Page 85 of Devil Black

Again, Isobel’s heart clenched. “He has journeyed to see the King.”

“Aye, and he has returned again, curse his black heart! Och, well, if James is too lily-livered to do the job for me, I shall take care of it myself.” He waved a hand at the room. “Meanwhile, enjoy your accommodations. As you see, there are no windows through which you might climb.” He bared his teeth. “In fact, there is no way out at all.”

He went out, and Isobel heard the bar slam down across the door, outside.

Catherine began, “Well, if he means to ransom us—”

“He does not,” Isobel said with certainty, “at least, not at once. He will inflict hurt any way he can.”

Catherine stared at her. “But he said—”

“Trust no lie coming from that monster’s mouth. What he says matters not at all.”

Isobel paced the chamber for what felt like hours. Catherine, exhausted, dozed fitfully. The room, cold and bleak, offered no way to tell day from night, but Isobel counted the moments and Bertram did not come to tie her or Catherine to the bed and unleash his vile appetites. She tried to be grateful for that.

Weariness nibbled at her before she once more heard someone at the door. Her heart dropped, and Catherine, who had at last slept soundly, lifted her head.

“What is it?”

Isobel shook her head and curled her fingers into fists as the door opened. She would fight as hard as she could, and for as long as she could.

Bertram MacNab stood in the doorway, a leer on his face and two guards at his back. Hate seared through Isobel, so fierce it made her lightheaded. She moved and put herself between Catherine and the monster. You shall not touch her.

Bertram gestured at her. “We need one of you. You choose.”

Catherine scrambled to her feet to stand beside Isobel. Isobel felt her sister’s fingers catch hers, and hold. Courage…

“Why?” Catherine asked. “What do you—”

“I will go,” Isobel cut her off. She did not know what MacNab intended, but better her than Catherine, who had a babe to protect.

“No!” Catherine cried. “I demand you leave us together! I—”

Calmly, Bertram stepped forward and slapped Catherine across the face so hard she fell down. When Isobel stooped to lift her, she saw blood at the corner of Catherine’s mouth.

“Sister?”

Catherine, bless her, looked angry rather than cowed. Rage glinted in her eyes.

“Let me go,” Isobel begged. “I will return.”

“No!”

“Catherine, please!”

Unhappy, Catherine subsided. Isobel turned to Bertram. “Take me.”

His leer widened, and his eyes inspected her with what she very much feared was anticipation. Would these three haul her back to her previous prison, tie her to that bed where Aisla had no doubt died, be the first three to rape her?

Again she whispered a prayer in her mind, not, strangely enough, to any deity, but to the devil, Devil Black MacRae. Please, please, please…

“Come,” MacNab growled.

She went with her head high, but her treacherous legs threatened to go out from under her. Down the corridor they went, past the chamber where Isobel had been confined before, down the stairs to the great hall, where Randal MacNab stood waiting with another man.

Isobel saw it was dark outside the windows—night. Had she and Catherine been here so long? Dawn had just been breaking through the filthy storm when they were dragged in.

She tried to focus on Randal. The man beside him, squat and ginger-haired, looked nervous. He had a roll of fabric tucked under his arm.