Chapter 39
Ethan opened the cell door without unlocking it. Shocked that the two remained in the dungeon when freedom beckoned, especially for Rosalyn, he let the cell door creak closed by itself behind him.
Lachlan hadn’t moved, making Ethan wonder if his goal was complete and Rosalyn was just mourning her loss. Although her eyes were shooting daggers and her fiery hair looked like she’d ridden horseback through the wind with no hood for protection, his brother’s wife appeared more ready for battle than in need of comfort.
“You are the devil,” she screamed, “with blood on your hands.” Jumping to her feet, Rosalyn reached under her skirts and withdrew her dagger.
Ethan mentally cursed himself for not searching Rosalyn before he left her unconscious on the cell floor.
She circled in front of Lachlan as if to protect his body.
“Is he dead?”
“Aye, and you are responsible,” she said with venom in her voice.
He let out a wicked laugh. “Oh, my, that’s quite a compliment, m’dear. Most people call me irresponsible.”
She gave him an evil look and spat in his direction.
“Rosalyn, you are a widow now. But don’t fret. I look and sound just like Lachlan,” he said, walking closer to her.
“Donna flatter yourself. You are nothing like him.”
“Oh, then I’m better looking,” he said, taking another step toward her.
She took a measured step backward. “You disgust me.”
He cut the distance between them. “Pray tell, why the toy knife?” he asked, trying to provoke her even more.
“I would love to end your life right now. Leave you dead next to your brother. Your lives began together, ‘twould be fitting for you to die together.”
Now it was her turn to return an evil laugh. As he continued to stare, she began to slash the air in front of her with the dagger.
“I killed Greta,” he confessed and held up his stained hands. “This is her blood,” he lied, hoping to shock her. To break her. It was pig’s blood. But his false claim produced the desired result. Rosalyn stopped slashing, and her arm dropped.
As he stared at her, Rosalyn’s face took on an eerie, satanic expression. Her eyes grew frantic, like a woman who had lost all senses. Like a witch.
“You are going to hell,” she denounced in a flat tone.
“I never wanted to go to heaven, and there’s only one alternative. I’ve accepted that fate. Now you must accept yours.”
She glared at him. “If you plan to kill me, too, I’ll at least give you some nasty scars before you take the last of my breath,” she promised and began to slash the air again with her weapon.
No, he would not kill her. He required her assistance, even if she was going to give it unwillingly. So he needed another lie.
“Your mother and sister are being held hostage until Fyvie is awarded to us. I will pose as Lachlan, and as my betrothed, you will support this lie,” he demanded.
Rosalyn eyed him up and down, no doubt noticing he wore Lachlan’s clothes. Then her arm dropped and the dagger made a clanging sound when it hit the stone floor. Her shoulders slumped and her head bowed.
Ethan drew in a deep sigh of relief. James required a Macpherson at the hearing, and he needed assurance that he had the one Macpherson who could secure his fate with Fyvie. He was no longer confident his half-brother would award the castle in his favor without her.
When Ethan had left the great hall earlier, James had not even acknowledged his presence at the hearing. Once he’d hammered the gavel, James had turned his back on the proceedings and left the great hall through the owner’s corridor without a glance or nod in his direction.
No, Ethan could not trust a Luttrell and that was the same reputation he’d earned from all those Luttrells before him. As with most families, it was one of your own who stood in the way.
Thankfully, James was a half-brother, not a full-blooded Luttrell. When they had spoken last night it was clear James cared little about land or castles, particularly Fyvie.
But that was not the case for Ethan. Fyvie was where he’d bonded with his father, where he learned how his father had coerced the clan to do his bidding.
Soft sobs moved Ethan out of his musings and reminded him there was work to do before the hearing. He needed her to be presentable for the great hall.
As her gaze rose, he was greeted by a dull stare. The fire inside her was gone. A lifeless haze covered her features. The light in the dungeon had not changed since he’d returned, but the glow of her eyes, the spark in her movements, the fire of her hair, all had dimmed as if water had doused the flame of her soul.
Ethan moved toward her, stooping low to scoop up her dirk. With a few efficient movements, he secured the weapon within the sheath of his own dagger.
When her eyes swung to the dungeon floor, he grabbed her chin and tilted it up so she had to look at him. “I need your word that you will join me at the hearing and pretend I am Lachlan Macpherson.”
“What happened at the hearing this morn? Fyvie was not awarded?”
“You need not know the details.” The last thing he wanted was for her to know the support she had. “You had unlocked the cell door. Why did you miss the hearing?”
When her gaze darted to Lachlan, he had his answer.
“Love over land?”
“I prayed I could help him.”
“And your prayers were not answered. Perhaps you are going to hell with me? Your own lies may be too vast for penance.” He laughed when she threw him a disgusted look and he moved to embrace her, but she jumped backward and leveled a killer stare at him.
After that cold reception, he pointed her to the corridor. He walked with her back the way they’d come the night before. With the threat of her family’s lives in the balance, she said nothing to the servants they passed in the corridor, although each one they encountered appeared to struggle with hiding their surprise at seeing her.
The fact that she’d been missing due to a supposed illness helped disguise the fact that she did not look well at the moment. Ethan was grateful they’d walked through the lesser-traveled corridors without questions as they approached Rosalyn’s chamber door.
Just as he was reaching for the handle to the entry, a voice called out, “Rosalyn, there you are.”
Turning, Ethan spotted a dark-haired woman with her hands on her hips standing at the end of the corridor like a sentry.
He hadn’t expected this kind of disruption, wanting now to disappear inside her chamber with Rosalyn and shut the dark-haired demon out.
“Stop right there,” the woman threatened, rushing toward them.
“She’s one of my handmaidens,” Rosalyn said softly. “If you want me ready for the hearing, I will need her assistance.”
Ethan hesitated. Then he recognized the dark-haired beauty, the one he’d tried to bed to win Lachlan’s earldom. He had not planned for Rosalyn to speak to anyone before the hearing, and especially not Ursula, but when he looked down to assess Rosalyn again, it was clear she could not go to the great hall in her current state of dress.
He hesitated with on hand on the door lever and the other on Rosalyn’s arm, deciding not to let on that he recognized the vixen.
Ursula softened her hard gaze and gave him a forced smile. “Aye, Rosalyn is in need of my services,” the woman suggested, grabbing Rosalyn’s other elbow. As if she expected him to release her, Ursula started off toward the chamber door, but Ethan held on.
Strung between the two of them, Rosalyn cried out.
“She stays here,” Ethan growled.
The dark-haired beauty nodded and finally released her.
“Of course, my Lord,” she said with compliance in her voice. “Let me see what’s needed and then I can bring back the ladies in waiting. She will require at least three to set this right,” Ursula said in a disparaging way, looking Rosalyn up and down.
Ethan grunted. “Very well, but I will be right out here,” he promised.
~ ~ ~
Once she was inside the chamber and the heavy door was closed, Rosalyn collapsed into Ursula. Not wanting her sobs to reach the other side of the door, she sucked in her cries as best she could.
Ursula put her arm around her waist and walked her to the chamber bed. “Come, sister, sit with me for a moment. What has happened? Was that Ethan outside?”
“Aye,” she said between gritted teeth.
Ursula’s eyes narrowed at the news.
“This does not bode well. What of Lachlan?”
“I’d given him the paste, but he was not getting better. When Ethan appeared in the dungeon, I told him his twin brother was dead.”
She shook her head when Ursula’s eyes filled with concern. “I wanted Ethan to think Lachlan was dead so he wouldn’t be tempted to finish him then and there.” She sucked in her sniffles.
Ursula brushed the hair from her eyes in a comforting way and said, “Word in the servants’ quarters is that James made no award this morn. At least we can be certain he’s not banded with Ethan. Sir James demanded a Macpherson be present even though the servants stood in your place, led by Greta.”
“Greta’s dead. I fear for my mother and sister. Ethan will spill blood to get what he wants,” Rosalyn said through her tears.
Ursula appeared shocked by the news. “Greta was killed at the hands of Ethan?”
“I saw the blood on his hands myself. Now, he has my mother and sister. They could be next,” she choked out, her voice thick with emotion.
“Your mother and sister are not in danger,” Ursula said, looking straight into her eyes. “They are in my chamber. I just left them moments ago.” She leaned in closer. “He’s lying again,” Ursula stated plainly.
Rosalyn collapsed with relief against her friend’s shoulder.
“Of course he’s lying. That’s the language he speaks,” Rosalyn mumbled into the sleeve of Ursula’s gown, grateful that the reason she’d left with Ethan was no longer valid. She straightened and began wiping her tears with the edge of her skirt.
“What about Fyvie and the hearing?”
“I donna give a damn about Fyvie. I must fight for my family, they are what matter most,” Rosalyn said, her Macpherson spirit coming back. “Lachlan, first,” she said while rummaging around in her skirt for her pouch.
A big grin marked her success. Then as fast as her trembling fingers would allow, Rosalyn opened the pouch and withdrew the precious Philosopher’s Stone.
“Och! You are willing to sacrifice it?” Ursula asked, shaking her head like it was a sin.
“Yes, Lachlan is worth the sacrifice,” she replied with all the conviction she could muster. “Now you must help me. Use your power of persuasion on Ethan. Send back the ladies in waiting, but convince him you’ve been called by the bishop, or another lie. Somehow you must get to Lachlan.”
Then she gave Ursula a quick hug and pushed the stone into her hand. “You know what to do with this?”
Ursula nodded, her friend’s eyes gleaming like the gem in her hand. Then she held her fist high above the stone.
“Smash it,” her friend said with earnest and the motion to match.