Taken By the Laird

by Margo Maguire

  Hugh stopped midway to his chamber at a sudden realization. Amelia’s sorrow was due to her marriage to him instead of to Simon Parker. His understanding of Amelia’s unhappiness was based on a false assumption. She hadn’t cared about motherhood at all. Everything he’d believed about her was a mistake.

  He continued to his room and opened the door quietly, but found it empty. And no fire had burned there recently.

  A sudden thickness obstructed his throat as he perused the room. If Brianna was not there, and nowhere else in the castle…

  Good Christ, could she have left him? Had his temper and his abandonment driven her away? ’Twas nothing less than he deserved.

  The mare he’d bought in Stonehaven was still in the stable, so she hadn’t gone on horseback. And he’d seen no tracks when he’d come in. Unless she’d gone before the snow had started again, she’d have left tracks.

  In any event, she couldn’t have gone far. Intending to go after her, he went out the door and came up short at the sight of a filmy light outside Amelia’s bedchamber. It looked nothing like lamplight as it shimmered erratically, nor did it emanate from inside the room to shine under the door. Hugh frowned at the idea that he might actually be looking at the ghost Brianna had insisted she’d seen.

  A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as the thing took on the shape of a woman and beckoned to him. It could not be real, not when tales of the Glenloch Ghost had merely been invented to keep curious customs agents and other intruders away from the castle.

  Yet it was hovering in plain sight at Amelia’s door until it had his full attention, then slipped through the wood and disappeared. Hugh shook his head to clear it and started back toward the staircase. There was no time to investigate the ghost now. He had to catch up with Brianna before she froze—

  Unless the ghost knew where Brianna was. He could not believe he was actually entertaining the possibility that the Glenloch Ghost was real…But something had caused that light to appear, and it didn’t seem to have been from any natural cause. It had actually taken the form of…

  He muttered a low sound of self-derision and returned to Amelia’s door. Hesitating for a moment, he braced himself and opened the door.

  It was dark inside, and no fire burned in the fireplace.

  And yet the hazy specter hovered there, as though trying to tell him something. Swallowing his trepidation, he approached the strange thing. Brianna said she’d never felt threatened by it, but it might have been trying to gain her trust. If the servants were right, and it was a fearful thing, it might have caused her some harm. And—beef-brain that he was—he’d left her in the castle, to face it alone!

  Anguish flowed through him at the thought that the phantom might have lured her somewhere and caused her harm. “Where is she?” he demanded, as he nearly tripped over something on the floor. He bent down and discovered the plaid blanket he and Brianna had shared in the kelper’s cottage. He picked it up and thrust it toward the ghostly apparition, and repeated his question.

  Slowly, the ghostly form slipped through the wall beside the bed, and Hugh felt a moment of despair. He could not follow the damned thing, and he had the distinct feeling that it knew where to find Brianna. “You showed me the blanket,” he said, his voice a quiet rasp of hopelessness. “Now show me where you’ve gone!”

  He lit a lamp and looked around, but there was no other clue. Only an open drawer with several small, absorbent sponges in it. Frowning, he lifted one of them, and then noticed the open jar of vinegar beside it.

  A strange sound in the room caused him to set it aside. He followed the sound, and went toward the bed, where he’d last seen the ghost. The sound came again, almost like the flapping of a blanket in the wind.

  And yet it had come from the other side of the wall.

  He placed both hands against it and tried to understand what was happening. If the ghost was behind the wall, then it was hovering in the empty shell of the north tower, which had been securely locked after Amelia’s death. So he could not imagine how Brianna could have gone inside. Besides, she would have no reason to go into those ruins.

  He swore under his breath as the flapping sound returned, even more insistent this time, and he knew he would have to get inside the tower. There was probably a key to those doors somewhere, but ’twould be much faster just to break them down. He started to move, but caught sight of a piece of white fur.

  ‘Twas exactly like the fur that had trimmed Brianna’s wedding dress.

  ‘Twas caught somehow, and when Hugh reached down to pick it up, he realized it was wedged under the wall. He suddenly knew that this had to be an arrangement like the secret door in the drawing room.

  He ran his hands down the edges of the wall and finally found the latch, hidden just behind the head of Amelia’s bed, and obscured by her bed curtains. He tripped the bolt and pushed the wall forward, then picked up his lamp and stepped into the locked portion of the tower, where the old stone staircase hugged the wall. All was quiet, and when he looked up, he saw the shadowy steps Amelia must have climbed as she prepared to jump.

  The shimmering light of the ghost appeared on his right, distracting Hugh from his morbid thoughts. He realized it meant for him to follow it.

  Complying with the phantom’s wishes, he started down the treacherous stairs, but stopped when he came across a large leather pouch that was filled with coins and paper currency. He tossed it aside and went to the stairs, descending as quietly as possible. When he’d made it down a full flight, he heard voices. MacGowan’s, if he was not mistaken.

  And Brianna’s!

  He took a quick look to memorize the steps he needed to descend to reach her, then extinguished his lamp. Standing still in the darkness, he heard a crack, and then a whimper.

  All thoughts of caution fled.

  Chapter 19

  Danger and delight grow on one stalk.

  SCOTTISH PROVERB

  “You’ll never get away with this, MacGowan!”

  Brianna cried, tasting blood. “My husband will find you—”

  “Can’t you gag her, MacGowan?” asked Roddington, his voice maddeningly casual. Bored.

  “No need. It’ll all be over before long.”

  They’d come to a cellar at the bottom of the steps, and Brianna knew the caved-in pantry must be just above it. Or, no, ’twas beside it. MacGowan shoved her through the cavernous room, past all its rotting wooden arches until they reached a group of large barrels, stacked one on top of the other, against the far wall, and covered in dust and cobwebs. “Open that cask on the end, Roddy.”

  Roddington picked up an iron bar and pried open the top of one barrel that had nothing on top of it. MacGowan shoved Brianna toward it.

  “No!” she cried, redoubling her struggle against the burly man who held her. If they forced her into that chest-high drum and sealed the lid, she would be doomed for certain.

  MacGowan dragged her to it and tried to shove her into it. But there was something revolting inside, lying at the bottom in an acrid-smelling liquid. “Bend, damn ye!” MacGowan growled, trying to force Brianna over the edge and into the disgusting liquid. But she was not about to let it happen. She struggled mightily and screamed when he suddenly picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

  Her hands were still bound, and her shoulders shrieked in pain as she tumbled down MacGowan’s torso. She screamed as loud as she could as she lashed out with her feet, doing as much damage to the wicked man as possible.

  “Shut yer trap!” he shouted, but he jumped back suddenly, and dropped Brianna to the cold floor. “Wha’?”

  “Good God!” Roddington cried.

  ‘Twas the ghost, her bright form nearly solid as she hovered over the barrel where they’d meant to stow Brianna.

  Bree ignored the pains in her wrists and legs and pushed herself up to her knees, scooting away to wriggle out of the bindings at her wrists. She was never so happy to see Glenloch’s specter as she was at that moment.

&
nbsp; And then Hugh suddenly appeared at the mouth of the dark staircase. He took one look at her, then roared with fury and charged into MacGowan, knocking the man up against an arch that cracked and buckled when he hit it. Hugh took hold of MacGowan’s coat and gave him a bone-crunching punch in the jaw, but MacGowan struck back, and they exchanged blows until their encounter turned into a full brawl.

  In the thick of it, Hugh called out to her. “Brianna, are you all right?”

  “Yes!” she cried, still struggling with the ropes on her wrists. She could hardly credit his arrival. It warmed her, and gave her hope, yet she was terrified for him. There were two of them—MacGowan and Roddington—and they meant to kill. “Hugh, watch out—”

  MacGowan delivered a powerful blow that pitched Hugh violently into the same cracked beam. The ceiling and the rest of the beams creaked ominously, and dust and debris started falling from the ceiling. Another arch cracked.

  “Hugh, we must get out of here! I think the ceiling is going to collapse!”

  But MacGowan had the upper hand, grabbing fistfuls of Hugh’s jacket to pull him up from the base of the arch. Brianna flinched when he drew his meaty fist back to deliver a disastrous blow, but Hugh blocked it with his arm and pummeled MacGowan’s abdomen with both fists. Hugh gave no quarter, forcing MacGowan to back up, even as the man tried to defend himself.

  Dust was raining down on them now, but the brawl continued, each man swiping at the other verbally as well as physically. They careened into the row of barrels, and two of the huge casks fell, crashing into pieces of rotting wood and copper as they rolled away, spilling their sour contents onto the stone floor.

  “Is this where you hide your ill-gotten proceeds, MacGowan?” Hugh demanded. “Down in this decrepit hole?”

  “Ye should hae kept yerself in London, Laird,” MacGowan rasped. “But doona fret, I’ll see to it ye never return there.”

  “In your dreams, lad,” Hugh said with a harsh laugh, and Brianna wished he would not be quite so cavalier. MacGowan’s face had turned to a deep red and he was grunting with cruel intent. Brianna feared one of his vicious punches would eventually catch Hugh in the face, or knock him against one of the beams, perhaps a killing blow.

  She wished her husband would finish the man, allowing them to flee the dangerous room, but MacGowan was Hugh’s equal in stature, if not finesse. His blows made contact often enough that Brianna feared for the outcome of the struggle, and she knew she had to try and help him.

  Roddington was slinking away toward the stairs. Hugh saw him, but he was fully engaged in the fight against MacGowan, and he knew it was a fight to the death. His former estate manager could not afford to let Hugh or Brianna escape.

  They battled with fists and knees, grinding into one another as they fought, crashing into walls and joists as dirt fluttered down from the ceiling. He could hear the framework of the room splintering apart in his ears, and knew Brianna was right—the room was going to cave in, and he needed to get her away from there.

  “Brianna! Go for the stairs! Get out of here!”

  But Roddington was heading in that direction, and Hugh didn’t want her anywhere near him. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw her free her hands and go after the rotten marquess, but his distraction cost him, and MacGowan got the upper hand. MacGowan delivered a cruel blow to the abdomen, but Hugh kept his head down and butted viciously into his adversary, knocking him to the floor.

  Hugh started for Roddington, but MacGowan grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him down. Just then, Brianna picked up a metal bar from the ground near the barrels. Wielding it with both hands, she started for Roddington, but a huge beam crashed down from the center of the ceiling, with an attendant load of debris. She could not get past it to the marquess, but that was the only way out.

  “Hugh!”

  “I know! We’ve got to find a way—”

  They needed an escape route, but the staircase was blocked.

  “Come with me!” she shouted.

  The floor above her groaned ominously, and a sudden mass of rubble fell directly in front of her, covering her with dust.

  “Brianna! Move, love! Get—”

  MacGowan suddenly shoved him away and made a wild dash for the steps, just as another huge piece of the ceiling crashed down, blocking the stairs entirely. Hugh regained his balance and went to Brianna then, grabbing the lamp and taking her hand to pull her toward the barrels. “Look! We can climb up and out this way!”

  Hugh lifted her onto a closed barrel and pointed past her to a wide crevice that had opened between the top of the wall and the ceiling. “Climb up and slide through that space. Hurry, sweetheart!”

  He climbed up behind her and when he looked back, he saw that the rest of the cellar was already falling in on itself. Below him was an open barrel, and he shuddered as he looked down and saw its gruesome contents.

  The crashing sounds behind them propelled Brianna, and she managed to scramble quickly to the top of the next barrel. Once there, she wasted no time sliding through the opening, which placed her inside the precarious walls of the pantry. Hugh handed her the lamp, and she moved away from the opening to allow him enough room to get through. He managed to push his way out of the cellar just as he heard another loud crack. The entire room was collapsing.

  “Come on, Brianna! We’ve got to get out of here!”

  He scrambled to his feet and raised the lamp high so they could get their bearings, then grabbed her hand and made for one of the broken-down walls of the old pantry. With all possible speed, they slipped through a decrepit doorway and started running through the snow as far from the castle as they could go, before the entire tower cracked and split and crumbled to the ground below.

  When he judged that they were far enough away from the disaster to escape injury, Hugh pulled Brianna into his arms. She clung to him, her face against his chest as she trembled violently. But she was right where he wanted her.

  The sea crashed behind them, and snow fell all around, but Hugh did not need to look to know that the north tower of Castle Glenloch lay in a rubble of rock and dust before them.

  “I feared I’d lost you,” Hugh murmured against her head.

  “No,” she said, holding him tightly. “MacGowan meant to murder me, but you came for me,” she added incredulously.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you. I was wrong…about so many things.”

  She shook her head against his chest. “No. I had no right to interfere—”

  “You had every right. You are my wife.” He slid his hands up to her shoulders, then higher, cupping her face. “You are my love, Brianna.”

  She looked up at him, with doubt and disbelief in her beautiful eyes. “But I—”

  He kissed her gently. “I love you, Brianna. Stay with me. Be my wife.”

  Her chin quivered, and he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I-I don’t want to go back to Killiedown.” She pressed her body against his in a tight hug, tucking her head beneath his chin. “I love you, Hugh.”

  His heart seemed to swell in his chest. “God, Brianna, you have no idea how glad I am to hear you say it. You are all that I want. All that I need.” He tipped up her face and kissed her again, then touched his forehead to hers. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.”

  She was still trembling, and he removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders. “I didn’t think you would come.”

  “I was such an idiot…”

  “And I was sure you would never find me.”

  “I wouldn’t have found you, but for the ghost.”

  She drew back. “You saw it?”

  “ ’Twas the ghost that led me to you.”

  Brianna let out a quick breath of surprise. “She saved me from being drowned in that open barrel. She startled MacGowan and Roddington, and distracted them until you arrived.”

  “Brianna…” He had to tell her now, tell her what he’d seen in that cellar, and they would ne
ver have to speak of it again. “I know why she’s been haunting Glenloch.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded, still horrified by her close brush with death. She might have met the same fate as their glimmering ghost, and been doomed to roam Glenloch’s halls and galleries forever. “There was a body—a skeleton, really—in the open cask.”

  “I saw something in the one they meant to drown me in.” He felt her shudder. “Was that…Was it in there?”

  “Yes. I saw it when I climbed up behind you,” he said. “I think she must have been killed and her body hidden in that barrel of spirits.”

  “Oh dear heavens.” Her trembling increased.

  “Come on. You’re freezing. We have to get you inside.”

  Hugh lifted the lamp, and they could see the disaster. The tower was completely gone. “I don’t think MacGowan and Roddington could have survived that collapse.”

  Brianna took in a sharp breath.

  “We’ll have to excavate the site for their bodies,” he said.

  “How awful.”

  “ ’Tis no less than they deserved for what they planned for you.”

  “ ’Tis horrible, nonetheless. And the Glenloch Ghost…Might we recover her bones, too, and give her a decent burial?”

  “Of course, love. Our ghost surely deserves to rest now.”

  Epilogue

  A blithe heart makes a blooming look.

  SCOTTISH PROVERB

  St. George’s Church, London. June 1830.

  “I had a letter from Falkburn yesterday,” Hugh said.

  They’d left their carriage and were walking the last block to St. George’s Church for Sunday services. ’Twas only an hour after they’d climbed from their soft, comfortable bed at Newbury House. The glow of their lovemaking still filled Brianna.

  As did their child, who would make its appearance well before the year’s end.