“You might need me,” she answered, ignoring him and pulling her dress over her head.
“I need you here,” he reiterated. “Where I know you will be safe.”
“I like to be prepared for anything,” she replied, pulling the lacings of her dress. “If the person is from the house, who do you believe is out there?”
“I don’t know.” He reached for his shirt, jacket and coat. “But you will stay here,” he ordered, rising from the bed. Before she could protest again, he opened her bedroom door and slid out into the hall.
All was silent downstairs, but there was a bit of fresh air as if someone had gone outside. Heath walked down the hall and opened the back door. He peered into the moonlit night. The shadows of the trees hid anyone making her way from the house to the stables. He started to go out the door, when he felt a presence behind him.
“Yes, I am here,” Margaret whispered.
He turned, blocking her way out the door. “Go back.”
It was too dark to see her face but he knew she scowled at that order. “I shall not. You might need me.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maggie, I need to know you are safe.”
“And I need,” she said, “to be wherever you are in case you need help.”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
“Yes, and I shot you.”
He made an impatient sound and was ready to argue, but she ducked under his arm and escaped out the door before he could catch her. She wore her red cloak. It was black in the moonlight.
“Come along,” she whispered. “I have my brother’s gun.”
“Not that again,” he muttered, but she had already disappeared into the shadows.
“Come,” she said in a hushed tone. “Don’t lollygag.”
Swearing under his breath, Heath went after her. The light in the barn could be nothing suspicious, but his every sense warned him there was something afoot, and Maggie was running right toward it.
Chapter Sixteen
If Heath had thought Margaret would stay in the house waiting while he investigated the light in the barn, he was sorely mistaken. Yes, it would be better if he had Rowlly with him, but going alone was foolish and so Margaret had no choice but to protect him.
She hadn’t the chance to reload Harry’s gun, but the powder bag was with her and she hoped for a moment to take care of the matter.
As she followed the path to the barn, she was surprised at how much she was beginning to enjoy adventure. It gave her meaning, purpose.
Had she truly been intimidated to come to Loch Awe? The coach ride that had brought her here seemed like a lifetime ago.
And she now seemed a very different person.
For the first time, she felt as if she was truly living. A woman had more freedom here, far from London and gossipy tongues. But the change in her was more than in the proprieties. She was no longer a bystander, an ornament, a victim.
She was making the decisions.
Heath came up behind her, touched her arm to bring her back so that he could lead the charge on the barn. Margaret was perfectly willing to let him go first. If there was danger, then, between the two of them, he was the stronger fighter. She’d be happy to load Harry’s pistol and shoot whomever Heath left behind.
When they reached the edge of the stable yard, he held out his arm to keep her behind him. There was no light. All seemed pitch black and quiet. The pigs snored in their pen. The horses, cow and goats were silent in their stalls.
“Do you believe the person has left?” she asked, her voice low.
“Perhaps, but let us be cautious. If someone is in the back stalls, we wouldn’t see a light. I’ll go first and you stay here. I mean that, Maggie. You stay right here on this spot as if your feet are rooted to the earth.”
“But what if you need my help?”
“I’ll shout.”
“What if you can’t shout? What if there is a band of thieves or Gypsies or that Swepston person? What if they have knives—?”
He shut her up with a kiss. Right there in the night’s cold darkness with who knew what sort of brigands going though his stable.
When he was done, she could barely recall her name let alone all the dangers that lurked ahead of him. His kiss was that potent.
“You are infuriating,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I like you as well.”
He chuckled, the deep, masculine sound enough to weaken her knees. “It’s more than just like, Maggie. Much more.”
And then he was off, moving so quickly his shadow could barely be seen in the moonlight.
It’s more than just like . . .
Yes, he’d said those words.
Margaret gathered her senses enough to load the pistol, using her hands to feel for what she could not see, and then, even though he’d told her not to, she followed Heath.
The stables were Heath’s second home. He took great pride in the stone and timber structure.
The moon’s light did not penetrate the walls. He could barely see his hand in front of his face, but he knew to skirt the feed stacked up by the paddock door, and to keep to his left to avoid the anvil against the wall.
He paused, listening, letting his vision adjust to this deeper darkness. He could hear the horses moving restlessly in their stalls, but they hadn’t noticed his arrival. Instead, they were attuned to the very human grunting sounds that came from the far stall where there was the glow of light.
One of his stable lads was obviously enjoying himself, but who was with him from the house? He couldn’t begin to imagine.
The barest sound of a footstep behind him told Heath he was no longer alone. He knew Maggie was there before she whispered, “What have you discovered?”
She reached out with her hand to find him and take hold of his jacket in the darkness while her own eyes adjusted. Then she heard the last grunt and heavy sigh of a man finishing his business.
“Oh my—” she started as the realization of what was going on hit her.
Heath placed a hand over her lips, warning her to silence. He then crouched low and moved down the aisleway, moving toward the last stall. He braced himself for what he would discover, certain he would not like what he saw, when a male voice said in satisfied tones, “I’ll want to do this again. You have been putting me off too long, lass. Too long.”
That was Rowlly’s voice.
The shock of recognition gave Heath pause. He knelt, stunned to imagine his cousin having an affair with someone in the house. His wife, Janet, would have his hide.
“I wanted you to miss me,” his companion answered . . . revealing herself to be Dara.
Shock gave way to relief in Heath’s mind. He was glad Rowlly wasn’t with one of his sisters so he’d have to hang his cousin up by his balls. But he was shocked at Dara. He would never have thought Rowlly would appeal to her.
“I missed you, I truly missed you,” Rowlly said, his tone heavy with lust. “See? I’m ready again. I want more. Now.”
There was feminine trill of laughter, the sort of sound women made when they knew they were in charge, followed by the smacking of lips and hungry sighs.
Heath didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t anxious to catch Rowlly and Dara. He’d always thought Rowlly and Janet were a couple well pleased with each other. Then again, Dara was a beautiful woman.
But always a bit closed unless she wanted to share her thoughts.
It didn’t make sense that she would be wasting her attentions on the likes of Rowlly, although Heath had seen stranger pairings. He wouldn’t meddle in their business. He took Margaret’s hand, ready to lead her away without the two of them learning they had been discovered.
“Wait,” Dara was saying. “Hold on. Not just yet—”
“Why?” That one word carried the frustration of a man who was in need.
“Because there is something you must do for me,” Dara cajoled.<
br />
Rowlly groaned his frustration. “We don’t have much time. I told Janet I’d return from checking the stable in an hour.”
“We’ll be done by then,” Dara assured him, her voice laced with sweetness. “But you know there is never something for nothing.”
There was a beat of silence.
Heath and Margaret had gone still, fearing that their departure would be overheard. There is a timing to these moments. Heath reasoned in another second or two, neither Dara or Rowlly would hear their leaving even if they’d rode away on a herd of elephants.
Now, they waited.
And then Rowlly’s words put a chill in Heath’s heart. “I’ll not kill again.”
“You might not have to,” Dara said. “But you may not have a choice. You really must do what I ask of you.”
“Or what?” The lust had left Rowlly’s voice.
“Do you really want me to say it?” Dara asked. “Are you so ignorant that you don’t realize what would happen if I let it be known you murdered my husband, the man everyone in the valley admired?”
Heath’s world reeled with that information. Rowlly had murdered Brodie? Rowlly, his own cousin, whom Brodie had trusted almost more than he had Heath? Rowlly, whom Heath had relied upon for counsel and advice, whom he had turned to time and time again?
He started forward—
Margaret’s hand caught his arm. She squeezed it tight, a warning for him to be wary.
Heath didn’t want to be cautious. He wanted to attack Rowlly with his bare hands and pull the man’s lying, murderous tongue from his mouth.
“You wouldn’t do that,” Rowlly said, his voice flat. Heath could hear the sound of clothing being rearranged, could imagine Rowlly pulling up his breeches, wanting to be done with her. “If you do, then I will tell everyone that murdering Brodie was your suggestion.”
“Not mine,” Dara answered, practically purring with satisfaction. “Yes, we are lovers but I didn’t mean for you to do away with my husband.”
“You put me up to it,” Rowlly lashed back. “You said we could be together once you received your portion of what should be yours when Owen Campbell bought Marybone. That we would leave together. Go somewhere else. But then after I did it, there’s always been something keeping us apart. You don’t really want me, do you? Meeting me like this, letting me have you, it’s to tease me into doing your bidding.”
His voice had risen with realization at how he’d been used.
Dara’s response was cool. “If you’d thought on it, you would have known. After all, why should I see anything in the likes of you?”
“You made me kill my cousin—”
“I ‘made’ you do no such thing. You wanted me, and to have me, you needed him out of the way. I had only to suggest how happy we would be without Brodie for you to leap at the opportunity.”
“I loved him like a brother. He was a good man.”
“Obviously, you didn’t love him enough.”
“You bitch—”
“Oh yes, call me names. But think on what you should call yourself.”
“I sacrificed everything for you,” he said as if the simple statement condoned murder.
“I was a married woman. I had no place promising myself to anyone. In the end, Rowlly, it will be your word against mine. Yes, I strayed as a wife. I sinned, but I didn’t expect you to kill him.”
“You suggested it—”
“Did I? I recall no such thing.”
“I’ve waited for you,” Rowlly said as if still not believing how neatly she’d tricked him. “You said after your mourning we could be together and I’ve waited. I was ready to leave Janet. To set aside my sons.”
“And you’ve had me,” she answered. “And you can have more.” Her voice had turned seductive. “But there is a price.”
“I’ll not murder Heath for you—”
“You needn’t,” she hurried to assure him. “Heath can live. But I must have Lady Margaret disappear. She can’t give Heath her money.”
“If there is any dirty business to be done, you’d best do it yourself.” His boots moved toward the door. Heath braced himself, ready to leap at his brother’s murderer.
But Dara caught him and pulled him back. “You don’t have a choice, Rowlly,” she said, sounding as if she commiserated on his misfortune. “If you don’t help me, then I shall tell everyone what you did to Brodie and I will prove it. You gave me the crossbow to hide. I know where it is. That and my testimony will see you hang.”
“You’ll hang as well.”
“Do you truly believe that?” she said calmly. She was cold-blooded, unremorseful. “I have a friend, Rowlly, a powerful friend who will protect you if you do what we ask.”
“I can’t. I won’t.” He was struggling with his conscience.
“You will” was Dara’s reply. “My word against yours.”
Heath could contain himself no longer. “And my word against the both of yours,” he said, standing up and moving into the light from the stall. Dara and Rowlly turned in surprise. They had been so involved in themselves that they truly had not realized anyone was present.
“Heath,” Rowlly said in alarm and then said, “You heard her. She tricked me. I didn’t want to hurt Brodie. I never would have if I’d been in my right mind. She made me crazed with wanting her. She’s evil, Heath. Evil.”
But Dara was not panicked. She faced Heath with an unnerving serenity.
“Why?” Heath asked. “My brother gave all that he had to you, Dara. My sisters and I kept you in our home. If you hated him so much, why would you stay?”
The lines of her face tightened and then, almost as if she could not keep her emotions at bay, she said, “I stayed because I’m in love. Because the man I truly care for asked me to help him.”
“And who is that man?” Heath demanded. “It certainly isn’t me.”
“Of course not. It’s Owen Campbell. I love him. I’ve always loved him.”
Rowlly lunged for her. “Did he put you up to this?” he demanded, grabbing her by her cloak tied around her neck.
Heath reached to pull him off her. “Steady man. Don’t be more of a fool than you already have been.”
Rowlly released his hold. Dara fell back a step, her hands coming up to her throat. Her eyes turned to angry slits. “Of course, Owen didn’t put me up to this. He’s an honorable man. I had to do this for him. After all, how was he going to marry me if I already had a husband? I had to rid myself of Brodie. I needed to. Just like Lady Margaret needs to leave. Owen wants her land.”
“Are you lovers?” Rowlly demanded. He would have gone after her again except that Heath held his arms.
“Yes,” she said to him, taunting him. “And I never need to pretend when I am in his arms the way I must to put up with you.”
Rowlly roared his pain, trying to shrug Heath off. He bucked his body, kicking out. His booted foot hit the oil lantern, knocking it over.
The hay in the stall burst into flames. It was dry and the fire spread, catching the hem of Dara’s cloak in the blink of an eye. The wool was ablaze in seconds. Dara started screaming. She began to run forward. Heath reached out to help her.
The flames were already going up the side of the stall. He could hear the horses neighing in alarm.
And Margaret. Where was Margaret?
A blow across his body stopped him from helping Dara. Rowlly had struck him.
“Leave her alone,” Rowlly said, his voice guttural and strange. “Let her burn.”
“No,” Dara shrieked, while frantically trying to untie the ribbons of her cloak. Fire lapped Heath’s boots. Again, he tried to help Dara.
Rowlly doubled his fist and hit him. “I said no, Heath.”
“This isn’t right,” Heath said. There was no time to fight, not if they wanted to survive.
“Aye, but this is the best way for it to end,” Rowlly answered.
Dara tried to get by him again and he shoved her back with his elbow. She h
it the wall and fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of her. Heath took a step back but Rowlly grabbed hold of his jacket, his fingers like claws, and swung Heath around. The air was filling with smoke and Heath was feeling the effects of it. The horses were panicking and kicking their stalls, trying to escape.
Rowlly’s face had taken on a demonic look. “This is the best way. Let us all burn,” he said. “And then no one will know I killed Brodie. No one will ever know—”
A shot rang out. Rowlly stiffened, and then let go of Heath. He turned to where Maggie stood in the stable door, her pistol in her hand. “She shot me,” he said to Heath in disbelief.
“She does that,” Heath answered, feeling absolutely no remorse.
Rowlly nodded. His face was turning pale. And then he placed his hand on his chest and dropped to the ground.
Coughing from the smoke, Heath leaped over the body to rescue Dara, managing to remove her cloak before throwing her over his shoulder, and running from the stall.
Maggie was opening the barn doors, urging the horses to rush out. They were difficult. They were afraid, but Maggie managed to coax them outside.
“I had to shoot him,” she called out, coughing. “He would have murdered you.”
“You did the right thing,” he said.
After carrying Dara outside and lying her on the ground, Heath prepared to go back for Margaret. Flames danced across the roof of the stable.
People were coming from all areas now, drawn by the fire. Irwin and his mother were two of the first to arrive. “I didn’t do this, Laird,” Irwin called. “I’ve been doing my job. I’ve been doing it.”
“I know you have,” Heath shouted. “Free the pigs in case the fire spreads. We will chase them on the morrow.” He started to charge back into the barn just as Margaret ran out. She held her arm across her face to protect her breathing.
“Thank God you’re safe,” he said, meaning the words. He started for the barn. Margaret caught his arm.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going back for Rowlly.”
“No, you can’t,” she said. “Heath, he’s dead. He’s gone.”
“I should claim his body.”
“No, Heath, it is better this way.”
Cathy Maxwell - [Chattan Curse 03] Page 20
