by Annis Reid
“He plans to leave with ye, and I doubt ye will make it far before ye are found. I canna say what will come of ye, but he will certainly be brought back here to fulfill the promise made to my family.” Flora shrugged like it was just another day, no big deal. As if she didn’t care.
Did she think she was fooling anybody?
“Come,” Flora beckoned. “Before ye go. Truly, ‘tis a wonder.”
What was the harm in going to the top of the tower? It wasn’t like Flora could possibly do anything to her, since the tower would be guarded by Fraser men.
If only there weren’t so many stairs. It had been a long time since she’d been to the gym.
They climbed in silence, Flora walking a few steps ahead. The stairs ran around the inside of the tower in a spiral, following the curved walls. By the time they reached the top, Melissa’s thighs were burning and she could barely draw a breath thanks to her stays.
“Forgive me,” Flora murmured, shaking her head in sympathy. “Perhaps I am better accustomed to climbing then yourself.”
Melissa waved her off, mostly because she couldn’t suck in enough air to speak. She leaned against one of the posts supporting the pointed wooden roof, one hand against her stomach as she slowly caught her breath.
Only when she finally did manage to breathe normally did she notice they were alone. “Where are the guards?” she asked, looking around.
“I canna say. I have never been up here while the guards were present, now that I think about it.” Flora looked out over the rest of the castle, shaking her head in wonder. “Is it not grand? I imagine this is how the creator feels, looking down upon all of us.”
The girl had a thing about God, didn’t she? She probably considered herself roughly as important as God, come to think of it. She definitely had an ego.
“Tis impressive,” Melissa agreed, looking out over the countryside rather than over the castle. It was beautiful, truly breathtaking, trees of emerald green dotting equally green, rolling landscape. The village beyond the castle was busy, smoke rising here and there.
It would all be so different, and not after very much time, either. Once the Industrial Revolution hit, things would start progressing in a hurry. The land would never be quite as beautiful or pristine again.
“Have ye ever seen Castle MacNeill?” Flora asked, the question disturbing Melissa’s otherwise peaceful observation of highland life.
“Aye, that I have.” She turned to Flora with a sad smile. “I thought to myself at the time it must have been grand, indeed, before the tragedy struck.”
“Aye, I have heard of it ever since I was a wee lass,” Flora confessed, gazing over the busy castle. “My grandfather’s brother and their entire family died quite suddenly, though I suppose you are aware of that, as well.”
“A terrible tragedy,” Melissa murmured. Why was she talking about this? It hardly seemed like the sort of topic one would bring up at such a time. Then again, what did a person talk about while standing at the top of an unmanned guard tower?
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. This was all wrong. She should never have come up here, not unless she was absolutely sure they wouldn’t be alone.
Flora’s eyes shone when she turned to Melissa, her cheeks flushed with almost violent color that stood out against her otherwise milky skin. “I suppose ‘tis best Leith did not intend to remain in the castle much longer,” she whispered. “Otherwise, it would have been worse for ye.”
Melissa’s heart clenched, coming to a stop for a beat before taking off double time. “What are ye saying?” she asked, gripping the wooden railing sitting between herself and open, empty air.
“Ye see, I dinna have the chance to do to ye what my grandmother did to her husband’s brother.”
As Melissa’s terror-stricken mind struggled to understand Flora’s meaning, Flora took one heavy step closer. Then another.
“She did not wish to be the wife of the second son, ye ken. She wished to be the wife of the laird. When she wed my grandfather, his brother was ill after a terrible fall from his horse. There was a moment when it seemed certain he would die. He did not die. In fact, he grew stronger than ever.”
No, it was impossible, it couldn’t be true. Melissa stepped back, trying to keep distance between herself and Flora. The girl was insane, her eyes glittering with a bone-chilling light.
“Ye see, then, that she had no choice. She had to find another way to have what she wanted. She found that way. I would have added the tonic to your drink, but ye will not be dining with us before Leith takes ye away. He would be in a great hurry to take ye away from here, no doubt.”
Melissa dropped the attempt at a brogue, since she couldn’t focus on that and what she was learning at the same time. “Flora, are you telling me your grandmother killed the family? And everybody else in the castle? It wasn’t some strange illness or curse. It was poison. She poisoned all of them.”
“It took them quickly enough,” Flora shrugged. “A brief illness, a fever. And then it was over. My grandfather became laird, my grandmother his lady. Just as she desired. She did it for him, ye ken, as women so often do for their men.”
“She committed murder for him! That’s not the same. And you just got done telling me she wanted her husband to be the laird so she could be the lady. It wasn’t only for him. It was just as much for her. Did she ever tell him? Did he know?”
“Why do ye speak differently now?” Flora asked, tipping her head to the side. “I knew ye were not who ye pretend to be. I knew from the start, the moment I set eyes upon ye. I knew ye had deceived Leith in some way, working your wiles on him. Are ye a witch?”
“What? No!” Melissa backed into the railing, glancing over her shoulder with a gasp. It was a long way down.
And she knew now that Flora intended to throw her over.
“You’re insane,” Melissa spat. “You’re crazy. Listen to you, trying to convince yourself that you’re doing this for him. No wonder Leith wants nothing to do with you.”
The flush that had only colored Flora’s fair cheeks spread over her entire face and neck just before she lunged forward, her fingers hooking into claws.
Melissa shrieked, dodging just a second too late. Flora caught hold of her, her nails ripping at Melissa’s throat and chest. “I will kill ye!” she snarled, her teeth bared.
She was too strong, crazed and determined to have her way. Melissa managed to get a handful of her hair and pulled hard, tearing some of it from the roots. But that didn’t stop Flora. If anything, it enraged her more than ever, making her scream, her face just inches from Melissa’s.
She shoved Melissa into the railing, bending her back. Melissa reached for the nearest post, hanging on for dear life, digging her nails into the wood as Flora pushed and strained to send her over.
“He is mine!” she raged, her hands around Melissa’s throat when pushing didn’t work right away.
She was going to die here. And she would never see Leith again. He would blame himself for the rest of his life for putting her in this position, too. And he would be stuck with this murderous, insane woman who might poison him if he made her mad.
His face flashed in front of her again and again, his smile and his laugh and the way he looked at her when they were sharing the bed and how beautiful he was with the sun shining on him and she couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t die.
Melissa let go of the post and clawed at Flora’s face instead, desperate for air and to get away from the edge before falling over. Her nails made contact with Flora’s cheek and she dragged them down, tearing the skin and drawing blood.
Flora gasped, holding a hand to her cheek and staggering back, giving Melissa the chance to take a breath and pull herself upright.
“Ye will not have him!” Flora lunged at her again with nothing less than murder in her eyes, but this time, Melissa managed to duck out of the way.
Sending Flora tumbling over the railing and out into thin air.
“Oh, my God!” she gasped, reaching out instinctively when there was nothing she could do to stop what had already happened. Flora was gone.
A moment later, a scream rang out. Then another.
Melissa leaned over the railing, breathless and bleeding from the scratches Flora had delivered, her throat raw after being squeezed.
There Flora was, on the ground, her head twisted at an unnatural angle and a pool of blood spreading out from under it.
And the half-dozen screaming, weeping witnesses on the ground looked up to find Melissa standing there.
Looking guilty as hell.
19
Leith heard the screams from his chambers, where he gathered their things with the intention of finding Melissa and throwing her across the saddle if need be.
Screams of pure horror, of terror, of grief.
“Melissa,” he breathed, a sick certainty sweeping over him as he dropped everything and ran from the room, bounding down the stairs while the keep exploded in frantic activity.
“Fell from the tower!” some lass screamed, weeping as she shoved her way past him. “Broke her neck!”
He broke into a run, bolting outside and through the crowds of those who also ran for one of the guard towers.
“What happened?” he asked no one in particular, but his voice was nearly lost in the commotion from so many others raised over it.
Melissa. Melissa. Melissa. Each beat of his heart was her name. Melissa. Melissa. He should never have left her alone. The lass ought to have been by his side no matter what. Melissa. Melissa.
What a fool he’d been to believe he could protect her when he had not the sense to keep her close by his side.
The touch of her hand, the sweetness of her sleepy smile.
Her kiss.
Melissa.
He reached the tower and worked his way through the crush of bodies all gathering around to witness the horror. Never had he been unable to push his way through any crowd thanks to his size and strength, but never had he been in the presence of screaming, wailing women rooted to the spot and determined not to be moved for anything.
What he saw, he saw in glimpses.
A hand.
A foot.
A flash of cloth.
Blood.
Finally, with a grunt, he parted the crowd and worked his way to the front, his heart in his throat to compete with bile rising from his gut. If he’d lost her, there would be nothing left for him. He knew that now.
There was nothing without her.
Which was why the sight of golden hair, disheveled and blood-soaked, filled him with relief bordering upon sheer joy. It was not Melissa. The broken, twisted body on the ground in the shadow of the tower was not Melissa’s.
His joy lasted no longer than a moment, however, for he soon realized whose body he looked upon. And why several of the weeping women were staring at him in open pity.
“Flora,” he breathed. Yes, it was she. He had only just been in her presence, had nearly been kissed by her. It seemed impossible. She was just alive! Vital and breathing and wicked, certainly, but alive. And now?
Now, there was no life left in her. He had seen countless dead men and yes, several women, but this was unlike anything he had ever witnessed.
For he had never been betrothed to any of them.
“Where is Melissa?” he thought to ask, turning in a full circle and looking at everyone around. “Where is she?”
Several fingers pointed up to the top of the tower while voices cried out, overlapping statements about guards and being pushed and seeing her there. He could scarcely hear himself think over so much screaming.
He turned to the tower, then, intent on barreling through the doorway and getting to the bottom of what had taken place. If Melissa was in there, and alive, that was all he needed to know. They should never have come to this place. It had been a mistake all along.
There was no chance to enter the tower, however, as a pair of guards were already dragging a woman from it. This woman, he knew, and the sight of her even in such a state—gown torn, bloody scratches over her chest and neck, hair hanging in her face—brought him unspeakable relief.
Relief which lasted no longer than the blink of an eye, for he now understood what went on.
“Melissa!” he called out as the Fraser guards pulled her through the crowd of screaming, swearing people.
She craned her neck to see behind her, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Leith? Leith! I didn’t! I didn’t do it!”
“I know, lass.” He fought to remain behind her rather than allowing the enraged mob to push their way through. They wanted blood. This was a stranger, no one to them, and they believed she’d murdered a lass on her wedding day.
They would hang her if given a chance, and he knew it.
Just as he knew she would never have killed another living being unless there was a good reason. And Flora would, like as not, have given her just such a reason.
They poured into the keep, screams still ringing out. No longer screams of horror and grief but rather a thirst for vengeance. They wished for satisfaction, all of them, and if he’d seen them licking their chops in preparation to tear Melissa apart if would not have come as a surprise.
“What is this?” Mervyn Fraser took in the sight of so many, the sound of their cries, and his gaze fell upon Leith. His expression was one of anger, disgust, the look of a man who’d known something terrible would come of what his nephew had done.
“Flora… where is my Flora?” Niall MacNeill lumbered down the stairs, his considerable size making it slow going. “What has happened? Why so much screaming?”
“She is dead!” one of the women shrieked before falling to her knees.
“Fallen from the tower!”
“Broke her neck!”
“This one did it!” Teeth bared, a woman spat upon Melissa’s silk dress.
Melissa swayed as though she were about to swoon, only held in place by the hands of the guards around her arms. Leith noted the way their fingers pressed into her tender flesh and would have flayed them alive for so much as touching her.
“Is this true?” Niall’s face turned the color of milk before he continued down the stairs, now fleet-footed. “Where is she? Flora!”
“She was to be wed!” one of the women near him wept, soon to be joined by several more.
It was all little better than a nightmare.
Mervyn glared at Melissa. “Take her to the cells,” he growled with a wave of his hand.
“Nay, wait.” Leith stood between her and his uncle. “Ye must not make a decision in haste, Uncle. We know not what took place at the top of the tower. It might all have been an accident.”
“Accident?” Mervyn hissed. “She is scratched, bloodied, her gown torn as if the two of them had a terrible battle. Am I to believe Flora took a false step?”
A roar sounded out in the courtyard, one of terrible grief.
But grief would turn to a thirst for blood soon enough, and Leith knew there was little time to be wasted. His thoughts whirled, going from one possibility to the other with tremendous speed. Perhaps a cell would be the best place for her, considering Niall’s intent would be on vengeance.
Leith stared his uncle in the eye. “Ye canna believe she did this. I know she did not. But she might be safer in the cells for now. Please, I beg ye, no matter what happens. Ye must allow me the chance to prove her innocence.”
“He will want her neck stretched for this,” Mervyn warned in a tight voice. “Ye know it.”
“Aye. But this is your home, Uncle, and your land. Ye make the decision, not a guest.”
He thought he’d never seen a man appear more put-upon than his uncle did at that moment. “She shall be held in the cells until we know what took place,” he decided, raising his voice that all might hear. “Now, get on with your work. All of ye.”
Their work? Their work that morning had been to prepare for the wedding feast. Now there was certainly not going to be a
feast. What were they do to but weep and wail and mourn a lass who would not have mourned them were the situation reversed?
“Leith…” Melissa whispered as the guards began dragging her away.
“I shall set this to right. Ye must trust me.” His words did little to soothe her, that was clear, and he supposed he would have felt little comfort were he in her place. Words would not be enough.
Donald reached him, taking him by the shoulder. “I heard. Is it true?”
“Aye, t’would appear so,” Leith grunted, staring at Melissa’s retreating form.
Still, even after Mervyn’s orders, at least a dozen members of the household followed behind and muttered threats.
He turned to his cousin, his mind reeling. “Can ye ride?”
“Ye know I can and I will,” Donald nodded. He could be serious and reliable when the situation called for such behavior, and never had Leith needed him more.
“Ye must ride to the castle. Find my father, my brother, gather the men. If ye leave now and dinna stop, ye ought to make it back—”
“By dawn tomorrow,” Donald agreed with a sharp nod. “Aye. I shall.” With nothing more than a firm pat on the back, he raced from the keep.
Leith knew he could depend upon his cousin to follow through, and that his father and brother would come on the run if need be.
Just what he intended to do when they arrived was another matter. He was acting purely on instinct, knowing that the more men he had on his side, the better the chances of saving Melissa’s life.
Niall MacNeill staggered into the keep, his fine tunic now streaked with blood. “Tis murder!” he croaked, his voice having broken long since. He lifted an arm, pointing to Leith. “She did it. She murdered my Flora that she might remain your wife! That wretched creature, I shall see her hang for this!”
Leith could only stand and stare, knowing that nothing he said to the man in that moment would make a bit of difference. He was half-crazed, his eyes wide and wild, his mouth twisted in a snarl, broken sobs escaping in between gasps for air.
Keeping Melissa alive until his clan arrived was all he could do.