Court had decided not to take the time to meet the rest of his crew, and since he thought she'd go eagerly once they'd told her their plan, he'd sent his oldest and youngest to retrieve her.
At the same time, Court, Fergus, Niall, and MacTiernay had fought deserters and checked the jail, opening every cell just for the hell of it, but Llorente wasn't there. Annalía might be unwilling now, but once she recovered from the news of her brother, she'd be glad they'd saved her.
He raised his rifle, resting the warm barrel against his shoulder, then signaled the others to ride out in the opposite direction. They took a false route away from town, then doubled back toward the northeast corner of Andorra, heading for the lodge. From there they followed a hidden smuggler's route, speeding through the winding ravines that continued ever upward in elevation.
When the trail tapered and the terrain made them slow their pace, Niall rode up alongside him. "I've been thinking."
"What about?" he mumbled.
"About the way you've been treating the bonny Andorran. And about why you slept in her room last night."
Court turned back to see if the others could hear. Fergus was nodding off and MacTiernay was too far back. "More comfortable bed, Niall. Now drop it."
"We've established that your behavior is off."
"No - "
"What we need to know is why," Niall interrupted.
"I'll be damned before I let you study me. It's my business."
"I'm your cousin. MacCarrick is my clan, too. What you do does concern me."
"How could this - "
"The curse."
"Bloody hell, doona start on that." They closed in on the lodge, the lodge where they would drop this conversation. From their vantage, he could already see it down the mountain. His brows drew together. Why the hell was the place bright with light this late?
"You canna ignore it any longer." Lowering his voice, Niall said, "You reacted as you never have before." His horse, sensing a barn and rest, tried for a trot, but Niall reined him in. "I'd thought that part of you was simply dead, and was glad of it, but it's no'."
Court hiked his shoulders. "This will be done soon. I'll get her to safety, and then it's finished." They'd planned to free her and her brother and get them to the lodge, but if Llorente was dead, Court had promised Niall he'd see the girl to a safe house near Toulouse.
"You will leave her behind in France?" he asked as they rode into the rickety stable.
"Yes," Court said firmly, but damn it all, he'd hesitated a slight second and Niall knew it. Something was off with him, his reaction to her unique. He was as confounded about it as Niall was.
"Damn it, Court, if you hurt her, you'll never be right. Look at Ethan - that's as wrong as a man can get."
Court's eldest brother, Ethan, was a fearsome man in both looks and deed, and his fiancée's mysterious death had only fueled the rumors surrounding -
Shrieks interrupted his thoughts. From inside sounded Annalía's screams, punctuated by loud crashes and all the men cheering.
They heard it just as they were dismounting. He and Niall shared a look, then ran into the house. They found Liam standing outside a room, egged on by thirty raucous Highlanders, as he raised his arms over his head and advanced under a barrage of vases, candleholders, shoes, and boxes. An outraged screech sounded with each hurled object.
Court elbowed through the men, who now cheered him and slapped his back to see him alive, until he reached Liam. Court tapped him on the shoulder and cocked his eyebrows, and Liam happily backed away. The men grew quiet.
Court almost felt sorry for her as he assumed his most threatening expression and readied to enter. He put himself in the line of fire, barely dodging a crystal vase filled with packing straw, but he never slowed his ominous stride toward her.
He caught her eyes, saw her in a clinging fire-red dress, with her hair curling and free and her br**sts nearly spilling out, and his jaw dropped. In a thunderstruck tone, he said, "Anna?" just as she brained him with a candleholder.
Aleix woke late in the night to the sound of many footsteps descending the stairs. He rubbed his eyes, frowning into the darkness.
The guards never came this late. Comprehension stabbed at him, and he knew why they would this night.
He was about to be executed.
"Papa." Olivia's voice? She sounded as though she were on the stairs as well. "Perhaps you shouldn't act hastily with Llorente."
"What do you mean?" Pascal asked.
"I believe this is a very delicate time. The prisoner is beloved by these people." Her voice was laced with disgust. "His execution could be the catalyst they need to rebel again."
Aleix shook himself. She was right. It would enrage them.
"And this could be the last straw for Spain." The footsteps halted outside his room. "You know they are on the verge of retrieving their deserters. If they decide to become involved..."
Damn it, Aleix thought, that's what I've wanted for months.
"What do you suggest?"
"We must not act rashly. I know it was infuriating that she was taken, but instead of killing her, I suggest you retrieve her and carry out your plan to marry, solidifying your claim. Afterward you can dispose of Llorente, supplanting him in the people's affections."
Retrieve? Taken? Perhaps they had some ally who'd prevented the nuptials. His heart leapt at the thought. The first hope he'd felt in days.
"But she's tainted," Pascal said. Tainted?
Olivia asked, "Do you think the Highlanders will use her?" Those animals took Annalía?
"It doesn't matter if they do or don't - she'll be ruined in everyone's eyes. Our guests will see to that."
Aleix struggled not to yell, struggled not to ram his head against the walls in rage. Why would the Highlanders do that when they worked for Pascal? When they'd defeated Aleix and his men not two weeks ago for the bastard.
"The benefits of marrying her will still outweigh the detriments. Think of Spain, Papa. And if she does carry a child, she can have an...accident and you can marry again."
A pause. Alex could picture the general's thoughtful expression. Finally, he said, "I suspect it's too late, but I will try."
"I think that's a wise decision."
"You always were my most cunning child, Olivia. Cold, just like me."
"Yes, Papa. Just like you."
That bitch.
Annalía could see MacCarrick's expression turn menacing, his body tensing as he rubbed his temple. She snatched a pitcher from the straw-lined crate and readied it to throw.
"Doona think of it," he warned in a rasp, scowling at her weapon.
She reared back her arm, just about to hurl it.
"I said" - he seized one wrist, then the other in one hand, then set the pitcher down - "no."
"And I've told you," she bit out as she kicked his knee, "to go to hell, bèstia!"
Still holding her wrists in a manacle-like grip, he set her away so she couldn't reach him with her pointy slippers and doubtless so he could gape further at her dress - the Pascal special she'd been trapped in. When the two ruffians had carried her inside this hovel and had set her on her feet with her hands bound, displaying her like a prize, she'd been forced to watch in horror as her br**sts had nearly spilled out in front of all these men.
MacCarrick began to speak, then closed his mouth, never taking his eyes from her chest.
"You are despicable!" she cried. "Is that why you kidnapped me? Because you wanted me? Because of one miserable kiss?"
At the last, she thought she heard murmuring just outside the door. MacCarrick turned to glower, but everyone had disappeared from view. "Doona flatter yourself," he grated over his shoulder before facing her again, this time actually looking at her face.
"Then why?"
"I have my reasons. Chief among them is revenge against Pascal."
"But why me?" she demanded. "When will you return me?"
"We will no'."
"But you must! You don't understand!"
"Doona understand that he was holding your brother's life over you to get you to marry him? Doona understand what you are?"
She labored for breath. "Y-You know that the only thing keeping my brother alive is my marrying Pascal? Why in God's name would you take me?"
"Your brother's gone, lass."