The Beast of Aros Castle (Highland Isles) Read online

  Several of the English soldiers smirked at his reference. Ava maintained her frown as her mind rummaged through her arsenal. Her pleas to Captain Taylor, and even the kinder Captain Thompson, had been squashed by Vincent’s rank and his guardianship over her. The more she attacked his character, the more she looked like an errant child that he needed to take home. She thought of saying that she was wed to Tor, but that would suck the Macleans and Aros back into her mess. Plus, Lady Aveline Grace Sutton Ellington had wed Tor. So legally, were they even wed? She had no one to ask without giving the predicament away.

  “Black Stone Tavern sits not too far off the main way at Loch Awe. They may have rooms to let,” Captain Taylor said, his hard stare sliding to the coach. He pointed to the Somerset crest. “You’ll want to hide that as the Scots don’t take kindly to having English on their land. It’s amazing you made it up here without being harassed.”

  “Hired protection helps,” Vincent said with a wry smile, his eyes narrowed against the afternoon light as he cut a glance to the three ruffians he’d hired, promising them more when they reached the border. “Large, lethal, and local.”

  Captain Taylor leaned closer. “And easily bought with coin.”

  Vincent ushered Ava up into the brown leather interior. “Greed makes the best bodyguard.”

  She slid across the seat to the opposite door, but the hired brute who still played the role of English soldier stood with arms crossed, watching her though the window. There was no getting past him. She stared into his red-rimmed eyes. “I am important to Tor Maclean,” she whispered. “If you have a desire to live, you will help me escape this prison.”

  The wrinkle between his brows drew deeper, but he didn’t move away. The carriage rocked as Vincent climbed into the cab behind her. Courage. Ava pushed back into the cushiony seat. Vincent nodded out the window to the captains, his mood quite merry, and rapped above to get the driver moving.

  The large wooden wheels of his carriage lurched into rolling over the pebbled road, and Ava peered out her window at the dull colors of late autumn covering Mull across the water. The mist faded the brightness of the sun, hiding the isle away. No one had rowed after her. Grace would have told people of her abduction, and as much as she didn’t want them to risk themselves, the fact that they hadn’t tried left her hollow. Had Joan told Grace that they didn’t care, that Ava was probably lying about the baby, too?

  Her hand moved to her abdomen. What would she do if she was with child? How could she protect it once Vincent found out? Although, if he raped her on the way to England, he might think the baby was his. Should she not fight him? Give up when he attacked? For she knew he would. It was just a matter of when.

  Thoughts whipped through Ava, their sharpness leaving mental lashings. Breathe. Courage. Nausea gripped her stomach, and she rubbed at it through her bodice.

  “Vertigo, darling?” Vincent asked.

  “I think I might vomit,” she said.

  He frowned, thinking her merely obstinate. Sourness bubbled just under her breasts, sending up a burp that she squelched. It left a vomit taste in her mouth.

  “Lean out the window if need be,” Vincent sneered. “These seats cost a fortune.”

  She turned her face to the breeze. It still smelled of salt even though she knew they drew farther and farther away from the coast, away from Tor. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the last kiss he’d given her. It had been brief, up in their bedroom after he’d saved her from the cattle charging into the corral. She should have told him then, despite his happiness over a potential baby. How might today have been different?

  Ava felt a prickle of dread slide over her skin, and she cracked her eyes. Vincent sat across, staring at her. His thin lips tipped up at the corners. “I’d forgotten how lovely you are, Aveline.”

  “If you touch me, I will vomit on you and your leather cushions,” she said simply.

  His eyes danced at her threat. “I’m sure we will figure something out that doesn’t threaten my carriage.” He unbuttoned his jacket and reached down to adjust his obvious erection through his hose.

  Ava looked away, back out at the forest rolling by. She squeezed her legs together under the layers of her dress and felt the steel of her sgian dubh Tor had taught her to use. It was still strapped to her leg. Vincent considered her harmless and weak. He thankfully hadn’t searched her after tying her to the bed last night. Just leered like the sadistic tormentor that he was.

  Ava pushed her leg against the side of the coach, feeling the cool metal, and a rash plan began to form. Apparently, she wasn’t done with risky schemes, not when her life and the life of Tor’s possible baby were at stake. As she lay against the prized leather cushions, Ava ran through the dagger-wielding lessons in her mind. She moved her hand over her abdomen. Would Vincent be more surprised at her new skills or the fact that she now knew, without a doubt, that she could kill a man?

  …

  Tor pressed Grendel forward through the deserted streets of Aros village, his hooves thundering and kicking up rocks as he dashed along the lane. He’d left Cullen and Hamish to ride at a slower pace with Mairi, but Tor had spurred his horse to the limits to reach home. To reach Ava. Each time his mind conjured the look of fear on her face the night of their wedding, he leaned farther forward into the wind.

  The sun was just setting, yet everyone seemed to be tucked up in their cottages. If he hadn’t seen a few ribbons of smoke rising from chimneys, he’d have thought the clan had fled.

  “Open up,” he yelled in Gaelic at the lowered portcullis and swung Grendel in a tight circle. The lathered horse fought his bit and snorted in protest at not being able to reach his stable and water trough.

  Gavin ran up to the heavy bars as the gate rose. One look at his troubled face and Tor felt the weight of his mistakes thundering down on his shoulders. “What’s happened?” he asked as he dismounted.

  “Somerset took Ava,” Gavin said.

  “Bloody damnation.”

  “He left a letter stabbed to a tree near the river,” Gavin went on as Tor strode toward the steps, “warning that if we followed, the entire strength of Captain Taylor’s army would attack Aros. That they were just looking for a reason to take over Mull, and trying to keep an Englishwoman against the will of her family was reason enough.”

  One of the lads ran out from the stables. Tor pointed to Grendel. “Walk him and check him all over before ye feed him. Have his brother saddled. I leave in ten minutes.”

  “The remaining men are ready to go,” Gavin said, indicating a group of young warriors gathered in the bailey. He trailed Tor into the great hall. “Grace told us that Somerset forced Ava to go with him by threatening to have his hired man slit Captain Thompson’s throat and swear it was you who did the deed. Thompson was with him. They never returned to Oban last night.”

  Tor stopped inside the hall and turned to Gavin. “She chose to go with him?”

  “To save Aros,” Grace yelled from the hearth. The woman’s face looked swollen, and his mother stood with her, holding her arm. Grace swung around to stalk toward him, his mother nearly being knocked over with the force of her movements. Grace shook her little fist at him.

  “She’s bloody hell sacrificing herself for you,” Grace spat. “So, you’d better be damn grateful.” She finished on a sob, her fist up against her lips.

  “And for all of Aros,” his mother added.

  Grace nodded furiously but didn’t seem to be able to talk. She lifted a wadded handkerchief to her nose.

  Tor handed his empty water flask to Alyce who hovered nearby. The cook’s usually merry eyes looked dull and worried. Gavin handed him the letter from Vincent Ellington, the man’s elegant script spelling out his foul plan. Tor cursed, throwing the letter on the table. “Keep it as evidence if needed.”

  Gavin looked nearly destroyed where he stood watching Grace wet her handkerchief with a new flood of tears. He cleared his throat. “I formed a group to go after her as soon as G
race reported what had happened at the river. I hesitated since we are outnumbered, and I hadn’t heard word from ye or Hamish.”

  With impending war and all of Aros relying on him, it was no wonder the young warrior had waited. Tor grabbed the refilled water flask and a bundle of some food Alyce handed him. “I would not have sent a group of men over, either.”

  “What?” Grace had found her voice again. She threw her hand out, finger pointed, to where she must have thought Oban sat. “You have to go after her. She lied to save me, save me from him, and now she’s in his clutches. If you don’t go, I’m going.”

  “Calm yourself. I—”

  “Don’t tell me to calm myself, you judgmental arse,” she said, working herself into an even bigger lather.

  He exhaled sharply. “I go alone to find her.” He turned to stride back out the door.

  Gavin followed. “I will go with ye.”

  “More than one will be noticeable by the English.”

  Grace’s voice came from right behind him as she followed him down the steps. “He will take her back to York, along the road going south, probably in his own conveyance. He’s too much of a bloody dandiprat to ride in a hired coach.” Gavin’s mouth dropped open at her language.

  Tor’s new mount stood ready as the stable boys hustled around the steed, double-checking the stability of the girth.

  “To take the horse, ye’ll need a crew to row ye over,” Gavin said and beckoned the small group of waiting young warriors.

  Tor looked at the glow of the lowered sun. “As soon as it is dark, we will row across in silence.”

  “Aye,” Gavin said and began to issue orders for the men.

  They would go down to the ferry that always sat tied on the coast once night hid them. No torches or light-colored clothing, nothing to give them away. Tor pulled up into the saddle and watched the dark blue sky deepen to indigo. It couldn’t change fast enough.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’ll see to the rooms,” the driver called from outside the coach window where the shadows had merged into night an hour ago.

  “No,” Vincent said. “Just procure us meals and tend the horses. We can cover more miles before we break for the night.” He turned his gaze on Ava. She could feel it, even though the dark interior hid all but his silhouette. “We will sleep together under the stars, my darling.” She could see his hand moving between his legs and shifted away. “If you put up a fight, I’ll let them take a turn with you. You need to learn your place before we arrive at Somerset. I am the one to decide when and where we will play.”

  Ava sat unmoving in her seat. Bloody bastard. If she’d had any remorse or hesitancy in killing Vincent Ellington before, his casually spoken plans for her continual rape and enslavement had obliterated her doubts. Ava stretched her fingers and tightened and released the muscles in her legs. Her body would need to be ready to strike.

  Her mind rehearsed lunges and listed weaknesses on men that Tor had shown her. The throat, the bollocks, the top of the foot, the kneecap, the eyes. Her heart pounded, and sweat dripped down the back of her spine. Dear God, keep me brave. Give me strength.

  The carriage continued on after a much-guarded privy break where Ava readjusted the sgian dubh for easy release from the halter on her thigh. There were three men with Vincent who must have been promised something terrible from the leers with which they’d been raking her. Desolation began to eat away at her courage.

  The night was clear, but the roads were rutted after a full week of rain, so Vincent ordered that they stop for the night an hour south of the tavern. Vincent sent one of the ogres to fetch her from the carriage. He had a broad girth and a wide face, his long nose badly crooked from multiple breaks. Ava ignored the man’s stench and whispered to him at the carriage door. “I plan to kill the earl tonight, which will make me the heiress to Somerset.”

  The man stopped, his brows narrowed. He glanced to Vincent and back at her, a slight grin stretching his lips back from his teeth. She continued the lie despite his lack of confidence in her boast. “I will be wealthy and will pay you and your friends handsomely when you return me to Oban.”

  Crook Nose seemed to contemplate her words like he was watching the fight between a spider and a fly caught in its web. He tugged her down from the carriage. “I’d like to see the bloody jackanapes shut his gob,” he said, and the first glimmer of hope shot through Ava. He leaned close to her ear. “If ye kill him, we can talk, pretty thing.”

  She turned to meet his hard gaze and narrowed her own to surpass his in venom. Hopefully, he couldn’t hear her wildly beating heart. “To get even a farthing, I will be taken back unmolested by any of you. Let the others know.”

  He snorted. “We’ll bargain if ye see the deed done.” He leaned in. “But a taste of what ye have beneath those skirts might be worth a pocket of gold.”

  She narrowed her eyes to hide the fact that she could barely swallow. “Nothing under any skirt is truly worth a pocket of gold. Think of what you could buy, a whole room of skirts.”

  The man’s eyes opened a bit wider, and he smiled, not a leer, but a smile. He rubbed the side of his bearded cheek with his rough knuckles. “Ye got a way with persuasion, lass.” He chuckled low.

  “Tell the others, and if you help me in any way, you’ll receive more treasure.”

  “Me da told me never to trust a woman,” he said, suspicion making his nostrils flare open.

  “Was your da talking about a gentlewoman with buckets of money?”

  “Hell no. He was talking about the whores in town.”

  “Well then,” she said, tipping her head to the side. “And what did your mother say about women?”

  He glanced away from her. “She died when I was born,” he said low.

  “How about that,” Ava said and met his gaze when he looked up. “We have something in common, then. I’ve lived my whole life without a mother, too.” Sure, Marjorie Ellington was really her mother, but she’d never told her. Yes, she’d dressed her like Grace and had her taught many of the things a lady should know, but she’d withheld the one thing Ava had wanted—family.

  “Bring her over here,” Vincent called from a tree near where the other two men were building a fire in a circle of rocks. Vincent had laid out a blanket by the tree as if they were all on a merry picnic in the dark.

  Crook Nose led her by the elbow across the root-gnarled ground. The sourness in her stomach bubbled. She thought of her dagger, how to ruck up her skirt to unsheathe it. Would she stick it in his eye? His neck? If she stuck it in his stomach, it might be too short to stop him.

  “Go secure the perimeter,” Vincent said, shooing him with one hand as he held tightly to Ava with the other.

  “Huh?” Crook Nose asked.

  “Just go away,” Vincent huffed. “Check the horses or make sure those two don’t light the forest on fire.”

  Crook Nose looked between Ava and Vincent, anticipating a lethal show, no doubt. She met the large man’s eyes to assure him she would follow through.

  “Sit,” Vincent told her, and she lowered slowly, balancing on her toes in a way to spring up. She watched Crook Nose whisper to the other two guards. One frowned, and one laughed, his whole body moving with his humor.

  “Stupid louts,” Vincent murmured, lowering next to Ava on the blanket. His leg pressed against her skirts, and Ava leaned farther away. His frown turned into a wolfish grin as he followed her. “But they’ll keep watch while we indulge a bit.” He leaned in to kiss her.

  “Privacy,” Ava said, trying to control her breaths. “I won’t fight you if you do it somewhere they can’t see.”

  “Who says I don’t want a fight?” he asked with a chuckle. “In fact, your avoidance and resistance is what’s spurred my obsession with you, Aveline.”

  His hands walked up the blanket on either side of her, his body pressing to force her down. He reached for her hem, yanking it up. “Don’t do this, Vincent. You are an earl, a distinguished gentleman, n
ot a rapist.” Of course, he certainly was, but she had to try something.

  He placed his slobbery mouth along her neck, and Ava felt bile rise in her stomach. “I know many distinguished gentlemen who take what they want from the weaker sex,” he said. “It is your lot for being feeble.” He trailed his tongue along her skin, licking her. “Mmmm.”

  “No,” she said and pushed against his forehead to raise his mouth off her.

  Smack! His hand connected with the entire side of her face with such force, for a moment she couldn’t see anything but stars. She fought for her breath as he placed his whole weight on her, smothering her. “You will open your legs, bitch,” he said in her ear, his spittle wetting her neck.

  Roughly, he jammed his knee high between her thighs. He grabbed her wrists in one hand, bruising them as he raised them over her head. It was his favorite move, pressing her against rough walls and stretching her hands over her head, pretending to shackle her in chains.

  Ava’s mind flitted to Tor’s face on their wedding night, the concern and the anger at whomever had scared her. The fury that Tor suppressed on her behalf gave her strength. Even with her lie, she knew Tor Maclean would avenge her. “You will die,” she whispered. “For touching me, and it will be painful.”

  Her words stopped Vincent. He pulled back to look at her, his paunchy face confused for a second. This was her chance.

  With all her pent-up fear and fury, Ava shot her knee upward right into his erection. Vincent yelled, curling in on himself, and she rolled to the side to scramble for her sgian dubh. Her skirts anchored her under him, but she was able to grab the carved hilt of the sharp blade.

  Beyond her she heard raised voices. Would Crook Nose stop the other two? Let her finish what she so desperately must do? Horse hooves thumped the ground across the clearing, but she was too focused on gripping her blade.

  Vincent growled, lunging toward her as she kicked wildly at him. Her skirts tangled around her legs, hampering her. He glanced over his shoulder, and instead of flopping back down on her, he leaped up, grabbing her to stand before him. His large, powerful hands encircled her neck. “Leave now or I’ll break her neck.”