by Karen Ranney
“The other horses are here?” he asked. “None of them are missing?”
Ned shook his head.
“Do you think the Americans will mind if I borrow one of their horses?”
“Better to be exercised than standing in their stalls getting fat,” Ned said, and went back to singing his song.
He headed in the direction Ned had pointed, hoping to God Helmut held the answer to Shona’s disappearance.
The wall abruptly changed from a straight line to the beginning of a curve. Shona pulled back her hand, surprised. Her father had told her that there were places in the passages where previous generations of Imries had hidden their weapons. Or, as after the Forty-five, they used the caverns to hide their kilts and pipes and any silver that might be confiscated for their participation in the rebellion. She’d never found any such caches, but the experience of the last few hours had taught her that she didn’t know the secret passages as well as she’d always thought.
Another instance of her pride holding sway.
What good was pride when nothing else was left? Why should she pretend anymore? Pride hadn’t warmed her heart, or held her, or made life any easier. Let the world see exactly who and what she was.
She stumbled on something, the metallic clank unexpected and jarring in the silence. Bending down, she patted the ground until she found it, following the chain to the end.
Falling to her knees, she bit back a scream, knowing that no one could hear her anyway. No one but her companions in this secret cave.
By mid-afternoon, they’d finished searching Gairloch from the ground floor to the towers. Shona wasn’t to be found.
“Would she have taken the boat out on the loch?” Elizabeth asked Helen.
The three of them were standing in the Clan Hall, having separated from Mr. Loftus and his daughter. Neither of them seemed overly concerned about Shona’s fate. At the beginning, Miriam had treated her disappearance like a game. Now, it was evidently palling, since she’d retreated to her room for some occupation or another.
“It’s a damn deep lake,” Fergus said, frowning at both of them. “And cold. If something happened to her . . .”
None of them completed that thought.
“No,” Gordon said, entering the room. “She wouldn’t do that. Besides, all the boats are accounted for.”
“Then, we should start looking over the glen,” Fergus said. “She might have fallen and injured herself.”
Gordon nodded. “The drivers already are, with Helmut commanding them.”
“Helmut?”
“Evidently, the man has a dislike of Gairloch,” Gordon said, glancing toward Fergus. “He told me the ghosts are too brazen here, not like in his homeland. He’s been awakened for the last two weeks by their banging and tapping, but this morning was the last straw. The bean tuiream woke him up.”
“The weeping woman?” Helen asked.
Fergus nodded. “Shona used to say that the bean tuiream was a sign that something momentous was about to happen to the Imries.”
“Momentous? Or terrible?” Helen asked.
“The bean tuiream?” Gordon asked, turning. He stared at the brick wall, then walked toward the fireplace. “Has anyone looked in the passages?”
“No,” Fergus said, joining him. “But Shona knows these passages better than anyone.”
“Maybe something’s happened to her,” Gordon said pushing back his sudden fear.
Fergus reached up and pulled at the brick that released the door.
“It’s not opening.”
“She could be trapped,” Gordon said, tracing his fingers along the almost invisible line marking the hidden door.
Fergus didn’t comment, only pulled on the brick again.
The door wasn’t opening.
Fergus stepped back and looked at Gordon. “I’ll go to the stable and get some tools.”
Gordon nodded.
The moment Fergus left the room, Gordon walked to the fireplace, grabbed the poker, and in glorious disregard for the antiquity and value of the mantelpiece, raised the poker and began to break the bricks.
Shona was in there; he knew it. He knew it because of the sick feeling in his gut, the cold feeling down his spine, and the fact that the damn door wasn’t opening as it always had.
Chips of masonry went flying so fiercely that Elizabeth and Helen stepped back.
“What can I do?” Helen asked over the noise of his assault.
Get out of my way. Let me get to her. Dear God.
He only shook his head in response, unwilling to stop even to be polite. Grabbing the other end of the poker, he slammed it into the wall overhand, like a spear. A small opening appeared next to the seam marking the door.
“Shona!”
The larger the gouge appeared, the louder he shouted. The sound of her name became a rhythm, a drumbeat he shouted every few seconds.
“You’ll let the ghost out!”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Old Ned barreling toward him, a hammer clutched in his fist. He rolled along the wall just in time to avoid the blow.
Ned was as tall as he was, but not as fit, so he was easily subdued. Not before, however, landing a blow on his already bruised chin.
“What the hell have you done, Ned?” Fergus said, helping to hold the man.
“I trapped the ghost. You can’t let the ghost out!”
It took the two of them to lead him to a chair. Gordon handed the hammer to Fergus who stood over Ned with the hammer in one hand and his cane in another.
Gordon turned back to the fireplace.
What if Shona had been in the passage all this time?
And an even worse thought—had Shona been the bean tuiream?
Chapter 32
They found her an hour later, in a small cavern off one of the passages.
The torchlight illuminated a scene out of a nightmare. One skeleton was chained to the wall. The other lay with head propped next to the first. By their clothing, he could tell one had been female and the other male.
Shona sat next to them, too close to becoming just like those lost souls.
A line of dried blood stretched from temple to cheek, and the rest of her face was spotted with dirt. Her lips were bitten raw, and the deep, shadowed crescents brushed by her lashes were the same color as her eyes.
He dropped to his knees beside her, pulling her gently into his arms. Slowly, and with great care, he removed her hand from atop the two still clasped together. The bones clicked as if to protest the loss of their living connection.
She moaned, and he brushed her tangled hair back from her face as he held her, cheek against his chest. He heard the others come in behind him, then just as quickly step back. In a moment, they would have time with her. Right now, she was his, just as she’d always been his.
“I love you, Colonel Sir Gordon MacDermond, first Baronet of Invergaire,” she said, her hoarse voice painful to hear. “If you’ve a woman in London, you’ll just have to forget her.”
He lowered his head until his cheek rested against her forehead, feeling his heart expand.
“I’ve no one in London, dear one.”
She pressed her hands against his chest. “I think I’ve loved you always, from the moment I first saw you, all those years ago.”
“And I you, Shona Imrie Donegal. You were Fergus’s annoying little sister for so long, until one day . . .”
“I worked on you,” she said softly. “I decided I was going to have you forever and ever.”
“So you did,” he said, wanting her to stop talking, to let him simply hold her.
“But I’ve been thinking,” she said, insistent on speaking. “You were partly right.”
“On which occasion?” he asked, smiling.
“You were right about my pride. But I’m thinking you have a bit of your own.” She raised up and looked up at him. “You could have come after me before I married Bruce. You could have put your own pride aside, Colonel Sir Gordon.”
<
br /> His lips quirked. “So I could have,” he agreed.
“That’s the past,” she said. “I’m thoroughly tired of the past. I must be focused on the future, Gordon.”
“Another point of agreement.”
“I have no money,” she said. “But I’m very much afraid I have to marry for money, again.”
“Will you?” he asked, feeling the most absurd wish to laugh.
“I need a rich husband,” she said, nodding.
He bent down and kissed her forehead, wondering if she would accept a proposal here and now.
“I bring nothing to you, Gordon. Nothing but love. Fergus should live at Gairloch, and he can’t bear to part with any of his shields or claymores.”
Amusement was a strange feeling to have in conjunction with this other emotion, one that threatened to swamp him, and open up his chest so that he might give her his heart.
“I’ve no need for weapons,” he said. “I’ve had my fill of them of late.”
She sighed, then surprised him by sitting up and motioning Fergus inside the little cave, followed by Elizabeth.
Turning to him again, she placed her hands on either side of his face, staring into his eyes as she spoke the words slowly and somberly.
“I will consent to be your wife, Gordon MacDermond. Will you consent to be my husband?”
He smiled. “I will consent to be your husband, Shona Imrie Donegal, and cherish you for the rest of your life. Will you consent to be my wife?”
“And love you forever? With my whole heart, Gordon.”
He heard Fergus say something, but he wasn’t paying much attention, because right at that moment, he was looking at Shona.
He loved her—every proud, haughty look, every small mysterious smile, every toss of her head, and every single glance of her fog-colored eyes. The enormity of the love he felt for her nearly choked him.
Softly, gently, and tenderly, he kissed her.
Chapter 33
Shona sat in the chair by the fire.
Gordon stood by the fireplace, close enough to be needed, and smiled down at her.
“I’ve done as you asked,” he said, “and summoned the lot of them here.”
She only nodded, queenly in demeanor, but he was close enough to see that her lips trembled.
You should have rested more.
An admonition he wouldn’t make. Nor would she have retreated to her bedroom. She was set on something, something she wouldn’t tell him.
Mr. Loftus was the first to arrive, leaning heavily on a cane, his recent indulgences in wine and rich foods revealed by his gouty limp. Instead of being accompanied by Elizabeth, he was escorted into the room by his daughter, Miriam’s lovely face wearing the sheen of boredom. She helped him sit on the end of the sofa, then took a seat on the opposite sofa.
“You don’t look the worse for your experience, Countess,” he said.
She only nodded in response.
But Gordon knew Shona Imrie Donegal as well as he knew himself. Her lovely gray eyes were shadowed, and she was still too pale. In a few hours, he would take her from here, and heal her in the only way he knew, with attention, conversation, but mostly love.
Miriam remained silent, an oddity from her. But perhaps the frown he’d given her warned her that he wasn’t in the mood for any of her idiocy.
Helen was next, bustling into the room with hands clasped in front of her. He gave her a smile, indebted to her for her persistence in finding Shona. Surprisingly, she took a seat on the sofa beside Mr. Loftus, sending a winsome smile in his direction. He studied her, wondering if his suspicion was correct.
Cook and Jennie entered the Family Parlor just in front of Fergus, with Elizabeth on his arm. Fergus just stared back at him.
He’d have to make amends there.
Cook and Jennie moved to stand behind the sofa on which Miriam sat, but Shona shook her head. “Take a seat on the sofa,” she said, and after a moment, they did, albeit reluctantly.
Old Ned had been sent to Rathmhor, under the care of Mrs. MacKenzie. Since the woman abjured any type of alcohol, even Scottish whiskey, she would watch over Ned until he could turn his back on spirits. Shona had made the decision after a conversation with the caretaker.
“Ned,” Shona said, “have you been making sure the doors don’t work in the passages?”
“It was the only way to keep the ghosts out.”
“And you’ve been doing this at night?”
He nodded. “It’s when you have to catch them. They wander through the hallways, always whispering, always trying to scare me.”
Endless days of drinking Gairloch’s whiskey had evidently addled Old Ned’s wits.
“Did you strike me in the Clan Hall, Ned?” she asked.
He looked shamefaced, his eyes never quite meeting hers.
“That were a mistake, Miss Shona. I thought you were one of the ghosts come after me when I was sealing up the door.”
“Did you lock me in the passage, Ned?”
He shook his head vehemently. “I wouldn’t do that, Miss Shona.” His face changed, his eyes dancing with merriment or self-congratulation, Gordon wasn’t sure which. “I did trap me a ghost last night, though. The bean tuiream. Dressed all in red, she was. I got her good and fast, I did.”
“Where is the madman?” Mr. Loftus said now. “When I buy Gairloch, I’ll not have him in the place.”
Gordon was an expert at reading Shona’s expressions. He wondered if the others realized how enraged she was at this particular moment. He smiled, caught Fergus’s eye, and almost laughed.
“I’m not selling Gairloch to you,” she said very quietly and very firmly. “We’re not selling,” she added, glancing at Fergus.
“Does that mean, Father, that we can finally return home?” Miriam asked. “I’m very sorry, but I truly cannot abide Scotland. It’s very cold and very empty, isn’t it?”
“I apologize if you’re disappointed,” she said, ignoring Miriam and addressing her remark to Mr. Loftus.
“Oh, I doubt he’s all that disappointed, Shona,” Gordon said. “You didn’t come to buy Gairloch, did you?” he asked, staring at the older man. “You were prepared to do so, if necessary. But that’s not the real reason you’re here.”
Loftus didn’t say a word, merely flicked his hand at Helmut, who was instantly at his side.
“No need for protection, Mr. Loftus. Just tell the truth.”
“What are you talking about, Gordon?” Fergus asked.
“Somehow, he learned about the blasting powder. Was it you behind the burglary of my partner’s lodgings?”
The American didn’t say a word. Neither did his daughter, who viewed her father wide-eyed.
“He came to discover our formula,” he said. “And if he couldn’t steal it, to buy it.” He studied the American. “All I want to know is how you knew? Did you have a spy in the village? Someone who conveyed the information to you?”
Shona turned to him. “The inspector. That’s how he knew. He sent a man to look at Gairloch before we arrived. He probably stayed in the village.”
Gordon folded his arms, and leaned back against the mantel, a deceptively casual pose that was as false as Shona’s composure.
“Is that what happened, Mr. Loftus? You decided that my blasting powder would add to your considerable wealth?”
“You should sell it to me,” Loftus said. “I could make you a fortune.”
In Loftus, he saw his father, two men similar in their need for power. He wasn’t going to take orders from anyone anymore. Not because of patriotism or paternal fealty or even greed. He was going to decide his own future.
“I think we can do quite well on our own,” Gordon responded. He turned to Fergus. “And so could you, if you’d like to throw in your lot with us. I still need a manager for the Works.”
“I need a position,” Fergus said. “Now that I’m to be married.”
Shona sent a surprised look to her brother, then smiled.
“You weren’t a model soldier,” he responded.
“The queen didn’t agree.” Elizabeth frowned at him, moving closer to Fergus.
Gordon couldn’t help but smile. His friend deserved someone who would be as fiercely loyal as Elizabeth seemed to be.
“Oh, he’s brave,” he told Elizabeth. “But he’s apt to argue with a command as obey it.”
“Just the sort of employee you need,” Fergus said, smiling. “You have a tendency to be an ass from time to time.”
They grinned at each other, and just as quickly as that, they were friends again.
He was not, however, finished with Loftus. “You’re the one behind the men trying to buy me out, I take it?”
The older man didn’t answer, but there wasn’t any need for words. The acknowledgment was there in the American’s eyes.
“We’ll be gone in the morning,” Mr. Loftus said, standing.
Shona only nodded in response. He left the library, Helmut following in his wake.
Before Miriam followed, she turned to face Shona.
“You’re a very strange countess,” she said. “I can’t imagine that any of my friends will really believe you existed. You swear and you’re quite rude. Besides,” she added, “you’re not at all discreet. Or do you think that no one knows you two are lovers?”
Helen’s eyes widened.
Shona, however, only smiled.
“You’ll have to tell your friends that I’m a Scottish countess,” she said calmly. “That makes all the difference.”
“Is it like wearing a kilt?”
“Entirely,” she said.
Gordon held his laughter until Miriam left the room. He came and stood in front of Shona, stretching out both hands. She placed hers in his, her eyes clear and focused on him.
“It’s time to go home,” he said softly.
She nodded.
“You’re going to Rathmhor, then?” Fergus asked.
“With my wife, yes,” he said.
Fergus shook his head. “Leave it to both of you to do it that way. I can’t say I’m surprised.”
