Mad, Bad, and Dangerous in Plaid

by Suzanne Enoch

  “Row…” He trailed off. Other than a tipped-over chair and an old barrel, the room was empty. It smelled musty and unused, but as he inhaled, a faint, familiar scent touched him. Rowena’s violet perfume. He was certain of it.

  “She’s nae in there,” he said, returning to the kitchen.

  “Who are ye looking for?” Haws asked, furrowing his brow. “And what are MacLawrys doing on Gerdens land? Armed, I might add?”

  Bear yanked him to his feet by the collar and then shoved him at the old stove. “Ye know damned well who we’re looking fer, ye rat. Ye tell us. Now.”

  Arnold glanced at his cousin. “Do ye know who they’re looking for?”

  The big man shook his head. “I dunnae.”

  Lachlan narrowed his eyes, then stalked up to Dermid and yanked down the bandage covering his cheek. Clear teeth marks bit into the skin, leaving an angry, bloody mess behind. “Ye didnae bite yerself.”

  “That?” Haws snorted. “Dermid got a bit too friendly with a lass at the local tavern. Didn’t ye, Dermid?”

  “Aye. I got too friendly with a lass.”

  Clearly they weren’t going to get any answers with Arnold Haws speaking for the two men. “Bear. Take Haws fer a walk. Off the cliff.”

  Munro grinned, an expression that chilled even Lachlan. He hadn’t precisely been jesting, but his friend had never been good at holding back his anger. And that had been boiling for the past day, with some additional help from Gerdens-Daily. “I owe Arran a wedding gift,” the youngest MacLawry brother growled.

  For the first time Arnold looked uneasy. “Ye can’t murder me. I haven’t done anything!”

  “One of ye Campbells shot my brother. Another shot me, and now Lach’s been stabbed. I reckon that’s enough.” Bear tilted his head. “Even if I’m at the wrong place, as ye say I am, I’m nae leaving here empty-handed.” Grabbing Haws by the arm, he shoved him hard at the hallway door.

  “Dermid!”

  Gerdens stirred, but with Peter Gilling’s blunderbuss aimed at his midsection, there wasn’t anywhere he could go. “This’ll mean war,” he rumbled. “The Campbell willnae—”

  “The Campbell told us where to find ye,” Lachlan cut in. “Ye’ve no protection at all. It’s just the two of ye. I doubt anyone’ll even weep fer ye, amadan. Ye’re looking at yer one chance to stay alive, and if ye cannae prove to me that Rowena MacLawry is alive and unhurt, I’ve nae reason to show ye any kindness at all.” He glanced at Arnold Haws, clinging to the door frame with his fingers as Bear shoved at him again. “Either of ye.”

  The two Campbells exchanged a glance. “She’s in there!” Haws finally hissed, indicating the storage room.

  “Do ye take me fer a fool?”

  “She was,” he insisted. “We went in there to check on her, and she was gone. We heard you coming and straightened it up.”

  “‘Straightened it up,’” Lachlan repeated, heading back into the room. “How?”

  “Look in the barrel.”

  His heart froze. “Aulay, bring me a lantern or a torch.”

  The stableboy rifled through the old sideboard and came up with a broken candle in its holder. He lit it in the kitchen fire and brought it into the storage room. “Here ye are, m’laird.”

  Lachlan had never wanted so badly to not look. If she was in that barrel, hadn’t made a sound in minutes … No. That wasn’t how this was going to end. He would find her, she would be safe, and then he would marry her. They would have children and a happy life. Together.

  Please, he thought to himself, and walked over to the barrel. With a hard swallow, trying to steady himself, he lifted the candle and looked inside. Abruptly his heart started beating again. Some frayed rope, a sack, bits of cloth. And that was all. “You bound her.”

  “She bit me!” Dermid retorted, as if that had been Rowena’s fault.

  Lachlan strode back into the kitchen and cuffed Gerdens across the head with the butt of his pistol. He wanted to keep hitting Dermid, to grind him into dust. But that wouldn’t help him find Rowena. And she was all that mattered. “Where is she?” he asked very slowly, his voice low and flat and as angry as he felt.

  Dermid spat blood onto the floor. “Look closer. Ye dunnae frighten me, Gray. In a fair fight, ye’re no match fer a Gerdens. If ye had nae gotten here so quick, we’d have been ready fer ye.”

  “If ye thought ye could take me in a fair fight, why did ye stick a knife through my back?” Lachlan retorted.

  “That wasnae me.”

  Lachlan sent a look at Haws. “Thank ye fer that, anyway.”

  Back inside the room he took a closer look. With the candle he could now make out a large section of floor in the middle of the room where the dust and dirt had been disturbed, and he laid his palm on the stone. She’d been here, and not long ago. But where had she gone, and why hadn’t Gerdens or Haws followed her?

  A nail stuck out from the broken seat of the chair, and when he crouched down he saw the droplets of blood clinging to it. Deep, cold fury ran through him. Of course she’d tried to free herself, and she’d been hurt in the process. Which told him she was desperate to get away from these men. But there were no windows, and no other doors.

  He paused, looking at the barrel again. Unless there was another door.

  “Lach?”

  “Aulay, watch Haws. Bear, give me a hand.”

  A heartbeat later Bear stood in the doorway of the storage room, swearing. “They locked her in here? In the dark? The wh—”

  “Shove over that barrel, will ye?” Lachlan interrupted, crouching beside it. The dirt was disturbed there, as well, and he was certain he could make out her delicate fingertips in the dust.

  Munro overturned the barrel with no noticeable effort, then crouched down beside him. “An escape tunnel?”

  “I reckon so.”

  Lachlan dug his fingers into the small opening and pulled. With a creak the door lifted. She’d gone in there. Into the dark. Alone.

  “They set that barrel on top,” Bear said slowly, his face growing pale. “She’d nae have been able to get oot again.”

  “She may be oot the other side by now.” Lachlan handed him the candle and then with some effort squeezed through the small opening and dropped to the floor. “Go see what ye can find. Or ask one of those lads if they know where the tunnel exits.”

  Nodding, Bear handed the candle down to him. “Ye find my sister,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ll see to these bastards.”

  The tunnel was about three feet tall and the same wide, a dark hole lined with whatever had been to hand when some Gerdens ancestor had dug it out. Even with the candlelight he had almost no visibility; the tunnel twisted and turned sharply, likely around the huge boulders that poked up above the surface.

  As he moved forward it looked like there were additional tunnels splitting off to different parts of the house. They all emptied into the main tunnel, but he didn’t know precisely which one that was. Everything to the right seemed nothing more than piles of rubble, but he had to check each intersection to be certain. To try to figure this labyrinth out in absolute darkness—she could be anywhere. She could be trapped, or suffocated. Part of the low ceiling might have collapsed on her.

  “Rowena!” he called, bending onto his hands and knees to look at the dirt floor of the tunnel. The ground was disturbed, but he couldn’t tell if she’d been coming or going when she’d passed this way. “Rowena!”

  “Lachlan?”

  The voice was distant and muted and thready, but it set his heart beating all over again.

  “I’m here, lass! Where are ye?”

  “I don’t know!” her voice returned, still thready. “I stayed to the left, but I don’t know how many times I turned.”

  “Do ye see my light?”

  A pause. “Nae.”

  The air down in the tunnels was thin and musty and old. He had no idea how much of it was even breathable. The candle flame flickered and faded, growing dimmer the farther in
he ventured. How long had she been down there before the two men had decided to check on her?

  If the light went out, he needed to be able to get both of them out. Drawing the knife from his boot, he dug it into the wall on his left, making an inch-deep arrow pointing back the way he’d come. Then, alternating between crawling and crouching, he continued forward, pausing every few feet to make another mark.

  “Rowena? Talk to me, my fierce lass.”

  “I thought Calder killed ye,” she said, the pain in her voice wounding him all over again.

  “I’m nae dead.”

  “That’s what I started telling myself. Because I almost made another mistake, and we couldn’t end that way.”

  “What mistake did ye almost make?” The tunnel branched off. She’d said she’d stayed left, so he went that way, as well.

  “I almost let ye go, Lachlan.” She made a sobbing sound. “How could I do that?”

  “Because ye’re a lass who loves yer brother. I wouldnae have let ye get away from me, though, so ye’ve naught to worry over.”

  “Ye’re all I could think aboot. I knew ye’d come after me. I knew ye’d find me.”

  “Seems to me ye did a fair job of rescuing yerself, my lass.”

  The candle went out. Stifling his curse, he continued on, still stopping to carve the arrows. If she could make her way through this inky black, then so could he. The crawling and crouching sent pain from his shoulder all the way down to his fingers, but he clenched his jaw and kept going.

  “I bit Dermid.” This time brief humor touched her voice.

  “I saw that. He’ll nae be taking another lass against her will, I reckon.”

  Silence. “I’m very tired, Lach.”

  He grimaced. “We’ve poor air in here. I’m almost to ye. Keep talking, Rowena.”

  “I still don’t see yer light.”

  Her voice did sound closer, now. The tunnel he was in veered sharply right, then left again. “The light’s oot,” he had to admit, hoping that wouldn’t make her panic. “Ye just stay where ye are. I’ll come to ye.”

  “Who’s with ye?” she asked after a moment.

  “Bear, but he couldnae fit doon the hole. And Peter, and two of the stableboys. Ranulf has the rest of the clan searching fer ye all across the northwest.”

  “How did ye know where to look fer me?”

  “The Campbell. He told us Dermid had vanished from the gathering, and where he was likely headed with ye.”

  “The Campbell helped us?”

  She sounded close enough to touch, now. Nearly bumping his head as the tunnel turned hard to the left again, he slowed. “Lass?”

  Warm arms flung around his head, then lowered to his shoulders. Thank God. Thank God, he kept repeating to himself, as he found her mouth and kissed her. It felt like far longer than a day since he’d last touched her. And he swore to himself that no one would ever come between them again, Gerdens, Buchanan, Campbell, or MacLawry.

  “Lachlan,” she whispered, holding him tightly. “I knew ye’d find me. I knew it. I just had to give ye enough time.”

  For a long moment he just held her. His Rowena. How could he ever have thought he would find some other lass? None could match her. None. And he was hers, as much as she was his. “I’d go to Hades itself to find ye,” he murmured, stroking her long, disheveled hair. “And now let’s get ye back into the sunlight, my fierce lass.”

  “Do ye know the way oot?”

  “I marked the wall with arrows. On the right side, a few inches from the ceiling. Follow ’em until ye see the light from the open trapdoor.”

  “I’ll follow ye, if ye dunnae mind.”

  He kissed her again. “Nae. I dunnae mind.”

  They started back with her close behind him, touching a foot or his back. He still couldn’t see her, but he could feel her warm presence there with him. A man could live on that and her kisses.

  He couldn’t even imagine what she’d been through over the last day. Being dragged off somewhere, after seeing a man stab him. She’d thought him dead.

  Something skittered in front of him. In the deep dark, shadows flitted across his vision, but he knew it couldn’t be anything he was actually seeing. It was likely a rat, but he didn’t relish the idea of being bitten or scratched in the face. As he felt for the next arrow, he paused. What had Rowena said? “Did ye see who stabbed me, lass?” he asked aloud.

  “Nae. But Calder said he did it.”

  Calder. “Charles Calder?”

  “Aye. The one who shot Arran. He went to get breakfast for the other two, and I was worried what he might do when he returned.”

  They’d had their breakfast on the table. But there hadn’t been any sign of Charles Calder. “Lass, do ye have a weapon with ye?”

  “I have a rock in one hand.”

  He pulled his knife again. “Keep it handy. I think we may have company doon h—”

  With a gasp she ripped backward, deeper into the dark. “Lach—”

  At her shriek he was already scrambling back the way they’d come. A second later he touched her flailing hand, then launched past her. He hit a solid, clothed shape, then thudded into the wall with his injured shoulder. The sudden pain drove the air from his lungs. He jabbed forward, and caught something with the knife.

  “Rowena, find the arrows,” he hissed, following up the stab with his fist.

  He struck wall, and cursed. Even so, he was thankful—very thankful—that he’d managed to put himself between Rowena and Calder. Of course the coward had gone after her, but he meant to make certain that Dermid’s cousin didn’t have a second chance to hurt her.

  He heard sound beyond him again, and scooped up a handful of dirt, hurling it in that direction. Once he heard it strike, he lunged. “Keep going, Rowena,” he grunted over his shoulder. Calder would not be getting past him. Not this time.

  Grabbing hold of a leg, he jabbed with the knife again, feeling a blade graze his own cheek. Lachlan shoved his good shoulder hard into Calder’s ribs, knocking them into a wider tunnel intersection. “Why is it,” Calder panted, swinging and hitting Lachlan in the elbow, “you MacLawrys never die when you’re supposed to?”

  “Because ye’re nae very good at trying to kill us, I’d imagine,” Lachlan returned, estimating where Calder’s head was as he finished speaking and shoving it hard into the wall. Then he did it again. And again.

  Finally Charles collapsed bonelessly to the ground. Lachlan didn’t know if he was dead or unconscious, but he didn’t much care. Favoring his shoulder, he turned back in the direction he’d sent Rowena—and felt a rock hurl by his head. “It’s me, lass, damn it all,” he grated, reaching out for her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!”

  “I told ye to keep moving, lass.”

  “I wasn’t leaving ye. Did I hurt ye?”

  He blew out his breath. Of course she hadn’t intended to go anywhere. “Ye missed me. And I should’ve called oot to ye.” Lachlan took hold of her hand. “Let’s go. Ye lead the way, this time.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “I dunnae. Ye can go back and kick him in the man parts if ye like.”

  He couldn’t see it, of course, but he was fairly certain she smiled as he followed her forward and to the right, along the line of arrows. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he caught the faint glow of light ahead of them.

  “I can see a little,” she whispered at the same moment.

  “Aye. We’re nearly there.”

  “Lachlan?” Bear’s rumbling voice came. “Rowena?”

  “We’re here. She’s safe.”

  “Calder may be doon there with ye!”

  “He found us.” Lachlan helped her straighten. “Here. Give her yer hand, Bear.”

  Half walking up the wall, with her hand clutched in Munro’s, Rowena climbed out of the tunnel. The second she was free, she turned and reached into the opening again. “Up with ye, Lachlan.”

  Bear took his good hand, and she grabbed his coat, and
together they hauled him up to the pantry floor. And then Rowena threw herself on him, putting him flat on his back as she kissed him over and over. Lachlan wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. Beyond them, though, her brother sucked in his breath. Lachlan sat up, shifting her to his lap, ready to attack again if Calder appeared in the tunnel opening.

  Her brother, though, was looking at his sister. Frowning, Lachlan held her back from him a little. And then he began cursing. “Why didnae ye say ye were hurt, Rowena?” he murmured, brushing hair back from her face to expose the angry black bruise on her cheek and around one eye.

  “I’ll heal,” she said, holding out her wrists to reveal more cuts and bruises where she’d clearly been bound. “Now, I’ll heal.”

  “I cannae say the same fer Calder and his friends,” he growled, rubbing a thumb gently along the bruises on her arms. “I say we close that door again and put the barrel back over it.”

  “We could put Haws in there, too,” Bear agreed. “But Dermid wouldnae fit.” He stood. “There’s someaught else ye should hear, though. Dermid’s surprisingly talkative when ye put a pistol to his head.”

  “What about Calder, though?” Rowena asked, uneasiness touching her voice. “He might know the way oot.”

  “The way oot’s caved in,” Bear returned, helping her and then Lachlan upright. “I dunnae want to think what might’ve happened if we hadnae found ye, Winnie.”

  “We did find her,” Lachlan said sternly. “Let’s send Eòin and Aulay back in there with more lights and some rope. We’ll drag Calder oot, and I’ll hand all of them over to Ranulf to deal with. I’m done with the lot.”

  He took Rowena’s hand in his, and the two of them followed Munro into the front room with most of its roof and two broken windows. They sent the two stableboys to collect Calder, and then Bear walked up to smack Dermid on the back of the head. “Tell my friend what ye told me,” he ordered.

  Dermid sent him a baleful glare. “I said this wasnae my idea. He said I’d be gaining a fortune in money and land, and that the Campbell would bring my brother back from Canada.”

  “Who said that to ye?” Bear prompted.