Scent of Scotland

by Mac Flynn

  Hearn wiped his brow and shook his head as he looked down at his master. "I can't say, my laird, but that the horses thought I meant to lead them into a gallop. Perhaps something has spooked them."

  Cael limped past the box and to the four fine horses. The steeds pranced in place and pulled at the bits in their mouths. He petted their muzzles and whispered to each of them. They calmed, and Cael looked back at his driver.

  "They're calm now, but watch them," he ordered his servant.

  Hearn bowed his head. "Aye, my laird."

  Cael limped up to us and smiled. "Now shall we leave?"

  I glanced past him at the horses and bit my lip. "You're sure it's safe?" I wondered.

  "I am sure the horses will be no bother," he promised.

  CHAPTER 35

  We climbed into the carriage and Hearn set the horses at a slow trot. The noisy world of the assembly slipped away and was replaced by the quiet of the late evening. Hearn took the back streets where there were few taverns and even fewer people awake. I sat beside Moray, and Cael sat opposite us with his cane between his parted legs and his hands rested on the top of the stick.

  "So how did the assembly compare to those of England, Abby?" Cael asked me.

  I shook my head. "I was never at another assembly."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Did you come from a small village?"

  "No, from London, but I hardly think a seamstress would have been invited to anything near as grand as an assembly," I admitted.

  "A seamstress? I must admit I am a little surprised," Cael commented.

  Moray frowned. "Why?" he asked his old friend.

  Cael smiled. "Nothing so mean as you think, I assure you. I am surprised because Abby is a fine lady, finer than most ladies who are born into privilege." He turned to me and studied my face with a soft smile. "It gives me hope that I might find the same innocence myself, and from no more important a background."

  "Then you would not mind having a poor woman as your wife?" I guessed.

  He chuckled and shook his head. "No. My blood may hold many distinctions, but my preferences are not so-what the devil?"

  Cael's source of consternation was the sudden jostling of the carriage as the horses picked up their speed. The vehicle rocked to and fro, and I was thrown into Moray's chest. He wrapped an arm around me and grasped the leather strap over his window.

  Cael grasped another strap and tore open the curtains. He leaned his head out. "Hearn! What are you-" I noticed he stiffened for a moment before he pulled his head back inside. He whipped his head to us and I saw his face was pale. "Hearn is slumped over the rear of the box."

  "Hold onto Abby while I stop the carriage," Moray ordered him.

  "It is my carriage, I will go," Cael argued.

  "You are lame and we haven't time to argue," Moray insisted.

  Cael frowned, but nodded. Moray grasped my arms and helped me cross the floor to Cael's waiting arms.

  It was then the carriage hit a particularly hard bump. I cried out as I was flung against the door. My weight and a negligent latching meant the door swung open. I fell backwards into the abyss of the dark night. My arms stretched out to grab something, anything, but they only caught air. I would be thrown under the rear wheel and crushed.

  Fortunately, Moray and Cael caught my hands, and together they pulled me back inside. Cael wrapped his arms around me and I clutched onto him. My shoulders shook and I sobbed into his coat.

  "Easy. You're safe now," he whispered to me.

  "Hold her tight," Moray ordered him.

  "You haven't any fear of that, now stop the carriage before we're all dashed to pieces," Cael reminded him.

  Moray stood and leaned out the open carriage door. I raised my head in time to watch him grasp the top of the doorway and pull himself onto the roof of the carriage. Moray's footsteps echoed along the roof and led to the box. There were a few tense moments where we heard nothing, and then the carriage slowed to a stop.

  Moray appeared at the ajar door. His face was pale as he looked to Cael. "Come help me with your driver."

  Cael set me against the seat and stepped out. I scooted down the seat and leaned out the window. The two men carefully pulled Hearn from the box. The man's head was limp, but I was relieved to see he still breathed. They spread him on the ground and Cael inspected the man's eyes and heart. His nose brushed against Hearn's mouth, and he started back.

  "There is an odor on his lips I do not like," Cael told Moray.

  Moray sniffed Hearn's lips and withdrew with a snarl. "His drink could only have been drugged," he surmised.

  "Can you tell with what?" Cael asked him.

  "Judging from the quick effects I would say valerian," Moray guessed.

  Cael's eyes widened and he straightened. "Then we must warn those at the assembly. There may be others-" Moray clasped his friend's wrist and shook his head.

  "There will be no others," Moray told him.

  Cael frowned. "Why not?"

  "Because this was meant for me," Moray explained.

  Cael's face darkened and he pursed his lips. "Ken, what in all the worlds is going on?"

  Moray stood and shook his head. "I wish I could be sure, but whoever wishes to kill me has no qualms in doing in anyone else around me." He turned to me and pursed his lips. "But we should return to your home, Cael, and revive your driver. There will be no long-term affects, but it is better that he was awakened."

  "Very well, but I expect an answer to my inquiries very soon," Cael insisted.

  Moray bowed his head, but didn't reply. They hefted Hearn into the carriage and Cael took the reins. Moray resumed his seat opposite me, and we trotted safely down the road. I glanced between him and the unconscious man.

  "Is this the work of the Lord Robertson?" I guessed.

  He looked out the window and shook his head. "I cannot be sure, but he is the only one with a reason to kill me."

  "And he was at the assembly," I reminded him.

  "Aye, though I cannot figure how he knew we were in Edinburgh, and with whom we stayed," he commented.

  "Do you think there will be another attempt?" I wondered.

  Moray leaned back and sighed. "Undoubtedly, and that is why I must leave you tomorrow with Cael while I make inquiries."

  I frowned. "I would be safer with you," I argued.

  He shook his head. "This night has proven that assumption false."

  "But I would still wish to be with you," I persisted. "I may not be a werewolf, but surely I can be of some assistance."

  Moray reached across Hearn's unconscious body and clasped my hands in his. A small smile graced his lips as he studied my eyes. "I am glad for your bravery, but I cannot risk you being hurt. I. . .I could not live with myself if I was the cause of harm to you."

  I looked down at his strong hands and sighed. "Very well. I will remain with Cael."

  He squeezed my hands. "Then I needn't worry for you. Cael will keep you safe."

  We reached Cael's home and Hearn was carried into the kitchen and placed in a chair. Cael concocted a strong drink that was liberally poured down the man's throat. He choked and sputtered away. Hearn sat up and looked about himself with wide, blinking.

  "What? What's the matter? When did we get here?" he asked us.

  "You took an unexpected nap," Cael told him.

  The man's face paled and tried to rise. "The carriage! The horses! What of them?"

  Cael put his hand on the man's shoulder and pushed back into the seat. "All is well, but in the foreseeable future you are to abstain from drink during assemblies."

  Hearn nodded his head so violently I thought he would hurt himself. "Yes, sir. I can't apologize enough, sir."

  "You can apologize by getting yourself to bed," Cael insisted. Cael sent Hearn on his way and returned to where we had moved into the parlor. There was a small smile on his lips as he shook his head. "I believe this event has sworn him off drink of any kind save water."

  Moray had less
humor on his countenance. "I must ask a favor of you."

  Cael raised an eyebrow. "Anything, so long as it's not murder."

  Moray nodded at me. "I would like for you to keep a careful eye on Abby tomorrow when I am gone."

  His friend frowned. "Gone to where?"

  "To meet with an associate," Moray answered.

  "If you wish for me to find your body then you may wish to tell me its general location," Cael quipped.

  "I will be fine, but I would rather have Abby in the safety of your company," Moray insisted.

  Cael sighed. "I can't convince you otherwise, can I?"

  Moray shook his head. "No. I must find the source of these incidents, and would rather Abby not be directly involved in any-well, bloodshed."

  "Yours or your foes?" Cael wondered.

  "Hopefully the former," Moray returned.

  Cael ran a hand through his short, dark, disheveled hair. "I suppose you will be wanting an early start?"

  "Aye," Moray replied.

  Cael dropped his hand to his side and sighed. "Very well. Let's to bed, and see what the morrow brings."

  CHAPTER 36

  The morrow brought me an empty half of the bed. I was awoken by sunlight that streamed through the crack between the curtains. My aching body rebelled, and I rolled over towards Moray. I reached my hand out, but my fingers felt only cloth.

  I sat up and looked around. The room was empty, and the weak sun informed me it was past breakfast. I flung aside the sheets as there came a knock on the door.

  "Were you wanting some help, ma'am?" came Irvette's voice.

  "Yes, please, and call me Abby," I reminded her.

  Irvette assisted me with my clothes and I was soon downstairs. The house was quiet but for the noise from the street and a few voices from the kitchen. Cael met me at the bottom of the stairs. He smiled and bowed to me.

  "Good morning, Abby," he greeted me.

  "Good morning. Have you seen Moray?" I asked him.

  "The early laird took his leave an hour ago, but he has instructed me to make you as comfortable as possible," he informed me.

  "Oh. . ." I had hoped to say my goodbyes to him. "Well, what shall we-" We both started when there came a knock on the front door.

  Irvette swept past us with a purse in hand and opened the entrance to reveal a man of thirty in a roughly cut coat. He bowed his head and handed her an envelope that was exchanged for some coins from the purse. She handed the envelope to Cael. He glanced over the name on the back and frowned. His eyes flickered up to mine.

  "Are you expecting correspondence?" he asked me.

  I blinked at him and shook my head. "No. Is that letter for me?"

  "It is," he replied as he handed me the letter.

  I opened the letter and perused the contents, that read as follows:

  Dearest Abby,

  I have instructed the carrier to give this message to you when you are sure to be alone, so I cannot imagine how long a wait that is with your protective mate. I hope you have not left Edinburgh, as the postman has informed me, for I wish your confidence. As I told you at our last meeting, the friend who is an important part of our plan for freedom resides in Edinburgh. I thought you might see him. He has been forewarned of your coming, and I am sure he will welcome you with open arms. I cannot give you his full address, but I can tell you he lives on High Street, and his home is a gray stone house with four chimneys set close together.

  I hope you will accept this invitation to see him, or, even better, that you have accepted my invitation to join our little group.

  Sincerely yours, Lady Stewart

  I looked up from the letter and furrowed my brow. Here was a reminder of a most unpleasant situation.

  "Is it bad news?" Cael wondered.

  I started and hurriedly hid the letter inside its envelope. "N-no. It is from a friend. Lady Stewart."

  He raised an eyebrow. "I thought no one knew of your coming here."

  I looked down at the floor and pursed my lips. "She. . .she must have overheard our plans," I lied.

  "I see." His voice was flat and disbelieving, even to my hopeful ears. "And what does her ladyship say?"

  "She. . .she has a friend in town whom she wishes for me to meet," I told him. "That is, if it wouldn't be too much trouble for me to go alone."

  Cael shook his head. "I can't allow that. Moray has given me explicit instructions to keep you within sight."

  "Lady Stewart would not wish for me to tax the hospitality of her friend by bringing my own friend," I argued.

  "Then at least let me follow you to their residence," he pleaded. "If something were to happen to you I could not face Moray. He would tear me to pieces."

  I sighed, but nodded my head. "Very well. You may follow me."

  He smiled and bowed his head. "You have spared my life, my dear lady."

  Hearn was still unsteady, so a carriage was hired and we sped to High Street. The trip was short, and at the appointed place I was let out and onto the clean cobblestone sidewalk. The long, curved road ran uphill to my right and stopped on the downhill to my left. I trudged up the walk, all the while glancing between the description on the paper and the houses around me. My search was not long. I came upon the gray house a few buildings from where I had alighted, and knocked on the white door.

  A female servant of forty answered. She glared down her pointed nose at me. "Yes?" she demanded rather than asked to know.

  "I would like to meet with-um, the owner of the house," I told her, only then remembering Lady Stewart had neglected to mention the name of her friend.

  "Are you expected?" she questioned me.

  I nodded. "Yes. My name is Abigail, and Lady Stewart informed your master that I was to come visit him."

  At the mention of Lady Stewart the woman's countenance took on a more hospitable attitude. She smiled and stepped aside. "Please come in."

  I stepped inside the simple home with its white wallpapered walls and polished wood floors. She led me into a front parlor with horsehair furniture and curtsied to me.

  "I shall call my master at once," she told me, and left.

  I took a seat on the couch and looked about the place. A warm fire burned in the hearth, but the bare walls and quiet room set me on edge. I was glad when I heard heavy footsteps come down the hall behind me, and I stood and turned to greet my host.

  My eyes widened as I beheld the terrible face of Lord Camron Robertson. He, too, started, and his eyes narrowed.

  "You here?" he growled.

  I felt the color drain from my face, and my only thought was to flee. "I-I apologize, my lord. I hadn't meant to intrude." I tried to flee around him, but his great girth blocked the door and he was under no humor to step aside.

  "I was told you were a friend of Lady Stewart. Was that a lie?" he snapped at me.

  My blood boiled at his groundless accusation and I frowned back at him. "It was not a lie, sir, but if you will excuse me."

  I stepped up to him, but he would still not move. Rather, he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back. I stumbled backwards and the back of my legs knocked against the table. My legs collapsed under me and I fell to my knees. The door shut and a shadow fell over me. I whipped my head up to see that Lord Robertson towered over me. His eyes held a tinge of yellow that was unmistakably werewolf. My heart beat quickened and my eyes flitted to the windows. I thought to make a desperate escape through them, but the lord had other plans.

  He stooped and grasped my collar. The man lifted me off the floor and dangled me in front of him so I was forced to look down, and he to look up. His hold blocked my precious air. I clawed at his hands, but my strength was no match for his own. His lips curled back in a snarl and revealed rows of sharp fangs.

  "Now tell me what brought you here!" he growled. A knock on the door startled him, and he half-turned to the entrance. "What is it?" he shouted.

  "My laird, there is a gentleman here to see you," came the maid's voice.

  "Tell hi
m to leave!" Robertson ordered her.

  "He says he will not leave until-"

  "Until I have seen my old friend, Miss Glenn," came another voice. My heart thrilled to recognize the voice of Cael. A hard pound on the door rang as his calling card. "Now where is she? I demand to see my old friend."

  Robertson dropped me and lunged at the door to lock the knob, but the portal swung open to reveal the smiling face of Cael. He stepped inside and nearly bumped into Robertson. The lord stumbled back and inadvertently stepped aside. Cael's keen eyes swept over us, and he barely hesitated before he strode over to where I lay on the ground and offered me his hand.

  "My dear Miss Glenn, what a pleasure to see you again," he greeted me as he helped me to my feet. He kept his arms set over my shaking shoulders. "I must insist on having your for dinner, and I won't accept a refusal."

  "I-I would be delighted," I replied.

  "Excellent!" He turned to Lord Robertson and bowed his head. "You must forgive us, my laird, but we must make haste before the streets become alive with the dinner hour traffic. Good day."

  Cael pushed us past Robertson and out into the streets. I was near collapsing from relief, but Cael leaned down.

  "Not yet, my lady. The danger is not yet passed," he warned me.

  I blinked at him, and he nodded his head over his shoulder. My eyes followed and I saw a familiar face half-hidden by the curtains in the windows. I felt what little color was left drain from my face, and my legs shook so I had difficulty standing.

  "Steady. My carriage is just down the street," he whispered.

  In a few moments we came upon the carriage and he assisted me inside. I collapsed onto the seat and he took the one opposite me. The carriage sped down the street and away from that terrible home. Cael studied me for a long moment until I felt myself better.

  "What induced you to go to his home, of all places?" he asked me.

  I managed a small smile and shook my head. "I guess the Lady Stewart keeps strange friends."

  "Friends indeed. Did she not give you the name of the owner of that house?" he wondered.

  "I. . .I neglected to read it," I lied.

  He pursed his lips. "My lady-Abigail, please do not lie to me."