The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,72
ye speak with her father,” Catriona suggested as Aderyn hobbled from the room. She nodded down at Sorcha. “Poor thing’s completely spent. She’ll sleep quite a while after what we’ve just put her through.”
“Ye’re sure she willna wake? I dinna want her thinking I’ve left her alone. I promised her.” Now that he knew Sorcha was well on the way to healing, he had a matter of revenge to see to. But his beloved came first. All else could wait.
“I promise to call ye if she so much as bats an eye,” Catriona assured him. “But I feel certain she’ll sleep for hours. Not only has she downed a great deal of whisky, but Aderyn laced the last batch with some of those herbs that’ll keep her deep in her dreams for quite some time.”
Sutherland eased off the bed, then bent and kissed his precious one’s forehead. “I love ye, my own,” he whispered, then straightened. He nodded at Catriona. “If she so much as bats an eye, ye ken?”
With one hand pressed to her heart, she gave a solemn nod. “I swear it.”
He strode from the room and didn’t slow until he came toe to toe with Chieftain Greyloch, who was waiting at the far end of the sitting room. “Where is he?”
No one asked who. They all knew Sutherland meant Garthin.
“He has those who would vouch for him,” Alexander interjected before the chief could answer.
“He always has those who would vouch for him.” Sutherland shoved his brother back a step. “I am done with this game.” He turned back to the chief. “Have ye placed him in irons, or shall I take him out and hang him from the wall?”
Greyloch gave him a cold, deadly look that matched Sutherland’s current frame of mind. “The bastard should be in the dungeons by now. I ordered him taken as soon as ye brought my poor lass back to me.”
At least he and Sorcha’s father were of the same opinion. Sutherland charged out of the room, tossing his sentiments back over his shoulder. “I’ll be speaking with him now and telling him of the ways he shall suffer for causing my wife such pain.”
“Sutherland!” Alexander barked.
He paused and looked back. Whatever his brother had to say had better be good, and if the man was foolish enough to recommend calmness and a cool head, he’d punch him in the face.
“His mother hovers at death’s door,” Alexander said. “Apoplexy more than likely. Aderyn confirmed the woman is not long for this world.”
“Then we shall send him with her,” Sutherland said. “He can escort his mother straight through hell’s gates.” He had no generosity nor sympathy for the man. Not after all that son of a whore had put his precious Sorcha through.
He stormed down the stairs to the main room of the keep. “Take me to the dungeons,” he ordered the guard standing at the archway of the stairwell.
The man agreed with a grim nod, leading Sutherland past the kitchens to an iron door, banded and bolted as though reinforced to either keep out or keep in the strongest of beasts. The armed warrior unlocked the heavy barrier, grabbed hold of its massive ring with both hands, and yanked, his face reddening with the effort. Stepping back, he nodded up at the torch flickering beside the door. “Ye will need that to find yer way. We left nary so much as a candle stump burning down below. The bastard doesna deserve it after all that he’s done to our lady. Ye’ll find him at the verra bottom. Keep going downward until ye canna go anymore. Hopefully, the rats have already started eating him.”
Sutherland pulled the torch free and held it high as he stepped into the inky blackness. Moisture dripped somewhere in the distance. The rhythmic plunking echoed cold and hollow. The narrow passage oozed with a dank sliminess that greased every breath. He placed each step with care. The stones of the stairwell were not only slippery but crumbling at the edges. The deeper he went, the more satisfied he felt. This was indeed a fitting place for a man awaiting passage to hell.
“Help! Whoever brings the light, I beg ye to help me!” Chains clanked with a frenzied shaking. “Please! Help me!” Garthin cried out. His voice reached a high-pitched keen, ending with a sniveling sob. “Please dinna leave me in the darkness again. Please—have mercy on my soul.”
Sutherland held his tongue, savoring the sound of the man’s suffering. The