"Keep your mouth shut or I'll cram something in it you won't like so much." Her captor kicked a pile of horse dung to get his meaning across. She tried again to wrest herself away from him, but he was too strong. He bound her hands behind her back, tied her feet and threw her over the horse.

She forced herself to breathe normally, and think of a plan.

"Fingall, are you coming?" he yelled.

"Aye."

She still had her dagger. If they released her hands, she could use it. And if Rebbie and Dirk had failed in their mission to rescue Lachlan, she would rescue him herself.

***

"Good work, Fingall," said a man behind Angelique.

She turned. Kormad's full black beard and evil dark eyes froze her bones.

The men had removed her from the horse and untied her. She now stood before the unholy entrance to Burnglen. All was gray, the heavily overcast sky, the stones making up the castle and its courtyard.

"Where is my husband?" she asked, placing a strong bite in her tone.

Kormad laughed and swept his hand toward the door. "You shall see soon enough. Welcome to Burnglen."

Dare she walk into such an evil abode, one she might never escape? Inside the hidden pocket in the folds of her skirts, she fingered the jewels on the hilt of her dagger, instead of her rosary beads, and whispered a prayer for strength and protection. With the right grip and stab, she could kill a man, if she didn't hit a bone. Her distant male cousin in France had taught her well.

Her first instinct was to attack Kormad, but he wore leather armor studded all over with metal. She had not the strength to stab her blade through that. Besides, the bailey teamed with armed guards.

"Take her inside," Kormad ordered the tall man who'd brought her.

"No!" she yelled.

He picked her up, flung her over his shoulder and carried her up the steps. Her stomach ached from his hard shoulder slamming against it, and nausea. What tragedy awaited her within these walls?

Grinning, Kormad followed them up the steps. Bastards! Trying to stab the giant who carried her would be useless, covered in thick leather as he was. She would save her attack until the right moment, when it would count. Maybe Girard would be the first one she killed.

Once inside the Burnglen great hall, the guard tossed her roughly onto her feet. Dizzy, she stumbled, but grabbed onto the long table. The stench of this place was horrid, rotten food and hound excrement.

"At last, we meet again, my sweet." The French words were delivered in a smooth, lethal voice.

She turned and met the devil-dark gaze of Girard.

Chapter Fifteen

Girard. Here to kill her…rape her. "Mère de Dieu." The sensation of ice claws latched onto Angelique's chest, cutting off her breath.

"I have missed you, ma petite choute." He bared his teeth in the mockery of a grin; his pupils dilated. The missing arm amplified his malevolence…because of what it meant. She had done that to him. He would show her no mercy. She would rather die now.

Sucking in a breath, she tried to think normally. Dear God, to face a demon…I will not faint. I will not faint.

"Did you search her for weapons?" Girard snarled. His voice, an echo from her nightmarish memories, sent shards of dread through her.

"No need," Kormad said.

"You do not know our little angel, do you?" He sounded almost amused.

"You want her searched, do it yourself!"

Girard's gaze stabbed through her. "Where is that Camille bitch?"

"Not here," she managed in a strong voice. No, he would not see what he did to her. He would not see he had torn her apart, physically, emotionally, and that now she was but a patchwork, held together by thin threads.

"So, you will pay for her crimes as well as your own."

Angelique focused on survival, clasping the dagger hilt firmly within her pocket. She hoped he would attempt searching her. He wore no leather armor as the other men did. But if she killed him, likely Kormad would kill her.

What must I do? Lachlan. He would know what to do. A strong, warm protector, he was.

"I wish to see my husband," she said, barely pushing the words past her tight throat.

"Oh, you will." Kormad laughed. "'Haps you'd both like to be buried in the same grave? Together forever."

No. Lachlan could not be dead. She focused on the memory of his smile. Tears pricked her eyes.

"Oh, you love this husband of yours," Girard said.

She had not wanted him to see anything inside her. Already, he was breaching her defenses. "Non. He is a bastard like you."

One corner of Girard's lips quirked a fraction. "You will have a chance to say goodbye to him before I take you back to France."

"What? Back to France? Non."

"She's not going anywhere!" Kormad growled. "Except a few feet beneath the sod of Scotland."

Girard speared Kormad with that devil glower. "We have a deal."

"That's not part of it."

"You promised her to me first." A bald man stepped forward. Who…? Dear God, he was the monster who'd tried to kill her on the ship weeks ago.

"Promised to you?" Girard said. "She is mine to do with as I please. I own her! Do you understand?"

They argued, growling and snapping like dogs, ripping apart her life as if it were a deer hide. Which one would sink in his teeth first? Angelique's legs trembled, and she dropped to her knees. She could not breathe. Dear heaven…rape, torture, death, her body used and abused by them. The blackness of oblivion would be better.

Get up; you are strong, some part of her urged…or was it a guardian angel whispering in her ear?

I cannot. I have nothing left.

Girard grasped her upper arms and jerked her to her feet.

Now, that defensive side of her shouted. The dagger hilt was firm in her hand. She shoved the blade up toward Girard's stomach. It bit through clothing and flesh. He shrieked and shoved her to the floor. Pain shot through her hip and elbow.

"You see!" Girard yelled. "You see why you should search her?" He tore at his clothing to examine the bloody wound. Not deep enough.

Kormad chuckled and snatched the dagger from her hand. "Take her to the dungeon and toss her in with MacGrath," he commanded the guards. Two yanked her up, one by each arm, painfully wrenching her shoulders. But she was glad to hear the name MacGrath. Was Lachlan alive? I pray you, Mère de Dieu.

"Wait, search her first," Kormad said.

Their meaty hands ran over her—her breasts, legs and hips. She almost gagged. "Cease!"

"No more weapons," one of the guards said.

"Take her below. We have more important matters to attend to. Have George saddle the horses."

The massive guard dragged her, stumbling, outside to another area, his cohort in front. Steps led down to a narrow stone passage, dark and underground. She tripped and would've fallen if this beast hadn't been holding her up. She could scarce breathe in this dank, foul place.

The cell door screeched as the guard in front opened it a narrow space. Her captor shoved her inside the blackness and the door clanged shut.

Gaelic curses resounded. "Angelique! How the hell did they get you?"

"Lachlan?" She turned, unable to see. "Where are you?"