncan trains in the list with Grant now and will be busy for quite some time. Do not worry about him.”

A sound from the far side of the room drew Catherine’s attention. “Did you hear that?”

The scratching sound continued.

“Aye, I do.” Tory got up and walked toward the wardrobe. “But I see naught.”

Without warning, the wardrobe door banged open, knocking Tory to the floor.

A man stepped out, reached forward and grabbed Tory as she scrambled to her knees to stand. Jerking her up against him, he slid his dirk along her neck. He turned to Catherine and warned just as she opened her mouth, “Scream, Lady MacThomas, and your friend dies.”

Shaking with fear, Catherine closed her mouth without making a sound.

The man drew Tory closer to the bed. She twisted and tried to scratch his face. “Let me go, Erwin MacComas. How did you get in here?”

Catherine gasped. “You know him?”

“Aye, he is Duncan’s former clansman.” She jabbed her elbow back, but he grabbed it and twisted, moving the dirk away from her neck.

Catherine sat bolt upright in bed. “This is the man that beat me in London. He made me lose my babe and made me fall over the hill!” She swung her legs over the side, trying to stand.

Erwin pushed her back down. “Stay there or I will gut your belly like I gut my fish.”

Catherine looked toward the wardrobe. “How did you get in here? How...?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I grew up in this castle. I know everything about it.”

Her eyes shifted to the wardrobe and back to Erwin. “Nay,” she cried when he pushed Tory down to her knees.

He grabbed ropes used to tie back panels on the four-poster and pulled Tory’s arms behind her back. He looped the rope around her wrists, fastened a cloth between her lips and tied it behind her head.

Kicking him with her foot, Catherine reached forward and twisted her fingers in his hair. She yanked—hard.

He flung his arm out and backhanded her across her face, the impact causing her to fall backward on the bed. He used the split second she was incapacitated to grab her arm and pull her toward him.

“Let me go,” Catherine yelled, growing angrier by the minute. “Why are you doing this? What do you want with me?”

“I dinnae want you,” Erwin growled. “I want your husband to suffer afore I kill him. You are bait—a means to an end.”

Catherine glared. “I lost my babe because I am the means to an end? I stayed in bed for almost a year because I am the means to an end?”

Erwin shrugged. “What happened to you matters naught to me.”

“What does matter?”

“Getting this castle, of course,” he informed her. “’Tis mine.”

“Castle Glenshee?”

“Of course. ‘Tis mine by rights.”

“You are daft,” Catherine shot at him.

“What you think doesnae matter.” He jerked her to her feet. “Now move, and remember, both of you, I shall have a knife to her fat belly the whole way. One slip and I will gut her.” He jerked them both toward the wardrobe.

“What are you doing?” Catherine screamed. She locked eyes with Tory. How could they escape this madman?

“What does it look like?”

“Like you plan to walk into the wall!” Catherine tugged against her bonds. “Where do you take us? Let me go. Let Tory go.”

“We use the escape passage, you stupid cow,” Erwin grumbled. “It shall take us all the way to the cave I hid in whilst keeping watch on you.”

“You spied on me?”

“Aye. I hoped you would come outside the gates without a guard, but Duncan always had someone with you.” He turned to glare at Tory. “Earlier you came out with Lady Drummond. I have a score to settle with her as well, so I thought about kidnapping you then, but you were too well guarded. ‘Twas then I realized I must make my move now.”

“Duncan will know I am missing. He will follow me.”

Erwin laughed. “Your husband dinnae grow up here. His father—my father—dinnae want him. He sent him away and never went to see him. Your Duncan knows naught of this passage.”

“What do you mean your father?”

“My mam was a servant here. The laird thought her good enough for sport, but not to marry.” He shoved Tory through the narrow entrance and pulled Catherine with him, the knife against her child. She tried to hold onto the wardrobe, but Erwin jerked her forward. Her under-tunic caught on a wooden peg and tore. She grabbed one last time for the doorframe, where the wardrobe opened into a tunnel, catching her hand on a jagged piece of stone and cutting her palm.

Erwin slid the secret door into place and pulled the two women behind him by yanking on the rope.

Catherine froze, the dark stone walls seeming to close in on her. “Nay! I cannot see, I cannot breathe.”

“You dinnae need to see. I know exactly where I go.”

“But ‘tis dark, ‘tis suffocating. Let us out of here.”

Erwin ignored her pleas, still moving forward.

As they moved away from the castle, Catherine felt a chill to the air and the stone beneath her feet vanished, replaced by something softer. Tears poured down her face as she fought her panic. If she could just see Tory, it would help. She tried to gain purchase on the ground. Erwin jerked her forward, causing her to fall. She cried out in pain.

Beside her, she heard a thump and Tory’s groan. Had Erwin kicked her or had she run into something? In the next instant her question was answered when she heard a slapping sound and Tory cried out.

“Leave her alone,” she shouted. She received naught but a laugh in return.

Catherine kept losing her balance, feared harm would come to the babe.

Tory kicked Erwin and mumbled. Kicked him again until he jerked the cloth from her mouth. “Do that again and I gut your friend.”

Tory protested. “Untie my hands and I will help her walk. You can move faster that way.”

Catherine opened her mouth to ask why she would help this madman, but Tory pinched her. She felt movement and Tory’s hand was on her arm, urging her forward.

It seemed like the passage went on forever. Dear God, please get us out of here. I am frightened, Father, protect my child. If something happens to me, let Duncan know I loved him all along. Thank you, Heavenly Fa—

Pain lanced through her lower back again, bringing fresh tears, but she forced herself to keep moving. She shrieked when she crashed to her knees. An overwhelming pain hit her stomach. The baby!

“Please take us back. I am sure Duncan will give you whatever you want. He would...” She knew it was useless to plead, but couldn’t stop herself, her fear of losing another child so great.

“Your husband has taken everything that should be mine. Now I shall take it all back.”

Catherine couldn’t see him, though she wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a torment. She too easily imagined his glowering face.

“The auld laird dinnae bother to claim me as his son. Why should he? Right after he married the worthless woman who took my mam’s place, she bred with child. Mam told me this castle and clan should be mine.” His voice rose in anger. “Why should Duncan be clan chief? He dinnae even grow up here.”

How long had they been gone? Would Duncan miss her yet? Had he even come inside from training in the lists? Catherine sent out a silent plea. Would he sense it? Could he know she needed him?

“When Laird MacThomaidh set me to travel with Duncan, my hopes soared. I thought mayhap he would finally acknowledge he was my da. But no, he just wanted a companion, a protector for his weakling son.” He jerked the rope so both women stumbled. “’Tis mine. Do you hear me? This castle is mine.”

Soon he stopped. Catherine heard a creaking noise, like a rusty door being opened. Had they reached the end of the tunnel? Suddenly Erwin jerked on the ropes again, yanking them behind him. Catherine heard a loud thump, then a click as the door’s lock obviously shifted into place.

Moving her body from side to side to test her surroundings, she still felt walls around her. They were inside another dark tunnel, could see nothing. Nay, she had to get out of here!

Did Duncan know of the tunnel’s existence? He’d not mentioned it. Terrified, she screamed. She felt the sharp edge of his dirk against her throat.

~ * ~

At Castle Glenshee, Duncan grew concerned when his wife didn’t come down before the evening meal. He sent a servant upstairs to see if she felt well. When the young woman returned and said, “No one is in your chamber, my lord,” Duncan charged upstairs to see for himself.

She wasn’t there.

Rushing through the castle, he found her nowhere. He returned to the Great Hall and issued orders for everyone to search for the women.

Duncan ran up the steps to the promenade above the castle. “Have you seen my lady wife?”

When the guard shook his head, panic formed a knot in Duncan’s belly.

“By the saints!” He slapped his hand against the wall in frustration. “Get Grant. He must be told the women cannot be seen from here either.”

He ran down the steps to the courtyard and headed back into the keep and up to his chamber. He’d heard from several people that Catherine had trouble walking into the courtyard. Why hadn’t they sent for him then? Surely it meant the bairn would be born soon. If so, why wasn’t she abed?

Grant joined him, followed on his heels, back to search the bedchamber. “No sign of them?”

Duncan shook his head. “No, but she was here. The bedclothes are rumpled.”

“’Tis not like Tory to wander off,” Grant grumbled, worry apparent on his face.

Duncan walked to the bed. Suddenly he stopped, tilted his head as he stared at his bed. “The ropes.”

Grant raised a brow. “What?”

“Ropes that tie the bed drapes back during the day. Two are missing.” He pointed to drapes hanging down instead of being tied back.

Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Something smells foul about this. Tory would never leave on her own.” He walked around the chamber, eyes searching everywhere. Suddenly they widened.

“Duncan. Here.”

Duncan hurried to the wardrobe.

Grant pointed. “Look.”

All color drained from Duncan’s face—specks of blood dotted the floor.

He moved closer, picked a piece of cloth off the wardrobe. His eyes narrowed. “’Tis from the undertunic Siobhán selected for Catherine this morn.”