The Key to His Castle: A Clean Time Travel Romance (Clan MacGregor Book 5)

by Blanche Dabney

  She groped in the darkness, her hands feeling for whatever it was she’d tripped over. Her hands found it and she realized what it was a second later.

  Then she screamed.

  10

  When Gavin heard the scream he had only just reached the battlements. It was time to survey the army that were busy eating and drinking and laughing just out of the range of MacGregor bows. It had been his first proper chance to go and see for himself how the besieging army was settling in.

  For the previous few hours he had been sitting in the great hall, center of a group of men, all of them talking at once.

  When he held up a hand silence immediately cut through the conversations like a knife through a Frazer.

  “Gentlemen,” he began, scraping back his chair and getting to his feet, placing his hands on the table in front of him. “This bickering is getting us nowhere.”

  He looked down at the parchment laid out for all to see, the long list of the castle’s defenses. “The details are all well and good but I only need to ken one thing and one thing only. How long can we hold out?”

  Bruce ran his finger down the list of figures, muttering to himself as he added the columns together. “Water, if they do not poison the supply, six weeks. Food, if we are cautious, three months.”

  “The water will refill when the rains come, is that not right?”

  “Aye, if it rains.”

  “This is Scotland. It will rain. We can simply sit this out while the blacksmiths get to work.”

  “More swords will not be enough to get us out of this,” Alan said from the back of the group. “Frazer men are marching this way. If they join the outlaws, we are doomed.”

  “We have fifty fighting men already,” Gavin said. “Even without more armor, fifty men in a castle like ours could fend off the King himself and all his armies. Do not look so worried.”

  “The problem lies elsewhere,” Bruce continued, tapping a line that had been hastily added to the bottom of the parchment. “If disease takes hold, we will struggle.”

  “How badly?”

  “Some herbs and ointments, we have more than enough. Lemon balm, we are low, moss too. Worst of all is firewood for warming the infirmary, much of it has not yet dried out and winter is coming.”

  “What of last year’s supply?”

  “Sold while we were held in the dungeons.”

  Gavin swore under his breath. The outlaws had ambushed so many traders on the way to and from the castle that his people had been forced to sell a quantity of herbs and firewood while he was a guest of Mungo Frazer.

  Bruce continued. “Also the charcoal might run out before the blacksmiths can complete their work.”

  “How long?” he asked out loud.

  “If the outlaws haven’t given up in a month we must prepare to freeze and leave tending the wounded to those who pray.”

  “The physician will have his herbs. We just need to work out how.”

  “Why not take the battle to them?” Lachlan asked. “It will be the thing they least expect.”

  “They currently outnumber our fighting men four to one,” Gavin replied with a shake of his head. “In here we hold the advantage. They will never storm these walls. Take them head on and there is a chance we will win, I grant you. There is also a chance the castle is left undefended with the women and children sitting ducks.”

  “Are you afraid of a straight fight?”

  Gavin stood up straight, staring coldly at Lachlan, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Ask that question again.”

  Lachlan held his gaze for a moment before turning his head away. “No, my laird.”

  “We have a month,” Gavin continued, turning his attention back to the group. “We let them assault as many times as they dare in the next few days. Taunt them to do so if needed.”

  “Attrition.” Bruce smiled. “Lower their numbers,” he added, slapping Gavin on the back. “I like your style.”

  “Each time they approach we take out as many as we can. Once we’re sure we have the upper hand, then we ride out and slaughter them, send a message that the MacGregors will never be cowed on their own land.”

  “What about the old crone?” John asked. “I hear she cannot be killed by any mortal blade.”

  “We will find out the truth of that soon enough,” Gavin replied. “Now out to the battlements for a recce. We have talked long enough.”

  The men left, talking as they went. Bruce remained with Gavin, the two of them walking more slowly out of the great hall. “There is something wrong about this,” Bruce said. “Mungo Frazer is mad to think about risking a frontal assault on a castle as well defended as ours. His army will be wiped out.”

  “Perhaps he wants the outlaws to soften us up first, come later when we are exhausted fending them off.”

  “Or perhaps he hopes to sneak someone inside to open up the gates for him and let him walk right on in. Someone you would not suspect. A woman perhaps.”

  Gavin thought of Heather. Was it possible he had been distracted by her beauty? Could she be working for Mungo Frazer? Standing by her side, the idea seemed impossible but away from her with the knowledge that the Frazers were on their way, he was no longer so certain.

  He paused as they reached the courtyard, feeling the huge burden of responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders. The decisions he made in the coming hours and days would make the difference between his clan’s survival and their annihilation. One mistake would be enough to doom them all.

  Bruce had said something he’d missed.

  “Hmm?”

  “I said, perhaps we should send a messenger to Mungo. Seek a negotiation.”

  Gavin shook his head. “You were set against that. What changed?”

  “This time we would not trust to good faith. We would be prepared. Take a knife to the talks and kill him before he opens his mouth. With Mungo gone, the clan would crumble and his castle would be ours. In one swoop you could double the size of your lands.”

  “You are saying I should murder a man at a peace negotiation?”

  “He kidnapped a man. Would this be much different?”

  “I would go to hell for the crime.”

  “Or perhaps God would reward you for preventing future bloodshed. Can you picture it, my laird. The highlands in our grasp, the Frazers gone for good.”

  Gavin shook his head but in the back of his mind a spark remained. Perhaps what Bruce had said wasn’t so foolish after all. He could not rely on outside help. He needed to resolve this matter himself.

  There were also rumors the English king was planning another foray into Scotland. What if he were to come while the MacGregors were besieged?

  He had told the men they could hold out against a king’s army but privately he was not so sure.

  They would have plenty of time to construct mangonels or trebuchets, all from MacGregor wood. In fact, for all he knew that was what the outlaws were building out there while he pondered his next move.

  “Are you well, my laird?” Bruce asked. “You look confused.”

  “Thinking,” he replied, shaking his doubts away. For now he just needed to focus on one thing at a time. “We will send a messenger to Mungo tomorrow. See if we can’t persuade him that siding with outlaws is a foolish move. I find it hard to believe that he trusts them to remain loyal to him no matter what happens here. I suspect the old crone is pulling his strings as well as the outlaws.”

  He walked up the steps onto the battlements. The view from the parapet chilled his blood. Fires had been lit. The outlaws were laughing, drinking, talking. The sound of sawing and hammering continued in the distance despite the darkness.

  Indeed, when he looked, there was a glow somewhere down in the valley. “Quite the workshop they have going on,” Bruce said. “What are you thinking? Smithy?”

  Before Gavin could answer a scream rang out from the keep. “That was Heather’s voice,” he said, already sprinting down the stairs. “Man the gates, send two to the s
allyport. Another six on me.”

  He was already at the foot of the stairs, racing across the courtyard and into the keep. He grabbed a torch from the wall to light his way, heading to the second floor. Something had happened to Heather. He prayed he was not too late.

  He burst into the corridor that led to her room, skidding to a halt when he saw her standing there looking down at the floor. He sighed with relief. “You’re all right,” he said, relief washing over him as he walked toward her. “Why did you scream like that?”

  He noticed what she was looking at a moment later. At her feet was a body lying in a pool of blood. Slowly, Heather turned around, her eyes filled with tears. In her hand she held a dagger, blood dripping from the end of it.

  Gavin looked down at the body again as six of his men ran up the stairs behind him. “Wait,” he shouted to them as they began to run toward Heather with swords drawn. “Hold.” They came to a halt, staring at the body on the floor and then at Heather.

  “Give me the knife, Heather,” Gavin said, holding his hand out toward her.

  She looked down at it as if unsure how the dagger had come to be in her hand. He reached forward, taking it from her, not relaxing until it was safely tucked into his belt.

  “Who is that?” John asked behind him. “What have you done?”

  “It wasn’t me,” Heather said, kneeling beside the body. “I…I tripped over her. I couldn’t see in the dark.”

  John walked over to the body, turning it so they could all see the victim’s face. “You killed Susanne,” he said, looking up at Heather. “Why?”

  “I…I didn’t.”

  “You will come with me,” Gavin said, grabbing her arm and shoving her into her bedchamber, pointing a finger at her. “Do not move.” He turned to his men. “John, you watch the body. The rest of you spread the word. There is a killer in the castle.”

  “The killer is behind you,” John said. “Why are you shielding her from justice?”

  “Do not question your laird. Two of you take the body to the chapel and wake Charles to pray for her soul. No one is to disturb me until I emerge. Is that clear?”

  John scowled up at him but said nothing.

  “Good.”

  He slammed the door shut, locking himself in with Heather. She was standing in the middle of the room, looking down at the blood on her hands. “She’s dead,” Heather said. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”

  “Come,” Gavin said, taking her by the arm and leading her over to the ewer of water on the table. “Let’s clean that off.”

  “Susanne’s dead.”

  “Shush now.” He dipped her hands in the water. She was as pliable as a doll, still muttering she same words over and over. “You’re in shock.” He finished drying her hands, noticing the goblet of wine left over from her dinner. “Sit down. Drink this.”

  He handed her the goblet but her hand didn’t move. It almost slipped through her fingers but he was quick enough to catch it. Holding it to her mouth, he tipped it up, glad to see her swallow.

  “Susanne brought me this,” she said, running a finger along the goblet rim. “I can’t believe she’s dead.” All of a sudden her arms shot up, sending the goblet flying. “They think I killed her.” She looked terrified, scrambling to her feet and backing up against the wall, not taking her eyes off him. “I didn’t kill her, I swear.”

  “It’s all right,” he said, crossing the room and placing his hands on her shoulders. “I ken you didn’t kill her.”

  She didn’t relax but at least her eyes lost their wild look. “But…but you looked so angry.”

  “Someone has killed my most loyal of servants. There is a murderer loose in my castle.”

  Her shoulders sagged under his hands and before he knew what was happening her face was buried in his chest. He held her close, saying nothing, letting her cry. He wanted to hold her forever.

  “How do you know I didn’t do it?” she asked without looking up, her voice muffled by his chest. “I was standing over the body with the knife in my hand.”

  “The last place a killer would stand. Did you see who did it?”

  “I saw only a light vanishing down the corridor.”

  “Tell me everything. Omit no detail no matter how small.”

  “I was in bed, I was asleep. I was dreaming of…” Her voice fell away and her chest hitched before she was able to continue. “I woke up and there was a candlelight in the corridor. I could see it through the crack at the bottom of the door. I went to open it but the light vanished around the corner. I tried to go after it when I tripped over…over Susanne. I can’t believe she’s dead.”

  She began sobbing again. He held her, one hand on the back of her head, his mind moving swiftly. Who would want Susanne dead? And why now?

  He thought of how the men had looked, the anger in John’s face, as if he wanted to take Heather outside and have her hanged at once. The thought made him furious.

  He vowed to protect Heather from anyone who might hurt her. If his men had come any closer, he would have killed them to protect her. That thought both comforted and chilled him. Were cracks appearing in the clan? Was his focus on her causing problems that might magnify in the pressured environment of a siege?

  He felt the softness of her hair, the scent of her rising to his nostrils. He sighed, the feel of her against him felt good despite the circumstances.

  “You must be cautious,” he said at last as her tears gradually came to an end. “I will give you the key to this room and you must keep it locked. Go nowhere without me until the killer is found, I could not bear it if anything were to happen to you.” He pulled away from her.

  “You’re not going, are you?” She grabbed his hands. “Please, don’t go. I…I don’t feel safe.”

  “Nothing will happen to you, I swear it.”

  “Susanne probably thought the same.”

  He winced and she noticed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” he replied. “I should not have left you alone. I will sleep outside your door tonight.”

  “I would feel much safer if you slept inside.”

  He shook his head. “It is not proper.”

  “Please, just for tonight. I couldn’t bear to be alone. Everytime I close my eyes, I see her there, all that blood.”

  “All right, I will sleep in here but just for tonight. Now come, you must rest. The hour is late. You need your sleep.”

  “I do not think I will ever sleep again.”

  She was wrong. By the time Gavin helped her into bed and wrapped the blankets around her, she was yawning. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You will be safe, I promise.”

  Her eyes closed slowly. He watched her for a few moments until a knock at the door disturbed his thoughts.

  Crossing the room he unlocked it, peering out to find Bruce looking in at him.

  “The body is in the chapel,” Bruce said. “Is it true? Did she kill Susanne?”

  “I thought you knew better than to listen to gossip,” he replied. “She is no more a killer than I am a seamstress.”

  “John said she had the bloody knife in her hand.”

  “And do you think a killer would stand over the body for so long holding the murder weapon?”

  “It did sound rather odd, I must admit. Poor Susanne.”

  “She will be in Heaven by now. Her troubles are over. Ours are just beginning.”

  “But if Heather did not kill Susanne. Who did?”

  “That is what we need to find out. How goes the siege?”

  “The outlaws settle for the night. A few more Frazers have come but no more than a dozen. I have guards in each tower. If they try anything overnight, we shall know quick enough.”

  “Make sure no guard is alone. The killer is still out there somewhere and until they are found we must be cautious.”

  “What about you?”

  “I will remain here for the night.”

  Bruce raised his eyebrows a
nd Gavin waited for the inevitable accusation but it didn’t come. “Very well,” Bruce said instead. “I will return to my post.”

  “Come to me at once if anything happens.”

  “Of course.” He looked as if he was going to say something but he merely stood there looking past Gavin at the sleeping form of Heather in the bed.

  “What is it? You want to say something, I can tell.”

  “Be careful. You cannot be certain she is who she claims to be and people will talk.”

  “Good night, Bruce.” He closed the door, locking and then bolting it.

  “What was that?” Heather asked, eyes half open.

  “Nothing important. You sleep.”

  She lay back down, rolling onto her side, knees curled up toward her chest.

  He crossed the room and tucked the blanket around her, making sure she was sound asleep before returning to the door. He sat with his back against it, looking across the room at her as the candle burned down.

  His men might be suspicious of her but it only took one look at her sleeping form to confirm what his heart already knew. She was no killer. She was no spy either.

  That was good to know but it merely led to another problem. He was going to have to deal with the suspicions arising in the castle.

  The best way to do that was to find the real killer. His eyes closed and he found himself thinking about Susanne. She had been working for him since his childhood. A good fifteen years older than him, he’d had more than one cuff around the ear from her while he was growing up, most often for stealing food from the kitchen while she was managing the cooks.

  She was a good person. She had served the clan well. Never marrying, she had spent her life looking after the MacGregors and this was how she’d been repaid?

  It was scant consolation to think she had been ensured a place in Heaven. His fists clenched as he thought about her last moments. No doubt they were filled with fear and bewilderment. Had she seen the killer’s face? Did she die knowing who had done it to her?

  Had she any enemies? The only one he could think of was Keir, the man she’d rejected when he’d proposed marriage. That had been ten years ago though. Could he hold a grudge that long? It seemed unlikely but he made a mental note to question Keir in the morning.