She looked up to see her brother standing over her, glaring at her with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw, rage coloring his every feature. The mystery man also loomed over her, but he wore a mask under the hood of his cloak.
“It seems you never developed a keen survival instinct, dear Sister,” Castor said.
* * * * *
“What did you hear?” Castor asked.
Ivy sat huddled in the corner of the cell, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around herself. Castor sat on a low stool he’d brought into the cell with him and stared at her, his eyes filled with anger and disgust.
“I didn’t hear anything,” she offered weakly.
“Do you know how I know you’re lying?” Castor asked. “Because you are not good at it. Never have been.”
“Yes, well, I never acquired your taste for it.”
He shrugged. “I do what I must to survive and to bring honor to this House. And I make no apologies for it,” he replied simply. “Now, what did you hear?”
The stone floor was cold and uncomfortable, and Ivy wanted to be back in her own bed. She wished she had never left her chambers to begin with. Had never been roaming the halls like a wraith. She wished that she had never listened at the door - and had never learned that her mother had killed herself over an affair with Duke Hamilton. Given that context, she could see why Castor might want the Duke dead, but that did not make it right.
“How do you know the Duke and mother had an affair?” Ivy asked slowly.
“Father told me,” he replied. “It was shortly after she killed herself that he found out. The Duke told father himself, apparently. It’s one reason our families stopped being close… in case you wondered.”
“So, killing him is the answer?”
Castor smiled brightly. “Of course, it is. An eye for an eye. It is divine justice.”
“That would be fitting if the Duke had killed mother,” Ivy countered. “But he didn’t. She took her own life.”
“He may as well have killed her himself,” Castor snapped. “If not for him, Mother would still be alive.”
He was not necessarily wrong, but he was not right, either. Ivy leaned her head back against the wall behind her, trying to absorb and digest all she had learned tonight. It was nothing but bitter pill after bitter pill to swallow.
“Why am I in this cell?” Ivy asked.
“Because I need to keep you here until my plan has been executed,” he said. “I cannot have you running amok in the world. Who knows who you might tell?”
“I won’t tell anybody.”
“See? There’s your horrible skill with lying on full display once more. I don’t believe you, nor will I jeopardize my plans by foolishly trusting you,” he said. “But once this is over, Ivy, you will be on your way to Northwalk, and you will be wed. Until then, I will have some comforts brought down to you so you can settle in for a while. I’ll have your meals brought to you. You will want for nothing, and you will see, this is for the best.”
“Do you not mean this is what is best for you?” she spat.
He shrugged. “I suppose I do,” he said. “Either way, you will be well cared for as long as you need to be sequestered here.”
She gave him no response.
Castor got to his feet and flashed her a grin. “I truly hope it is not long,” he said. “I do want to see you on your way to Northwalk soon and see you embracing a life of happiness and love.”
“Two things you know nothing about,” she hissed. “Nor will you ever know what they are.”
“Your words cannot hurt me, Sister.”
He stepped out of the cell and closed the door behind him with a loud bang that sounded like finality to her. Ivy had to fight off the waves of panic that threatened to overwhelm her as she realized there was no way out of there. She had no way of calling for anybody. And nobody knew she was in the cells below the keep. Castor truly could keep her there for as long as he wanted, and nobody would ever know.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she silently cried, burying her face in her hands. But when she heard a soft scuff of shoe on stone, she snapped her head up. Emerging from the shadows was Mira, whose face was a mask of fear and sadness. She strode to the bars and shoved her hands through, taking Ivy by the hands.
“What is happening, Ivy?” she asked. “Why are you in a cell?”
Ivy shook her head. “It is my brother. Fin was right, and he is trying to kill the Duke - and Baron Lennox. Gillian’s husband.”
“Why? Why would he seek to hurt either one of them?”
Ivy sighed, frustrated. There was no way for her to get out of there and get a message to Col. But the one silver lining she could see in the entire mess was standing right before her.
“I need your help,” Ivy said.
“Anything. Anything at all,” Mira said. “Just name it.”
“I need you to go to York,” Ivy said, her voice hardened with resolve. “I need you to get a message to Fin for me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fin
“Ye seem tae have a glow about ye, lad,” Hollis said. “Ye look a wee bit different than when I left. More… relaxed.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Aye. I tell true,” he replied. “So, did ye find a lass tae yer likin’? That it?”
Fin chuckled and brushed his hair out of his face. He leaned back in his chair, the wood cracking and groaning beneath him. Outside, a storm lashed the world. Thunder crashed with a sound like the sky being split open, and the lightning flashed brighter than the noonday sun. Wind rattled the shutters in their frames and blew tendrils of cold into the room. The stewards had stoked the fires in the hearth that took the worst of the chill off, but the air in their borrowed office was tepid at best.
Hollis had arrived from Westmarch Hall just ahead of the storm with good news. Gillian was on the mend, and Col’s physician anticipated a full recovery. Even better was that there had been no further attempts on Col or Gillian’s lives. But they remained in heightened vigilance anyway. Until they knew who was involved with this plot and how far-reaching it was, they were taking no chances.
Fin thought their reaction was prudent and smart. Although he was certain they had identified the players and had their finger on the plot, it was still wise to be safe about things.
“We’re nae talkin’ ‘bout that,” Fin said. “Did Col say anythin’ else?”
“Other than askin’ me tae tell ye tae tell me ‘bout this lass ye’re beddin’, nae really.”
Fin burst into laughter and shook his head. “Ye’re bleedin’ mad.”
“And ye’re still dodgin’ me questions.”
“Tis nothin’ tae dodge.”
“Right. So ye normally look like a besotted little lass, then?”
Fin laughed again and threw a wadded piece of parchment at Hollis. It was good to have his friend back again - although being grilled about his activities was less than fun. Fin was not a man disposed to sharing his intimate details, but this was something different. Ivy was something different. She made him feel things he’d never felt before. Things he never thought he could feel. Ivy filled him with a bright white light that ran from the top of his head to the tip of his toe.
“Daenae tell me tis the Lady Welton that has ye so bound up,” Hollis laughed.
Fin shrugged and said nothing. Hollis’ eyes widened, and his mouth fell open as he stared at Fin. A moment later, he erupted in laughter.
“I cannae believe she’d take somebody like ye as a lover,” Hollis beamed. “And here I kent these Ainglish noblewomen had better taste than that.”
Fin laughed. “Ye’re a bleedin’ arse.”
“Aye. Tis why ye like me,” he replied. “We’re so much alike that way.”
They both fell silent for a long moment, and the only sound in the office was the whistling of the wind creeping in through the cracks in the shutters and the crackle of the fire in the heart. Fin took a long swallow of his ale,
letting his mind drift back to Ivy and the times they’d shared together.
If he closed his eyes, he could practically still feel her smooth, flawless skin. He could smell the floral fragrance in her hair and taste the sweet wine upon her lips. Fin could recall the way she moved and writhed against him, the sound of her breathy moans, and how it felt to release inside of her.
Realizing his libidinous thoughts were stirring something low inside of him, causing him to thicken with arousal. Fin cleared his throat and took a long swallow of his drink. His mind, though, did not stray far from Ivy and the warm feelings she inspired inside of him.
She was the first woman he had cared for in the way he felt for her. It was not simply lust and carnal desire that compelled him. When he was with Ivy, he felt stronger. She made him want to be a better man. The connection between them was so powerful and so overwhelming that it took his breath away to be near her. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he belonged to somebody and that she belonged to him.
It was difficult for him to put those thoughts and feelings into words. He was used to being so closed off and did not often speak of his feelings. And when he did, it was usually only with Col. He and Hollis were the best of friends, but he felt comfort with Col he felt with nobody else.
Fin glanced over at Hollis and found the man giving him a queer look. There was something akin to sympathy in his eyes, and it made Fin cock his head, as he could not understand why Hollis would look at him so strangely.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Ye ken, this willnae end well for ye,” Hollis said. “You dae ken that, daenae ye?”
“What dae ye mean?”
Hollis took a long swallow of his ale then let out a deep breath. He looked like he was about to deliver the news that somebody he loved well had just passed on, but was hesitant to speak it out loud.
“Out with it, mate,” Fin prompted. “What’s on that tiny pea-sized mind of yers?”
He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, seeming to be debating with himself whether or not he should say anything more. But then he gave himself a nod and looked Fin in the eye.
“She’s a noblewoman, Fin.”
“Aye. I ken that.”
Hollis looked at Fin as if his implication should be obvious to him. It wasn’t, and Fin just stared at him blankly. Hollis sighed.
“It means she cannae be yers,” he said bluntly. “Her bleedin’ brother’ll have promised her tae somebody else. Another Ainglish nobleman. That isnae ye.”
“Ye think I daenae ken that?”
Hollis leaned forward, pinning Fin to his seat with his gaze. “Dae ye? I mean, dae ye really ken that?”
Fin grumbled under his breath. He knew the way these things worked. He knew Ivy would be married away to some noble lord who bid the highest on her hand. Sold like a common cow or goat. In his mind, he knew that Ivy could never truly be his. Not unless they were able to do away with Castor.
But in his heart, he wanted more. So much more. He desired to make Ivy his and to have her by his side. He longed for her presence. Yearned to be with her. In his heart she was his, and he was hers, and no rank or title of nobility was going to change that. Nor did he intend for it to keep him from her.
“Dae ye love her?” Hollis asked.
It was a question Fin had posed to himself many times over already. And he still didn’t have an answer to that question. He could not put how he felt about her into any sort of coherent sentence.
“I daenae ken if it’s love,” Fin admitted. “But me feelin’s are strong. Stronger than they’ve ever been for a lass before.”
“That right?”
Fin nodded. “Aye.”
A sharp rapping sounded at the office door, and a moment later, it swung inward. Henry, the Captain of the Duke’s Guard, strode in. He stopped before Fin’s desk, standing at attention, a stern look upon his face.
“What’s it, Cap’n Carson?”
“A woman has come to the gates, and she will only speak to you,” he replied, his voice tight. “She says she carries a message for you from the Lady Welton.”
His words sent an immediate jolt through Fin. He sat up straighter and pushed his goblet away. That Ivy did not come herself to deliver a message worried him. That she would send somebody in weather as foul as what lay beyond the keep’s windows worried him more.
“Send her in please, Cap’n.”
He nodded. “Right away, My Lord.”
“I’m nae a Lord,” Fin argued.
The Captain, though, had already turned and was striding to the office door. He gestured to somebody in the hall, and Fin got to his feet when a tall, thin figure shrouded beneath the hood of her cloak stepped into the room. Hollis followed suit, and Fin caught sight of the Captain ducking out of the room. Before he could invite the Englishman to stay, he closed the door behind him, leaving Fin and Hollis alone with their mysterious visitor.
She raised her hands and pushed the hood back, and Fin was surprised to find himself face to face with Ivy’s handmaiden, Mira. She looked at him with wide eyes in a pale face framed by dark, wet locks.
“Christ, Mira,” Fin said as he rushed around his desk. “Yer soaked through tae the bone. Ye’ll catch yer death like this.”
He quickly took her cloak from her and dropped it onto the stone floor with a wet, sloshing noise. The woman’s dress clung to her like a second skin, and water dripped from her hair, pooling around her feet. Hollis simply stared at her, a strange expression on her face.
“Hollis,” Fin called, snapping his friend out of his stupor.
“Aye,” Hollis replied.
“Go’n fetch Mira some dry clothes and a towel, eh? Bring a fur back with ye too.”
Hollis nodded. “Aye. On me way.”
Hollis darted from the room as Fin dashed over to the hearth, quickly filling a mug from the pot of mulled wine that hung over the fire. He turned and handed the mug to Mira, who wrapped both of her hands around it, drawing the warmth into her body. Her teeth chattered, but she managed a weak smile.
“Are ya all right, lass?” Fin asked.
She nodded. “I will be.”
The door to the office burst open, and Hollis rushed in with a bundle of dry clothes, a towel, and a thick cloak. He set it all down on the desk and turned to Fin, seemingly unsure of what to do next.
“I couldnae find a fur,” he said. “I kent the cloak would be good enough.”
Fin nodded. “Excellent. Thank you, Hollis.”
“Yes, thank you,” Mira replied.
Fin cleared his throat. “We’ll give ye a minute to dry off and dress. Get yerself sorted,” he said. “We’ll just step intae the hall.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
Fin started to move, but Hollis remained where he was, rooted to his spot, his gaze lingering on Mira. A small laugh escaped her, and Fin saw her cheeks bloom with color. He grabbed Hollis by the arm and dragged him out, chuckling to himself all the while. He pushed his friend into the hallway and closed the door behind them to give Mira some privacy.
“And ye say I looked like a besotted little girl,” Fin laughed.
“What? I didnae.”
“Oh aye,” Fin replied. “So those werenae wee hearts floatin’ above yer head.”
“Shut it, bampot,” Hollis said, but even he chuckled and looked away.
They stood leaning against the wall for several long moments in silence. The only sound was the crackling of the fires in the torches that hung in sconces along the wall. They cast a flickering light, alternating orange glow, and black shadows making the ground seem like it was writhing like a living creature.
“What dae ye think the message is?” Hollis asked.
Fin shook his head. “I daenae,” he replied. “But for her tae ride out at night, in the middle of a storm like this… it cannae be good.”
“Aye. I thought that as well.”
The door to the office opened, and Mira poked her head into the
hall. She gave them both a wan smile.
“I am ready,” she said softly.
Fin led Hollis back into the chamber and closed the door behind them. Hollis grabbed one of the chairs that sat before the desk and brought it over to where Fin and Mira sat near the hearth. Fin had poured him and Hollis a mug of the mulled wine and handed it over. They sat back and waited for Mira to speak.
She was a beautiful woman, even soaked to the bone, with her hair in a wild, tangled mess. He could see why Hollis was so taken by her. But to Fin, as beautiful as Mira was, she did not hold a candle to Ivy. Mira sat with her hands still wrapped around the mug, staring down into the liquid. Fin watched the tendrils of steam curling up and out of the mug, drifting lazily upward.
Finally, Mira looked up, and met Fin’s gaze with surprising strength. He could see it in her. From the set of her jaw to the stiffness in her spine, Mira radiated strength and determination. He admired that about her.
“Castor has taken Ivy prisoner,” she said. “He has thrown her in the dark cells beneath the keep.”
Fin’s eyes widened, and his heart lurched. “When? What happened?”
Mira shook her head. “I do not know everything. All I know is that she overheard something she was not meant to,” she replied. “And Castor has deemed it necessary to keep her locked up until this entire affair has been settled.”
“What affair is that?” Hollis asked.
“Whatever the difficulties Castor has with the Duke.”
“And dae ye ken what that is?” Fin asked.
She shook her head. “I do not. I did not have time to get all of the details from Ivy,” she said, sounding miserable. “She simply asked me to ride like the wind here to fetch you.”
Fin exchanged a dark look with Hollis as a thousand different thoughts rocketed through his mind. Mira looked up at him, pleading.
“Please, My Lord,” she said. “You must come to Elix. You must help rescue the Lady Welton from the dark cells.
Siren of the Highlands: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Cherrythorn) Page 18