“Not a chance, Wife.” He grasped her hand and stepped around her, leading her back up the stairs.
“We can look through the magnifying glass Master O’Rourke left up there—after you’ve tupped me, of course. Maybe we’ll be able to see Gregor and your foster brothers.”
The small hairs on his body stood up, and he came to an abrupt halt. “Master O’Rourke was in the turret?”
Her smile faded at the change in his tone and demeanor. “Aye. I saw him in the bailey the same day your family arrived. I followed him up.”
“By yourself?”
She nodded. “Gavin, what’s wrong?”
“My men didn’t stop him? Or question him?”
“Nay. There was only one guard at the main door, and he let him in without delay. The master builder was in the turret by himself. I thought he was looking at the cathedral. But…”
“But what?”
“I surprised him, and he was angry. He tried to hide it, but I could tell. I thought it was because the cathedral roof was cracked, that he was worried and embarrassed by the work.”
Gavin’s heart pounded at the danger she might have been in, and he squeezed her close. He could have lost her before she was even his.
“Maybe that’s all it was. Let’s go up to the turret and see what he was doing.” He drew his sword, making her gasp. “Doona worry, love. ’Tis probably nothing. But stay behind me just in case and do whate’er I tell you.”
He passed her a candle from a wall sconce and took one in his free hand for himself. The need to hurry rode him hard, but he refused to leave Deirdre behind.
He also needed to know his son was safe. They exited the stairwell on the next floor. Deirdre nudged his back, and he gave in to the urge to race down the hall to the nursery. The door was closed, and he pushed it open without a sound, his heart pounding. Deirdre leaned in beside him. Her breath came in sharp gusts as they peered inside.
Ewan was tucked into bed, fast asleep, a toy warrior clutched in his hand. Beside him, Annag sat in a wooden chair, her sewing forgotten in her lap as she also slept, her head resting against the chair back. Deirdre let out a relieved sigh, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder before quietly closing the door.
He squeezed her tight for a moment, then kissed her forehead. “Let’s go.”
They retraced their steps to the stairwell and continued upward. The door at the top was barred shut, and after placing their candles back in the wall sconces, Gavin cautiously opened it. The only thing that attacked them was the wind, and he sheathed his sword.
“Your hair,” he said to her.
She tucked her long locks under her plaid and raised the hood, then followed him onto the turret, holding her plaid tight to her body.
“It’s here, Gavin.”
She picked up a large magnifying glass from the top of the merlon. It looked heavy, and he took it from her carefully. “Where was he when you first saw him?”
“Right here,” she said, “but facing outward.”
“In what direction?”
“Toward the cathedral, and he was holding up the glass.”
Gavin handed it back to her. “Close your eyes and picture him when you first came through the door. Show me his exact position and exactly how and where he held the glass.”
She turned around and closed her eyes. She was still for a minute and then shifted her position and her arms several times.
Finally, she stopped. “Like this.”
He moved behind her and then bent his knees, so he was at the master builder’s height, and looked out. It was close, but Deirdre wasn’t angled toward the cathedral. Nay, she was shifted slightly to the left, facing the forest in the distance, and the glass didn’t seem to be at an angle useful for anyone to peer through. Nay, it was held too low to see the cracks in the cathedral roof.
He kissed Deirdre’s head as he straightened, then took the glass from her and stepped toward the battlements. A cold fury grew in his chest as he lifted the glass and looked toward the sun. Then he caught the sun’s rays on the polished surface and winked them toward the forest.
Deirdre gasped beside him. “You’re signaling by reflecting the sun.” She looked toward the forest. “Isn’t that in the direction of the quarry?”
“Aye,” he said, sounding grim. He was coiled in anticipation, expecting a flash of light from the forest to confirm his suspicions—that the master builder was a spy, and he was secretly communicating with someone, maybe even an awaiting army, in the forest near the quarry. Beside him, Deirdre also appeared to be waiting on tenterhooks.
After a few minutes with no response, she sighed. “Maybe he was just looking at the cathedral roof? He could have turned just before I came out.”
“Maybe.” Gavin changed position and looked at the roof through the glass, easily seeing the cracks Deirdre was referring to. One way or another, it was bad—O’Rourke was either a spy or an incompetent master builder and had to be dealt with. “I need to speak to him now.” He put down the magnifying glass.
“I’ll come with you,” she said, grasping his hand. “I can question him about the roof and simple mathematics and geometry. If he’s who he says he is, he should know the answers to my questions.”
“Nay, I need you to stay here. If he’s volatile or has men with him, you may be in danger. We’ll bring him back to the castle and you can speak to him here, aye?”
She nodded, then threw herself into his arms. “Be careful.”
“I will, lass. I’ll take men with me.” He squeezed her close. “In the meantime, I need you to stay up here and keep signaling with the glass toward the forest to see if we get a response. Understand? That will tell us immediately if O’Rourke is a spy and the direction our enemy is most likely hiding.”
“Aye.”
“If you feel you have to leave, go to our bedchamber or the nursery and bar the door until I come for you. I’ll send messages to Gregor and my brothers. I canna imagine they went far. They should be back soon.” He cupped her face and kissed her, pressing their lips together for a long moment. “We’ll finish what we started up here when I get back, aye?”
She nodded again, and he could see her chin trembling as she tried to smile through her upset. He kissed her again, briefly this time. “I love you, Deirdre. I’ll return soon.” Then he turned and didn’t look back—or he never would have been able to leave.
He drew his sword once he was on the stairs. As he got to the bottom and entered the great hall, several of his men, including Clyde, were entering the keep.
“I need five men,” Gavin commanded. “We’re going to the cathedral.”
“Aye, Laird,” Clyde said. He signaled the guards to take their positions within the keep as he waited for Gavin by the door.
One of the guards eyed Gavin’s sword as they passed each other. “’Tis just a precaution,” Gavin said. “I doona know yet if anything is amiss.”
The man nodded and took his position by the foot of the stairs that led to the upper levels, also drawing his sword.
Gavin skirted the remaining group of guards rather than walking through them as he hurried to the outside door, a habit trained into him by Gregor.
“Did you know the master builder was in the keep?” Gavin asked as he approached Clyde. “Deirdre spoke to him up on the turret a few days ago. I want to know who was on guard that day and why he was the only guard in the keep.”
“I’ll find out what happened,” Clyde said as he opened the door and held it for Gavin. “Are you expecting trouble?”
“Aye. But keep it between us for now.” Gavin stepped to the side and waited for Clyde to go down the stairs first—another precaution Gregor had instilled in him. “We have a spy in our midst, maybe several, and I intend to rectify it. My wife and son are in the keep. Naught can happen to them.”
�
�Not to worry, Laird,” Clyde said. “We’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”
* * *
Deirdre held up the glass and winked the sun’s rays off it toward the forest until her arms ached. No one had yet returned the signal. She laid the glass on the merlon before she dropped it and looked toward the cathedral. It pained her to know the cracks were there and to think of how many years of work would be lost when they had to tear down the dome and start again.
Not just time lost, but money too. Although, unlike when she was living at Lewis’s keep, money did not seem to be a problem. Aye, the MacKinnons were a wealthy clan, and Gavin was the pinnacle of that.
Not that she cared. He could have been a farmer and she would have been ecstatic to be his wife. The joy and pleasure she’d found in his arms had left her dazed and greedy for more. This feeling between them truly was a gift, and she’d told him so many times since they’d been locked in their bedchamber together—usually when she was in the throes of passion, which had been often.
Any worries she’d had about Gavin finding her unattractive had been alleviated. Aye, the man couldn’t keep his hands, mouth, or eyes off her. And any worries he’d had about her receptiveness toward him and enjoyment of their physical intimacy had been quashed. Loudly.
Movement below caught her eye, and she looked down to see six men on horses riding from the castle toward the cathedral. Relief rushed through her to see her husband wasn’t alone. She picked up the glass and peered through it toward them. Aye, that was him, and it looked like Clyde with him. She would have been happier if Gregor and his brothers were there, but they would return as soon as they received Gavin’s message.
Raising the glass, she looked again at the cracks in the cathedral, trying to imagine the corresponding weakness from inside the dome. Where were the stress fractures coming from? Arches were all about even distribution of weight, and if the stones weren’t laid in a uniform manner, the whole thing would eventually come tumbling down.
She sighed and lowered the glass to rest her arms again. Gavin’s group were over halfway to the cathedral. She’d better go back to her signaling, not that she thought anything was going to come of it. She suspected the master builder was not truly a master builder—and might never have the talent to be one—but she doubted he was a traitor.
Lifting the glass, she pointed it toward the forest and caught the sun’s rays again, signaling to all the birds, deer, and wild boar that lived there. She glanced over at Gavin and his men, who were almost at their destination.
She’d just turned her head back to the trees in the distance and decided to rest her shaking arms, when a flash of light sparked at her from the forest. Deirdre’s breath stilled in her lungs.
A spy. The master builder was a spy!
“Gavin!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, but the wind whipped her words away. “Gavin, stop! He’s a spy! Stop, Gavin!”
It was as if the blustery gusts were laughing at her, howling in glee and eating up her cries. Terrified, helpless tears poured down her face. “Gavin!” she tried again.
The riders were almost there. Deirdre picked up the magnifying glass and turned it on the cathedral so she could see them. She tried to focus on the men below, but she’d pointed it too high, and her arms were shaking.
Something on the roof caught her eye as she was panning toward the door, and a chill ran down her spine. She tilted the glass higher for a closer look and gasped. An archer was crouched on the cathedral roof, an arrow nocked in his bow, pointed at Gavin and his men.
Below, the riders were dismounting.
“Gavin,” she sobbed quietly this time, knowing she couldn’t do anything to stop the attack. “I love you,” she whispered as he entered the cathedral with three of his men. Two of them stayed outside to guard the door.
Moments after it closed, the first guard crumpled to the ground, an arrow in him, followed by the other warrior seconds later.
Deirdre’s muscles gave way and she screamed in horror. The heavy magnifying glass slipped from her hands. It hit the stone floor with a crash, chunks of glass scattering everywhere.
The noise and sharp pain of glass bouncing off her leg shocked her into action, and she ran for the door. Gavin was a strong fighter. Maybe he and the others could hold off the enemy until reinforcements came.
She yanked open the door and ran into what felt like a stone wall. Stumbling back, she looked into the face of the guard who had stared so brazenly at her breasts the other day.
The same smirk he’d worn then covered his face now. “Lady Deirdre. Imagine meeting you here. All alone.”
Her stomach curdled in the same way it had when she was thirteen and her brother had trapped her in one of the stairwells at their childhood keep. She ignored it. “Please, there’s been an attack at the cathedral. I saw it happen from up here. Two of the guards were shot!”
“Good. Just as we’d hoped.” His eyes lingered, hot and lewd, on her chest.
She crossed her arms over herself protectively as she’d done before and retreated several steps. This man, this…blackheart, was part of it! He would do nothing to help Gavin.
The traitor stepped onto the turret and shut the door behind him with a sickening smile. “Your brother wants you alive, Lady Deirdre, and I can guess why. He’s twisted, that one. We’ve played together before.” The man shoved his hand under his plaid as he talked, his arm jerking.
Deirdre looked around frantically for a way out, but there was only one door, and the ground was a very long way down.
The traitor grinned at her distress. “Good thing is, I’ve got a partner, aye, and he has a job to do before we leave. So you and I have some time together.”
“What is your partner doing?” she whispered, dread twisting through her belly like a snake.
“Laird MacIntyre wants Gavin MacKinnon’s son dead. He wanted you dead too, but your brother fought for you. Unfortunately, he didn’t fight for Ewan. Pity, really. He’s such a bonnie lad. He would have been fun to play with too.”
He took his dirty hand out from under his kilt, which stuck out at a lewd angle. But Deirdre didn’t care. Nay, she had only one thought on her mind now. Her son.
The lion inside her roared, and she dropped to her knees.
Twenty-Two
Gavin gripped his sword loosely in his hand as he stepped into the cathedral. He’d left two of his men outside to guard the door. Sheamais had gone in first, Gavin next, Lorne and Clyde following to guard his back. It felt appropriate to have these warriors by his side—all three had been with him when he’d taken Lewis’s keep and found Deirdre and Ewan. Clyde had been his father’s second-in-command before he was Gavin’s second-in-command, and the bond between the MacKinnon men was strong.
The cathedral was empty and quiet. Still, every hair on Gavin’s body raised in anticipation of an attack. His heart rate picked up pace, but he was calm and in control—and aware of everything around him, from where the stones and tools lay on the floor and against the walls to the layout of the building and the locations of the exits.
“Master O’Rourke,” he called out. No one answered. Had O’Rourke already fled? He scanned the empty cathedral again, feeling uneasy. Something was off with the room, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.
They spread out in the open area. “Master O’Rourke!” he called again. “It’s Laird MacKinnon. I’m here to speak to you.”
He moved toward the temporary wooden stairs, gesturing for Sheamais to take the lead and climb in front of him. Clyde and Lorne moved in the opposite direction. He should have brought more men, but not many warriors had been left in the castle since the patrols had been stepped up.
And he hadn’t wanted to leave Deirdre and Ewan underprotected.
“Master O’Rourke!” he yelled a third time. Finally, he heard footsteps, and O’Rourke appeared at the top of the sta
irs.
“I’m up here,” he said, sounding sullen.
“Come down,” Gavin commanded.
“Nay, you come up.”
Sheamais stiffened. “How dare ye speak to—”
Gavin squeezed his shoulder, and the warrior stopped talking.
O’Rourke jumped his gaze from one man to the other, then shrugged. “Come up and I’ll show you the cracks in the ceiling. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Your wife is concerned about the stability of the arches?”
“That’s one of the reasons. Come down, Master Builder.”
“Nay. I willna come down just to be dismissed. You come up and I’ll show you what’s happened and why. ’Tis not all my fault—I inherited the problem from Master Cameron. My problem was I thought I could fix it without tearing everything apart.”
“You went into my keep. Up to the tallest turret.”
“Aye. So I could see the damage from the outside.”
“Why didn’t you come to me? Ask me?”
“You were occupied, and your guard let me in. Both times.”
The man had been in Gavin’s keep, near his son, his wife, and his sister at least twice? “Who was the guard?”
“I doona know his name. I told him what I wanted, and he let me in. If that’s a problem, then speak to him about it. Not me.”
Gavin gritted his teeth. This man could test the patience of a saint. “Come up to the castle with me. I want you to identify him.”
“First you come up here, so I can explain the problem. I want to show you the cracks and then have you look at the diagrams. They’re spread out over the tables up here, and I doona want to gather them up and carry them down. No one is here to help me with them—the men have seen the cracks and they’ve left. ’Tis bad fortune for them to be associated with a crumbling cathedral. I would have left too, but they stole my coin.” He turned and retreated into the second level.
“Master O’Rourke! Master Builder!” Gavin yelled, but the damned man didn’t answer.
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