"'Tis true."
Cyrus moved closer to the foot of the bed. "When I get back, I'll ask those who are examining the coach whether they think it was tampered with."
"I suppose a wheel could've been cracked or sabotaged in some way before the coach overturned." Elspeth looked to Cyrus for his opinion.
He nodded. "I can send someone back to question the driver further and examine the coach."
Elspeth patted the guard on the hand. "Get some rest, Stillman. Hopefully, you will feel much better by tomorrow. I'll have someone bring you food."
"I thank you, m'lady."
She arose and headed out the door. Cyrus followed, still wondering why she was so demonstrative with her guard. Was it simply because he was injured, and she was concerned for his welfare? Or maybe she felt responsible because he'd been so badly injured while working for her. 'Twas clear Stillman was also concerned for her safety, as any guard should be.
In the dimness of the corridor, Cyrus lowered his voice. "It does seem like too much of a coincidence."
"What?"
"That you had the coach accident the day after your home was broken into and your guards disappeared. Someone could've arranged both and even followed the messenger who delivered Morrison's missive to you. Or mayhap 'twas the messenger who sabotaged the coach or frightened the horses somehow."
"That's possible. But why? Certainly, young MacGuire should have naught against me. And I can think of no one who would wish me ill."
"No one? 'Haps someone from the past?"
She shook her head.
"If you think of someone, let me know." He glanced along the corridor in both directions, making certain no one was listening, then faced her again. "In the meantime… I'm not entirely certain that I trust Morrison."
"In truth?" Elspeth frowned. "He has worked here since I moved in. What makes you say that?"
"Just a feeling. Did he work for the previous owner?"
"Nay, but he was recommended by Rose's husband, the Earl of Kerrimuir, before he passed. Morrison has been naught but reliable for the past five years."
Cyrus nodded. "In the morn, I'm going to send two of my men back to Castle Rebbinglen to find out if your coach was sabotaged. I'll tell them to bring a few more guards as they escort your servants and the coach back as soon as it's repaired. Then, I'm going to pay a visit to the magistrate in town to see if he will thoroughly investigate the crimes committed here."
"I'll go with you, but 'twill be a waste of time and effort." Her tone was more jaded than usual.
"Why?"
"'Tis the way of things here."
∞∞∞
Late that night, Cyrus sat by the fireplace in the luxurious guest room Elspeth had provided him. Though he was close to his brother, he enjoyed privacy at times so he could think. Firelight from the low-burning flames gleamed through the dram of whisky he held, the rich amber color reminding him of Elspeth's eyes.
He muttered a curse. What the hell was wrong with him? He downed the fiery liquid in one swallow.
Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? He'd seen her only a half-hour ago. Strangely, he wanted to still be talking to her… and looking at her. Damnation, he didn't want to enjoy her company. 'Twas as if he had no choice in the matter. Mayhap it was because she had ridden behind him all day, touching him the entire time. He still recalled her light touch on his stomach and the trusting way she'd leaned her head against his back when she'd apparently dozed off.
At this moment, he should be thinking of the ideal woman he would choose for a wife. Oddly, he could barely remember what Lady Lily looked like, even though she had all the qualities he'd yearned for in a wife for years.
Instead, Elspeth haunted him incessantly. Every time he looked into her eyes, his heartbeat sped up and some sort of unexpected excitement punched him in the gut. 'Twas bizarre and not like him at all. Since his early twenties, he had maintained a strict control on his emotions and his reactions.
The thought of knocking on her bedchamber door now made his heart thump against his ribs, and parts farther south stir with interest. Was he mad?
Of course, he wasn't going to her room. He was here to help her and protect her, and that was all. Once the threat was gone, he would return to Castle Rebbinglen and Lady Lily.
But the thought of the marquess's daughter didn't hold the appeal it once had. Before he'd met her, he'd visualized her as the perfect young lady… and likely she was. Since he'd met her, though, some of his enthusiasm had waned. 'Haps because she did not seem overly interested in him. Or was the problem that he was trying to force himself to be attracted to her when he wasn't. Even though he'd always told himself he didn't want to fall in love with his bride, he did at least want to find her appealing.
Lily was a pretty lass and he had no complaints about her looks, but there was something inexplicable about Elspeth's unusual beauty. Could've been the way she always appeared to be in possession of secrets.
What mysteries lurked behind those captivating eyes, and why did he want to uncover them?
He could not figure it out. She was the antithesis of what he looked for in a woman. Yet, he could not force himself to dislike her. The more he fought against giving her any sort of attention, the more she seized his awareness. It near drove him mad.
∞∞∞
The clouds hung low and gloomy the next morn as Elspeth, Cyrus and three of his guards walked their horses along the muddy cobbled streets of Aberdeen and halted outside the tolbooth with its tall bell tower. The drab stone building housed the magistrate's office, a few other official chambers, a courtroom, and the gaol.
Though she had led the way here, she dreaded going inside, for she knew how Magistrate MacTarril would treat her. He made it clear he didn't like her or any single, independent female. He believed each and every woman should be under a man's thumb. He had not uttered a cross word to her while Dalacroy had been her protector, though the disdain in his eyes had always been obvious. Since Dalacroy's death, she had ignored the magistrate, obeyed the laws, and kept to herself.
Having already dismounted, Cyrus approached her from the side, his arresting presence completely distracting her from her morose musings. Locking his penetrating gaze onto hers, he reached up and helped her dismount, his big strong hands clasping her waist firmly but gently. He never gripped too hard and seemed to know just how to touch her. She had never truly thought about a man's hands before and how appealing they could be. His were certainly not smooth like her own but calloused by a sword's hilt. She wished she could touch his palms and explore the roughened skin and hard muscle with her bare fingertips.
Today, his slight frown proclaimed he was even more somber than usual—perhaps even annoyed—though at breakfast he'd said he had slept well the night before. Mayhap the guest chamber was not to his liking. Regardless, she was certain he wanted to be done with her predicament so he could resume his own life.
As they passed the whipping post and the stocks, she tried not to focus on them too much. She still hated her childhood memory of seeing the cruel public punishments for the first time. She often wondered how many of those so-called criminals were actually innocent of wrongdoing. Sometimes an accusation was all it took to be found guilty.
Cyrus opened the door for her. Sitting at his desk, Magistrate MacTarril glanced up at her briefly as she stepped over the threshold, then went back to his papers, turning his back and ignoring her, as was his habit. Cyrus entered behind her and they both approached the counter. MacTarril, sitting in the corner at a low desk still did not acknowledge them. Otherwise, the room was empty.
"What have you discovered about the thief who broke in and stole Lady Grey's jewelry?" Cyrus asked in a firm tone.
The magistrate jerked around, gaping slack-jawed at Cyrus, then shoved to his feet and strode forward. "Cyrus MacKenzie? I heard about your new title, m'laird. My most humble felicitations to you." The man gave a perfunctory bow, which seemed more mocking than respectful. Or mayb
e it was his barely hidden smirk that revealed his true feelings.
Elspeth wondered if Cyrus knew the magistrate, for the man knew him.
Frowning, Cyrus eyed him. "Paul MacTarril?"
"Aye, you remembered. What has it been… a score years?"
"At least. I had no inkling you were a magistrate."
"Indeed." MacTarril puffed up proudly and offered his hand. After an extended moment, Cyrus shook it. Why the momentary hesitation? Had they been childhood friends or enemies? Mayhap he liked MacTarril about as much as Elspeth did, which was not at all.
MacTarril glanced at her and grinned. Or was it a sneer? "So, Lady Grey, you have found yourself another wealthy earl, have you? You seem to have the greatest fortune."
She felt as if she'd been slapped, then drenched in hot water. What gall the blackguard possessed to say such a thing in public. Not daring to glance at Cyrus, she squared her shoulders. "Laird Stornmor is a friend who offered to help me."
"I'm certain of it." MacTarril's nasty grin sickened her.
"How dare you speak to a lady in such a manner?" Cyrus seethed.
Thankful he was rising to her defense, she ventured a glance at him. His frown was the stormiest she had seen yet.
MacTarril barked a laugh. "You don't know her very well, do you?"
"She's a lady, deserving of your respect. Apologize," he ordered in the most threatening tone she had heard from him.
His reddened face tightening and his stare spearing first Cyrus and then her, MacTarril hesitated for a moment, then bowed. "As you say, m'laird. Lady Grey, I pray you will forgive me. Now, as to your jewel thief, he or she left no trace. I arrived at your home shortly after Master Morrison sent for me. I found no clue as to the intruder's identity, but I suspect 'twas one of your own staff. Hard to find good help these days, aye, m'lady?" he scoffed.
Bastard. She glared at him, then turned to Cyrus. "I told you 'twould be useless to come here."
"Aye, you were right. The magistrate is about as useful as a sheep mired up to his arse in dung."
MacTarril's face turned crimson and the veins in his forehead bulged. "'Twas her own staff, I'm telling you!"
"Don't trouble yourself, MacTarril. We'll find the guilty party." Cyrus turned and opened the door for her while sending the man one last withering glare.
She hastened outside and down the wet stone steps. Lifting her skirts a bit, she bypassed a puddle.
"Still a whoreson," Cyrus grumbled under his breath as they approached the guards who awaited them by the horses.
She eyed his dark scowl. "How do you know MacTarril?"
"He was a foster brother of mine."
She well knew the Highlanders had a custom of fostering out their children to other clans and families for purposes of alliances and friendships. "He does not seem very brotherly to you."
"Nay, indeed. I certainly don't claim him as a brother or a friend." Avoiding eye contact, he lifted her into her saddle then mounted himself.
His guards followed as the horses trotted forward, carrying them onto the muddy road.
Elspeth prayed that Cyrus would assume MacTarril's mean-spirited words to her were unfounded gossip. But what if he asked her about it?
∞∞∞
"Bastard!" Grinding his teeth so hard they ached, Magistrate Paul MacTarril snatched out a piece of parchment and slammed it onto his desk with his palm. He stabbed the quill into the inkhorn and addressed the missive to Henry Crawford, the new Earl of Dalacroy.
From the Angus area, the young aristocrat was newly arrived in Aberdeen and staying for a time at one of the many castles he'd inherited from his father. MacTarril had known Henry's father, Alexander, but had never been fond of him. The old earl had been a bounder and, in the end, reaped what he sowed.
Henry had paid MacTarril a visit four days prior and had given him a generous donation. MacTarril was only too happy to look the other way while the wealthy earl thwarted the jezebel baroness. Women these days were gaining far too much power and wealth. The king didn't like it, nor did the church.
But now that MacKenzie was involved, MacTarril couldn't wait to see them both lying face down in the muck.
His hand jerked with outrage as the nib scraped across the page and dabs of ink spattered onto the ivory parchment.
He signed his name at the bottom and blotted at some of the stray ink spots. Having no time to wait for it to fully dry, he folded the four corners of the missive inward. Holding the candle's generous flame beneath his wax stick, he watched the melted red wax dribble onto the flap like thick blood. After setting the candle and wax stick aside, he stamped his seal into the warm scarlet blob so hard it smeared. Muttering a curse, he shoved up from his desk and found his young messenger, a lad of about sixteen summers, in the back room.
"Laddie, deliver this missive directly into the hand of the Earl of Dalacroy at Wingate Castle. Be quick about it. And tell him 'tis of vital importance."
"Aye, sir." The lad bowed and sprinted out the door.
He knew another man who would surely love to hear that Cyrus MacKenzie was in the area. After hurrying back to his desk, he scribed another missive, this one to Chief Ben Comyn. As lads, they had all been foster brothers, but Cyrus MacKenzie had betrayed them. 'Twas time to repay him for all the problems he'd caused.
Chapter Ten
Having near paced a hole through the worn floorboards, Henry Crawford paused at the second-floor solar window in Wingate Castle, gazing out at the leaden clouds spitting rain against the glass. Over the high stone wall, he could see some of the gray granite buildings of Aberdeen a mile away.
Mayhap he should be satisfied in owning this ancient castle and many others… but he wasn't. Wingate was in bad need of repairs, but he had little funds until he sold something substantial.
He'd inherited his title, the Earl of Dalacroy, only last year when his father had been daft enough to get himself killed. Since then, Henry had stayed busy regaining the properties and wealth his philandering father had given away to his many mistresses. Henry had seen the books and knew his father had inherited a massive fortune from Henry's grandfather. But his da had squandered nearly all of it, dispensing with it thither and yon to all his whores.
Now, 'twas time to regain ownership of his grandmother's dower property, Darby Hall, which his father had given as an extravagant gift to Lady Grey.
Henry's men had faced few problems getting into the manor house and taking whatever valuables they could carry. His father had expensive taste in jewelry and always bought his jezebels much gold, diamonds and colorful jewels. Not to mention the silverware.
Henry grinned, recalling how he'd also pinched Lady Grey's guards, promising them twice the pay. They had been only too happy to leave her employment and even help Henry's men gain entrance. Henry would pay his new guards as he'd promised for a few days or weeks… however long it took to send her to the workhouse.
He'd sent two of his guards with MacGuire, the young messenger from Darby, to slip into the stables and do what damage they could to her coach. He didn't want her to die… yet. But he did want her to realize she had few options except to sell him what he wanted… at an exceptional price. He grinned, imagining the crestfallen look on the harlot's face when she realized she had nothing left and no one to help her.
A few years ago, his father had also gained possession of some storefronts and tenements in Aberdeen, as well as a small estate and ancient castle about five miles outside of town. Baron Grey had been heavily in debt to Henry's father. Now, those were back in the hands of Lady Grey. He would soon have both, along with the tenements, then he would sell them to the highest bidder. Wingate was the only property he need retain in the area.
He'd managed to take what he wanted from a few of his father's former mistresses already, in other parts of the country, and the hussies were out on the streets. Early on, he'd learned clever ways to sidestep the laws. He could simply invest a small percentage of his money in hiring the local magistr
ates and other officials to assist him. Even some of the penniless nobles had proven useful at times. They were only too glad to ingratiate themselves to him.
A knock sounded at the solid oak door.
He turned. "Enter."
A male servant, Simon, strode in carrying one of his newly acquired, polished silver trays with a missive on it. He bowed. "M'laird, the messenger lad wanted to deliver this to you himself, but I told him that would be unacceptable."
"Very good." Henry snatched the missive off the tray and the servant left. After breaking the red wax seal, he unfolded the parchment. 'Twas from Magistrate Paul MacTarril. His gaze shifted back to the top and he began reading.
Lord Dalacroy:
Lady Grey has obtained the help of the Earl of Stornmor, a ruthless Highlander named Cyrus MacKenzie, Chief of the MacKenzies. They have just quit my office after inquiring about the jewels. I revealed naught and I'll assist you in any way I can. Your loyal servant.
"As well you should," Henry muttered, still resenting the goodly sum he'd paid the man.
So, she was already the mistress of another earl? She did fast work in seducing powerful, wealthy men. This would make his job more difficult. He had not anticipated locking horns with one of his peers.
"Damn her!" He wouldn't let anyone stop him in his quest, not even a Highland earl. Henry knew how to be just as ruthless as any of the barbarians from the north. All he had to do was eliminate the bastard.
∞∞∞
As they rode through the gates of Darby Hall, Cyrus eyed Elspeth. Her head was completely covered in the hood of her dark green cloak, understandable in this misty rain. But he had a feeling she was also trying to hide. What had MacTarril meant when he'd said, "Lady Grey, you have found yourself another wealthy earl, have you?"
Elspeth's husband had been a baron.
Cyrus's gut tensed. He had a suspicion the earl in question had something to do with the secrets shadowing Elspeth's eyes.
He had to find out which wealthy earl and what her connection to him was. That could be the key to the theft. As well, it could be the key to destroying Cyrus's fascination with her.
Highlander Besieged (Highland Adventure Book 10) Page 9
