“Silence, woman!” Duncan roared. He backhanded her in reprimand and she fell into the chair she’d just risen from.
“She is distraught and clearly not thinking straight, my lord. Please forgive her impertinence. I will deal with her later.”
Ewan could not be contained. As soon as Cameron struck Mairin, Ewan went crazy. He exploded across the room, hitting Duncan in the chest. The two men went down as, once again, chaos reigned.
This time his brothers did nothing to stop him. They were fighting their own battle against the king’s guard. A battle they couldn’t hope to win. They were hugely outnumbered, more than a dozen to one. Without their swords, they were at an even greater disadvantage.
Ewan was hauled off Duncan and went to the floor under the weht of four soldiers. They pulled his arms back and pressed his face to the floor. Mairin flew to his side and knelt down, her hands reaching for him. Tears slid freely down her cheeks.
“Imprison Laird McCabe!” Archibald ordered. “And his men. Laird Cameron, take your wife and be gone from this hall.”
Duncan bent over and grabbed Mairin by the hair as he hauled her upward. She fought like a wildcat and Ewan roared his fury as he broke free and tried to attack Duncan again.
The soldiers grabbed him, holding him back even as he bucked and strained against them.
Mairin was being pulled away, her eyes filled with tears, her arms outstretched to Ewan.
“Mairin!” Ewan called hoarsely. “Listen to me. Survive. You survive! Endure. No matter what. Endure what you must but survive for me. Survive for our child. I will come for you. I swear it on my life. I will come for you!”
“I love you,” she said brokenly. “I will always love you.”
The hilt of a sword crashed down on his head. The pain blurred his vision and his head snapped to the side. As he slid toward the floor, blackness closing in around him, his last image was of Mairin being dragged, screaming, from the hall by Duncan Cameron.
“I love you, too,” he whispered.
Chapter 35
Mairin found herself thrust into Duncan Cameron’s chamber ahead of him. He barked orders to those around him as she stumbled toward the bed. When he neared the bed where she was sprawled, she hastily backed away, prepared to fend him off in whatever way necessary.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his expression calm as he surveyed her. One of the servants pressed a goblet into his hand and then Duncan waved them away. One by one, his men exited the chamber until he was alone with Mairin.
She edged up onto her elbow and inched backward to put more space between them.
He gave an exaggerated sigh of resignation. “I regret what transpired between us the first time we met. I realize my actions were reprehensible and my wooing skills are sorely lacking.”
Wooing skills? Reprehensible? His words swam through her muddled mind. Was he insane?
“Your actions now are reprehensible,” she said hoarsely. “You lied. One of Ewan’s own men lied and betrayed our clan. I can only assume at your instigation.”
“It would benefit you to make the best of your situation,” Duncan said, his voice carrying a hint of dark warning.
“Please,” she said, her voice breaking. She hated that she was reduced to begging before this man. But for Ewan, sh had no pride. There was nothing she wouldn’t do. “Let me return to Ewan. I am married to him truly.”
Duncan shrugged. “It matters not whether you are married to him or me. That is of little consequence as long as I receive your dowry and control of Neamh Álainn.” He transferred the goblet to the hand closest to Mairin and extended it in her direction. “Now here, drink this, dearling. ’Twill solve our immediate problem. I regret that it will cause you pain, but hopefully it won’t last overlong.”
She stared at the cup hovering close to her lips. She sniffed and recoiled from the bitter smell.
“What is it? Why will it cause me pain?” Did he think her daft?
He gave her a gentle smile that sent a cold shiver down her spine. “ ’Tis necessary to rid your body of the babe you carry. Don’t worry, I’ll give you sufficient time to heal before I make demands. I don’t want to wait overlong, though. ’Tis important that you carry my child as soon as possible.”
Terror hit her in the stomach. Nausea rose, billowed up into her chest until she gagged and had to turn away. She buried her face in the pillow.
“I’m sorry,” she muffled out. “ ’Twas not well done of me but I find myself ill at the oddest times ever since learning of the babe I carry.”
“ ’Tis the way of things,” Duncan offered generously. “When you carry my child, you’ll not lift a finger. You’ll be waited on hand and foot.”
Until you deliver. The words weren’t spoken but they hovered heavy in the air. Aye, she had no doubt she’d be treated like a queen until the day she bore the heir to Neamh Álainn.
He meant to kill her child. Ewan’s child. And replace it with his own seed. The mere thought had her gagging again, and she inhaled sharply through her nose to prevent vomiting all over the bed.
“Here, ’tis better to have it done with. Drink it down. I’ll summon the palace healer to help you through the worst of it. ’Tis said it can be very painful.”
He was so calm about it. How could he discuss murder with a tender smile? The man was a monster. A demon from hell.
“Why would you waste valuable time?” she choked out. She tried frantically to come up with a plan, something, anything to sway him from murder.
He frowned. “What mean you?”