Victoria Roberts - [Bad Boys of the Highlands 03]

by To Wed a Wicked Highlander

  She looked at the shelf that held the cups, under, over—not a damn thing. She moved the chairs, lifted the table, and even checked the floor. She refused to believe that this was a hopeless cause and forced herself to settle down. Who knew? Perhaps Aunt Iseabail held the stone in her chamber.

  After putting things back in their rightful places, Sybella closed the door and made her way to Aunt Iseabail’s chamber. Once she was inside, she straightened her spine and got down to the task at hand. She pulled out everything from Aunt Iseabail’s trunk, searching through her clothes, jewelry box, anything and everything.

  After realizing her hunt was another unsuccessful jaunt, Sybella stood and stretched her back. All of Aunt Iseabail’s dresses were scattered across the bed; the woman’s jewelry box had been dismantled; and the room was in complete disarray. Sybella had done it now. With her luck or lack thereof, Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail would return from their walk and catch her in the act.

  She hastily replaced Aunt Iseabail’s belongings and made her way to the only other place she could think of that could hold the stone.

  The unsavory pit of hell.

  ***

  A lady’s laugh wafted through the air, and Alex watched as Rosalia, Lachlann, and Aunt Iseabail returned from their walk. With the sun shining brightly and no clouds in sight, no wonder the women laughed. A gentle breeze blew through the bailey and MacGregor lifted his son in the air.

  Alex waited a moment, finishing his conversation with John. When Sybella did not appear, Alex walked over to his cousin. “Tha i breagha an-diugh.” It’s lovely weather today. “I assume ye enjoyed your walk. Where is my wife?”

  “She didnae come with us. She had something to do for Anabel. We did have a good time with Lachlann, though,” said Rosalia.

  Aunt Iseabail rubbed her hand over Lachlann’s tiny back. “He is such a good lad.” Turning her head toward Rosalia, Aunt Iseabail looked puzzled. “What was it, my dear, that I was supposed to tell Alexander?”

  “I donna know. Ye only told me to remind ye to tell Alex something. I think it was about Sybella.”

  Aunt Iseabail tapped her finger to her lip. “And ye say Sybella is with Anabel?”

  Alex rubbed his hand over Aunt Iseabail’s shoulder. “Nay, I think she is making something for Anabel.”

  His aunt giggled. “I would love to see that, especially since your wife doesnae even know how to stitch.”

  “Pray excuse me while I drag her away from whatever she’s doing. ’Tis too wonderful of a day nae to be out in the sun.”

  Alex knocked on Sybella’s bedchamber door. When no one answered, he walked to the ladies’ solar—and found it empty. He had the same result with the parapet, the kitchens, and the garden.

  He walked back out into the bailey and ran into John. “Have ye seen my wife?”

  John chuckled. “Have ye lost her?”

  “Search the grounds. She isnae inside.”

  “Aye.”

  Something gnawed at Alex’s gut. Sybella knew not to leave the castle without telling anyone. It was too dangerous after the MacLeod’s attempt on her life. But if his wife was not in the castle, where the hell was she?

  ***

  Sybella found her way into the dungeon much easier than the first time. Since hell currently held no occupants, no guard slept at the entrance. Once again, she descended the stairs and was greeted with a chill. It was cold and damp, and she paused only long enough to light the torch.

  “Welcome back to the pit of hell, Sybella,” she said aloud. “Find the bloody stone or this is where ye will reside for the rest of your days.” She held up the light, pausing. “I can do this. I can do this,” she repeated for confidence.

  The same unidentifiable muck lay upon the ground, and the chamber smelled of something rotten, decayed. She didn’t want to think about any more of that. She held up the torchlight to the heavy stone walls and iron bars that lined the narrow center walkway. She inched her way to the first door and held up the candle between the bars. As before, she waited a moment until the flickering light stilled.

  She opened the door and walked in. There was no time to worry about what was there. Examining the walls, she ran her hand across the cool, slimy stone. She took one section at a time slowly, carefully. She did not want to come back here in the event she had overlooked something.

  Sybella made her way to the second door, trying to ignore the shackles that lined the wall. The smell and overwhelming sense of dread would surely be her undoing, but she imposed an iron control on herself to continue. Following the same ritual she did in the first cell, quickly and as thoroughly as possible, she finished and made her way to the last door.

  Praise the saints. Was that dried blood? When she became light-headed, she had no choice but to place her hand on the grimy wall for support. She paused for a moment when saliva pooled in her mouth. She wanted to take a deep breath but willed herself not to move, afraid she’d toss her contents.

  She fought hard against the tears she refused to let fall, and for an instant, she almost gave up. But then she waved aside any further hesitation and entered the last cell where the MacKenzie man had been held and, God help her, died.

  Damn.

  “Dè nì mi?” What will I do?

  When she didn’t uncover the stone, Sybella extinguished the torch at the foot of the stairs. She climbed the steps, and as soon as sunlight bathed her face, she lifted her cheeks into the light and took a deep, penetrating breath. She felt relief to be out of the dungeon, but panic welled inside her because she still hadn’t found the stone.

  She looked up and spotted the men who walked the wall. In her best interest, she decided to move. She’d searched the library, study, solar, bedchambers, and dungeon. Surely Alex wouldn’t hide the stone in the kitchens. The servants were in there all the time. She was running out of places to look.

  Sybella walked into the great hall and was halted by the sound of an angry voice.

  “Where have ye been?”

  She turned to see Alex standing with his hands on his hips. “Alex, I…was searching for ye.”

  He closed the distance between them. “I have been looking for ye everywhere. Where were ye?”

  “I was in the garden for a while.”

  “The garden? I thought ye were making something for Anabel.”

  She wrung her hands nervously. “Anabel, aye. I was stitching something for her and then decided to take a walk.”

  Alex froze.

  Sybella became increasingly uneasy under his scrutiny and muttered, “I missed ye, Husband.” She tried to depict an ease that she didn’t necessarily feel.

  She lowered her gaze to the floor and studied the MacDonell crest, every line, every curve. She suddenly found the clan crest utterly fascinating. The black raven was perched on a rock, engraved with sleek curves. The words “Cragan an Fhithich” encircled the bird in a protective embrace. The Rock of the Raven.

  And that’s when she saw it.

  The eyes of the raven looked…different. One stone was whole and of a black pearl color, and the other was brown with a hole in the middle, exactly as Colin and her father had described it. God’s teeth! She’d found the bloody stone.

  ***

  When Alex spotted his wife in the great hall, he was relieved but somewhat confused. How could he have missed her when he searched the gardens, and why wouldn’t she seek out Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail to take a walk? The lass behaved as if she would rather be by herself than enjoying the company of his clan.

  Perhaps Sybella had grown tired of his kin the same as he had grown tired of hers. And worse yet, she presently couldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t mean for his tone to sound so accusatory, but he was troubled when he couldn’t find her, especially after the attempts on her life.

  He raised her chin with his finger. “I was worried about ye, Ella.
I searched the castle, and when I couldnae find ye…”

  She became instantly wide awake and threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Alex.” She pulled down his head and kissed him with passion. He wasn’t sure if it was the words he spoke, but her mood was suddenly buoyant.

  Wrapping his arms around her midriff, he lowered his hands, pulling her bottom close. She needed to feel what she did to him. When he remembered he was in the middle of the great hall, he pulled back and gave her a roguish grin. “’Tis too early to seek our bed.”

  “Aye, but that doesnae mean I cannae steal a kiss from my husband.” She broke into a wide, open smile.

  He leaned in close. “Ye can kiss me whenever ye’d like. Your body tastes like sweetened honey.” He paused for added impact. “And so does your kiss.”

  She colored fiercely.

  “My laird, my apologies for the interruption, but might I have a word?”

  Alex gave Sybella a wry smile. “Pray excuse me but a moment.” He looked at John, who stood with a blank expression on his face. John nodded Alex out into bailey.

  “I see ye’ve found your wife,” said John. “Where was she?”

  “I must have missed her. She took a walk in the garden.”

  John’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what she told ye, or did ye see her?”

  “What are ye talking about?” Alex crossed his arms over his chest. When John didn’t answer him, Alex repeated the question.

  “Your wife wasnae in the garden.”

  Alex’s eyes widened and he shook his head, puzzled. “What do ye mean she wasnae in the garden?”

  “I stood upon the wall and I saw her with my own eyes.”

  There was a heavy moment of silence.

  John was never one to make a play with words. For some reason, his friend’s behavior unnerved Alex. “Well, out with it. If she wasnae in the garden, where was she?”

  “The dungeon.”

  Seventeen

  Sybella closed the door to her bedchamber and threw up her hands. She couldn’t believe it. All of that hunting for the stone, and the darned thing was under her feet the entire time. How many times had she walked over the MacDonell crest? Of course Alex’s father would want to openly display his victory.

  Men and their trophies.

  All of this uproar—over a rock. A small part in the back of Sybella’s mind had hoped she wouldn’t find the stone and that her father was simply wrong. But now that she’d uncovered her family’s sacred seeing stone, she knew the truth of the matter. And to think, the rock had been under her father’s nose the entire time. God’s teeth! MacKenzie men had even slept upon the floor. Had her sire discovered the stone during her wedding…She shuddered at the thought. There would’ve been a massacre.

  She walked over to the desk and sat down. Now that she had found the stone, she needed to make certain that Alex and his clan would be safe. Everything was now in her favor, but she still found it necessary to proceed with caution. She penned a missive to Colin, short and to the point. Once her brother read her words, he would tell her father. And she only prayed her sire would cease this madness, call off his hounds, and stop Alex from traveling to Lewis and killing an innocent MacLeod.

  There was a knock on Sybella’s door and she opened it to find the messenger. She handed the man the missive. “Take this to Kintail and deliver it only to my brother, Colin. Show it to nay one else. Do ye understand?”

  “Aye, m’lady.”

  She watched the messenger depart and then closed the door. She lay down on the bed and sighed. In a few days this would all be over and perhaps she could start to act like the wife Alex deserved. She made a mental promise to herself that there would be no more lies between them. Knowing she had ultimately betrayed his trust, bouts of guilt continued to plague her more often than not. This whole turn of events needed to be over. Soon.

  ***

  “Are ye sure?” Alex asked John for the hundredth time.

  “Aye.”

  Alex ran his hand through his hair. “What the hell would she be doing in the dungeon?” He paused. “And why would she lie to me?”

  “I donna know.” John kept his face consciously guarded and Alex knew it.

  Alex was laird, supposed to be in charge, supposed to know everything that occurred under his own roof. And if he was a good laird, he should even be able to predict things before they’d happen. The mere fact that he did not know what was going on with his own wife angered him.

  He walked to Sybella’s bedchamber and didn’t even bother to knock. He simply entered through the adjoining door. She lay upon the bed, her golden locks spread out around her.

  “Ella.”

  She sat up abruptly. “Alex.”

  “When ye told me that ye took a walk in the garden, did ye?” He folded his arms over his chest. “I will have the truth.”

  Her eyes widened. “Of course I did. Why do ye ask?”

  “Some of my men saw ye…leaving the dungeon.”

  Her thin fingers tensed in her lap. She looked away hastily and then moved restlessly.

  “Ye will answer me, and I am nae leaving until ye do.”

  She looked up at him and spoke tentatively as if testing an idea. “Aye, I was in the dungeon, but I also went to the garden.”

  “Why? ’Tis nay place for a woman. Ye have nay reason to be down there.”

  Sybella patted the bed beside her. “Please sit, Alex.”

  He sat down beside her and waited for her explanation while she chewed her lip and gathered her thoughts.

  “I wanted to see it.” As he was about to open his mouth, Sybella continued. “I wanted to see where ye kept the man.”

  He paused. “I told ye. He is dead.”

  “I understand that, but I had to see it for myself.”

  “Och, lass.” He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Ye have naught to fear. Although I take my leave to Lewis, ye have my word as your husband that ye are safe, Ella. MacGregor will be here with ye. He has Rosalia and Lachlann. He will nae let any harm befall ye and Aunt Iseabail. And now ye saw for yourself that the man is dead and gone.”

  She lowered her gaze. “I must ask this of ye.” For a moment, she was silent. “Are ye certain it was the MacLeod? What if the MacLeod wasnae the man responsible?”

  Alex sighed. “Ella, the archer wore the MacLeod tartan. If nae a MacLeod, why would the man wear the clan colors?” He pulled her close. “Donna fear. When I return from Lewis, this will all be over. Until then, I donna want ye thinking upon such things.”

  She pulled back and brought her hand to his cheek. There was a spark of some unidentifiable emotion in her eyes. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but when he nodded for her to continue, she simply brushed her lips to his.

  He pulled back and gave her a gentle smile. “I wish there was something I could say to ease your worry.”

  She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and simply embraced him.

  ***

  Sybella wanted to tell Alex everything—how she was stupid enough to let her conniving father and brother convince her to search for the stone, how her marriage was all a bittersweet scheme to plot revenge, and how much she truly loved him. But until she got rid of that damned rock, she had to hold back. Nothing was for certain, and she couldn’t afford to take the chance.

  As she sat next to Alex and Rosalia for the eve meal, she forced her eyes not to look at the MacDonell crest on the floor. For if she did, she was afraid her actions would betray her purpose.

  “What are ye making for Anabel?” asked Rosalia.

  “I am stitching a scarf. And I must admit, I am nae verra good at it.”

  Rosalia giggled. “Aye, I know the feeling all too well.”

  Ciaran leaned forward. “My wife isnae allowed to stitch my tunics. Howbeit she borrows them often
.” When his eyes darkened and he kissed Rosalia, Sybella turned her head.

  “How was your walk to the loch, Aunt Iseabail?” asked Sybella.

  “It was verra lovely even though Lachlann slept most of the time.”

  “And he would’ve stayed that way, but ye kept poking at him, Seanmhair.”

  Aunt Iseabail waved her finger at Rosalia. “A grandson needs to spend time with his grandmother. Ye see him all the time. He can sleep on your watch.”

  Ciaran bent his head forward. “Aye, well, when he doesnae sleep this eve, we will be sure to take him to your chamber so ye can spend more time with him.”

  “I think ye make up these tales of my Lachlann. He is always a good lad.”

  Rosalia laughed as Alex leaned over Sybella, tapping Rosalia on the shoulder. “How did she fare?”

  Rosalia shrugged. Lowering her voice, she said, “She was having a good day and kept up with the conversation. She even recalled that she wanted to tell ye something when we returned. Of course, she forgot specifically what she wanted to say, but at least she remembered that.”

  “Good. I think it helps when she walks and her mind is occupied with something. Thank ye, Cousin.”

  Sybella tapped Alex’s thigh. “It seems Aunt Iseabail is having a good day.”

  He smiled. “Having Rosalia and Lachlann here helps to keep my aunt’s mind busy. I think if Aunt Iseabail sits idle, her condition tends to worsen. And the fact that the woman gives Lachlann her attention directs her thoughts away from us.”

  She raised her brow. “What do ye mean?”

  “The fact that ye arenae with child.”

  Sybella lowered her lashes, her husband’s comment leaving her with an inexplicable feeling of emptiness. She wasn’t sure exactly why, but she was somewhat saddened. Although under the current circumstances, bringing a bairn into this world was probably not the best of ideas. She felt trapped in her own lie.