His grip on her arms was viselike, and then he shook her, violently, bending her arms back as he did so. Chloris bit back a scream, for the pain in her shoulders was immense. For a moment she thought he intended to break her arms, and then he pushed her harshly against the wall, where she slumped.
She turned to look up at him.
“If she falls pregnant before you, you are out on the streets for all I care. But I forbid you to bring humiliation upon me by leaving before there is good cause.”
She gripped a nearby chair and her feet scrabbled beneath her. Pushing herself up against the wall she stood up straight, facing him. “I already have good cause to leave you.”
The hard, brittle character she saw in his eyes intensified. “I have warned you before. I will have you weighted and drowned before dawn if you deny me my rights as your husband.”
He had threatened her with it before, but Gavin had men that would take on the unsavory task, the brutal types who protected him when he went amongst his tenants demanding rents.
“Do so. I care not to live under these circumstances.” It was the truth. In fact she’d rather drown herself than carry on in this manner.
“Ungrateful bitch. I have given you a home and comforts any woman would be happy with.”
“Aye, and most of it bought with my dowry.”
He ignored that. “If you fail to fall pregnant before this summer is over, you will be out in the gutter, worthless and abandoned. You would do better to open your legs and pray that you are not barren.”
“I would rather be in the gutter than receive you in my bed again.”
“You will receive me, even if I have to bind and gag you.”
The threat did not surprise her. He was at best coldhearted and selfish, and now he was threatening to force her. However, in the old days it would have made her tremble in fear, now it only made her angry. “I take it your mistress has not provided you with a bairn as yet.”
That enraged him. He slapped her across the face.
It was such a harshly delivered blow that her neck twisted, her head knocking up against the wall. The pain was extreme only for a moment, then it turned to a slow burn. Her eyes smarted but Chloris held her head high, using the pain to reinforce her determination. She saw it all clearly now, saw the way he had channeled his disturbed emotions into her, making her feel guilty and ashamed because she had not produced an heir. He was the desperate one here, not her.
His eyes turned blacker than she had ever seen.
He lifted his arm again.
Once she would have cowered and begged him for mercy. But Chloris suspected that only incited him. She straightened her spine and shook her head. “You will not hit me again, Gavin.”
He looked at her with outrage, with hatred.
None of it moved her. She had become whole, a woman fulfilled, a person in her own right. She’d grown stronger, flourished in ways far more immense than she ever imagined when she went to Somerled that fateful night.
Continuing to fix him with her steady gaze, she leveled with him. “Only a coward beats a woman.”
His raised hand trembled, but it trembled with rage. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Get to your chamber and prepare to receive me.”
“I have already stated my feelings on that matter. Go to your mistress instead.” Before he had a chance to reply Chloris turned and left the room.
She darted up the stairs and dismissed the upstairs maid quickly, eager to be alone. Once the girl was gone, she bolted the door to her chamber. Under normal circumstances it remained open at all times, except for when Gavin came to her bed.
It would only hold him back for so long, but it was all she could do.
The dark furnishings in the room made the place feel bleak, bleaker than it had been before. As she undressed and pulled on her nightgown she looked into the fire and wished herself far away. She blew out the candles in the wall sconces and took a lone candlestick to the bedside table. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the door. She knew he would come, and he did.
Within the hour he rattled the door handle.
It was only a matter of time before she would have to receive him. But not tonight, not with the fury he had on him.
When she did not answer he pounded the door with his fist.
Chloris wrapped her arms around herself, rocking slightly to and fro, afraid that he would batter down the door. Mercifully, he did not.
She heard him cursing and then his footsteps thundered down the stairs.
“To your mistress’s bed,” she whispered.
And please, please let her fall pregnant.
Despite her silent prayer, the cold hard truth of the matter reared in her mind. If Gavin could not father a child, and his mistress was his alone, this purgatory could go on indefinitely. She crawled into the bed and pulled the covers over herself. It was not cold. The fire in the grate was well stoked and burned low and steady. Nevertheless, she shivered because the images Gavin had forced into her mind brought no comfort.
In the morning she would begin her quest to find employment. She would query her friends. She was well educated and could perhaps find work as a governess. An acquaintance had recently taken on a teacher for her children. The teacher was a widow woman fallen on hard times. Could she find a similar position? There had to be a way to escape this marriage and build a humble, honest life for herself.
An honest life. That’s what Lennox had called it. She had been living a lie, thinking wrongly that appearances, vows and loyalty mattered.
Watching the candle flicker and grow faint, she let her mind drift away from the hell that promised to lie ahead and instead let her memories dance into the flame, back to that first night in Torquil House, when Lennox’s touch had brought fire into her body.
He’d encouraged her body to blossom, like the flowers opening to the sun. And he was her sun, the passion he had unleashed in her was nothing compared to what followed. As her eyes grew damp, she closed them. She said his name, over and over in her mind, led by instinct. For some reason, it calmed her. She pictured him taking off her glove that first night and wished that she not been married. Then, if he had asked to run away with him as he had, she could have done so without moral doubt or recourse.
One thing she knew with full certainty, there would never be any man in her heart, for she gravitated to him and him alone now.
Even if she never saw him again, her heart would always be his.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tamhas Keavey’s horse reared up, almost dislodging him from his saddle. He held tight to the reins, cursing as he was forced to counterbalance his weight against the rise of the horse. When its front hooves landed with a thump, the horse backed up, neighing loudly and tossing its head. Below the animal’s hooves Tamhas caught sight of a glimmer of light in the mud. Tamhas glanced left and right, but could see nothing on the ground.
“They have laid traps,” he shouted back over his shoulder. “It is their evil spells. We will find a way to get past.”
He ground his teeth together, furious with the situation. It had taken him a long while to convince the bailiff and the prominent members of the council to agree to this plan. He’d had to bring in the minister to speak about the evil ways of those who practiced witchcraft. Resistance was higher than he expected, many claiming Lennox Fingal was a decent man, a man who had brought new custom to the burgh. Others said that the practice of hanging and burning was unchristian in itself. One man had even gone so far as to say that the law about witchcraft would be changed, stating that there would be shame about what had gone on during the time of the witch trials and it would cast a shadow on Scottish history. Another had openly admitted he had sought them out to treat his gout. He described the simple herbs that a young woman had offered him. They were ground up and made into a liquor for him to sip, and he said that helped purify his blood and cure his condition. Others were most impressed by his tale.
They were fools, the
lot of them.
Three of Tamhas’s men had already been dislodged from their horses along the route, and now it seemed he, too, struggled to get near the accursed place. Tamhas could see the house through the trees, though, candlelight glinting in the window even though it was daylight. Behind him he could hear whispers of concern, the men exchanging their thoughts on the matter, but Tamhas ignored them, determined not to let a little bit of the Devil’s trickery stop him from delivering these heathens to justice. He yanked on the reins and forced his mount to move away from the troubled spot, skirting several tall trees as he attempted to lead the men to their destination.
When they finally forged a path close to the clearing in front of the house, Tamhas saw that the door stood open. The inhabitants were gone. The candles in the window burned low, as if they had been left there all night. His chance to bring them to justice had gone, too. “Damn them all to hell. That is where they belong.”
The bailiff drew his horse alongside Tamhas, then turned back to shout instructions to the gathered men. “Secure your mounts at the forest edge. We may need to examine the tracks that have been left here.”
Tamhas looked down at the clearing. The ground had been heavily churned, and recently, the tracks of several large carts heading out by the looks of it. Frustrated, he dropped from his horse. He ventured up the steps and pushed the door wide-open.
“Traps might have been set,” a man called out.
Now they think so, now when it is too late. Tamhas clenched his jaw, then gestured briefly in acknowledgment and made his way into the building.
The place was stripped. Doors stood open, empty drawers hanging out of the dressers. The large items of furniture were still there, but few personal belongings. Fingal and his cohorts had left in a hurry. With the bailiff’s men following behind, Tamhas went through every room in the house.
In the parlor he found ashes still smoldering in the grate. Evidence, no doubt. Turning the remains over with the poker he stared into the grate. It was Lennox Fingal’s determination to establish himself in Saint Andrews that had convinced Tamhas they would stay, no matter what. There was some small sense of satisfaction that Lennox Fingal had been forced to accept defeat on that point, but it was not enough to pacify Tamhas’s need to destroy the vermin. They had gone because they knew he was on their trail. Had his cousin Chloris sent word?
Tamhas cursed beneath his breath as he considered her foolish behavior, how it angered him. He’d had her watched, though, and he was sure she’d not had the opportunity to leave and pass the word before she left for Edinburgh. Yet somehow they had been one step ahead. He had not gone to all this trouble—engaging the support of the council, the bailiffs and his men—to end it now.
“They fled,” he informed the men as they gathered outside, “but not long since. The fire is still warm.” He turned to face them, glad to see several of them still had the bloodlust in their eyes. “I will ride after them and bring them to justice. Who is with me in my quest?”
“Are you sure of that, Master Keavey?” the bailiff said. “If they are gone from the burgh it is no longer our concern. We can spread the news, warn others who might encounter this unholy coven. But I say we celebrate the day they have left this place, for we will no longer be subject to any wrongdoing on their part.”
Tamhas frowned. The bailiff’s job was to secure the burgh for which he was responsible, so Tamhas could not fault him for his view on the matter. It did not tally with his own, however. Cousin Chloris and her weakness for the Witch Master still needled at him, and the fact that his wife had let slip she’d had dealings with the blaggard only angered him all the more. He was determined to sniff Lennox Fingal out, to oust him as a servant of Satan and see him strung up.
“I understand your position, Bailiff. However, it is in my nature to be sure that they will not return. My peace of mind and my family’s safety demand that of me.” He looked beyond the bailiff at the gathered men. “Who rides with me?”
Some of the men stayed silent, unsure about the value of the ongoing chase. However, there were enough who were still eager to give him support. He looked their way. A dozen or more of them said “aye.”
Before they left he examined the tracks once more. “They are headed inland, away from the coast.”
“Sire,” one of the older men called out, and drew his attention away.
Peering down at the sight, Tamhas frowned. Then he saw what the man had seen, the hoofprints of a large mount traveling a different path. Glancing first at the sky and then at the landscape on the horizon, he gained his bearings. The carts had, as he first thought, headed inland—to who knew where. This lone rider had gone a different direction. To Cupar or beyond?
Beyond. It was a journey he knew well—for it crossed Fife to Edinburgh.
Words from that revealing letter he had intercepted crossed his mind. The hope that you will agree to our arrangement will sustain me. Until then, I remain devoted to you.
Could it be that Lennox Fingal was set on having Chloris? Had he ridden after her? Anger built steadily in Tamhas as he considered the possibility.
What arrangement did that letter refer to? Chloris had said it was a magic ritual, but there was more to it. “Damnable stupid bitch,” he muttered beneath his breath, “I would have sired a child for you if you had been more amenable toward me.”
The implications continued to unfold.
If Chloris’s husband discovered what had gone on while his wife was under Tamhas’s protection, a large share of Tamhas’s wool trade in Edinburgh might be at risk, for it was Gavin who had established the majority of his commercial contacts.
That threat, and the real possibility of shame brought on his family because of Cousin Chloris’s dalliance, meant that there was only one possible path for Tamhas to take—to follow the lone rider.
He had a dozen men, and Lennox Fingal was alone. Even with witchcraft on his side, he was well outnumbered. With a sense of satisfaction, Tamhas headed to his horse, assured that he was finally going to see justice done.
* * *
Lennox rode as if he could beat time by doing so, watching the sun’s passage across the sky, trying to stay ahead of it and only slowing when the path became more treacherous. Even then he urged Shadow on, picking his path carefully, always taking the shortest route, no matter how hard.
By midday he had skirted the Burgh of Cupar. There was still a full day’s ride ahead before he reached Edinburgh. Chloris was already there and subject to her husband’s will. It turned his belly to think of her sacrificing herself, returning to the life she’d confessed she hated, in order to protect his people. It was her trust and her honest faith in people that meant she could not see her cousin had no intention of keeping his word. Of that Lennox was sure. Chloris’s nature was kindly, even though her wish to discover the best in people had so often been unfulfilled. He would not allow her tentative trust in him to be shattered.
Then it occurred to him that Chloris might have realized he had come to her because of his feud with Keavey. Keavey might have pointed that out to her when he read the letter. The thought of it made Lennox wish he could change what had happened, that he had realized from the outset how much she would come to mean to him.
He was so deep in thought that he jolted in his saddle when his horse stumbled. Grasping tightly to the pommel on his saddle in order not to be thrown, he saw that the ground had become rocky. They were passing through a glen flanked by a rocky ravine on the left-hand side. A stream trickled through moss covered rocks to his right. Heavy gorse and heathers covered the spot, the only bare patches where it was too rocky even for the hardy gorse to thrive. “Easy, boy, easy.”
When he soothed the beast, he realized Shadow needed to rest. Perhaps he did, too. Several nights had gone by with little sleep. With a long ride ahead he had to pace them both. Forced to dismount he reluctantly took a respite, leading Shadow to the stream. Alongside the horse he ducked down and scooped the icy water in his
hands, splashing his face, sharpening his senses. Then he sat on a nearby rock.
Exhaustion was creeping in on him. He needed his full faculties when he arrived in Edinburgh. He could not afford another misstep. Three days earlier he’d been confident in his endeavors and fully expected to have Chloris by his side now. An error on his part. He would not let her return to that sad fate, to be unloved and unwanted, and worse still—beaten and berated. But he had to be able to think clearly.
Resting back against the mossy rock, he allowed his eyes to close.
It was images of Chloris that swam in his mind. Chloris breathless with need for him. Chloris on the verge of agreeing to forego her previous life, to be with him. For a woman like Chloris, who had battled her desire to stray so fiercely, that was no easy choice. It made him long to hold and shield her. The tightness in his chest knotted over again, and he forced himself to consider images of her in a better life, vowing to make it real. He could never offer her the privileges she’d had before, but he could give her much more in other ways, and he would cherish her.
Drifting on vows and promises, Lennox dozed.
The sound of voices did not reach him for some time.
When they did he inhaled sharply, but forced himself to keep his eyes closed as he sought awareness. Someone had approached. An urgent discussion was taking place nearby. Lennox kept still. He honed his senses then attempted to rise to his feet as he opened his eyes.
“Stay down.” The man who stood over him had a pistol pointing at his chest.
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