Twelve
Alex had avoided Lena for two days because he was certain she’d demand he tell her about his past, and it made him ache to deny her. Donald had been correct in saying the nightmares were coming more frequently now. Ever since Lena had become his wife and they had returned to Duart, he awoke nightly with his body drenched in sweat, his blood surging through his veins, and his heart pounding against his ribs. It seemed the closer he became to his wife, the more his past haunted him. He could not understand why, unless it was as Lena had said and the memories wanted to be released. But the idea of telling her what had occurred with Gillis turned Alex’s blood cold.
How would Lena trust him to protect her when he’d failed so miserably to protect Ginny and Thomas? The shame of Ginny’s death and what had happened to Thomas, and to himself ate at him. It was a deadly wound festering inside him, and he could not imagine telling Lena of it, of the way he’d been defeated. He was laird now, and lairds kept their weaknesses hidden. They could not afford to reveal them.
His da had taught him that well. He’d explained it most meticulously after discovering Alex tied to a pole in Gillis’s barn. To kill Gillis would have brought the Steward’s wrath upon them, and at the time, his father had not been able to afford having the Steward as an enemy. The moment Alex’s da had set him free, he had wanted to kill Gillis, but his da had been unbendable.
Dunnae ever speak of what has occurred, he’d said. His da would see to it that Gillis suffered for his crimes; he’d vowed it. Moreover, his da had said he’d spoken to the Steward and had assured Alex that the other apprentices would be safe. Then he’d ordered Alex to depart for home with him and his men. Alex had wanted to leave, had wanted to be gone from the place as quickly as possible, but not they had been merely half a day’s ride away when he had been plagued with a feeling that the Steward would not keep his promise to send Gillis from the Steward’s home.
When Alex’s father had denied his request to return to the Steward’s home and check on Thomas and the other boys, Alex had snuck away and ridden hard back to the castle, with his da and his da’s men chasing him. They’d only just reached him as he arrived back at the Stewart hold. Alex had found Thomas, but it had been too late for him and for Gillis. Alex could nae say—then or now—that he was sorry Thomas had killed the man, but even so, Thomas had not been spared Gillis’s abuse. In truth, he had received much worse than Alex had. Alex’s father had interrupted Gillis’s games and prevented him from doing to Alex all the things Thomas had endured.
Alex knew what had happened to Thomas because the lad had told him in a flat voice with dead eyes. It was inconceivable. Alex had retched repeatedly upon the telling.
“Alex.”
He jerked his head in the direction of Donald’s voice. He waved a hand for the man to enter the solar. “Where is she?”
“The kitchens—same as yesterday and the day before. She spends most of her time there.”
Alex nodded, relieved and glad she was making friends with the women of his clan. “Keep a watchful eye on her, and report back to me if—”
Donald held out a sealed letter. “I intercepted this. Yer wife handed it to Broch with instructions for him to take it directly to Dunvegan.”
Alex looked at the letter, then at Donald. “And Broch relinquished it to ye?”
Donald smiled. “Aye. I told him ye kenned all about the contents of the letter and that ye’d already instructed a man to take it because ye felt certain Iain would want Broch to remain here watching over Lena rather than deliver a letter that simply tells Iain his sister is well.”
Alex smiled grimly. “Let us hope that’s all the letter conveys.”
“Ye fear it conveys unhappiness and tells him of the nightmares?”
Alex rubbed his chest, which had become tight. It had been feeling thusly since the last time he’d held his wife in his arms. “Possibly. And with Iain already suspicious of my behavior when I departed Dunvegan, God above only kens what he’ll do if Lena tells him of my nightmares and what has occurred.”
“Ye’d nae let him take her if he came, would ye?” Donald asked as he handed the letter to Alex.
Alex turned the letter over in his hands, fingering the seal—his seal. Where had the little minx found it? Her growing bravery gratified him even as it concerned him. He ran a finger over the wax, hating to open it and betray her trust but feeling he had little choice. If she had written of her unhappiness to her brother, Alex needed to know. He didn’t want to feud with Iain, but if the man tried to take Lena from Alex, greatest friend and ally or not, Iain would have to kill him first. Unless—his stomach clenched—unless she truly desired to go. He’d never keep her against her will, though to part with her would bring him misery. He understood this truth in the depths of his soul.
He’d come to care greatly about Lena, and the emotions were not driven by a simple need to protect her. They were complicated. She made him happy, and she banished the darkness during the day and at night when she was in his arms. Only when he was alone did it return. How he wished he could hold her as he slept, but he could not chance it. Nor did he want to be unprepared for what may come. With that thought, he broke the seal, unfolded the letter, and read it.
Shock moved through him like a blast of frigid wind. It stole his breath and momentarily left him unable to think. He stared at the letter, her words blurring and then coming back into focus.
“Jesus,” he muttered.
“What? What is it?” Donald asked, his voice filled with concern.
As Donald knew all about the task the king had given Alex, he simply said, “Lena’s sister is the traitor. She’s been sending her da word of what the king is doing.”
“What say ye?” Donald bellowed.
Alex held up the letter for Donald to read, and as the man did so, the color drained from his face and his lips thinned before pinching together. Alex recalled Lena’s words with each expression that came to Donald’s face, feeling as if Alex himself were rereading the letter. Lena had written that Marsaili had confessed that the only reason she came to Duart was because her father had blackmailed her to do his bidding by withholding the location of her child, who he’d told her had died some years ago.
Alex was shocked to learn that Marsaili had a child, but there was not time to linger on that at the moment. The more pressing matter was that Lena had written to her brother not only to warn him of Marsaili’s dilemma, as Lena had put it, but to ask for advice. It seemed Marsaili had told Lena that Alex was going to the Steward to join forces with him. Lena had stated her belief in Alex’s faithfulness to the king, heartening Alex, yet she had not confided in him about Marsaili. Instead, she’d written to her brother. His wife did not completely trust him, and soon, she’d trust him even less. It was his appointed task to make himself appear to be breaking ties with the king, and there was no better way, no more perfect opportunity, than to seek out Marsaili and make her think that he wanted to join forces with her to bring down King David.
It made Alex ill to think upon what he had to do, and it set fear in his heart that he’d lose Lena because of it. If all occurred as it was supposed to, Lena, Iain, and all the highlanders who considered him a traitor would understand that he’d been working for the king from the start. But Alex worried Lena might not forgive him for hiding so much from her. His wife had made it plain that she wanted to know his secrets, as he’d demanded to know hers, yet he could not share this or the truth about his past with her.
Would he lose her over this? Perchance not physically, but emotionally? He curled his hands into fists as his heart pounded a hard rhythm.
“What are ye pondering?” Donald asked.
Alex looked to his longtime friend. “I’m considering how quickly Lena will flee from me when she hears that I have taken her letter and told her sister that I will be traveling to the Steward and taking her with me.”
“What makes ye believe Marsaili will confide in Lena?”
“Because,” Alex said, steepling his fingers in front of him, “she did so before. The lass dunnae wish to betray her family or she would nae have told Lena anything at all. But Marsaili felt she had to. She will do all she can to protect Lena from me, even as she plots to use me to find her bairn.”
“When will ye speak with Marsaili?” Donald asked.
“Tomorrow,” Alex answered, thinking of how he had not held Lena in his arms in two days. He wanted one more night with Lena because he feared that once the wheels of the plot were set in motion, it may very well be the last night he would have with her.
“Lara, where is Greer?” Lena asked when Greer did not appear in the kitchens for the second day in a row.
“She sent word through Baldwin that she has a malady of the stomach.”
Lena frowned. It could be true, but her gut told her it was an excuse not to be seen. Lena knew well about making excuses to hide the bruises on one’s face or arms until they faded enough that people would not gape. In her time with Findlay, she’d lied about having a great many ailments while the real sickness had been in him.
She strummed her fingers on the counter, debating whether she should mind her own business or stick her nose where she knew she was not wanted but was likely needed. It didn’t take long for her to decide that she could not do nothing. Too many people had done exactly that when Findlay had been abusing her, and she refused to do the same thing. She’d rather risk being wrong and making Greer angry rather than risk being right and doing nothing to help the woman.
“How do I get to Greer’s cottage?” Lena asked Lara. “I’d like to take her some soup and bread.”
“She’ll nae be pleased if ye do,” Lara gently warned. “She’s been ill many a time before, and myself and others in the kitchen have tried to bring her food. She turned us away without opening the door even once.”
Lara’s revelation made Lena all the more certain her instincts about Greer were correct. “Perchance it is because none of ye bother with her when she’s here in the kitchens,” Lena said softly, hoping to help solve two problems in one day.
Lara’s mouth slipped open, but the woman promptly shut it as her face reddened. Lena feared she’d overstepped until Lara let out a sigh and nodded. “Ye’re correct, and I’m verra shamed. I used to speak with her and think her a friend, but then the laird’s cousin plotted against him, and the whispers amongst the men and women of the clan were that the laird suspected Hamish.” She quirked her mouth. “I suppose I avoided her, as did most others, because of what her brother might have done.”
“Her brother’s doings are nae Greer’s fault,” Lena said fiercely. Anger beat within her breast as she distinctly recalled her own feelings of shame at what Findlay had done to her.
“Aye, my lady, and I’m going to apologize to her the minute I see her. I’ll speak with the other women, too.”
“Oh, no, that—”
Before Lena could voice that speaking to the others might worsen matters, Lara bellowed for the women to listen to her and told them how she and they all had wronged Greer. When the women quickly agreed, many exclaimed how embarrassed they were at how they’d acted and how kind Greer had always been to them. Lena was astonishingly pleased by the way the women seemed to be truly sorry and came together in a scurry of activity to put a basket together for Lena to take to Greer.
Just as Lena was about to depart the kitchen with the basket, Marsaili entered. “Where are ye going?” she asked.
“I’m taking some soup to Greer,” Lena answered, feeling a niggle of guilt as she thought of the letter she’d asked Broch to deliver to Dunvegan. She’d yet to tell Marsaili she’d written to Iain, and she did not have the time to talk to her about it at the moment.
“I’ll walk with ye,” Marsaili offered.
“Nay,” Lena hastily replied, fearing Greer would be less inclined to talk honestly with her if Marsaili was there, as well.
Marsaili scowled and leaned close to whisper, “I need to speak with ye.”
Lena patted Marsaili’s hand, assuming her sister was simply worried that Lena was still vexed. “I want to speak with ye, too,” she promised.
When she went to turn away, Marsaili grabbed her by the elbow. “Did ye tell yer husband about our conversation?” she asked, concern etched into her expression.
Lena shook her head. “Nay. Why?”
Marsaili nibbled on her lip for a long moment before finally shrugging. “I was simply fashed ye may have,” she mumbled. But when her sister did not look her in the eyes when she spoke, Lena felt certain she was not telling the truth. And as much as she wanted to discover what was prompting these questions, she needed to see Greer first.
“Wait here,” she stated firmly, giving Marsaili a narrow-eyed look. “We will speak of truths when I return.”
When Marsaili’s cheeks flushed red, Lena knew her sister was keeping something from her. With a shake of her head to let Marsaili know that she understood she was being deceived, she swung away and strode out the door.
Greer lived on the outskirts of the MacLean lands, so by the time Greer’s cottage came into view, Lena’s irritation with Marsaili had cooled and she’d thought about what she should do. She felt guilty that she’d not yet confided in Alex about Marsaili. She honestly did not believe Alex would join forces with the Steward, but she supposed there was the slightest fear that she was mistaken. She could not let this continue, however. It was wrong not to confide in him and to doubt him.
Before she could think upon it further, shouting from the cottage drew her attention. First a man’s voice boomed threats, and then she heard Greer screech. Gasping, Lena drew up her skirts and raced toward the cottage with the basket banging against her thigh and the soup sloshing out of the container, over her hands and splashing her skirts.
When she got to the door the shouting had died to a dull roar. “I dunnae wish to leave, Hamish!” Greer wailed.
“Well, we must, and that is that,” Hamish bellowed.
“Why must we? Why will ye nae explain yerself?”
Lena’s hand hovered beside the door to knock, but she froze, listening to the conversation.
“Ye want explanations? Fine! I knew that the laird’s cousin was plotting to take the lairdship. And more than that, I helped Archibald.”
Lena almost dropped the soup, she was so shocked.
“Oh God, Hamish!” Greer cried. “What did ye do? What did ye do? Why? Why would ye do such a thing?”
“He kens!” Hamish growled, his words slurred. “The MacLean kens, and he waits like a wolf, sly and wily, to catch me. I’ll nae stay here and wait for death, stay here and be degraded any longer.”
“Why’d ye do it, Hamish? Why did ye help Archibald plot against our laird?”
“I’m more than just a guard!” Hamish bellowed. “I deserve respect and my own land. Archibald vowed it! The MacLean gives me naught! He did nae ever give me a thing, and now he has demoted me to the stables. He has stripped me of everything. The men laugh at me, and the women whisper behind my back. We are leaving!”
“I’m nae leaving!” Greer shouted.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and Lena could do no more than gasp before Greer collided with her. The air whooshed out of Lena’s lungs as she stumbled to the ground and dropped the soup and the basket. Greer tumbled down beside Lena, slipping on the soup and landing on her knees.
When the woman shoved her mass of heavy hair off her face and Lena saw her bloody lip, she cried out, but the sound was muffled by the roar of Greer’s name from her brother, who came thundering out the door. “Greer!” Hamish bellowed, tripping over them but catching himself before he fell on his face. He reeked of mead, and his eyes were glazed. “Ye!” he roared, pointing at Lena. “How long have ye been standing here listening?”
Lena’s face went hot with guilt, and she cursed inwardly.
Hamish’s gaze narrowed as he glared at her. “I’m sorry to say, ye must die.”
Terror swept through Lena’s body, and she dug her heels in to propel herself backward, but before she could move, Hamish reached down and grasped her ankle.
“Hamish?” Greer asked, shock in her voice. “What are ye doing? Ye kinnae truly mean what ye said!”
Lena gave a tug on her left leg, but Hamish tightened his grip until sharp pricks shot through her ankle.
“Release her!” Greer cried, grabbing Lena’s leg, as well, and tugging.
“Stop!” Lena gasped when Hamish yanked in the opposite direction as Greer did. It felt as if they were going to rip her leg in two.
Hamish’s face twisted as he looked at both of them. “She kens the truth, and once the MacLean has confirmation, he will hunt me down and kill me. She must die. I’ll make it seem an accident, and we will slip away before she’s discovered.”
His voice was so devoid of emotion that Lena shivered. She’d not spoken because she feared anything she say would worsen matters. She’d seen the look on Hamish’s face before; it had been one Findlay had worn often. It was the look of a man with no remorse.
“We must kill her,” Hamish stated again.
Lena’s breath caught in her chest, and she barely contained her protestation.
“Have ye lost all sense?” Greer gasped, releasing Lena and attempting to stand, but Hamish kicked out, hitting Greer in the chest, and she fell backward against Lena once more.
Lena’s nerves tensed. “Hamish—”
“Dunnae talk, or I’ll kill ye here and slow.”
She choked back a cry, frightened and furious at once. She’d not survived Findlay to die at the hands of this man.
“She’ll nae tell!” Greer assured her brother in a voice one would use to reason with a petulant child. Greer turned a pleading, warning gaze on Lena. “Ye’ll nae speak of this, will ye, Lena?”
Lena immediately shook her head to confirm Greer’s words, but Hamish’s abrasive laughter told her the man knew the promises to be false. He yanked Lena toward him hard, causing her to slide across the ground. He bent down, released her ankle only to latch on to her wrist, jerked her to him, and spun her around until her back was pressed to his chest, his arm now heavy around her waist and a dagger at her throat. Lena’s stomach clenched, and she struggled to keep her breathing even. She locked gazes with Greer, praying the woman would help her.
“Perchance ye’re correct,” Greer said, frowning fiercely at Lena. “Ye should kill her.”
Lena felt her belly hollow out with frightful uncertainty. Was Greer simply playing along, or was she serious?
“Finally, ye speak sense. A good thing, too, Sister. For if ye had tried to fight me, I would have been forced to rid myself of ye, as well.”
Greer did not look surprised, which actually gave Lena a bit of hope. If Greer had realized her own life was at risk, mayhap she was just saying what her brother wanted to hear. Or mayhap she was doing as her brother commanded to save herself. Lena’s stomach roiled with the thoughts. She felt as if she was going to be ill, but she forced herself to take slow, shallow breaths in a desperate attempt to calm her nerves. She had to escape. That’s all there was to do.
“Take her to the stream and drown her,” Greer said matter-of-factly.
Sweat trickled down Lena’s back at the cold pronouncement of how she was to die. “If Alex discovers what ye’ve done, he’ll kill ye. Slowly,” she added. “Painfully.”
“I dunnae doubt it,” Hamish responded. “Yer husband dunnae forgive or forget.”
“He forgave ye, from what I hear,” Lena said, deciding it might be better to keep him here and talking. Maybe someone would come looking for her soon. Maybe Greer had a plan. Of course, Greer had told her brother to take Lena to the stream and drown her. Bile rose in Lena’s throat. Was she ruining Greer’s plan or foiling her own murder?
Hamish laughed, the sound bitter. “He dunnae forgive me naught. He simply makes me shovel horse dung while waiting to discover the truth of my betrayal. When he does, he’ll kill me. This is nae a life! Yer husband has nae ever given me my due.”
Greer’s gaze widened for a moment, and Lena had thought she saw fear, but the emotion was already gone. “Aye!” Greer added. “Me neither!” she said, pointing an accusing finger at Lena.
“Finally!” Hamish boomed. “Ye ken what I have been trying to beat into yer thick skull all this time.”
Greer nodded and gazed at her brother with a look of fondness that made Lena’s scalp prickle. “I see now, Brother! Together, we can bring down the MacLean! We will have our revenge!”
“Aye!” agreed Hamish. “I would have been right hand to Archibald! I would have been revered! Time for ye to die, my lady!” he snarled.
As Hamish turned and started away with her, Lena kicked and hit him to no avail. He simply dug the knife point sharply into her throat until she cried out and stilled.
“Hamish,” Greer called, her voice sounding sweet, like that of a loving sister. “Drown her on the side where the cave is. Use rope to tie rocks to her feet so she’ll nae be found.”
“Aye, Sister. ’Tis good to ken ye’re back with me as ye once used to be!”
Dear God! Lena had no notion whether Greer was betraying her or trying to help her, and if she was attempting to aid her, could anyone even get to her in time?