Chapter Fourteen
Gerard had always been an early riser, up with the sun. This morning was no different than any other. Yet, somehow, it felt as if his world had tilted on its axis.
Twenty-four hours earlier, he’d been plotting his pursuit of a killer. He’d followed Mrs. Smythe’s trail from Glasgow. She’d killed a man there, or so they believed—a seedy sort who trafficked in stolen antiquities.
Now, Gerard was playing a waiting game.
Blast it all, he wanted to be chasing his quarry, not sitting about like a lame animal, leaving the predator in full control.
Restless with his rampaging thoughts, he left the bedchamber and made his way quietly down the corridor. At this hour, the household staff might be up and about, but he’d be better off if the others stayed snug in their beds. After an evening of jovial conversation and an abundance of drink, the odds of encountering the other guests at the break of dawn were slim, indeed.
He needed time to think. Time to get the lay of the land and map out a strategy to defend Evelyn should the assassin rear her head.
With any luck, Mrs. Smythe would have more pressing matters to pursue than trying to silence a woman who’d seen nothing more than a veiled figure.
His hand clenched in a fist, tense with frustration. Bugger it, he knew better. The killer had a penchant for tying up loose ends. And damn it, Lady Evelyn had become a witness simply because she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Where would she make her appearance? Tracking Evelyn to this estate would not prove much of a challenge for the cunning wraith. The wedding was evidently the talk of the Highlands.
Beneath his jacket, his holstered Webley remained within easy reach. He had spoken the truth to Evelyn the night before. Any of the men at the manor house would face down a threat to her safety. Houghton and McLeod knew of the danger posed by the assassin, while a convenient cover story involving a threat of robbery had served to put the household staff on full alert for any intruders upon the grounds. With Harrison and Fergus also on the premises, he knew the grounds would be protected.
If only the past did not plague him. He’d failed Abby. He had not been able to protect the woman who had meant the world to him.
The bullet had been meant for him.
Damnation, she shouldn’t have been there. Shouldn’t have been in the bastard’s path.
The memory of that hideous moment would plague him to the end of his days.
He headed through the solarium to the gardens. From there, he’d make a casual survey of the estate grounds and determine the primary vulnerabilities. The assassin was known for her calculating, strategic ways. Mrs. Smythe would not come charging wildly in and create a stir. No, she’d wait her chance, gain an understanding of the goings-on at the manor house, and seize a favorable opportunity to strike. He’d be ready for the viper when she showed herself.
His boots crunched over a gravel path, and then he made his way over the garden stones that had proven Evelyn’s literal downfall the day before. He spared the battered patch of earth a glance, chuckling to himself at the thought of Evelyn’s dirt-smeared face peering up at him as she lay on her back, struggling to maintain some semblance of dignity in the most undignified of situations. She’d showed spirit and humor. Other lasses might’ve dissolved into tears. Not Evelyn. She’d brushed off the dirt, swiped her dampened curls out of her face, and met Lady Houghton’s derisive words with a feisty, brazen attitude that had set the other woman back on her heels.
A sudden noise jarred him from the strangely pleasant thought. Leaves rustled, not more than a hundred feet from where he stood. Who else would be lurking about at this early hour?
Resting his hand on his revolver, he followed the sound.
“Bloody hell, what do you think you’re doing?” Harrison stared at the weapon Gerard kept at the ready. “I presume you were not intending to use that thing on me.”
“Bah,” Gerard said with a scowl. “I should’ve known it was ye. Always the first to get down to business.”
Harrison brushed past him. “It is imperative that we identify the weaknesses of this place. I am glad to see you’re tending to business before the women are up and about. God knows you do not need any distractions.”
“What are ye talking about?”
“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
“Bollocks.” Gerard ground out the word. “What man would not look at a bonny lass? Dinnae try to tell me ye do not think the lass is a beauty.”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that.” Harrison stopped in his tracks, examining a bush that had suffered recent damage. “This looks as if someone used this as a hiding spot.”
“It’s possible.” Gerard agreed. “Stay alert.”
The men followed the stone path from the garden to the surrounding grounds. The estate was massive. Surveying the land for potential threats would take more than a morning to accomplish.
“I must go into the city today,” Harrison said. “I’ll check in with McShae. Graham may have regained consciousness.”
“If Graham can offer some description of his attacker…even some notion of the sound of her voice…what he knows might lead us to her. We also need him to tell us if the assassin got away with what she came for.”
Harrison nodded gravely. “If Mrs. Smythe is still hunting the Dragon’s Eyes, she may suspect Lady Evelyn knows something about the jewels. She may be even more driven to find her.”
The thought twisted like a dagger in Gerard’s gut. “I questioned Lady Evelyn last night. She does not believe the old man was a thief playing a ruse. She suspects I’m up to something.”
“Clever girl.” Harrison stopped again at the edge of a robust creek. The sun’s first rays reflected on the rushing water. “You are up to something. The lass is keen-eyed and quick-witted. She’d be daft not to question the circumstances of your arrival here so soon after hers.”
“She is wary of falling victim to Graham’s assailant. She said as much last night.”
Harrison began to inspect the rope bridge that crossed the stream for any sign of tampering. “If Mrs. Smythe has learned Lady Evelyn is here, she may attempt to infiltrate the wedding. Given the number of guests expected for the event, it would be damned near impossible to spot an intruder. Would Lady Evelyn recognize the viper?”
Gerard shook his head. “The assailant obscured her features with a dark veil.”
“Could she describe the woman’s height and build?”
“Lady Evelyn has not volunteered that information… I did not want to question too vigorously. She’s already suspicious.”
“True.” Harrison tested the strength of a knot in the bridge’s suspension. “See what you can piece together. We do have one advantage.”
“And what might that be?”
“We will have the element of surprise in our favor. The assassin will not be expecting us.”
“At this point, it’s about the only damned thing we do have in our favor. Have ye forgotten about the ball?”
“Ball? What in bluidy hellfire are ye talking about?”
So, he’d caught his ever-prepared brother by surprise. Harrison only slipped away from his proper British diction and into his brogue when he was knocked off-kilter.
“That’s a detail Simon must have left out when he dispatched ye here. The wedding party is expected to attend Lady Spencer’s summer ball tomorrow night. Bring appropriate attire when ye return from Inverness.”
“This is a complication I had not anticipated.” Harrison scowled. “Mrs. Smythe could find her way into that affair without much difficulty… She could pass for one of the staff or a guest.”
“Aye,” Gerard agreed. “Ye can see why yer presence is needed.”
“Can Lord Spencer be trusted with this intelligence?”
“From what I understand, he’s a blustering sot who could not be trusted with knowledge of how the Queen prefers her tea, let alone a matter of dire consequence.” Gerard rubbed his neck, easing away a sudden, tension-filled ache. “Houghton and McLeod have been entrusted with the information. As ye know, those men are stout-hearted souls. Between us, we can keep a close eye on Lady Evelyn and the other women. We will keep them safe.”
…
Mornings were cruel. Or so Evelyn had felt since girlhood. By nature, she much preferred the quiet and calm of the night. At the dawn of each day, she’d lie in bed, eager to snatch a few more minutes of sleep. What was it about the first moments of every day that made morning seem such a struggle?
Bonnie’s enthusiastic pounding on her door and calling of her name did not increase her fondness for the time of day. Good heavens, a rooster had nothing on the woman. Tempted to pull her pillow over her head, turn over in bed, and pretend she did not hear Bonnie’s voice, she heaved a sigh and pushed herself up on her elbows.
“We’re taking a walking excursion,” Bonnie called through the door. “Shake yerself out of bed and come join us.”
“What time is it?” she said, her dry throat sounding like she’d croaked the question.
“It’s daylight, lass. Time to get yer bones up and about.” Bonnie’s laugh rippled to her ears. “Open the door. I’ve something to tell ye.”
“Very well.” Evelyn slid her legs over the side of the bed. Goodness, the floor was chilly. The coolness cut through her sleepy haze, and she hurried to the door.
As soon as she’d opened it, Bonnie bounded inside. “I do hope ye’ll come with us. It’s a beautiful morning. And, I saw yer new beau roaming about the grounds.”
“New beau?” Evelyn scoffed. “You’ve been misinformed.”
“Well, if you’re not setting your cap for him, you’re daft.” Good-natured humor shone in Bonnie’s eyes. “From what I can tell, he hasn’t even bothered to shave this morning. I do adore a man with whiskers.”
“Then you are welcome to him.” Evelyn gave her head a little shake, as if to clear away the morning drowsiness that lingered like a fog. “Besides, how do you know he has not shaved? Your vision cannot be that keen.”
With a grin, Bonnie whipped out a pair of opera glasses from a pocket on her skirt. “I always carry these. Ye never know when they will come in handy.”
Evelyn let out a little gasp. “You’re serious.”
“Get dressed and come along to breakfast. We’ll take a stroll around the grounds. A little fresh country air will soothe your nerves.” Bonnie stowed her glasses in her pocket. “And, of course, the sight of a handsome man will not hurt.”
“Well, I thought he would still be here.” Bonnie propped her small binoculars in front of her face, scanning the grounds. “I must admit a bit of disappointment.”
Evelyn bit back a giggle as Sally cocked her head. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“That strapping man who came to Evelyn’s assistance in town. I noticed him earlier.”
“You were spying on him?”
Bonnie gave a hapless little shrug. “I would not call it spying.”
“Oh, Bonnie, what are we going to do with you?” Grace spoke up. In the sunlight, her hair gleamed more red than gold.
Catriona looked as though she’d bitten into a lemon. “In any case, shall we observe the landmarks on the grounds? There are several structures that were here when Robert the Bruce ruled the land.”
“How fascinating,” Evelyn said with genuine interest. How refreshing it would be to speak of something other than men, hats, and the embarrassments she’d suffered since arriving at this place.
Catriona led them past the remains of a small crofter’s cabin. Crudely constructed of stone, its thatched roof had deteriorated, revealing sizable gaps. Sparing the simple house little attention, she motioned for them to proceed. They made their way through a lush meadow filled with brilliantly colored wildflowers, coming upon what appeared to have been a chimney made of stone.
“Behold, the Witch’s Hearth,” she said with a theatrical flair.
“Such a peculiar name,” Grace mused.
“There is an interesting story connected with this structure. Legend has it that a century before the birth of the English queen, Elizabeth, a sorceress made her home in this place. After a spate of misfortune, the local villagers turned against her. They burned the place to the ground. This is all that remains.”
“A witch? Ye dinnae believe that nonsense, do ye?” Bonnie scoffed.
“Who am I to say?” Catriona replied. “I’m only telling ye the legend. Whether ye believe or not…that’s up to ye.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn spotted rapid movement. A large blackbird swooped low, its caw filling the air as it landed atop the chimney. A large, flat stone served as its perch. It stilled, staring down at them. An eerie chill crept over her.
“Ye’re going to tell us that’s a harbinger of doom, aren’t ye?” Bonnie said with a laugh.
Before Catriona could answer, the bird darted away.
“Well, I for one do not believe in such nonsense.” Grace moved nearer to the chimney. “Witch or no witch, it’s merely stone and mortar now.”
As she spoke, another movement caught Evelyn’s attention. The bird’s perch shifted before her eyes.
The melon-sized rock slid forward, teetering in place. A fraction more, and the stone would topple to the ground.
“Grace! Move!”
The American blinked in confusion. “What…what are you—”
There was no time to explain. With a hard shove, Evelyn slammed her weight into the stunned woman.
They tumbled to the ground in a flurry of petticoats and skirts.
“Have you gone mad?” Grace cried.
The rock crashed to the ground. Dirt and grass flew up around them.
Pushing herself to a sitting position, Grace stared wide-eyed at the stone, and at the crater it had formed in the precise spot where she’d stood moments earlier.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured, a heartbeat before her eyes rolled back into her head.
Good heavens! Evelyn didn’t realize an unconscious woman could weigh so much. She dragged in a gulp of air, summoning her strength as she cradled Grace’s head and shoulders against her chest.
“Oh, my. Oh, oh, my. She might’ve been killed.” Catriona was pale. Nervously wringing her hands together, she paced before them.
“She wasn’t hurt,” Bonnie said, spreading out her skirts as she crouched at their side. “There’s no harm done. Grace has suffered a shock, ’tis all.” A hint of a smile lit her round face. “And just in the nick of time, here comes the cavalry.”
“The cavalry?” Evelyn repeated dully, even as a shadow fell over her.
Lifting her gaze, she met the eyes of the Highlander who’d developed such a talent for finding her sprawled on her bum in the dirt.
He quirked a brow. “Again?”
At his side, his brother took more decisive action. Dropping low, he took Grace’s weight upon himself, supporting her easily in his arms.
“What’s going on here?” Harrison asked.
As he spoke, Grace’s lids fluttered open. She looked up, meeting his eyes. And then, she smiled. “Oh, it’s you. What…what happened?”
“That is what I’m trying to determine,” he said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Has she been injured?”
“I don’t believe so,” Evelyn said. Gerard McMasters extended a hand, assisting her to her feet.
“She suffered a close call,” Bonnie said. “But Evelyn saved her.”
Evelyn stared at the stone and the small crater it had created. Saved her. She swallowed hard against the bitter lump of emotion in her throat.
Surely, this had been a simple mishap. The chimney was ancient. The mortar holding the stones in place had been worn by time and weather. It wasn’t possible that the stone’s fall could be connected with the crime she’d witnessed in Inverness.
Still, she trembled with shock and a twinge of fear. Grace might have been killed. Thank heavens she’d spotted the stone.
This was an accident.
Wasn’t it?