Lord Galloway laughed and pressed a kiss to Margaret’s lips. “Then you had better hurry and get better so we can find out.”
Jane rose from the bed and headed for the door. Three was suddenly a crowd in the small bedchamber. She needed to leave them alone. Her aunt would be safe in Lord Galloway’s care.
News of the attempt on Lady Margaret’s life moved through the castle like a flame on dry kindling. Upon hearing the news, David raced into the field where Nicholas and Jules were sparring. “Lady Margaret has been poisoned.”
“Is someone with her?” Nicholas asked, stopping his sword midstrike.
David nodded as he tried to catch his breath. “The doctor is here.”
“Does Lady Jane know?” Jules sheathed his weapon and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
David nodded. “Lady Jane and Lord Galloway are with the doctor and Lady Margaret.”
“How did this happen?” Nicholas’s face darkened.
“Someone poisoned the wine intended for Lady Jane with hemlock,” David said with a frown. “Lady Margaret drank it by mistake when she took Lady Jane’s place during her time alone with Lord Galloway.”
“Lady Jane switched places with her aunt?” Nicholas asked in a puzzled tone.
Jules’s lips lifted in a half smile. “That is good news for the rest of us.”
“Perhaps,” David replied.
“Where is Bryce?” Nicholas’s gaze narrowed. “Where was he when all this happened?”
Jules shook his head. “Bryce has changed or at least I pray he has.”
“Has he?” Nicholas asked. “Or does he want us to believe he has?” He raked a hand through his hair. “God’s teeth, when will this end?”
“When Lady Jane marries.” David verbalized what he knew the others were thinking.
“Then we had best see that happens soon,” Jules exclaimed.
David nodded. “Our worst fears have been confirmed. Whoever wants to harm Lady Jane lives within the castle.”
Jules trapped David’s gaze, his own unflinching. “Then why are we standing around here? Let us split up and go find Bryce, or the villain, or both. We must do something.”
“Agreed,” Nicholas said. “I will go to the keep and gather the servants. I want to find the girl from yesterday, Clara, and see if she has someone who can vouch for her whereabouts this afternoon.”
“I will go through the kitchen, searching for any sign of hemlock or other poisons.” Jules set his jaw. “That is the last time someone will get at her in that manner, if I have anything to do with it.”
“I will take the grounds,” David stated. “Be suspicious of anyone and everyone.”
“Even ourselves?” Jules asked with a frown. “I would hate to think one of Lady Jane’s suitors would harm her.”
“Bryce still has the most to lose,” Nicholas stated.
Jules nodded. “Let us not convict him until he has a chance to explain his whereabouts.”
Below stairs, Jane entered the great hall to find Nicholas pacing like a caged animal before her staff. Not a flicker of emotion disturbed his austere features, yet Jane could clearly hear his mental cursing. He had been questioning them for the past hour while she had been with her aunt.
“Any closer to an answer?” she asked, even though she already knew his response.
“No,” he said, keeping his gaze upon Clara.
Her eyes were rimmed in red as was her nose, and she clutched a plain white handkerchief in her hands. She sniffled and dropped her gaze to her feet. By the look of things, Nicholas had not spared her feelings in his interview.
Jane frowned at the girl. It did seem rather odd that a lethal concoction be found in a bottle of wine intended for her consumption only a day after Nicholas mentioned that someone might use poison to harm her. “Tell me what you know.”
“Most of the servants saw nothing unusual. Clara might have something to tell us if she can ever move past the dramatics.” Nicholas frowned, his steady, impossible-to-escape gaze on the girl who used to work in the kitchen.
Clara sniffed again and looked up to find both Nicholas and Jane staring at her. “I swear on my life, I had nothing tae do with that poison.”
Nicholas stood before her. “Unless you would like to be relieved of your duties permanently, it is time to tell us everything you know.”
Clara paled, then nodded.
“Start with your afternoon. Lady Jane and I both saw you at the midday meal. What did you do after that?”
Clara looked down at her fingers. “I cleaned up after the meal and helped with the dishes.”
“You were asked not to go back into the kitchen.”
“I did what ye asked. I stood at the doorway and passed things through tae Marthe,” she said, adding a sniffle for emphasis.
“Clara has not been back in the kitchen since ye banned her, milord,” Marthe confirmed.
“Go on,” Nicholas encouraged.
“I spent most of the afternoon in the great hall, cleaning the floor and preparing the tables for the evening meal. ’Twas there that Ollie asked if I’d help clean the ashes from the fireplaces above stairs.”
Nicholas looked at Ollie, who nodded his confirmation.
“I paid attention to that task and that task alone as I was—still am—terrified to lose my position altogether.” Her gaze flicked up to Nicholas. “I’d finished three rooms, and just set to enter Lord Galloway’s chamber, when I saw something very odd.” She paled further and met Nicholas’s gaze. “I’ve heard tales of Her Ladyship’s ghost, but I’ve never seen her myself.”
“You saw my mother?” Jane interrupted. She had heard the servants talk of an image of her mother haunting the north tower and hallway. Jane had gone there many times over the past several years, hoping, praying to see the specter herself. Despite her longing, her mother had never appeared.
“I was in the north hallway.” The girl shivered. “I’ve heard the other servants talk about seeing an image of yer mother.” She wrapped her arms about her waist. “ ’Twas her, the ghost had to be her.”
Jane reached out, feeling suddenly unsteady, and caught Nicholas’s arm. She wanted to believe in the miracle that her mother had somehow appeared. Yet she had known long ago that her mother would never smile at her again, never again call her “my angel.” At the thought, old grief welled up and threatened to spill over. Jane tightened her grip on Nicholas’s arm and fought for control.
Nicholas pulled her close against his side as he continued. “Describe what you saw,” he demanded.
“I only saw her from the back. Long blond hair. A blue skirt. A shawl about her shoulders. I’d swear ’twas the Lennox tartan.”
“You never saw her face?” Nicholas asked.
Clara’s shoulders slumped. “Nay.”
“So you might not have seen the ghost of Lady Lennox after all?” Nicholas’s frown was back.
Clara’s eyes widened. “It had tae be her. Who else could it be? All those tales.…”
“Which way did she go?” Nicholas asked. Irritation simmered in his deep voice.
Clara grimaced. “I followed her down the hallway and around the corner, but once I turned the corner, she was gone. Vanished.”
“Have you ever seen Lady Lennox before today?” Nicholas asked.
Clara’s face turned ghostly white. “Nay, I’ve only heard the stories.”
“So you have no reference by which to judge if this were truly Lady Lennox or not?”
The girl blinked. “Nay.”
“What time was all this happening?” Nicholas asked.
She paused as though caught up in thought. “Around dusk. I hurried tae get all the fireplaces cleaned before the men finished their supper.”
“Did you hear anything odd during this exchange?” Nicholas pursued.
Clara frowned, hesitated, then said, “Aye.” The word stretched, became stronger. “After Lady Lennox disappeared around the corner, I heard a soft creak
and felt a whoosh of air, but by the time I made it into the hall both the sound and the air were gone.”
Nicholas narrowed his gaze on the girl. “Was there anything unearthly about the woman you saw?”
Clara drew a shallow breath and shook her head. “From the stories, I had expected her to be floating above the ground or something.”
Nicholas turned to Jane. He gave her a gentle smile. “Would you like to see the place where Clara claims she saw your mother, or would you rather wait here?”
“I would like to come with you.” Jane straightened, once again feeling her legs under her. She stepped away from Nicholas. She ignored the sensation of loss that came from his absence. “Where are the other men?” Jane saw a vague shadow of disappointment in Nicholas’s sherry-colored eyes.
“Jules is turning the kitchen over, looking for signs of poison. David is searching the grounds. Bryce and Colin are missing at the moment,” Nicholas informed her. “If there is anything more amiss, we will find it. In the meanwhile, let us have Clara show us where she saw this apparition of your mother.”
Jane dismissed the rest of the staff, then turned to follow Nicholas and Clara up the servant’s staircase. She tried not to think about Nicholas. There were plenty of other things she could think about. She drew a sharp breath as she battled the memories with all the powers she possessed. She searched deep within herself for some time in the castle that did not lead her back to Nicholas.
The problem was she had lived within these stone walls all her life. Yet it was the times she had spent here with Nicholas that had turned her rather dull and ordinary existence into something of a dream. With him at Bellhaven, the walls never seemed so cold, or the space between them so empty. The memory of her time with Nicholas was set apart in her mind in a brief, shining moment.
She remembered what it felt like to have hope, however transitory. When she had looked into Nicholas’s eyes she had felt comfort, and for the first time in her life she had experienced her own strength when his hand wrapped around hers. In him she had found a sliver of contentment in a world that largely ignored her. She had felt important, like someone thought she was precious and worth fighting for.
But he had not fought for her in the end. And what was once magical ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving her to face the true emptiness that was her life, especially after his betrayal. For better or worse, she was the keeper of Bellhaven—its ancient walls, its legacy, and its people.
Jane reached out and touched the cool stone as they passed from the stairs to the hallway outside the north tower. She had transferred all her hopes and dreams from one particular man to the castle that would remain long after both of them were gone from this earth. She had honestly thought that keeping the estate running smoothly would do it, would fill her with the same sense of satisfaction she had experienced in Nicholas’s arms.
Looking at him now, at his dark brown hair and chiseled face, his powerful body, his confidence, she knew she had been wrong. Her steps faltered as she took in the whole of the man who had been thrust back into her life. For a heartbeat she could not think about who might be trying to kill her or what was at stake if she did not marry soon. All she could think about was the past and how much she had loved this man.
He turned to smile at her.
Her heart lurched.
She said she had forgiven him for hurting her with his rumors, and she had. But would she ever trust him as blindly as she had before? Fear stood in her way when it came to Nicholas. He had not thrown stones or daggers at her head, or tried to poison her food, but he had killed a part of her two years ago—a part of her that he had created, nurtured, and claimed to love.
“Is this where you saw the figure?” Nicholas asked Clara.
The girl nodded. “Then she disappeared around that corner over there.”
Nicholas held out his hand to Jane as he had so many times in the past. “Are you ready?”
Did he know the true weight of his words at that moment? Was she ready to move forward into a new relationship with him?
His gaze connected with, held, and challenged hers. And something inside Jane softened. It could not be easy for Nicholas to be here at Bellhaven and forced to share her with five—four—other men.
Was she ready?
Jane reached out. Her fingers trembled. She touched the warmth of Nicholas’s flesh, smelled the scent that was his own, and her pride melted. As though no time had ever passed, his fingers curled around hers.
“I am ready if you are,” she said, then realized the double entendre of her words. A blush crept up her throat. “I mean, yes. Let us discover the truth.”
He gave her a direct look, his gaze probing, his smile edged with dangerous intent. His gaze dropped to her lips.
Jane shivered and tried to pull out of his grasp.
He did not let go. “Do not run from me, Jane. Not this time,” he asked, his voice a raw whisper.
She looked into his eyes and realized in that moment just how much she cared about him, how much she wanted him to care about her. Her heart fluttered. For the first time, she could not summon a single reason to tell him no. “Lead on.”
Nicholas held her gaze and nodded. “The first task ahead of us is to discover the ‘secret’ of the ghost of Lady Lennox.”
Clara paused around the corner. “This is where she vanished.” She shivered. “May I leave you now? I have no wish to see that ghost twice in one day.”
“You may leave.”
The girl nodded and hurried back the way they had come, leaving Nicholas and Jane alone.
“Do you believe in the supernatural?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together before replying, “If you mean, do I believe my mother is here as a ghost? No. She has been dead for so long…” Jane swallowed roughly, and this time when she tried to pull away, he let her go.
Emotion surged as a memory of the past filled her mind. She saw her mother and herself almost fifteen years ago, walking handinhand along this hallway to the tower where they could look out over the land and watch for her father to return. Jane closed her eyes, trying to will the memory away. The image in her mind only sharpened.
Jane opened her eyes. She missed her mother so much in that moment it hurt deep inside herself. Margaret had been a wonderful substitute, but nothing could ever replace her mother’s love. Jane took a deep breath and titled her chin up. “I am sorry, Nicholas. You will have to explore the hallway on your own.”
He startled. “Where are you going?”
She did not answer as her feet hurried away, heading to the one place in the castle that could help clear her thoughts.
Colin Taylor might have no knowledge of who he was by birth, but he was not ignorant of human nature. And in his experience, men did not let go of their anger as easily as Bryce had let go of his.
Under the cover of darkness, Colin followed Bryce out of the castle, staying out of sight. Bryce had taken no horse, so he must not intend to go far. But why leave the castle, when everything he wanted was within its walls?
The wind blew softly across the moors; Colin was grateful, for it brushed away the footsteps he was not able to conceal. Bryce moved with assurance, as though he knew the lay of the land, and even in the darkness could find what it was he sought.
After walking for a time, they approached an outcropping of rocks. Bryce stopped in front of them as another man came out of the shadows to stand beneath a circle of silver-white moonlight. “Do you have information?” Bryce asked.
Colin shielded himself behind a nearby rock that was big enough to conceal his body, yet close enough to see and hear what the other two had to say.
“I have a copy of Lord Lennox’s will, along with a few other tidbits that I could gather about the others,” the stranger replied in a gravelly voice. The cool light illuminated only half of the man’s face, giving him a vaguely sinister appearance. He seemed, from what Colin could see, to be about the same age as Bryce, in his late tw
enties.
But where Bryce was neatly garbed with golden, with unblemished skin and a raw handsomeness that at times made him seem unreal, the stranger was blemished and rough, despite the elegance of his fashionable jacket, frothy white shirt, dark breeches, and black boots.
“What kind of tidbit?” Bryce asked. His voice held a note of anticipation as he accepted rolled sheaves of paper from the other man.
“Lord Galloway’s money is invested heavily in an Englishman, Thomas Savery, an inventor who a few years back patented a device called the steam pump. From the looks of things, the earl is poised to receive a fortune for his investment.”
“God’s teeth,” Bryce erupted. “News like that will not help me annihilate my competition.”
The man shrugged. “You paid me to find out about them. I never promised it would be bad news.”
“Go on,” Bryce said on a sigh.
“Jules MacIntyre’s release from prison did not come at his father’s hand, but through an unknown source that I traced back to Edinburgh.”
“Do you have any leads on who it was yet?”
“Nay,” the man said. “I have several inquiries out. Someone will talk soon. We must be patient.”
“Patience is not one of my virtues. What about the others?”
“Colin Taylor is the most interesting of the lot. He has no past. I could only trace him to a foundling home in Glasgow which he left at a young age to squire for Lord Pickering. It is quite remarkable he was able to do something so distinguished. Such privileges are reserved for titled sons.”
Bryce nodded.
“Sir David Buchanan has been known to wager a fair bit in the last several years. But he is still quite flush despite his losses.”
“And Nicholas Kincaid?” Bryce asked. “There must be something there. What about the reports of a dalliance he once had with my cousin? Did you find anything to substantiate those rumors?”
The stranger shook his head. “No one knows where those rumors started. And about the man himself, I talked to several of his retired staff. They were all very close-lipped when it came to talking about his past—almost as if it pained them to talk about it.”
A Laird for Christmas Page 16
