Page 95 of Deception of a Highlander

Aaron rose from behind a glossy wooden desk and opened his hands toward her as though he were welcoming an old friend. “Ah, Mariel…I see you’ve returned after all.” He plucked a piece of fuzz from his brilliant yellow jacket and frowned. “Not only are you late, ’but you’ve also brought friends without asking. I would expect that level of rudeness from my whores, but never from you.”

Mariel struggled against the unyielding grasp that pinned her arms uselessly against her sides. “Where is Jack? What have you done to him?”

Aaron ignored her question. “I hope you’ve at least brought me what I asked.”

He moved from around his desk when she did not answer and studied her with his cold gaze. But she was no longer a confused girl, helpless and broken. Her time on Skye had restored the strength she had once possessed, and she would use every last bit of that to fight back.

Aaron smirked. “Don’t think yourself a hero for your silence, chit. You’ve brought Kieran MacDonald here. Once he is apprehended, I’m sure he can be persuaded to tell us everything we need. Your mission was still a success, all things considered.”

“You were planning on killing him anyway, weren’t you?” Mariel’s cheeks were hot despite her attempt to curb her temper.

Aaron cocked his head, his expression one of boredom. “I figured you’d probably realize that eventually. It didn’t matter if you knew or not, so long as you got the job done.” A grin spread over his thin lips. “As it appears you did—in your roundabout way.”

He clasped his hands behind the small of his back and walked around her. “Perhaps it might interest you to know that the one who paid so handsomely for your time is here as well. And he’s desperate to get his hands on the man you think yourself in love with.”

Panic buzzed beneath Mariel’s calm exterior. Aaron leaned forward, a smile hovering at the corners of his lips as though he could smell her anxiety. “Yes, I know all about your affection for the barbarian. Jane reported it well before you got rid of her.”

“An attacking clan killed her.” Mariel gave him a hard look. “She died in her service to you.”

Aaron’s thin shoulders lifted in a shrug of disinterest. “Many do.” He leaned closer, and the heavy spice of his perfume assaulted her senses. “Would it please you to know that after all this time, you and your dear brother are under the same roof? I thought you would appreciate the comfort of knowing you were together before you died.”

“No!” Mariel gasped and struggled in earnest against the man holding her.

He grunted as her elbow jabbed into his gut, but still, he did not release her.

“His finger,” she howled in wounded anger, no longer caring to shield her emotions. “How could you cut off his finger? After all the money I’ve earned you, all the years I’ve been so compliant…”

“Don’t be foolish, girl,” Aaron said with obvious contempt. “Do you really think I’d remove a finger from my best pickpocket?”

Her stomach churned with rage as she digested what she’d been told. To have her brother’s finger removed was a grievous act indeed, but to subject him to the darkness of a crime-ridden life, to place him in harm’s way…

Her body burned with energy, and she exploded from her captor’s arms. All her focus homed in on Aaron’s surprised face, and her fist connected with his brow. She would have landed another blow if the foul beast behind her had not managed to restrain her once more.

Aaron’s hand flew to his face, cradling the injury. Blood trickled between his fingers and blossomed against the yellow silk sleeve of his jacket. “Kill her,” Aaron said to the mass of flesh behind Mariel. “And I don’t care what you do to her before you end her miserable life.”

The large chest behind her rose and an excited pant wheezed into her ear. Aaron burst from the room and slammed the solid door behind him. The man released his hold on her and let her fall onto the hard floor. Mariel choked in a mouthful of clean air and lunged for the door. The effort was futile, something her captor doubtlessly knew she would attempt. It was a game of cat and mouse, sick and twisted. Her fingers stretched toward the polished brass when a pressure gripped her ankle. She was jerked backward before she even had a chance to turn the smooth knob.

She kicked at him and managed to writhe free of his grasp. Desperation spurred her onward, forcing her to scramble up the shelves of books lining the back wall.

The hollow sound of a whip slapping free gave her pause. A low whistle filled the air and jerked memories from the pit of her mind. Her ears remembered that sound. Her flesh remembered its singeing bite. She clawed with a frenzy, desperate to reach higher ground.

Books fluttered to the ground below in her haste to remove herself from the whip’s path, but her efforts were in vain. Pain ripped like fire around her waist, where it curled her in its wicked embrace.

Her fingernails bent backward against the smooth surface of the shelves in her attempt to stay aloft. Despite her efforts, she succumbed to the second wrench and dropped into an uncontrolled fall before the hard edge of the desk cracked against the base of her skull.

His stench filled her nostrils, and the world around her went black.

CHAPTER 37

A scream tore down the hallway and raised the hairs on the back of Kieran’s neck. Mariel.

His footsteps pounded against the thick carpet as he sprinted down the corridor and slammed his shoulder against the door. He acted on foolish impulse, not bothering to form a plan or analyze what might lay on the other side. All he knew was that she was there, and she needed him. Solid wood splintered beneath his weight, and the barrier between them flew open.

Mariel lay sprawled on her back, her arms bound over her head. A stout man knelt beside her and turned toward Kieran. A whip lay coiled at his side.

Kieran never gave him a chance to grab it. His foot connected with the man’s stained shirt and sent him to the floor. Away from Mariel. Before the man could flounder to his knees, Kieran plunged his blade into the massive chest. A brilliant red stain spread against filthy linen, and the man’s body relaxed into death.

Kieran pulled his sword free and knelt beside Mariel. The fabric of her shirt was torn around her waist and revealed tattered flesh beneath. Blood smeared the white carpet beneath her, but the wounds did not appear to be mortal.