by Lynsay Sands
That caught Geordie’s attention, and he lifted his head to spear his brother with eager eyes. “How?”
“If she dies, Innes goes to you, no’ back to me or her sisters,” James explained when Aulay hesitated.
Geordie peered at Dwyn’s father with amazement. “Ye agreed to this?”
“I had little choice in the matter,” he said dryly. “I had already given Innes to the two o’ ye in the marriage contract as was demanded in the invitation to come here, and ye had already signed it over to her. It was Dwyn’s to do with as she wished. I did try to talk her out o’ it,” he admitted. “But she was determined ye’d no’ be left homeless and landless did she die.” Sighing, he added grimly, “And now, it seems a good thing I could no’ talk her out o’ it. It may save her life.”
When Geordie peered at him in question, not understanding why, he pointed out, “If Faolan Brodie wants Innes, he canno’ kill Dwyn. Innes would go to you on her death.”
Geordie began to relax a little. Brodie couldn’t marry Dwyn and couldn’t kill her if he wanted Innes. In fact, the only way to get his hands on Innes was to—
“He’d have to kill you to have any chance at gaining Innes,” Aulay said even as Geordie thought it. And then he added, “If Dwyn dies ere ye do, Innes goes to you. Does she survive ye and then die, it passes back to her father or her eldest living sibling if he has passed. So, he needs to kill you and either force Dwyn to marry him and change her will, or kill you, and then her and her father, and then go after Una, who would then be Laird Innes’s next heir.”
“So he’ll have to keep her alive and come after me,” Geordie said with satisfaction.
“Aye,” Aulay and Laird Innes said together.
Geordie considered that briefly and then pointed out, “But he could still punish her for what her dogs did to him. He could torture or—”
“But he canno’ kill her,” Aulay interrupted firmly. “We can help her heal from torture. We canno’ bring her back from death.”
Geordie nodded, but felt sick at the thought of the torture Dwyn might suffer. And the worry that if Brodie tortured her . . . How would she be affected? Would she even be his Dwyn when he got her back?
It was cold water splashing over her face that woke Dwyn. Gasping with the shock of it, she sat up abruptly, and then groaned and raised her hands to her head. Shoulders bowing under the pain presently crashing about inside her skull, she pressed her hands tight to either side of her head above her ears, trying to force the pain back.
“Get up.”
Dwyn stiffened at the cold order, not because of the words, but because she recognized the voice. Faolan Brodie. The name slipped through her mind, followed by the recollection of what had happened, or at least what she knew of what had happened. The last thing she recalled was being dragged away from an unconscious Geordie. She had no idea what had happened to him after that. Had they killed him like they had Simon? Was she a widow?
“If ye ken what’s good fer ye, ye’ll get up.” This time the words were hissed in her ear. “And ye’ll marry me all obedient-like or I’ll make ye sorry.”
Dwyn’s head jerked up at that, her eyes wide with horror. “Ye killed him, then?”
Faolan Brodie smiled grimly at her dismay. “Who? The Buchanan?”
When she bit her lip and nodded, he shook his head with cold amusement. “Do I look a fool to ye? I’ve no desire to have the Buchanan brothers with all their clans on me arse. They’d hunt me to hell and back had I killed him.” He sounded disgusted at the prospect, as if he didn’t understand such loyalty and love for a sibling. “Nay. We left him alive. But do no’ be thinking that’ll save ye. Once the wedding is done, ye’re mine and he canno’ do a thing about it. He’ll let it lie and find another bride.”
Dwyn let out a slow relieved breath at this news. Geordie was safe.
“Now get up. The priest is waiting,” Brodie growled, stepping back.
Dwyn glanced around to see she was seated on a pallet in a traveling tent. They weren’t at Brodie, then, but she had no idea where they were or how long she’d been unconscious. They could be just beyond the Buchanan border or a day’s travel back toward Brodie and Innes. Perhaps even two days’ travel away. She had no idea how much time had passed.
“I said get up!” Brodie roared, and backhanded her.
Dwyn swayed to the side under the blow, the pounding in her head increasing briefly so that she still didn’t move. Once the worst of it passed, she raised a hand to press it against her stinging cheek and straightened to peer up at him. Voice calm, she said, “I’ll no’ marry ye, and ye canno’ make me.”
She expected him to hit her again and braced for it. Instead, Brodie caught her by both arms and jerked her up off the pallet to dangle before him.
“I paid the MacGregors a lot o’ coin to camp on their land and get their priest out here today. One way or another, ye will marry me, lass,” he assured her coldly. “The question is whether I’ll need beat ye till ye agree, or whether ye go willingly to the priest.” Smiling coldly, he added, “Do ye go willingly, I’ll only let me men have at you after the ceremony.”
When her eyes shot to his face, he shrugged. “Someone has to consummate the marriage and those vile dogs o’ yers have ensured I canno’.” Mouth tightening, he added, “The beasts will pay for that with their lives when we get to Innes.”
Dwyn’s mouth tightened with disgust. “And that is supposed to convince me to marry ye willingly?”
“Nay,” he admitted. “What’ll do that is the fact that do I have to force ye out o’ this tent and make ye say yer vows, I’ll let me men do what they will with you, as well as yer sisters when we get to Innes. I ken how much ye care about yer sisters,” he added with the satisfaction of a man who thought he held all the cards.
Brodie set her down on her feet then, and Dwyn stumbled slightly to the side before finding her balance. Once she was steady, he asked, “What’ll it be?”
Dwyn stared at him silently for a minute, and then shrugged with disinterest and turned to walk toward the tent entrance. She heard Brodie chuckle behind her, but ignored it, and stepped out into sunlight to peer around the camp. Brodie had said he’d paid the MacGregors to camp here so she knew where she was. The MacGregor stronghold and land were on the northeast border of Buchanan. She wasn’t that far from Buchanan keep if she could get loose and get her hands on a horse . . . Her gaze slid around the camp again, and her mouth tightened as she noted the number of men moving about. Brodie had not brought a small contingent of soldiers with him. There were at least a hundred men that she could see, and every single one had turned to peer at her when she straightened in front of the tent flap.
Her mouth tightened at the leering looks sent her way. She could practically feel their anticipation of her “wedding night,” and Dwyn could only thank God that Geordie had married her first. Of course, that didn’t mean Brodie wouldn’t give her to his men anyway when he learned he couldn’t marry her. But he wouldn’t do it in front of the priest, she was sure. Raising her chin grimly, she started toward the priest standing by the fire.
“Ye’ve got balls, lass. I’ll give ye that,” Brodie growled, apparently impressed with her marching out to meet her fate.
“One o’ us should,” Dwyn shot back as he caught her arm and forced her to slow down and walk with him. She’d known he wouldn’t hit her in front of the priest, but wasn’t terribly surprised when his fingers dug painfully into her arm in response to her smart crack. She was surprised the bone didn’t snap under the viciousness of his grip though. Dear God, it hurt. But she suspected it would be the least of her pains by the time Brodie was done with her.
“Lady Innes, Laird Brodie, come, please. I have other duties to see to,” the priest said, his gaze narrowing on her pained expression and then shifting to Brodie’s grip on her arm. He frowned as he noted the way her skin had blanched around his thumb and fingers under the pressure, and opened his mouth to say something, but Brodie
spoke first, cutting him off.
“O’ course, Father. We’re eager to be wed and would no’ hold ye up any longer than necessary,” Brodie said quickly, urging Dwyn the last ten feet to stand before him.
The priest noted the way Dwyn sneered at his suggestion that they were eager to wed, and frowned slightly. “Is aught amiss, Lady Innes?”
“Nay, Father Machar,” Brodie said for her. “Go ahead. Let’s get this done so we can celebrate this blessed union.”
Father Machar gave him a repressive look and said solemnly, “I asked Lady Innes.”
“It’s Lady Buchanan, Father,” Dwyn corrected him gently when the priest turned to her, and then announced, “I married Geordie Buchanan a month past.” She managed not to flinch as all hell broke out around her.
Chapter 16
“We shall have to keep ye guarded until we locate and capture the bastard,” Aulay announced. “I’ll—”
“Or,” Geordie interrupted, “we could use me as bait.”
“Brother,” Aulay began with a frown.
“He has Dwyn,” Geordie said sharply. “And the bastard’s clever. We had men searching Buchanan for weeks after the attack at the waterfall and he managed somehow to stay hidden in the woods between here and there all that time, evading all of our men.”
Aulay’s eyebrows rose at the suggestion. “What makes ye think that?”
“Well, how the hell else did he ken to attack us there today?” he asked pointedly.
“That is a good point,” Aulay murmured thoughtfully.
Geordie was silent, his own mind mulling over what he’d just said. It was hard to believe that the Buchanan soldiers had missed a small group of men hiding in the Buchanan woods, let alone a larger one the size Katie had mentioned. Yet how else could they have known to be there today unless they’d been there all along? But if they’d been there all along, why hadn’t they attacked him and Dwyn on the way to the waterfall? Why wait to attack them on the way back? And why kill Simon? He shook his head. None of it made sense.
“Ye’re shaking yer head,” Aulay said quietly. “Like me, ye’ve suddenly realized something is no’ adding up.”
“Aye.” Geordie sighed the word, and raised a hand to run it through his hair, but paused as he recalled the linen bandages wrapping his head and the wound beneath them. Letting his hand drop, he scowled and said, “There is no way Buchanan soldiers would miss even one man on a horse in the woods, let alone a large group.”
“Nay,” Aulay agreed solemnly.
“So they were no’ there all this time?” James Innes asked with a frown.
“Nay,” Aulay assured him, and then glanced back to Geordie expectantly.
“Which means they were only there at that time because they knew I’d taken Dwyn to the waterfall and would be traveling that path to return,” Geordie reasoned. “They’d no’ be likely to risk getting that close to the keep otherwise.”
“Aye, they must have kenned ye had taken her there or were going to take her there and set themselves in the woods along the path, ready to ride out and stop ye when ye rode past,” Aulay suggested. Geordie didn’t comment, but something still wasn’t right.
“And they mistook the maid and yer second for Geordie and me Dwyn and attacked and killed the wrong man,” James reasoned.
Geordie shook his head at once. “Katie has dark hair, and Simon fair. They could no’ have been mistaken for Dwyn and me. We are the opposite. She is fair and I am dark.”
“Oh, aye,” James Innes said with realization. “Then why kill the man?”
“That is the wonder,” Geordie murmured, going back over matters in his head, before glancing to Aulay and asking, “Ye said Katie and Simon left directly behind Dwyn and me?”
“That’s what the men on the wall said,” Aulay assured him. “Katie was seen coming out o’ the keep behind ye and Dwyn, and she and Simon rode out five or mayhap ten minutes after ye and Dwyn did, but no more.”
“So, she fetched him for the ride,” he said thoughtfully, and then glanced toward the window as the sound of the men on the wall shouting greetings, and the thunder of horses on the bridge, came through the window.
Aulay walked to the window to peer out. The angle he was at allowed Geordie to see the way his eyebrows rose and the smile that pulled briefly at his lips before disappearing. Turning back, he announced, “Saidh and Greer, Dougall and Murine, Niels and Edith, and Conran, Evina and her cousin, Gavin MacLeod, are riding across the bridge with their escorts. The MacKays and Sinclairs are with them.”
Geordie knew they were returning for the wedding. He hadn’t expected them to come to Buchanan first. Meeting them at Innes would have shortened the journey for them, but he said, “Ye should go greet them and tell them what’s about.”
Aulay nodded and headed for the door, but as he reached for the handle, Geordie added, “Ask Katie to bring up water and a clean linen for me. I would wash Simon’s blood off me. Make sure ’tis Katie.”
Aulay’s hand dropped from the handle without opening the door and he turned to Geordie, one eyebrow raised.
“She was in here stripping the bed to remake it when I came to fetch Dwyn to take her to the waterfall,” he explained, answering that silent question. “She’s the only person who kenned where we were going.”
“Well, she is no’ a very good maid, then,” James Innes informed him dryly. “The bed was stripped, but no’ made when we got ye up here. The linens just sat there on the bed. Rory and I had to make it quick while Aulay waited, holding ye in his arms.”
“Ye think she told Brodie where ye were after he killed Simon,” Aulay said on a sigh, and then shook his head. “Ye canno’ blame her if she did. She would have been terrified.”
“I do think she told Brodie I’d taken Dwyn to the waterfall,” Geordie agreed quietly. “But I do no’ think Brodie killed Simon. I think she did.”
“What?” James gasped with shock.
Aulay merely stared at him, his eyebrows high on his forehead.
“She’s the only one who kenned where we were, and the only one who could have told Brodie. But she would have needed a horse to reach the man to give him that information.” When Aulay remained silent, he said, “Simon said he and the soldiers followed the path of the men in the woods to the border of Buchanan land. Which border?”
“MacGregor,” Aulay answered without hesitation.
“That’s two hours on a fast horse,” Geordie said thoughtfully, and then nodded. “Simon’s horse could do it in less time with a wee lass like Katie on his back.”
“How long were ye at the falls?” Aulay asked, stone-faced.
“We left after the nooning meal. Dwyn went up to continue packing, you and I talked a bit and then ye took Jetta above stairs for a nap. That’s when I decided I should take Dwyn and show her the falls. I went up to fetch her at once,” he told him. “And ’twas nearing time for the sup when I decided we should head back to the keep, so we were at the falls for . . .” He paused to think briefly, deducting the time he thought had passed before he’d gone up to fetch Dwyn, and the time he’d thought they had left before the sup when he’d suggested they leave, and finished, “Mayhap four and a half or five hours.”
“Enough time,” Aulay said, looking disappointed at the realization.
“Wait a minute,” Dwyn’s father protested with disbelief. “Ye’re suggesting that little maid who brought ye back killed yer second, a big burly soldier, so that she could use his horse to ride out and tell Brodie where to find you and me daughter?”
Geordie nodded and pointed out, “It’s more believable than that it took her four and a half or near five hours to calm the horse and ride him back to where Simon was killed.”
James Innes frowned at that, but then shook his head. “Nay, it does no’. If she wanted Brodie to kill ye, why would she bring ye safely back to the keep?”
It was Aulay who said, “Because she did no’ want Geordie dead.”
“She just wanted
to get Dwyn out o’ the way,” Geordie finished, and then added, “How do ye think she got me on Simon’s horse?”
“What?” James asked with surprise.
“Dwyn could barely drag me through the woods on a plaid,” he pointed out. “Yet Katie claims she somehow got me across Simon’s horse’s back and returned with me.”
James frowned and said uncertainly, “Well, maids are stronger than ladies.”
“Dwyn climbs trees and wrestles dogs to the ground who are bigger and heavier than herself. She’s no’ a weakling,” Geordie said firmly.
Laird Innes was silent for a minute, and then asked, “Why would the maid want me Dwyn dead?”
“No’ dead, just out o’ the way,” Geordie muttered wearily.
“Do ye really think she cares if Dwyn is dead or just out o’ the way?” Aulay asked, and then pointed out, “If what ye’re thinking is what happened, she killed Simon for a horse.”
Geordie’s mouth thinned.
“Ye did no’ answer me question,” Laird Innes said now. “Why would she want me Dwyn dead or out o’ the way?”
“Because I tupped her,” Geordie admitted after a hesitation. But when his father in-law stiffened, he quickly added, “Long ago . . . ere meeting Dwyn.”
Laird Innes relaxed at once, but simply said. “Nobles tup servants all the time. It rarely leads to murder.”
“Aye,” Geordie sighed. “But after tupping her, I was stupid enough to allow guilt to influence me into showing her a kindness she misconstrued.”
It was Aulay who explained. “Some time ago Katie and Geordie were mistaken for meself and me wife, Jetta, who does have dark hair like Katie,” he added heavily. “Because of that mistake, Katie was shot with an arrow while riding back to the keep with Geordie.”
When Aulay paused, Geordie picked up the thread of the explanation and said, “The lass has no family. Her mother was a maid here who came to work at Buchanan when Katie was a wee bairn, and she died some years back. There was no one to tend to her, or even care really whether she lived or died.” He took a deep breath and added, “I felt guilty. She’d been injured because o’ me family. If I hadn’t stopped to take her up on me horse that day, she never would have taken the arrow. It did no’ seem fair, or right, so I . . . I stayed at her bedside until she recovered,” he finished unhappily.
