Highlander's Dark Seduction Read online

  After she was alone, Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on either side of Alexander’s chest to feel his heart. His heartbeat was erratic and she pulled her hand back as fear clawed at her. Tears fell down her face which she quickly wiped away. She didn’t have time for that.

  Leaning in close his face, she could see him struggling to breathe. “Alexander, It’s Rebecca. Ye were shot by that thief I call a husband and the bullet went straight through. Alexander, the local sawbones says it was a guid thing although it hit your lung so breathing isna’ gang to be easy.”

  She paused and ran a hand across his forehead. His skin still felt clammy.

  “Remember all those times ye bragged to me aboot tha’ superior strength? Weel tis time to prove it. Ye need tae put all that fortitude tae work and focus on getting better. Ye dinna want yer child to be born in yer absence do ye? And Emily? She needs ye so bad. I need ye…” She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut against the tension twisting inside. “I’m so afraid.”

  She reached under the covers and laced her fingers with his. He inhaled sharply and moaned, his brow furrowing as his head lolled to the side. She squeezed his hand.

  “I’m here,” she said, her voice cracking. “Just focus on healing. I promise I’ll be here when ye wake up. Then we can figure out how to proceed. Ye just…ye have to get better. Please, Alexander.”

  He grunted once, his brow furrowing before he seemed to relax and his breathing eased. She reached her other hand up to smooth his forehead, continuing to promise him she would be there no matter what. Rebecca didn’t know what time it was. The only light in the room came from the fireplace crackling a few feet away and an oil lamp on the table next to the bed in the small sparsely furnished room. The rain continued to patter against the glass pane of the window as Rebecca sat vigil worrying about Alexander and the night ahead. If he was to be fevered, it was likely to happen sometime in the night. She needed to be prepared.

  “Why don’t you go and rest? I’ll watch over him for a bit?” the voice startled her because she hadn’t been expecting it.

  She turned to her husband, eyes narrowed. “Ye think I’d trust ye with him?”

  Chris sighed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  He thought it had probably been two days since he had been yanked off his feet with a hole in his chest and thrown into an empty cart to be transported like an animal to his own home. It had been two days since he had been shot in the chest – at least he was fairly sure that was what had happened, unless he’d dreamed that Rebecca had told him so.

  Alexander was lying propped up on the bed, gritting his teeth and glaring at the door leading out of it; obviously locked. He was still using his still-functioning arm to grip his useless one, trying to ignore the throbbing waves of pain.

  Damn him, he thought to himself. Damn that Chris bastard straight to hell.

  The nerve that the man had, depositing him so unceremoniously into the room where he’d been sleeping with his sister, after shooting like the craven, underhanded Sassenach that he was. He winced as he jammed his hand backward in annoyance, hitting the headboard and jarring his shoulder, causing him to grunt with pain. It stung like hell, relying on Ellis’ doctor for treatment. He knew that his wound was infected, the blinding pain he felt at any movement told him so. If it wasn’t for his sister, however, he would have climbed on his horse and left.

  Alexander tipped his head back and smacked it against the wall behind him. The moment he was better; he would demand a rematch. The indignity of it all, to be taken down so bloody easily... He glanced around at the quarters for probably the tenth time; seeing how it had changed, or remained the same. It was clear that the brigand hadn’t bothered to redecorate and neither had Rebecca.

  He scoffed silently at that thought.

  Rebecca and decorating were about as far from credible as it was possible to be. He expected that she was too busy trying to keep afloat in this troubled marriage to even think about anything else. He prayed the man had not impregnated her for he had every intention of ending his life as soon as he was able. Who knew what Chris would try next? Considering what he had done to his people, he expected nothing less than death if he gave Chris even half a chance.

  He was brought out of his thoughts abruptly by a stab of pain coming from his shoulder once more.

  “Whit's a body tae dae?” he mumbled feeling frustrated by his injury. He began to tug at his clothes, intending on checking his wound to see just how bad it was. The only good thing about being in this situation was the fact that the infection was being treated right away.

  He had met the so-called sawbones that Ellis had brought out. He had been inclined to be mistrustful of his treatment, but Lachlan who had acted as garrison healer for a while said that Mr. Frankenstein was doing a stellar job in treating Alexander. He knew that if the wound was left untreated, he'd be left hindered and as useless as a crippled old man.

  He pulled the dark navy fabric of his coverlet away, peering down at his bandaged chest. He did not know how he was still breathing.

  ‘God has work for me to do yet.’ He thought with a fast sign of the cross.

  He was surprised to see that blood and pus had soaked through the whiteness of his bandage. That wasn't a good sign. With one hand, he reached for his bandage and then peeled it away from his skin, wincing as the cloth stuck to his skin and pulled at the ragged edges of the bullet wound.

  Sure enough, the entire area around the bloody hole was an angry red, and it still oozed pus and blood, but rather lazily.

  Alexander stared at it for several moments, and then shut his eyes as he shouted, “Fiend seize it!” Thoughts of being held down and forced to amputate his dominant arm had him shuddering. Angrily, his other arm jerked back and slammed the side of his fist into the wall, rattling the bed a little from the force.

  “Chris!” He snapped, turning his attention back to the door and narrowing his blue eyes out of agitation. “Chris, I know you're out there!”

  That Sassenach was probably watching him somehow and getting a good laugh at his expense. Well, he wasn't about to sit here and be some cheap sort of entertainment!

  As if on cue, the door slid open. The cold air of winter blew into the room and quickly whisked away all the warmth, and Alexander flinched, drawing his clothes together in order to conserve heat. But no sooner was the door opened was it shut by Chris, who stepped into the chamber and proceeded to build up the fire again.

  He wore a smarmy smile, the barest upward curves of his lips, much like Alexander would expect from one such as him. As soon as he was done with the fire, he stood up, fixing his vivid green eyes on Alexander. Something in those emerald depths gleamed, and he greeted, “How are you feeling?”

  The tone was cheerful, almost friendly – but both of them knew that was not what his true feelings were. He walked over to Alexander, meeting his glare with a smile as he then crouched down in front of him and tipped the rim of his hat up slightly, to get a better look at him. “Ah, you do not look so well! Is it your wound?”

  “De’il take ye.”

  “Hmm, the doctor said to watch out for any pustulence. I don’t suppose you’d let me check?” Chris was unperturbed by the hostility practically rolling off of the man in front of him. His gaze shifted from his face to his chest – and feigned surprise at seeing the extent of the injury.

  “Oh, it looks very painful, no?” Indeed, the infection looked rather nasty. It wouldn't be long before a fever set in.

  Curling his working hand into a fist, Alexander scowled at his captor for a moment or two before looking away. “Aye, it hurts like hell.”

  He had to admit to that. Denying it would do him no good; the brigand would know he was lying. Swallowing some of his pride, he then started to say, “I need the sawbones to come back and treat it—”

  “Of course, I shall have him sent for at once, although he did leave us with instructions of what to do in the event of infection. I can
have one of your men clean the pus out if you prefer.”

  Alexander whipped his head back towards the brigand in front of him to glare incredulously. “Oh, ye mean I have a choice in the matter?”

  What did he mean by his words? Why would he agree so easily to incur the expense of another physician’s visit when he intended to kill Alexander anyway? Was his purpose to let him slowly die from an infection from the bullet wound that he had caused... while pretending to treat him so that Rebecca would feel he did the best he could? He could see the brigand doing something malicious like that.

  The other simply continued to smile as he gazed at him. “Of course you have a choice.”

  He chuckled as he saw the anger and suspicion on Alexander’s face. “You come charging in here, full of murderous rage and then…you get shot by accident. Don’t you think that is the most annoying thing that could ever happen? My gun discharged, I admit it, but I’m not the one who shot you.” A dark intent suddenly twisted itself into those green orbs. “I wasn’t going to let you kill me, but neither was I going to kill you. I did not tell Toby to kill you but with how you’re turning your sister against me…” He leaned forward, smiling slightly wider as a menacing aura began to swirl around the two. “I have half a mind to snap your neck myself.”

  Something like astonishment flickered in Alexander's eyes, and he stiffened, trying to mask the confusion he felt by glaring defiantly at the brigand trying to intimidate him. He wouldn't take that threat lightly, though; the man was clearly a liar as well as a thief. Alexander had seen him pull the trigger with his own eyes. Why he would lie so blatantly about it was the question.

  “Then why don't ye?” He choked out anyway, curious as to what else this madman might say to him.

  Chris looked away, a flash of disappointment flitting across his face. “Because Rebecca wants you alive.”

  It was clear how upset he was that he wouldn't be able to enact his revenge for the suffering that he felt Alexander had brought upon himself and his gang. He was clearly hoping that he would be able to save that for a later date. Pushing away his anger so that it wouldn't get the best of him, he smiled once more.

  “I do not hold everything against you, personally, however,” he stated, as if those would be words of comfort, “I know that you were just doing what was best for your people in spite of how you caused me injury.” Chris reached out to touch Alexander’s shoulder – only to have the gesture rejected when the other jerked away.

  He simply smiled a tad more. “As a royalist, I find that you are despicable, treacherous, and unspeakable.” His fingers curled managing to brush against Alexander’s skin before he once more moved away. “But as a man, you are honorable and brave. I hope that after you are healed and better able to comprehend that we are better off as allies and not enemies, that we will be able to put this behind us.”

  Alexander scoffed, still showing faint disgust at having been touched by the man in front of him. “I hate tae tell ye, Chris, but ye and I will never be friends. Ye stole my sister from me and made her a pawn in yer games. That tae me is more unforgivable than even getting shot by ye!”

  He stole a glance down at his shoulder, reminded once more of how painful it was and gritting his teeth to suppress a grimace. “Now go get me a doctor before my arm falls off.”

  “As you wish, your majesty,” Chris retorted without a second of hesitance. His eyes shut for a brief moment as he laughed without mirth. “Besides, you are no doubt blinded by pain at the moment. It will do me no good to leave you in this state. I want you to remember though, that you are essentially at my mercy at the moment. Yes, your men might rush to defend you and your sister will be upset should something happen to you. But still, it would be very easy for me to poison your food or adulterate your drink. Or simply come into my chambers while you lay unconscious and strangle you with one of these pillows. I want you to remember that I have not done that.”

  Dread took hold of Alexander’s heart. Chris was right – at the moment, Alexander was essentially at his mercy. He suspected that it was Rebecca who kept the peace between his men and Chris’; the man was not ready for all-out war. Still, Alexander had not come here to die. His wife was about to give him a child and he intended to live to see it.

  “I dinna understand the purpose of yer threats and promises, Ellis. If ye desire something from me, just say it.” Alexander was immensely bitter that he was forced to compromise in any way, but now was not the time for antagonism.

  “You will see the physician and he will tell us what to do for your wound,” Chris replied, that smile of his not changing. “All I ask is that when you are better, we sit down and speak like allies instead of instituting more violence. I have seen a lot of violence in my life, MacTavish. Inflicted a lot of it myself. I think you are the same. But we are married men now, with families. It is time for peace.”

  All expression was immediately wiped off Alexander’s face. He was determined to remain noncommittal until he was aware of all the facts. He had seen no one but Rebecca and Connell in the last two days, too weak and dazed to really register anything they had to say. In spite of the clear infection in his wound, he was more lucid today. He would allow himself to be attended to and then find out the fate of his men. Once he knew more, then he could give the brigand an answer. But in his experience, it was never as easy as a handshake.

  “I would very much like to see the sawbones now.”

  When he got no response for several moments, he turned his head to look at his nemesis, eyebrows raised, “Weel? What are ye waiting for?”

  He only got a chuckle. “I will see you in a few days, MacTavish,” Chris said to him as he pushed on his knees and stood up. He adjusted his scarf as he headed towards the door, paying no more attention to Alexander. Not until the chamber door was shut behind him and he was standing in the empty corridor did he sigh.

  That had been something. It would be quite a long wait, these next few days, for the both of them. Unlike his guest who was confined to bed, Chris would be able to use this time to his advantage. He would win back his wife and do everything in his power to show Alexander’s men that he was here to stay and meant them no harm. By the time Alexander was up and about, he intended to have won them over.

  The first order of business would be getting rid of Toby. He marched down the corridor, in search of his men, running into Benjie from his self-appointed post at the end of the North Wing from whence he kept an eye on things.

  “Benjie, we have an issue with MacTavish’s wound. Would you have somebody fetch Mr. Frankenstein? And send Rebecca to her brother right away.”

  Benjie nodded curtly. “Yes sir.”

  He ran off down the stairs as Chris continued on to the South Wing where Toby was locked up in one of the rooms awaiting Chris’ judgement. He had been telling the truth however. On checking his weapon after the other man had been transported injured to the house, he had confirmed that, no, the ball had not left the gun. He had wondered about that, knowing that that led him to only one conclusion. There was a third shooter in the field.

  Chapter Twenty

  Frances called the men in for their midday meal, feeling quite brave to get in the middle of them like this. Chris men were congregated in the yard, watching two of their numbers spar. Frances suspected that the show they were putting on was for the benefit of Alexander’s men who were lounging near the stables, sharpening their weapons. She hesitated, wondering if she should just serve them where they were. But the cauldron was too heavy for her to carry and Benjie was off on an errand. She certainly wasn’t going to ask Amos to help and the village women were keeping their distance.

  “Grubs up if you want any!” she shouted before scrambling back into the manor house. These days, things were tense at the manor with both sides just waiting for the other to strike. Sometimes Frances thought they would be better off just duking it out. Mrs. Rebecca had her hands full just keeping the peace even though she was very distracted trying to mak
e sure her brother was well taken care of. She insisted on changing his bandages herself even though Frances, Benjie and even Chris offered to help. She especially did not want her husband in the same room as his brother, accusing him of wanting to make Alexander worse.

  The acrimony between Chris and Rebecca increased the tension in the house, making everybody further on edge. Frances was sure somebody would be killed soon. She went to the kitchen and began lining up plates. She would serve the food and they could take the plates wherever they wished to eat, as long as they returned the plates afterwards.

  Sebastian appeared at the door, followed by Julius. Lachlan and Boyd came up at the same time and they began to jostle each other to see who would make it through the door first. Frances held her breath. Suddenly Julius pushed Lachlan and Boyd growled, leaping forward to push Julius back. Alistair and Monroe who were walking slowly towards the door, chatting amiably caught sight of the skirmish and began to run. That alerted the rest of the men, both Alexander’s and Chris’ that something was going on. Suddenly, there was a crowd of men at the door, pushing and shoving at each other. It wasn’t long before punches started to be thrown. Frances was frantically hoping that nobody drew a sword. She walked round in circles, wanting to call somebody to stop them but didn’t know who would help. Connell had thrown Frank to the ground and was busy pounding his fist into the brigand’s face; in the middle of other fights, it was the most intense.