The Chieftain's Choice (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 1)

by Elaine Manders

  Elspeth gulped and continued. “When both of you were weaned, Father came for his granddaughter.” Her eyes pleaded—for what? Many times Alana had asked Aunt Elspeth to tell her what happened during that time, and she’d refused. Why now?

  “I sent you with him.”

  When Alana gasped, Elspeth hastened on, “You and Vanora looked so much alike, no one who’d not been with you daily could tell the difference.”

  Alana searched for memories that might confirm what Elspeth said. “Robert Gilmour—no wonder he looked familiar.” She reached up to touch her ear. Her ears were like his in the portrait. “He was my father.”

  “Aye, he was.”

  “Then Vanora is…was Torquil’s daughter.”

  Elspeth swallowed hard. “Mrs. Kilgarney told you the truth. Hester’s babe died and was replaced with Miriam and Torquil’s bastard child. But no one except Lyulf and I knew I switched you for her—a sin I assure you I’ve repented every day of my life.”

  Alana stepped back, searching Elspeth’s face for some understanding. “How could you that?” She choked. “All that time I was growing up…being branded as the daughter of a traitor. The shame I endured. How could you do that to your own flesh and blood?”

  “I have suffered for that mistake.” Elspeth buried her face in her hands. “I’ve oft thought God was punishing me because of what I did. Since I swapped you for Vanora, fearing you might go mad, yet it was Vanora who…did.”

  Sobs racked Elspeth, but Alana found it hard to feel sorry for her. “I doona understand why you thought I would go mad.”

  “You were sickly as a baby, Alana. You had fevers nearly every month. The physicians told me you’d likely not live.” Elspeth dropped her hands, though she continued to stare at the floor. “And even if you lived, I feared one of those fevers would leave you in the same condition as Finella.”

  She glanced up, lips quivering. “You were the only thing holding the clan together. If you’d died or—” Her eyes begged for mercy. “Don’t you understand? The king would send some Englishman to take over, but he esteemed Robert and wouldn’t do that as long as his daughter lived. I knew that.”

  “So I was sacrificed for the clan?”

  “Vanora was robust, and though four months younger, she was larger than you. How was I to know she’d turn out as she has?” Elspeth laughed, sending the hysterical sound bouncing around the walls.

  As if suddenly realizing what she’d done, Elspeth clamped her lips shut and fear darkened her eyes. “She knows, Alana. She knows you’re the rightful heiress to Gilmour Hall. She’ll kill you. Go now…get away from here.”

  Elspeth was right about that. As hard as it was, Alana would have to hold her emotions in check for now. She set the lantern on the floor and fled through the tunnel and up the dark stairs.

  Silence reigned. She’d not encountered any servants when she arrived. Escape by the same way seemed possible.

  She’d almost reached the door when Vanora’s hard voice stopped her. “Running away so soon, cousin?”

  With a startled scream, Alana swung around, then backed up as she saw the sword in Vanora’s hands. She attempted to run past, but Vanora jumped in front of her, resting the sword’s tip against her chest.

  “Don’t think you can escape. I studied fencing and can wield a sword as well as any man.” Vanora’s icy glare pierced her, riveting her where she stood. “Now, slide along that wall and get in front of me, go out into the hall, and keep walking until I tell you to stop.”

  Terror nailed Alana to the floor for several ticks of the clock, but what choice did she have?

  “I’ll be right behind you, and I can run you through from the back as well as the front.”

  Vanora’s snarled warning hit like a gust of hot wind, setting her in motion.

  Alana walked as slowly as she dared, weighing her options. She could only pray that God would provide an opportunity for her to use her dirk to disarm Vanora, though it was a poor weapon against the much longer sword.

  She dared to glance up at Robert Gilmour’s portrait as they passed it, a gesture Vanora didn’t miss. “I don’t know why we didn’t recognize how much you resemble him.”

  Her high-pitched laughter sliced the air. “It was those gaudy clothes and that stupid parrot. It distracted us from seeing the man himself.”

  “No one need ever know,” Alana said. “We can deal together, Vanora. I doona want or need Gilmour Hall.”

  Vanora crushed any hopes Alana had of reasoning with her. “Keep walking. You well know we can’t deal with each other. Even if I killed your mother, the truth would come out. I’d be accused of being a pretender. No, dear cousin, it’s too late for dealing.”

  How far were they going? The end of the hall loomed before them, and Alana saw no way out. She was trapped.

  “Stop here,” Vanora said.

  The circular staircase leading to the tower was on Alana’s right. Wall sconces lit the way. All this had been planned, but what exactly had this mad woman schemed in her twisted mind? “You want me to go up there?”

  “Aye, and I’ll be right behind you with the sword. I’m going to show you where your husband is, or have you forgotten about him?”

  She’d not forgotten Gavin. He’d been foremost in her thoughts. Was he at the top? Had Vanora or her henchmen harmed him?

  Please God, give me some wisdom to know what to do.

  The steep stairs forced Alana to lift her skirt, but Vanora would have to do the same. She’d have to hold the heavy sword with one hand. Alana pondered her chances with each step. If she swung around, she might throw Vanora off guard. Of course Alana might tumble after her and onto the sword.

  She’d take that chance if not for her child’s safety.

  Along the wall their shadows, hers and Vanora’s loomed tall, and the sword inches from her back.

  The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

  At the top of the stairwell, the room was lit by a gaping hole in one of the turrets where sunlight streamed in. What would Robert Gilmour, her father, think about the disrepair of the castle? Why was she even thinking of such a trivial matter when death might come at any moment? Unobtrusively, she slid her hand into the pocket and gripped the dirk. Time had run out. “Where is Gavin?”

  “Sit on the floor over by that wall and dare not move.” Vanora barked her order, and after Alana had gotten into position, shifted her gaze to the hills surrounding the castle. “They haven’t arrived yet, the fools.”

  “Who are the fools?” Alana kept her hand on the dirk waiting for a moment of distraction to spring forth and accost Vanora.

  “The fools who’re to bring Gavin out to Glen Baldy. You’ll see. Until then, we wait.”

  Gavin wasn’t here? He was out there, being held by Vanora’s hired men. In a flash of understanding, she saw what Vanora intended. Alana had been brought here to watch her husband’s murder. And her own death would follow shortly.

  She had to take action now.

  Vanora’s sword sagged as if she could sustain the weight no more. She stared at Glen Baldy, her back to Alana.

  This was Alana’s one opportunity. Springing upright as fast as possible, she ran to her mad cousin, dirk raised. Vanora pounced and thrust her sword.

  Pain seared Alana’s shoulder, her dirk clattering to the floor.

  Tears of frustration blinded her as she crawled back to the wall, expecting Vanora to run the sword through her at any moment. Blood soaked the fabric of her gown, and she drew herself into a whimpering ball. She would die, as would their child. Hers and Gavin’s.

  She’d failed, and God refused to save them.

  ***

  Gavin jumped off his horse before it came to a complete stop in front of Gilmour Hall. He’d seen Vanora silhouetted against the black hole of the turret. Matt had told the truth. Vanora was up there waiting for him to be torn apart on Glen Baldy. Though Alana wasn’t visible, he knew she was here.

  Since this morning, God had
given him a perception he’d never known. He had to stop Vanora and put her under lock and key. He wouldn’t seek her execution, but see that she was declared mad, as she surely was. After the clan heard the details, they’d agree to that.

  His purpose clear, he found the stairs leading to the tower and took the steps two at the time. Vanora might have help, and he was unarmed. If only he had a pistol, but the Kerrs had demanded he meet them unarmed, and it would have taken too much time to return to Stonecrest for weapons.

  Since God saved him from the Kerrs’ diabolical plan, He’d help him face whatever awaited him in the tower. Only faith and his love for Alana propelled him forward.

  The steep stairs urged him to climb faster than a man ought to. Before he reached the top, his breath came in great gulps, his pounding heart ready to leap from his chest. He’d have to stop and catch his breath.

  Then he heard a woman’s scream and forgot the need for air.

  As he burst through the opening to the turret, Vanora came into view, holding a sword aloft. He glanced around and found Alana, bleeding but very much alive. No one else was visible.

  Drawing in deep breaths, he sent a prayer of thanks heavenward and turned his attention back to Vanora’s stunned features. This madwoman, even with her weapon, was no match for him.

  He had to admire her fortitude, though. She shook off her obvious surprise and pointed the sword at him, holding it with both hands.

  At the same time, he caught a glint of steel on the stone floor and grabbed the dirk lying at his feet.

  Alana attempted to stand.

  He shot her a glance that held a warning. “Stay where you are, Alana.” He took a step toward Vanora. “It’s over. Put the sword down and stop this madness. The Kerrs are gone. You’re alone.”

  Vanora tilted her head back and smiled. “Nay, I’m as capable with the sword as any man. I’ll run you through if you come closer.”

  Was she crazed? Her hands shook with fatigue. Didn’t she realize he could knock that sword out of her hands in one swoop?

  “You canna fight us both, Vanora,” Alana said. “I’ll come at you the same moment Gavin does.”

  Gavin couldn’t prevent a smile. His brave, silly little wife. The dirk was hers. She’d come to save him. “You stay where you are, lass. Vanora knows she can’t win.” He took another step forward, the dirk raised.

  “I will win. I’ll kill you both, and it’s all your fault, Gavin Carmichael. Did you hear that, Alana? It’s his fault. If he’d married me as he was supposed to, none of this would have happened.” Despite her bold words, Vanora backed up again, getting perilously close to the edge of the floor where the wall had fallen away.

  Where nothing would prevent her from falling.

  “Stop where you are, Vanora. I’ll take the sword, then we’ll all go down and sort this out. I have no time to argue with you. Alana’s injury must be attended to.” He took another step which took him within a foot of the sword’s point.

  Vanora backed another step. “None of us are going anywhere. There’ll be no argument, Gavin Carmichael.” Her shriek pierced the air. “Do you hear me?”

  Without warning, without a sound, the rotten mortar crumbled, causing the stone beneath Vanora’s feet to give way. She threw up her arms, dropping the sword and clawing in an attempt to save herself.

  In a flash, Gavin lunged forward in prostrate position, grabbing at anything to get ahold of her. All he caught was the hem of her petticoat.

  It held for a brief moment, then with a sickening rip, the fabric gave way, leaving him with nothing but a long strip of lace-edged cotton.

  Vanora’s screams tore through the air, followed by silence.

  Gavin crawled to his sobbing wife.

  She wanted to cling to him, but he held her off as he ripped the sleeve of her gown away, allowing him to examine her wound.

  “Tis nothing.” She gulped. “It’s almost stopped bleeding.” He tore the lace off the white cotton he still held in his hand and bound the wound.

  His hand rested on her stomach. “The babe?”

  She nodded. “Is fine, Gavin, as I am. But I was so afraid.”

  Now that it was over, he had to admit he’d been afraid too, but it wasn’t the time for words.

  He took her in his arms, caressing her hair that had fallen into a tangled mess about her face. Tenderly pushing the tresses back, he kissed her forehead, her nose, her soft, trembling lips. “It’s all right, my love. It’s over, and you’re safe, but now we must get home so the physician can look at your shoulder. The wound isn’t deep, but it needs stitches.” He stood and hefted her up.

  She used her good arm to wrap it around him and lay her head on his shoulder, then jerked back. “Vanora has the key.”

  “What key?”

  “That’s right. You doona ken. Aunt…that is, Elspeth is in the dungeon below the kitchen. She said Vanora had the key.”

  A shout from below sounded, and he peered down at the courtyard. Rory and several of the other men rode up, gathering around where Vanora lay. Gavin turned away, trying to shield Alana from the sight. “Rory can get the key and release Elspeth.”

  As he navigated the stairs, much slower this time, Alana related the astonishing things Elspeth had told her.

  He could hardly believe what she was saying, but it explained Elspeth’s behavior. Not wanting him to marry Vanora and her concern for Alana. He interrupted her. “You mean Robert Gilmour is your father?”

  “I should have realized before now.” She laughed, and it sounded better than anything he’d heard in ages. “My nose and ears are shaped exactly like his.”

  “Then that means you own Gilmour Hall. You own all the Gilmour lands.”

  “As my husband, you own it.”

  “Oh, no, my love. We own it as we own Stonecrest and the Carmichael lands. We are one, Alana. There’s no way to separate anything we own.” He was rewarded for that generosity when she laid her cheek against his.

  At the bottom of the stairs they met Rory. “Thank heavens you’re all right. How did Vanora fall? We saw her from afar, and I feared it might be Alana.”

  “As you can see, it wasn’t I.” Alana sent a softened glimpse to her brother-in-law. All the horror Gavin had observed in her features were forgotten when she added, “You can put me down, darling. I know your arms are tired.”

  “If you’re certain.” He set her on her feet, but kept his arm wrapped around her.

  “We caught the Kerr brothers,” Rory said. “All but one, anyway. The fools ran right into us. We’ll set out after Matt right away.”

  “We won’t go after Matt. I’ll explain later, but there is something you can do. Vanora was holding a key to the dungeons on her person. I need for you to retrieve it and release Elspeth, who’s imprisoned down there.” He forestalled Rory’s questions with a shake of the head. “I’ll explain everything later, but as you can see Alana’s been hurt and I want to get her home.”

  “Bring Orion home for me, please,” Alana added. “He’s tied in back.”

  Rory turned to go and Gavin called after him. “Tell the men to take care of…the body.”

  “What are we to do about Elspeth?” Alana asked.

  “What do you want done?”

  An expression he couldn’t fathom flittered across her face. “I think…that is, I think I’d like to forgive her.”

  “Then whatever is done will be according to your wishes, but you won’t face her until that shoulder is seen to. I intend to take you home and put you to bed. While you’re resting you can decide what’s to be done with Gilmour Hall.” He swept her into his arms again.

  She lifted her head, and he stared into eyes bluer than the sky over Loch Cullen. “I doona want Gilmour Hall, Gavin. All I’ve ever really wanted was your heart.”

  “You’ve had that all along.” His voice turned husky with emotions. “As I think I have yours.”

  "Forever. God has been good to us, Gavin. Let’s go home now.”

/>   Epilogue

  Stonecrest Kirk, 1773

  Alana hung onto Gavin’s arm as he escorted her from the kirk after services. At the side of the building, the people had waited for their appearance. Rather than a casual nod, she waved to them, an action that caused the opening of her frogged pelisse to gape open, revealing her to be great with child.

  A sigh went up in the crowd and whispers broke out. This was the first time the clan people realized Alana was increasing again.

  They not only approved of her but loved her now. And Gavin of course. Yet it was their small son, Reese, they loved most. He toddled along in front of them, wearing his first knee britches. His doting grandmother held his small hand.

  Two young lassies came forward to deliver large bouquets of red and white roses to Alana and her mother. Reese seized the moment to run away, getting only a few steps before falling face first. Gavin scooped him up, and Elspeth led the way to the family burying grounds.

  The dappled sunlight made the rolled coils of Elspeth’s hair gleam like old coins shot with silver. Both she and Alana refrained from the elaborate wigs all the rage for both men and women.

  Though age made Elspeth walk stiffly, she was still a beautiful woman and happier than she’d ever been. She was now set up in the dowager house, entertaining her friends and visiting Stonecrest often.

  Gavin refused wigs as well, except on formal occasions, though he wore his chestnut hair longer and tied with a leather string.

  Alana hung back and took a moment to appreciate her husband’s masculine form. His black coat fit him superbly, as did his white breeches and stockings.

  Elspeth glanced over her shoulder. “You could go to Rory’s wedding, Gavin. I’ll be with Alana when her time comes.”

  Rory was to marry Lady Sarah Wissler within a fortnight in London. Alana and Gavin had given Rory Gilmour Hall, and he’d spent the past two years supervising the repairs as well as managing the estate. Lady Sarah’s father had used his considerable influence at court to secure a baronage for Rory.

  Lady Sarah’s willingness to marry down was proof enough she truly loved Rory.