The Laird of Lochlannan

by Fiona Monroe

  "Oh! Do not leave me." Caroline clasped at his hands.

  "My dearest love, I came tonight on horseback, I was not expecting to carry you away. My horse is tied up on the road near the old mill entrance. You must wait there while I gallop back down to the village. I'll be back with the carriage within the hour. You'll be quite safe with Miss Dunbar while you wait."

  Though evidently not happy with this arrangement, Caroline made no further protest. Catriona was obliged to avert her eyes as the lovers indulged in a passionate embrace, then Caroline broke away to say, "Hurry! Hurry, my love. What if my brother finds me gone? Every moment counts. We must go."

  Lord Daventry pulled her close for one more hard kiss and was on the point of leading her from the gazebo when he stopped and turned. "Caroline! What money do you have?"

  "I have two sovereigns and some smaller coin, I thought that would be sufficient for immediate expenses."

  "For immediate expenses, perhaps—but see here, Caroline, we will have to go abroad, at least for a while. I cannot return to Steadly, not until the old man is brought round, and I would not put it past Duncan to pursue us if we go elsewhere in England. Let's wait it out in Italy or the south of France, until the heat is off. I can get us any number of invitations or better still, we can take a villa of our own. But we need money. My funds are almost exhausted after six months in Europe."

  "Oh! This is all I have, I think, to hand... Duncan pays my bills."

  "Jewels. Do you have jewels?"

  "Yes!" she replied eagerly. "I have a fine diamond necklace from my grandmother, and some pearls that Duncan gave me on my coming out."

  "That's capital. We can raise money on the diamonds in Edinburgh and keep the pearls in case we need more later."

  "But they are both back in my bedroom..."

  "You must return for them. Quickly!"

  "I cannot!" Caroline whispered, rooted to the spot. "Oh, sir, I dare not go back into that house."

  "But Caroline—my dearest love—I've scarcely funds enough to get myself as far as Steadly. I only got the hire of the curricle and horse on the strength of the Earl's name. That won't help us much in Florence or Nice. We must have the jewels." There was an edge to his voice.

  Caroline breathed heavily, then turned her gaze imploringly on Catriona. "Dearest cousin. Will you go for me? Go back into the house, and fetch my jewels?"

  "What?" Catriona's heart plunged into ice. "I cannot do any such thing. I do not even know where your jewels are."

  "Oh! The necklace is in a casket on my dressing table and the pearls are in a Moroccan case in the drawer below. They're not locked away or anything. You can easily slip back into the house through the old kitchens and up to my room and grab them. Catriona! I beg you! If I were to be caught, it would be all over for me! But if they catch you, I can still escape, and it won't signify on your account. Duncan can hardly make you marry Mr. Ross in the morning."

  Catriona stared at her, dumbfounded. The fact that if she were caught, it would look like she was trying to steal and abscond with priceless family jewellery, obviously did not strike her cousin as any particular drawback.

  "You must do this thing for me!" Caroline cried. "Please! Have I not treated you with every kindness since you came to us? One little favour to repay that is all I ask."

  Her kindness, Catriona thought bitterly, had mostly amounted to requiring her to listen to her own problems.

  "Please, Miss Dunbar." The Viscount had added his voice, and it was a smooth and pleasant one, in the unfamiliar modulated tones of the English. "It means the difference between life and death to us both. My father is a capricious and tyrannical man, and would never receive a wife I had married without his consent. And Sir Duncan would, I truly believe, try to murder me. Both, I am convinced, could be brought round in the end, but we must get to safety first."

  Catriona exhaled. "I will make the attempt," she said.

  Caroline immediately embraced her, and the Viscount bowed.

  "You have my eternal gratitude, Miss Dunbar," he said. "I am not master of my own fortune yet, but one day, I hope you will honour me with your presence at Steadly Court."

  It was quickly decided that Lord Daventry should carry on to fetch the carriage with all possible speed, while Caroline waited in the summer house for Catriona to return with the jewels; since Catriona did not know the way to the meeting-place at the old mill, it was the only possible arrangement. With one last, in Catriona's opinion unnecessarily extravagant embrace, Lord Daventry was gone into the night.

  Caroline clutched at the neck of her cloak and gasped, sinking to the bench. "Oh cousin! Do not you think he is the most delightful man you ever met?"

  "He is... very handsome."

  "Now you see why I could not possibly marry Mr. Ross? Can you imagine it?"

  Catriona was silent. Her heart was filled with doubts and foreboding.

  "Go now!" Caroline cried. She was shivering with agitation. "Hurry! I shall be quite all right here—but make haste!"

  Reluctantly, Catriona made haste.

  For the second time, Catriona found herself creeping along the passages of Lochlannan Castle in the dead of night. It was no more pleasant an experience than her first, ill-fated adventure when she had broken into Sir Duncan's study, but at least she was far better acquainted with the layout of the house by now. Through shafts of moonlight and pools of dark, she found her way to Caroline's apartments without difficulty.

  The sitting room was bright with moonlight, and Catriona soon found an elegant japanned box on the dressing table by the window. It was fastened, but the tiny key was in the lock. She sprang open the lid and could not help but gasp at the magnificent clusters of diamonds sparkling in their silver lattices. The necklace had been deposited in the box carelessly, like a little heap of glittering debris. A quick further search revealed the Moroccan leather pearl case in a drawer otherwise full of a confusion of scarves and laces. Nestled within was a fat string of lustrous pearls and two drop earrings, neatly encased in velvet.

  Hurriedly, Catriona looked around for something in which to carry the two jewel cases. She did not much like the idea of sneaking out of the house with them clutched in her bare hands. In the end she took a shawl which was draped over a chair—really, Caroline's sitting room was as ill-organised as her brother's study—and wrapped them into an awkward bundle. Then, her heart hammering so loudly in her ears that she felt that it must surely be perceptible in the deep, breathing silence of the darkened castle, she padded down the main staircase and slipped through the door to the old hall.

  "Midnight stroll, Miss Dunbar?"

  For the first time in her life, Catriona actually screamed.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Sir Duncan was in his nightshirt, with a dressing-robe knotted over it, and carrying a candlestick. Distractedly, as she tried to recover a semblance of composure, Catriona realised that she had never seen him in such a state of undress. Even his dark hair was rumpled up, as if he might actually have been sleeping.

  Or had he—the thought darted through her from nowhere, a poisoned shaft—had he come from the servants' quarters, had he been in bed with his sister's maid? The family bedchambers were all in the new wing, he had no reason to be in this part of the castle in the middle of the night.

  In the yellow flare of light from the candle, his face was sharp and full of shadows.

  "Sir Duncan," she said, stupidly. She had not let go of her bundle, but clutched it tighter to her chest.

  "Half past one in the morning, and not even undressed," he said softly. "What the devil are you about, my girl? And what have you there?"

  There was absolutely nothing she could do, but attempt a desperate bluff. "As you say, sir. It is very late. I am going to bed directly. Goodnight!"

  The one small saving grace was that her bedroom, unlike his, was in the old keep; she really could appear to be on her way there. She turned her step towards the corner staircase, but he stopped her with a firm gr
ip on her upper arm.

  "What," he repeated, in a soft voice in her ear, "have you there, bundled up so furtively?"

  "Personal items, sir. Of no possible interest to you."

  "Yes, well, I'll be the judge of that. Show me."

  "Sir, if you are a gentleman—"

  Her words were cut short by his abrupt, high laugh. "Never that, I assure you, Miss Dunbar. Show me!"

  There was absolutely no escape. She drew herself up with dignity, though she trembled, and said, "I am innocent of wrongdoing, however it may appear." And she handed over the bundle to Sir Duncan.

  It was impossible to repress feelings of shame and anguish as she watched him unwrap the shawl, open the boxes and see that she had apparently been attempting to smuggle away some priceless family jewels. She could not bear, she realised all of a sudden, to have him think ill of her. But she had no way to absolve herself without betraying Caroline.

  She stiffened her resolve and steeled herself to endure the disgrace of being thought a thief, for long enough at least to let Caroline escape with her intended.

  But such heroism proved to be unnecessary. Sir Duncan's brow rose up as his eye fell on the sparkle of diamonds, but drew together half a second later. When he raised his eyes to look directly at her, they blazed with something more than fury. "Where is she?"

  Catriona had not self-possession enough to dissemble. He had understood, and he had seen that she knew that. There was complete and immediate understanding between them, and it was hopeless to attempt to deceive him. She could only be silent.

  He thrust the jewel boxes and shawl distractedly onto a table and grabbed her by the arms. "Miss Dunbar—by God—tell me where she is! Is she waiting for you in the grounds, or has she run off to meet him already?" He actually shook her, his face mere inches from hers.

  "I cannot tell you," said Catriona, with an effort. "I will not betray her, I will not allow her to be married against her will to a man she does not love!"

  He threw her aside with such violence that she stumbled against the table, and the diamonds spilled from their open casket into a glittering heap on the floor.

  "You know nothing about it!" he cried, already striding away from her towards the stairs that led down to the castle's main entrance. "Stupid, stupid girl—nothing at all."

  Irresolute for a moment, Catriona mechanically retrieved the necklace and put it back into its box. Then, disturbed by the something more than anger in him, she ran after him.

  Her sodden evening slippers slid on the grass as she pursued him to the edge of the lawn. With far longer strides than hers, the hem of his dressing-robe trailing in the wet grass, he seemed to be heading purposefully in a direction opposite to the summer house. She realised he was making towards the stable block, presumably to wake up the grooms and have his horse saddled. Incongruously, she had a moment's amusement at the thought of him sitting astride his huge black hunter in his dark silk brocade dressing-robe. Then she reflected that if he rode down the road towards the loch, which surely he would do, then he would inevitably encounter Lord Daventry's carriage on its way back to the lovers' assignation.

  Could she possibly run to the summer house and warn Caroline without alerting Sir Duncan? She could do it, if she went back into the house and took the old kitchen exit. That door came out on the other side of the castle, out of sight of the stables. She paused only to grab the two jewel caskets from the table in the hall, then, with her heart pounding in her ears and heaving to catch each breath, she flew down the kitchen passage, through the abandoned yard and straight across the lawn towards the gazebo. She had no idea how to retrace the circuitous route through the wilderness and in any case, there was no time to attempt it. Every second might perhaps make the difference between Caroline escaping to marry the man she loved, or being trapped in a lifelong union with another.

  Caroline came eagerly forward from the dark interior of the summer house as she approached, holding out her hands. "Cousin! Did you find them? I felt as though I were here alone an age!"

  Catriona clasped the hands that had been stretched towards her, perhaps for the jewels. She tried to force herself to speak calmly, knowing how prone to nerves her cousin was, but she could feel her voice tremble. "Caroline. Your brother caught me as I was going downstairs. He—"

  "Duncan! Oh, good God!"

  For a moment, Catriona was afraid that Caroline was going to faint. She put her arms around her to support her.

  But her cousin revived in a moment. "What, is he here?" she cried, looking wildly around.

  "He has gone for his horse, I think. We must make haste right away towards the village and hope to meet Lord Daventry on the road."

  "But if Duncan is on horseback and we are on foot, he will overtake us!"

  "It will take time for him to rouse the grooms and have his horse saddled. That will delay him a little, at any rate. Perhaps Lord Daventry is already on his way back. We must try," she added firmly.

  Caroline vacillated only a moment more, then nodded and squeezed her hand. Then, with great energy, she pulled Catriona into a run.

  Catriona had never run so often in her life as she had that night. She was used to walking everywhere, along the filthy cobbled streets of the Auld Toon and the hard cold pavements of the New, but the strain of running at almost full pace in the near dark through undergrowth and along muddy woodland paths made her legs age and her chest heave. She had to pull to a stop more than once, simply to catch hold of another breath.

  "Come on!" Caroline cried. Her energy seemed inexhaustible. "We're nearly at the old mill. We can get onto the road without passing any gatehouse there. We've met there twice before."

  With an effort, Catriona forced herself onward.

  Caroline at least seemed to know exactly where she was going. They followed a winding path through the trees for a while and came to a burn, forded by a very rackety bridge. The burn ran under what was clearly the old mill, a dark, strangely sinister structure which even in the moonlight, Catriona could see was in a tumbledown condition. Its rough black stone walls and empty windows made her shudder, for no reason she could understand.

  "It has not been in use for as long as I remember," said Caroline, stopping as they reached it. "I have no idea why. Duncan talks about demolishing it, but he never gets around to these things." She hesitated, swaying slightly, gazing at the rotting, hanging wooden door. "We were meant to wait inside."

  Catriona stumbled a little as she finally caught up with her, and gripped her arm gently but firmly. "Caroline, we cannot run any longer. We shall collapse with exhaustion. At least, I shall. Let's make haste on the road towards Scourie, but let's walk."

  She was relieved to get out of the woods, and from the inexplicably frightening ruin of the mill, onto the open road. The moon was still high in a clear sky, casting its silvery light clearly over the path before them. Catriona was alert for the sound of hooves or wheels—either Sir Duncan thundering up from behind them or Lord Daventry's carriage rattling towards them —but the night was silent save for the eerie, intermittent call of some unknown creature.

  It was an extraordinary feeling, to be walking out on the road like this, without a pelisse or shawl, in evening attire. She could not have felt more exposed if she had been dressed in her nightgown. Despite Catriona's admonishment, Caroline kept breaking into a little half-sprint.

  "Oh, where is he?" she cried, more than once.

  After they had walked for ten minutes or so, Catriona began to wonder with greater concern about where Sir Duncan could be. Surely, if he had got his horse, he should have caught up with them by now. The only possible conclusion was that despite their pell-mell run through the woods, despite the delays that must have been involved in rousing the grooms and saddling the horse, Sir Duncan had somehow got ahead of them before they even reached the road. In which case, he could have intercepted Lord Daventry's carriage already and the pair could be locked in a duel at that very moment.

  At the thoug
ht, Catriona's heart contracted. She saw, in a flash of imagination, Sir Duncan lying on the moonlit dirt road, dark blood seeping across his white shirt, and the tall slender figure of Lord Daventry standing above him, coolly blowing smoke from the end of a pistol.

  "What is it?" said Caroline tensely.

  Catriona supposed she must have uttered an involuntary exclamation of distress at the fancy, and she shook herself and took herself in hand. She said, "Nothing, I am—merely tired."

  "Oh! I cannot tire, not now..." And she picked up her pace, at least for a few dozen steps.

  At long last, and to Catriona's inexpressible relief, they heard the distinctive double thud-thud and rattle of cantering carriage horses on the soft dirt. The road was winding, with woods on one side and moorland sloping down towards the loch on the other, and they heard the carriage before its lights rounded a bend below them.

  Caroline gave a cry of delight, and Catriona had to hold her arm to stop her flinging herself full into the path of the oncoming horses in her eagerness.

  The curricle drew to a halt a little ahead of them, the horses pulled back so hard that they reared and stamped and tossed their heads. "Caroline!" Lord Daventry's voice shouted from the darkness.

  Caroline lifted her skirts and dashed the last few yards towards the carriage. She was reaching up, her hand was almost clasped in his, when a gunshot rang out.

  Several things happened at once. Catriona only started violently, but Caroline seemed to freeze and shrink backwards, a pheasant erupted from the undergrowth in a flurry of squawking and feathers, and the horses screamed and lunged in their harness. Lord Daventry had to grapple with the reigns to quieten and steady them, and before he could turn back to pull Caroline into the carriage, other arms had seized her.

  Caroline shrieked and tried to struggle and punch and kick her way free, but Sir Duncan—who seemed to have emerged from thin air—had his sister so tightly grasped in his arms that she was lifted clear off her feet. One hand was still grasping a pistol, angled precariously towards the ground as he wrestled with her.