Men of Midnight Complete Collection

by Emilie Richards

  Billie.

  Where was she now? Had she gotten home before snow glazed the loch road? She was from Florida, renowned for sand and sun. What did she know about snow or ice? She still had trouble remembering which side of the road to drive on.

  He understood that he would worry about her for the rest of his life. He would wonder where she was and what she was doing. He would remember their night together, a night he never should have allowed but would dream about always.

  Billie.

  He was nearing the castle when Hollyhock barked again. Iain thought of old television shows he’d seen as a child. Lassie leading a small boy to people or animals in trouble. Lassie barking, then running ahead to show the way. He would have smiled if a smile had been left inside him somewhere. Perhaps Hollyhock was part collie as well as a hundred other things, but the resemblance ended there.

  He rounded a corner, and Ceo Castle loomed in the faded moonlight. Outlined in snow, the ruins were a magnificent reminder of all that was wrong in his life.

  “Hollyhock! Bloody hell!”

  He was colder than he remembered being in a long time. He didn’t want to be anywhere, but least of all here. He would never look at the castle again without thinking of Billie.

  He thought he heard the dog bark again, but now the sound echoed off stone, vaulted over walls and slipped through crevices. He couldn’t be sure where it came from.

  He couldn’t even be sure that it was a dog.

  Suddenly he was chilled to the marrow of his bones, and he shuddered uncontrollably. He was filled with such a feeling of foreboding that he couldn’t move. Fear froze him to the spot.

  The view began to dim. The ruins quivered, as if at last all that remained of the castle would finally tumble to the ground. Snow became mists, formless wraiths sliding across the earth with arms outstretched. Somewhere deep inside his mind he heard a woman scream.

  “Billie.” He whispered her name. It warmed him not a trace. Vague unease was fast being transformed into terror. He swayed on his feet, and his head grew light. The freezing air warmed, but not pleasantly. He was sweating, he could feel beads of it dampen his cheeks and chest. His arm grew numb, as if it had been held in one position too long, and the sweet fragrance of apothecary’s rose blended with the odor of horses and panic.

  He closed his eyes and heard the thunder of hoofs. He felt the soft pressure of a woman’s body against his, felt the frantic stretch of his own horse beneath him. Something whistled through the air, and a woman cried his name.

  The ground was iron-hard beneath him, the frozen ground of Cumhann Moor. He had held the woman in his arms as they tumbled to the ground. Pain stabbed through him, through every limb and tissue. As he clung to her a flying hoof shattered his arm. He could feel it hanging limp….

  “Hold on to me,” he whispered. “No matter what happens, mo boirionnach boidheach. Whatever happens, I will hold you forever.”

  Iain opened his eyes and saw the castle through a haze. “Lord God…”

  Ceo Castle stood before him in its entirety. He could see the Ross standard waving from a parapet, see the sturdy stone causeway leading over a wide, deep ditch. Then, as he stood motionless and frantically willed it to disappear, it did. Slowly, by degrees, just as it had throughout the ages. Stone by stone. Until it was nothing more than familiar ruins.

  His knees were weak. His head throbbed. “Billie.” She was here somewhere. He was sure of it, although he didn’t know why. Perhaps he was insane. The last few moments had nearly convinced him that he was beginning the downward spiral he had expected all his life.

  But Billie was here.

  He started across the grounds, calling her name. Hollyhock materialized from behind a wall, but he didn’t spare the dog a moment’s look. “Billie! Where are you?”

  Hollyhock joined him. Iain started toward the tower with the dog at his heels. It seemed the likeliest place to begin. From the very beginning Billie had been fascinated by the view.

  The wind picked up, screaming mercilessly and flailing snow in every direction. He entered the tower, but before he could start up the steps, he heard someone calling him from the walkway overhead.

  “Iain, is that you?”

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Alasdair.”

  “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?”

  “I saw Mara’s car parked at the gate and guessed Billie had been driving it. I was worried, because of the snow, so I came to find her.”

  “Is she up there?”

  “Aye, and hurt. Come quickly. She fell, I think. She’s unconscious. I’ll need your help to bring her down.”

  Iain didn’t have time to question how he’d been right about Billie. He hadn’t seen Mara’s car. He had come a different way. But he had known that Billie was in danger. Forever, he would know, no matter how far away she was from him.

  He took the steps at a near run. He could hear Hollyhock whining below as he ascended. He didn’t stumble once, but he was winded when he reached the top and lunged out to the walkway.

  “Where—”

  His head exploded. He had the momentary impression that it had split into two separate parts. He saw two men gazing sorrowfully at each other across a divide as deep and wide as Ceo Castle’s ditch. Two men who were him.

  Madness.

  He awoke on his back, his head resting on stone. Pain nearly shattered him, washing through his head like an angry sea everytime his heart beat. He struggled to sit up, but a foot was firmly planted on his chest.

  “I thought maybe you wouldn’t be coming to at all.”

  Iain gazed above him and saw the shape of a man silhouetted against the dark sky. But his mind, fogged and twisted, would not divulge an identity.

  “I’m glad you’re awake, Iain. It would pain me to kill you without your knowing why.”

  “Kill…me?” The words formed without conscious assistance. Desperately he tried to pull his thoughts together, but like the head that sheltered them, they seemed to have been splintered into pieces.

  “Aye. Trained to heal, born to kill.”

  He placed the voice with effort. “Alasdair?”

  “Alasdair MacFarlane Melville. Quite a mouthful for a wee laddie, only I was never allowed to repeat my middle name, no’ while I lived in Druidheachd. My father warned me that it might set off your father.”

  Iain lay very still. “I don’t…understand.”

  “I was born to kill you, Iain. Born to bring you to retribution.”

  “I…see.”

  “Do you?” Alasdair leaned forward and rested more of his weight on Iain. The breath left Iain’s body, and darkness surged through his brain. “I think no’, though I’m certainly no’ one to argue with the laird. Who would I be to argue with my betters?”

  “I have never pretended to be better…than anyone.” Alasdair laughed and relaxed his foot, and as air rushed back into Iain’s lungs, his thoughts began to coalesce. He was on the floor of the tower walkway. He had come to find Billie. “Billie. Where is she?”

  “Oh, no’ here. But dinna take a notion to feel relief. She’s in a place where she will no’ be found until she’s dead. No’ till she’s been long dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Aye. You always learned quickly, Iain.”

  “Why?”

  “For what you and yours have done to me and mine.”

  “I don’t…understand.”

  “I’ll give you a moment to try. Then I shall kill you.”

  Iain knew he had only one chance. He had to act as he would if he hadn’t been injured. He had to act quickly and decisively. He struggled to ready himself, despite the agonizing pain in his head and the weight bearing down on his chest. “I can’t hear you.” He whispered the words. For a moment his mind drifted to the hours when he, Duncan and Andrew had made up stories and acted them out here. He had always gotten the best parts, because he had always had a flair for the dramatic. “I can’t hear what you’re
…saying.”

  “Can’t you?” Alasdair laughed. “Did the blow affect your ears?”

  “Speak…up, please. What are you saying?” Iain put fear in his voice. The effort almost made him pass out.

  “I am going to kill you.” Alasdair shouted the words. When Iain didn’t respond, he bent lower to shout them again.

  Iain grabbed the foot bearing down on his chest and jerked it with all his strength. Alasdair wobbled, and his arms flapped for balance. Iain jerked again, and Alasdair crashed to the ground.

  “No, you’re not!” Iain grabbed him in a crushing bear hug and rolled on top of him. He was larger than Alasdair and probably stronger, but Alasdair had the advantage of a clear head.

  He grabbed Iain’s shoulders and shoved. Iain grabbed his and thrust them against the stone. But not with enough force. Alasdair rolled to his side and took Iain with him.

  Iain’s head exploded against the walkway. His grip slackened, and Alasdair used that moment to scramble away. Then with the force of momentum he leapt at Iain. “You’re going…to die!” He slammed his fist into Iain’s face. He raised his fist again, and at the moment it descended, Iain twisted away. Alasdair’s fist connected with stone.

  He screamed in protest.

  Iain slammed his knee between Alasdair’s legs, and the other man screamed again. “Bastard!” Iain grunted. Adrenaline pumped through him now, and the fog in his head was clearing. Billie was in terrible danger, and he stood between her and death.

  He had not saved her before. Once before he had failed to save her.

  He threw himself on Alasdair and straddled him, holding Alasdair’s arms against the walkway floor. “Where’s Billie? Tell me…or I’ll throw you…over the bloody side!”

  Alasdair bucked and twisted. It was all Iain could do to keep him on the floor. He was tiring quickly, but Alasdair was not. “Where is she?”

  Alasdair quieted gradually. Finally he lay still, but Iain wasn’t fooled. “If I show you,” Alasdair said, panting heavily, “what…will you do?”

  “I’ll…give you a head start…out of here. That’s it, and that’s all.”

  “You would do that?”

  “Don’t count on it to save you. I’ll hunt you down, you slimy bastard. If one hair…on Billie’s head is harmed, I’ll hunt you down!”

  “You’re cursed, Iain. The two of you will die together.”

  “I’ll take my chances. You’d better do the same.”

  Alasdair gave a strangled laugh. “Do you think so?”

  Enraged, Iain probed Alasdair’s greatest vulnerability. “I’ve always been bigger and better than you!”

  Alasdair’s eyes narrowed in hatred. Iain lifted Alasdair’s shoulders and slammed them against the stone. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “In the boot.”

  “What?”

  “She’s in the boot of my car. I planned to take her coat and leave her…on Bein Domhain, somewhere too far from civilization to walk…before she froze.”

  Iain slammed his shoulders against the stone one more time. “Then what were you doing up here?”

  “I found her here. We struggled before I got her in the car. Then I heard you calling your dog. I thought I’d gotten lucky. I though I could…get you both.”

  This time Alasdair’s head bounced against the stones. “You’re insane!” Iain said. “Why should I believe you?”

  “Show you,” Alasdair mumbled.

  Iain didn’t trust a word of the story. Yet it could be true. Billie, who had once confessed her hatred of enclosed places, could be locked in the boot of Alasdair’s car. “All right.” Iain knew what he was risking. His head was still pounding mercilessly, and he was painfully weakened. Alasdair could escape. “Give me your keys.”

  “You’ll have to let go of my arms.”

  “One arm. Which side?”

  “Right.”

  “If you’re lying, you’re a dead man.”

  “Get them.”

  Iain twisted Alasdair’s right arm under his head and held it with his left hand, but his grip was precarious. He was watchful as he reached for Alasdair’s pocket and his fingers closed around the keys, but he wasn’t quick enough.

  Alasdair twisted and dumped him to the floor. He sprang to his feet and started toward the steps. Iain threw himself at the fleeing figure and just grasped his ankles. Alasdair crumpled to his knees. Iain slung himself on top of him, but now Alasdair was fighting for his life. He pounded and throttled Iain, screaming obscenities as he did. They rolled over once, then again.

  Iain crashed against the walkway wall. The old battlements were sturdy, but there were substantial spaces where stones were missing. His own sense of direction was useless. He didn’t know where they were, or in how much danger. Alasdair gouged at his eyes, and Iain knocked his hands away. They rolled to one side, then the other.

  Iain’s world was growing darker. Pain had become a constant, debilitating force that was as much a threat as the hands that wrapped around his throat and spasmodically squeezed. His eyesight dimmed; his breath rattled in his chest. He would die here locked in a struggle with the personification of all that had nearly destroyed his life.

  He gave one last heave, one mighty thrust, and Alasdair fell backwards. Iain kicked out at him with all his waning strength, once, then again. The third time he kicked nothing but air. He heard a terrible, choking gasp, a startled cry.

  And a scream that went on and on until it shattered into silence.

  * * *

  “Billie…” Iain stumbled through the ruins. He had ceased to define where the cold stopped and his injuries began. He had half woven, half crawled to Alasdair’s car. As he’d suspected, Billie was not there. But she was somewhere nearby, because Mara’s tiny Morris Minor was still parked beside Alasdair’s.

  “Billie…” He couldn’t shout. He could barely choke out her name. He had already checked the narrow strip of forest between the castle and the loch. And he had been completely over the ruins once, stumbling, falling, picking himself up to fall yet again.

  He guessed that nearly an hour had passed since he had heard Alasdair’s final scream. The young doctor’s body lay in a twisted heap at the side of the tower. As horrifying as his death had been, perhaps it was more merciful than what he had planned for Billie.

  Iain was sure that if she was dead, he would know somehow. The connection between them had not been severed, but it wasn’t strong enough to lead him to her. His cheeks were wet, and not from snow. He had never felt so desperate or so helpless.

  As he searched, he had forgotten about Hollyhock. Now he heard the dog barking somewhere near the tower. Iain wondered if Hollyhock had just discovered Alasdair’s body. The barking ceased, then began again.

  Iain had to go home for help. There was no other way. The constable, Andrew, Duncan… He wanted his old friends with him now. He had never quite been strong enough to push them from his life, despite his fears of what they might suffer for loving him. Now he was grateful. They would help him….

  “Billie…”

  Hollyhock answered instead. He bounded toward Iain from the direction of the ruined tower. Iain started in the opposite direction, and the dog circled him, before heading back toward the tower, barking as he ran.

  Iain turned and stared. He had been through the tower once already, searched every inch of the lone room at the bottom, even felt his way up the hundred or so crumbling steps to see if there was something he might have missed. The tower had been as empty as his heart.

  Hollyhock disappeared inside. As a lad Iain had never been allowed to go there. Until recently the foot-thick door had been securely padlocked to discourage intruders. Now Iain recalled that several months ago his grounds keeper had reported finding the ancient lock on the ground, rusted through and useless. Iain had authorized him to replace it, but there had been no sign of a new one today.

  He had never been allowed in the tower. Now he tried to remember if there had been a reason oth
er than its ruined state. Something nagged at him but refused to take shape.

  He started after the dog.

  We’d like your permission to do some excavation.

  As he staggered toward the tower, the voice leapt out of Iain’s memory. His head was clouded, but he placed the words immediately. Last year a young professor from the University of Edinburgh had wanted desperately to dig at Ceo Castle, but Iain hadn’t been convinced that the proper safeguards were going to be enforced. He had wanted to be certain that whoever took on the castle as a project was committed to its entire history, layer by layer. And this man had been only interested in the rumor of an infamous bottle dungeon somewhere on the grounds.

  There is nowt in that tower for our family to be proud of. Keep it locked, and keep away those who would exploit our past.

  The second voice was Malcolm Ross’s. Iain had been eight. They had stood amidst the ruins, and his father had warned him of his responsibilities. Lord Ross had begun early to train his son, perhaps fearing his inability to do it later.

  “Billie.” Iain moved faster, willing himself to cover the distance without falling. Hollyhock was barking from inside.

  Iain had already been inside once. He had called Billie’s name. He had seen nothing.

  He stumbled on.

  The door was ajar. It hadn’t been completely closed the first time he’d entered. Now, as he hadn’t then, he realized how strange that was. Nearly as strange as his grounds keeper delaying the installation of a new padlock—if indeed he had.

  “Billie…” He pushed his way inside. The room was pitch dark, even with the door open wide. “Billie!”

  Hollyhock barked from a corner. Iain stood very still. “Quiet!” For once that evening the dog obeyed.

  Iain could hear the keening of the wind outside, but nothing else. Nothing else…

  Weeping.

  For a moment he wondered again if he truly had been reduced to madness. His legs would no longer hold him. He fell to his hands and knees and began to search the floor. “Billie…” Her name rasped from his throat without force. If she was under here somewhere, she probably wouldn’t be able to hear him. He discovered that beneath a thick layer of earth at least part of the floor was covered with planks. He clawed at them, testing to find one that was loose. He circled, inch by inch, trying desperately to stay conscious and to find the strength to keep going.