"Yes, I will give it to him…if he will release Lachlan unharmed." She tugged the necklace from beneath her bodice and slipped it over her head.

"Very good. He also demanded that you deliver it in person, but we cannot put your life in danger. We'll dress up one of the smaller clansmen as a woman and he'll stand in for you."

She shook her head. "That will not work. Girard will know the difference. He is not an imbecile."

"Lachlan would never forgive us if we put your life in danger. We cannot allow you to be involved in this part."

"I will. I make my own decisions about my life."

"You are to stay here…with all due respect, m'lady." Dirk's tone was commanding, his expression fierce. "Lachlan will have our heads if you're injured."

"Aye," Rebbie said. "That he will."

Feeling powerless, she struggled for an answer. "But…I must help."

"You are helping by giving up the pendant. If you would allow me…" Rebbie held out his hand, palm up. She clasped the large diamond to her chest for a moment. The precious stone now represented two people she'd loved most in the world—her mother who'd gifted her with it and Lachlan whom she must relinquish it for.

She dropped the diamond into Rebbie's hand. "Very well," she said. "Bring him back alive…to me. Please."

***

Lachlan has to live. "So I can strangle him myself," Angelique muttered to her cold, empty sitting room. He effectively knew how to rip out her heart.

She paced from one side of the room to the other, then stared out the window toward the River Tay. Burnglen was too distant to see because of the trees and the thick white mist that drifted like clouds fallen from the sky.

As a child, she had seen Burnglen Castle once and knew it was a hateful-looking ancient castle. Small as compared to Draughon, but gloomy and dark gray. She imagined Lachlan, in pain, perhaps unconscious deep in the bowels of the dungeon. Tears stung her scratchy eyes.

Mère de Dieu, protect him.

Rebbie carried her diamond in his pocket. He, along with Dirk and a dozen men, would make the exchange. What would happen when Girard and Kormad realized the young man dressed as a woman was not Angelique? She should have insisted on going.

When would they return with Lachlan? Two hours or more had passed.

Camille was asleep in her room. Angelique feared she would never eat or sleep again.

A thump sounded in the corridor and she approached the door. A man's groan. Metal clashed and more thumps. Someone had breached the gates and was taking out her guards? A chill slid through her. She ran into the bedchamber, threw on her thick cloak for protection, and armed herself with every weapon she possessed, hiding them in her secret pockets. She could not bar the door and the trunks were not heavy enough to block it shut.

The sounds of her sitting room door splintering reached her ears. "Mother Mary, save us," she prayed in French, crossed herself, and drew a loaded pistol.

She peered around the edge of the doorway.

"I've killed the intruders, m'lady!"

"Fingall? Is that you?" A bit of relief swept through her.

"Aye." Her steward's voice echoed from the corridor. "Two masked men broke in and killed your guards. But I took care of 'em good."

"Mère de Dieu! My guards are dead?" She crossed herself again. Though she rarely thought of them by name, they had been her constant shadows for the past weeks and had protected her well. She hated for them to come to such a horrific end.

"I shall protect you myself, m'lady." Fingall stepped through the ruined door and into the room, a bloody dagger at his side.

"Do you think more will come?" Angelique kept her pistol pointed, not at Fingall, but at the doorway beside him. She still didn't know if the steward had stolen from them or whether he was trustworthy.

"I cannot rightly say if there are more. I hope not." He glanced from her to the door and back again, seeming jittery.

"What of the guards manning the gates?"

"I've not been out there. Lay down the pistol, m'lady, afore you hurt yourself."

"I will not hurt myself. I am well-trained with a pistol."

Running footsteps sounded in the corridor. Fingall rushed toward her. "Go into the chamber, m'lady! You'll be safe there!"

"Non! Do not touch me." She would take care of this problem herself.

The footfalls pounded closer. Her finger teased the trigger. Fingall grasped her right arm, shoved the gun upward and plucked it from her hand. His other arm went around her, capturing her.

"Non!" She kicked back into his shins, tried to twist away and escape, but he was stronger.

A giant, dark-haired stranger wearing leather armor appeared in the doorway. Who was he? Not one of her staff.

"Search her for weapons!" the stranger ordered.

"Fingall, how could you do this? You traitor!"

Lying on her stomach on the floor where he'd lowered her, she struggled against him, but he pinned her legs between his and held her hands behind her back. Next, he removed the daggers from her cloak pockets.

"Bastard! Stop!"

The stranger threw a blanket over her head, making everything dark. No! She must free herself. When Fingall levered himself off her, she twisted, turned and kicked. But the men were quicker and stronger. They rolled her up in the blanket in only moments, black, tight and suffocating. She screamed, attempting to thrust her arms and legs out, but the wool blanket held tight.

She gasped for breath in the tight space. Calm. Breathe.Think!

One at her head and one at her feet, the two men picked her up and carried her, she knew not where. The only sounds were their footfalls and a closing door or screech of metal now and then. They transported her, head first, down steep steps, bumping her against stone walls. The blanket loosened a bit and she slipped her hand into the secret pocket in her skirts where she had hidden the dagger Rebbie had gifted her with. Grâce à Dieu. The jeweled hilt slid into her hand. Her one comfort.

Why did no one stop these bastards from carrying her out of the castle? Surely the guards at the gates would come to her rescue.

"Help me! It is me, Angelique!"

Her hip slammed into a wall and pain shot through her. The giant bastard had done that purposefully. A loud clang sounded. The gates?

"Guards! Help me!"

The two knaves dropped her on the ground, jarring all the bones in her body. Ignoring the pain, she rolled, trying to escape the blanket. Her head came out. The hulking stranger approached two horses, while Fingall relieved himself near the low bushes. Where am I? She glanced back to see a small iron gate…the exit of the secret passages. She jumped to her feet and ran.

"Grab her! She's getting away!"

A moment later, Fingall snagged her skirts and yanked her back. She fell, her hands sliding over rocks. One smooth river stone fit her hand perfectly. When she was close enough, she smashed it against Fingall's head. He yelped.

"Imbecile!" Kormad's man shoved Fingall away and yanked Angelique's arms up behind her back. He breathed against her ear and ground himself against her derriere. "If that damned Frenchman didn't want you so bad, I'd take you right here. So don't tempt me. I like a wench with some fight in her."

Frenchman? Mon Dieu, he meant Girard. The bastard would show her no mercy. If it came to that, she prayed her death would be swift and painless.