by Gwyn Brodie
"Aye. I had no choice. The thought of what Marcus might do to Isobel was unthinkable."
"Only a man who's brave of heart—or a fool enters the lion's den alone, and I dinnae believe you to be the later. I very much welcome your help in this matter. Sheriff Murray has been kind enough to fill me in on the details of what has happened, and I'm most pleased to see you have recovered from your injuries."
"Much thanks, sire."
"Robbie, I understand one of the murdered young women was to be your wife."
The sadness in Robbie's eyes clawed at Drostan's heart. "Mary Cameron, her name was, and I loved her dearly."
"Well, fear not, we'll bring the killer to justice. The king is well aware of what has happened and wishes to bring the matter to an end as soon as possible."
Robbie nodded.
"Drostan, as you informed the sheriff, the dead women's families have identified the jewelry you found at Willowbrae Castle. He'll hang for their murders."
"He deserves no less." Drostan tossed back his whisky. "I brought the items with me as you'll need it as evidence against Marcus." He handed the black leather pouch to the earl.
"Good." Montrose stuffed the pouch into his sporran and turned to Drostan's father. "Laird Mackintosh, how many men have you?"
"Forty accompanied us."
"Good. With the thirty we brought along, we should have plenty of men if a battle ensues."
Drostan was most impressed with the earl. Unlike most men of his status, he possessed a great deal of common sense and inspired a feeling of comradery in those around him.
"No use in delaying any longer." Montrose rose from his seat. "As soon as we're mounted, we head to Hornridge Castle."
AFTER SPENDING THE night in an inn along the way, Drostan and the others had Hornridge Castle within sight. As they rode up to the gatehouse nigh on a hundred strong, much shouting ensued, alerting the castle to their presence. Like so many ants, the guards scrambled to reach their stations and ready themselves for a possible battle with the newcomers.
Drostan accompanied Montrose to the gate.
"By orders of the king, the Privy Council demands that you allow us entry," the earl shouted to the young gatekeeper, who seemed unsure of what to do.
"Did you not hear the Earl of Montrose? Raise the portcullis," Drostan demanded.
"'Tis a matter for the Earl of Kinkirk to decide. He's well aware of yer arrival."
"If your laird does not allow us entry soon, I will be taking matters into my own hands," Montrose shouted.
Less than a minute later, Kinkirk came out into the bailey, looking confused. "What's this about, Drostan? Revenge for Marcus taking Isobel? Why would the Privy Council involve itself with such a trivial matter?"
Anger heated Drostan's blood. "Having your wife stolen and your life threatened by hired knaves might seem trivial to you, laird, but not to me. This is the Earl of Montrose, head of the Privy Council. He's here by orders of His Majesty, King James."
Montrose nodded. "I'm here regarding your son, Marcus Anderson."
Kinkirk snorted. "What business does the council have with Marcus? I'll admit he acted most improperly when he took Lady Isobel, but surely 'twas not a matter worth involving the king."
Montrose's eyes narrowed. "Kinkirk, we have sufficient proof that 'tis your son who has been murdering Scotland's young women, aided by two of his clansmen, Cam and Dougal Anderson."
The laird's eyes widened. "Why, that's utter nonsense."
"If nonsense 'tis," Montrose said, frowning, his bushy gray brows nigh covering his eyes as he spoke. "Then tell me why he had in his possession the exact pieces of jewelry taken from them after their deaths?"
Kinkirk shook his head. "I'm certain you're wrong."
Drostan snorted. "If you believe him to be an innocent man, then allow the council to interview him regarding the matter, if for naught else than to clear his name."
"Then, so be it. Raise the portcullis," Kinkirk instructed the gatekeeper, then whispered something to a nearby guard, who hurried off to do his bidding.
MARCUS MADE HIS WAY up from the cellars, where he had just forced himself upon the fair-haired servant girl, Ina. He had left her on the floor crying, her cheek dark, and her lip swollen—her punishment for refusing to follow through with his wishes. Perhaps tonight, he would choose her curvaceous sister to take to his bed. The thought occupied his mind as he entered the library. He had just finished off his dram of whisky when the door was thrown open, and Cam and Dougal rushed in.
"What the hell are you two idiots up to?"
"'Tis the Privy Council, Marcus," Cam answered. "They're gathered outside the castle wall requesting entry from the earl."
Marcus frowned. "What is it they want?"
Dougal snorted. "To speak with ye about the murders, and someone found the jewelry ye left behind at Willowbrae."
Marcus growled. "No doubt 'twas that nosey bastard, Drostan. 'Twould have pleased him to no end to have in his possession such profound evidence." He rose from his seat. "Hidden tunnels lie behind that bookshelf leading to the kirk ruins at the edge of the wood. Meet me there with the horses. Now, help me move this." Once the opening was exposed, he lit a candle in the hearth fire and stepped into the tunnel. "Put the shelf back as before."
With the entrance once again closed off, Marcus was in total darkness except for the flickering light of the candle, as he made his way along the narrow tunnel. The damp, dank air entering his lungs reeked of rat urine, and he gagged. He pressed the sleeve of his freshly laundered shirt against his nose in hopes of suppressing the horrendous odor stinging the backs of his eyes. Those two things, along with the squeaking and the scurrying of small feet all around him, were constant reminders of what awaited him should he end up in Edinburgh's prison. But he need not fash, for he had no intention of ending up in that rat-infested hellhole.
Though it seemed hours, 'twas but a few minutes before he kicked opened the iron grate near the kirk and stepped out into the sunlight where Cam and Dougal waited. He quickly mounted, and they rode deep into the wood, fearing capture if he tried to cross the moor.
"Where are we headed, Marcus?" Cam glanced back over his shoulder to see if they were being followed.
Marcus smiled. "France, but I've something to do beforehand."
Dougal ducked beneath a low-hanging branch. "What?"
"Before I leave Scotland, I plan to make certain Drostan never touches his pretty young wife again."
.
The six council members, Drostan, his father, his brothers, and twelve of the king's guards rode beneath the portcullis and into the bailey of Hornridge Castle. As the ancient iron gate lowered behind him, Drostan kept a wary eye out for Marcus, for he was not to be trusted.
Kinkirk spoke to one of his guards, who hurried inside the castle, then turned his attention back to the council. "Leave your horses here. They'll be well taken care of. Please follow me to the solar. I've sent a guard to tell my son to join us there."
After waiting the better part of half an hour for Marcus to appear, a cloak of uneasiness began to settle over Drostan.
Even Kinkirk appeared ill-at-ease as he shakily poured himself a third dram of whisky.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come," Kinkirk said, noticeably relieved, but that relief quickly faded when 'twas the guard from earlier who entered the room and whispered something in the earl's ear, before once again hurrying from the solar.
Drostan frowned. "Is something amiss?"
"Aye. It appears my son is nowhere to be found." He dropped down onto the window seat and stared out across the loch.
Montrose shook his head in frustration, then took out the pouch. "Drostan, tell Kinkirk where you found this."
Drostan nodded. "Hidden on a beam inside Marcus's bedchamber during his stay at Willowbrae."
"What is it?" Kinkirk looked confused, and for a moment, Drostan felt sorry for the old earl.
Montrose carefully poured the
items out onto the table.
Drostan pointed to the brooch. "This belonged to Lady Mary Cameron. She was found murdered on Mackintosh lands while Marcus was staying at Willowbrae. And this was Lady Isobel McDaniels, found murdered at Queensferry while he was in Edinburgh." He indicated the necklace. "And this, to Lady Flora McBean, who was murdered near Inverness while your son was at Willowbrae." He shoved the blue sapphire hairpin across the table. "Each piece has been identified as belonging to one of the victims, but I've no idea as to whom the emerald bracelet belongs."
At the mention of the bracelet, Kinkirk rose from his seat and crossed the room, then stared down at the green-jeweled piece, then covered his face with his hands.
Drostan frowned. "What is it, Kinkirk?"
"Twenty years ago, that bracelet belonged to Lady Elsa Menzie. During her short stay at Hornridge, Marcus had come to care a great deal for the lass. On the night of the ceilidh, she was found dead in the gardens, and the bracelet was gone. She had been seen leaving the festivities with Laird Davidson, but he had returned alone. Even though the bracelet was never found, a few months later, the laird was hanged for her murder."
Montrose nodded. "'Tis most unfortunate that an innocent man had to die for your son's ghastly deed."
Kinkirk slowly shook his head. "I had no idea Marcus was capable of doing such a thing."
Drostan snorted. "Just like you didnae wish to believe him capable of doing what he did to me when I was but a child. And another thing, Kinkirk. You no longer need fret about the debt Laird Fraser owns you. I'll be settling that myself."
Montrose rose to his feet, and the rest of them followed suit. "I hope for your sake, you didnae aid your son in his escape."
Kinkirk shook his head. "Nay. I'm a strong supporter of the king, and would never go against his wishes."
"No matter," Montrose said. "We'll find him. Of that, you can be certain."
Drostan's hands clenched into fists, and he uttered a curse as he left the solar, vowing to see Marcus brought to justice.
ISOBEL BLINKED THE sleep from her eyes and sat up, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed she and Drostan shared. After the midday meal, Isobel had returned to their bedchamber for a short nap and had awakened feeling more rested than she had in some time. She rubbed her hand across her flat belly and smiled, awed that a child was growing inside her, a fact verified by the healer just that morning. She was tired much of the time of late, but thankfully, the sickness that afflicted a great many women in their early days of pregnancy had yet to plague her. Isobel had suspected for at least a fortnight that she was with child, but had wanted to wait until she was certain before telling Drostan. Now that she was, she could not wait to tell him the good news upon his return to Willowbrae.
She prayed the council had had no trouble arresting Marcus, for his capture would no doubt save the lives of others. Never would she have believed a man could possess such evil as did he.
A knock sounded at her bedchamber door.
"Aye?"
"'Tis Cat."
Isobel smiled. "Come."
Catherine opened the door and sailed into the room. During her time at Willowbrae, the young woman had blossomed under the watchful gaze of Ian.
"I hope I didnae wake you."
"Nay. I was awake before you knocked."
"Good. I'm here because you'd mentioned earlier that you wished to go for a walk in the gardens this afternoon."
"Aye, and I do. Many thanks for joining me. " Isobel got to her feet. "I'm glad to see you've brought your cloak with you, for the weather has cooled considerably as of late." She took her own cloak from the iron peg beside the door and fastened it around her shoulders. "I very much enjoy this time of year, when the leaves are starting to change color."
Catherine nodded. '"Tis a beautiful season."
Isobel led the way down the stairs and out into the gardens. She took a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air that bespoke the onset of autumn. Birds chirping in the trees of the nearby wood filled the air with their song. Being in the gardens brought to memory the times she and Drostan had spent there together, some of which caused her face to heat.
"Do you have feelings for Ian," Isobel asked, though she believed she already knew the answer.
Catherine smiled and her cheeks pinked. "He's been naught but kind to me since our first meeting when he allowed me to ride with him."
Isobel chuckled. "I'm certain he did not mind in the least."
"I find him to be most handsome." A dreamy look settled in Catherine's eyes, and Isobel wondered if the same thing happened when she thought of Drostan.
From another corner of the gardens, the soothing sound of the waterfall reached her. Isobel loved Willowbrae and the Mackintosh clan. The laird and lady regarded Isobel as if she were one of their very own daughters, and Drostan's brothers and sisters treated her as if she were one of them. Though she missed her mother and father very much, she was happy and would have been no matter where she was as long as Drostan remained at her side.
At the postern gate, the two women peered across the meadow. "Look there," Catherine said, pointing at a tree several yards away cloaked in red apples. "The branches are bowing beneath the weight of the fruit."
Isobel's mouth watered at the prospect of sinking her teeth into the juicy bounty. "I'll ask a guard to open the gate and escort us into the meadow. "Twill take but a moment to pick a few. They look so delicious." Near the top of the tree, a red squirrel munched on an apple hanging from a branch.
With the assistance of two Mackintosh guards, Jim and Seth, the postern gate was unlocked, and the four made their way the short distance down the hill to the tree. While the guards stood watch, Isobel and Catherine gathered as many apples as they could from the low-hanging branches and amassed them in the tails of their cloaks, then turned back toward the gate.
Without warning, Seth fell to the ground with an arrow wedged in his shoulder.
Isobel screamed, and the apples they had harvested were tossed aside as she and Catherine raced back toward the gate.
Jim quickly unsheathed his broadsword, "Stay behind me and hurry inside the castle wall." He watched for the attacker as he backed up the hill—not that he could have kept an archer's arrow at bay.
Isobel's heart drummed against her ribs as she ran, fearing that at any moment, another of them would be hit.
Jim grunted.
Isobel peered over her shoulder to find him on the ground, and an arrow buried deep in his chest. She let out a sob but kept running, afraid she might be next.
With his sword drawn, Marcus raced out of wood to Isobel's left and grabbed her.
Catherine beat him with her fists. "Turn her loose, you beast!" she shouted.
He knocked her away and swung his blade.
Catherine jumped backward in time to keep Marcus's sword from slicing open her throat, but not in time to keep it from striking her shoulder. She screamed as blood gushed down her right arm and dripped from her fingers.
"Catherine!" Isobel screamed as Marcus tossed her over his shoulder and raced into the woods. She beat him about the back and shoulders, biting wherever she could reach, doing anything she could to force him to stop and put her down.
In a matter of minutes, they entered a small clearing, where Cam and Dougal waited with his horse. He tossed her into the saddle, mounted behind her, and they headed through the wood.
Isobel tried to control her trembling as they left the forest and raced across the moor at break-neck speed. She clung to the horse, fearing she would fall and be trampled. "Why did you come after me, Marcus?" She steadied her voice as best she could.
He chuckled. "To make Drostan pay for every grief he's caused me from the day he was born until now."
Anger washed over her. "From what I've heard, 'twas you who caused him grief by locking him inside a chest when he was but a lad."
Marcus snorted. "If I'd kenned he'd one day become such a burr beneath my saddle, I'd have plunged a blade
through his heart beforehand." His voice was void of any feeling or emotion when he spoke, only detached coldness.
"Are you going to murder me like you did those other young women?"
"Not until I take my pleasure," he said, running his tongue up the side of her face.
Isobel scrubbed her cheek with her cloak as the bile rose in the back of her throat. She looked at Cam and Dougal. "How can you protect him, kenning what evil he's done?"
Cam grinned. "Who do ye think gets rid of the bodies?" He shrugged. "And he pays us well."
Her eyes widened. So that was why Marcus was never connected to any of the deaths. Cam and Dougal took care of the aftermath. He had no qualms about killing whenever it served his purpose. And he would kill her once he finished using her for his own sick needs. Her eyes filled with tears as she pressed her palm against her belly, praying she would live to hold her bairn in her arms.
DROSTAN TUCKED HIS chin into his chest against the pelting of the wind-driven rain, praying that Marcus's tracks would not be washed away. He and the others had been after Marcus and his two clansmen for several hours, ever since they had learned of the existence of the tunnels and found tracks leading away from the kirk. So far, the three horses had been heading in the same direction—toward the Port of Inverness, where they most likely planned to board a ship, leaving Scotland and the atrocities they had committed far behind, only to perpetuate more of the same evil somewhere else.
Ailig, who had been riding in the forefront, keeping his sharp gaze on the ground, returned looking none too pleased with what he had found.
Drostan brought his horse to a halt, as did the others. "What is it?" he asked his brother.
"It appears they've shifted course. The tracks now head away from River Ness instead of toward it."
A chill as cold as the winter wind raced up Drostan's spine. "He's headed to Willowbrae—and Isobel." He wanted to be wrong, but he knew he was right. Drostan turned Eachann toward home, praying he would get there in time to save her.
