“Nor should he,” Reginald said quickly. “Teodoro meant to torture his woman to death here and now. He said as much, I witnessed it. And I have more than ample evidence of his plans to move against Clan MacClaran. Using your forces, my Lord,” he added. “He intended to plant some false evidence of aggression and incite a war between your peaceful houses… all so that he might continue his campaign of torture and terror against the innocent women of this country.”
Eamon got to his feet, and Weatherby stepped forward to clasp his hand – to his credit, ignoring the blood and gore. “Eamon MacClaran,” he said formally, “allow me to apologize without reservation for what has been done to you and your wife.”
“Not wife,” Marianne murmured.
Eamon flicked his eyes over to her.
“Companion,” Weatherby corrected himself smoothly. “I will admit I had never trusted the Father. My wife adores him, but…well, her faith is stronger than her wits, at times.”
“An honorable woman,” Corby murmured.
Marianne shot him a sideways look and he tipped her a wink while Weatherby was otherwise distracted.
“It does not surprise me to know he harbored such dark inclinations…nor does it grieve me to see him dead. I am horrified, truly, by the evil I have unwittingly harbored here. Rest assured, his influence ends here. His men will be imprisoned, his belongings destroyed, and I will send word personally to the Church to advise them of his death, and of his sins in his lifetime. With Corby’s help,” he added after a pause, and though Corby sketched a neat bow as though this was all routine, Marianne felt the man relax at her side as though he’d narrowly avoided a death sentence. She supposed he had.
“You’ve done a great deal for me,” Weatherby was saying, and she heard a slight hesitation creep into his voice. “I hate to ask more...”
“Out with it. M’lord,” Eamon added hastily.
Marianne stifled a laugh.
“It would be…in my best interests,” the Lord said carefully, “for this unpleasantness to be…kept between those concerned, and not too many more. I wonder if I could ask for discretion, when it comes to what you report of your visit to my home?”
Eamon was looking blankly at him.
Marianne could see anger beginning to stir in him, and she stepped forward, clearing her throat and speaking quickly. “Lord Weatherby. Laird Colin and his kin need only know that the evil man is dead and his terrible deeds are at an end,” she said smoothly. “And that is the truth. On our safe return to Castle MacClaran—” and she paused, just for a moment, to let that point hit home “—we needn’t bother the Laird with any extraneous details. He’s a busy man.”
She saw him sizing her up, and she stood tall despite her torn clothing and the blood on her face. Finally, the Lord nodded. “Lady Marianne. Well said. And I hope it goes without saying that you and Eamon here are more than welcome to rest and recover from your ordeal before you return home. My men will prepare chambers.” He hesitated a little, his eyes flicking over Eamon’s bloodstained form. “And some baths, perhaps.”
One of the guards – one she recognized from the tavern – nodded and extended his arm to Marianne, inviting her to follow him. Eamon cleared his throat, lifting his still-manacled arms. Reginald made a sound of dismay and rushed to Teodoro’s lifeless form, extracting a key from the depths of the tattered robes and freed Eamon of his chains. Marianne could have sworn she saw his lips moving as he moved close to Eamon.
“Now, Corby,” Lord Weatherby said. “We have much to discuss.”
“Aye, my Lord, we do. Begging your pardon, sir.” He turned to Marianne, and sketched an elaborate bow to her. “My lady Marianne, I owe you my life and more. Not only have you freed the world from this great evil – you have freed me from his terrible service. I cannot thank you enough.”
With the chains gone, Eamon moved straight to her side – she resisted the urge to throw her arms around him and weep with relief. There’d be time for that later. For now, all she wanted was a hot bath and a long, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 29
They stayed two nights with Lord Weatherby, in the end. Marianne met his wife the next day after she’d had the wound on her face cleaned and bandaged by a grinning old woman who kept slapping her knee with fresh delight at the news that Teodoro had been destroyed – it seemed his charisma hadn’t worked on quite everybody in the castle. Poor Lady Anna was distraught, though, both at the loss of her mentor, and the revelation of who he truly was.
She couldn’t be older than nineteen, the poor girl – beautiful as a cherub, with huge blue eyes and plump pink lips that kept trembling whenever she looked at the wound on Marianne’s cheek.
“I’m just so, so sorry,” she said – three times now she’d thrown her arms around Marianne in an impulsive hug. There was something deeply endearing about it, and she could see why the young girl had such sway over her husband. “I can’t believe it, I really can’t. If you can’t trust the Church, I mean, truly, who can you trust?”
“Nobody,” Marianne said – then relented at the look of confusion on Lady Anna’s face. “Your family. Your loved ones. Your husband.”
“My poor dear man,” Anna murmured, dabbing prettily at her teary eyes with a lace handkerchief she’d pulled from her dress. “He never did like Father Teodoro. I ought to trust him from now on! That’s what I’ll do! Trust him completely!”
“Trust yourself first,” Marianne couldn’t help but say, taking Anna’s hand. “Listen to the little voice inside you that tells you when something’s wrong. Even if it makes no sense. Even if you can’t see what it’s worried about. Trust that voice, I promise. Every woman’s got intuition in buckets, we just forget to listen sometimes.”
“The little voice,” Anna said thoughtfully. “You mean the voice of the Lord!”
“Sure,” Marianne allowed, heartened by the brilliant smile that broke across Anna’s face. “The Lord.”
“Oh, Marianne, even though all of this has been dreadfully unpleasant, I’m so pleased to have made a friend like you. Maybe the Lord sent you to me,” she said thoughtfully. “Yes! Yes, I’m sure of it. The little voice says so. Just like you said! You will come back and visit, yes? And we can write letters to one another!”
Marianne laughed. “I’d like that.”
They set off early the next morning, having sent for their horses and belongings down at the tavern – there had been stories and gossip flying around the town about the mysterious abduction of the out-of-town visitors in the middle of the night, and Marianne and Eamon laughed over some of the more extreme ones as they rode away from the castle, Lord and Lady Weatherby waving to them from the castle gate.
“Do you really believe Reginald Corby was plotting to bring down Teodoro the whole time?” Marianne asked.
“Of course not. He told us who he was in the carriage. Loyal to money and nothing else. Said as much to me when he was releasing my chains, too.” He sighed. “But Weatherby’s got lots of gold, and Weatherby’s a decent enough man. With any luck, he’ll be able to use Corby’s talents for good rather than ill.”
She nodded. “I hate to admit it, but without him vouching for us and turning on Teodoro like that, we’d be in a lot of trouble.”
“Well, there ye go. He’s already doing good things.”
They rode in silence for a while, but there was something wrong. Marianne snuck a few glances sideways at Eamon, who gazed at the horizon, stony-faced. It was her that snapped first.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“You want to say something. I know you well enough by now, Eamon MacClaran.”
“I’m not that strong.” He looked at the road. “Not strong enough to break steel. I checked those chains. They were almost fresh off the forge. No weak point, no rust, nothing. And yet, just in time, both of them snapped. At the same time. In the same place. Snapped clean.”
Marianne turned to look straight at him, knowing this was a make-or-
break moment for them. “And? What do you think?”
He looked straight back at her. The wind dropped. The village was out of sight behind them, and there was nothing ahead of them for miles. They were completely alone. “I think I fell in love with a witch.”
Much later, when the sun had climbed higher in the sky, Marianne cleared her throat.
“I think you didn’t check the chains properly.”
Eamon laughed, the sound echoing over the moors. “Aye, maybe so. Maybe so.”
It felt indescribably good to see Castle MacClaran come into view over the rise at the end of their journey. Already looking forward to a long hot bath and a good scrub, Marianne urged her horse a little faster – the long-legged bay accelerated obligingly and she stroked his neck, delighted by the new friend she’d made. “Just wait til you meet Cora,” she murmured to him, smiling. “She’s just going to love you.”
Cora and Ian were the first to greet them once the guards had sent word of their arrival. They waited in the entrance hall for the pair to join them, and it was only when she saw the way Ian and Eamon were staring at one another that she remembered the conditions of his exile. Cora, oblivious, hurled her arms around Marianne’s neck, talking a mile a minute about how worried she’d been, and how happy she was to see them.
“What happened to your face?”
She laughed. “Fell off the horse. My own fault. Forgot my lessons.”
“You taught her well otherwise, Cora,” Eamon rumbled.
“And? What news of the Priest?”
“Aye, I’m interested in that myself.”
Eamon stiffened at the voice that sounded behind them. Laird Colin stood in the doorway to the castle, Audrina at his side with a vaguely apologetic cast to her features – they were both wearing riding clothes and had clearly just gotten in from a trip. Not the best timing in the world. Marianne braced herself for an uncomfortable conversation.
“Especially seein’ as everyone in the castle thought you were holed up sick in bed this past week.”
“I heard a rumor that Father Teodoro was settled in Lord Weatherby’s lands,” she said, meeting Colin’s gaze squarely and ignoring the way Eamon had gone tense and rigid beside her. “I had to investigate. I did so under my own power, not yours, I swear.”
“And?”
“Dead.”
Cora stared at her.
“Dead for months, it seems. The local people confirmed he’d been with them for a while then passed away peacefully. Pox, or something. He was very old – always wore a mask because he was vain about the damage the pox had done.” She felt herself rambling and reined it in a little bit. “We stayed for a little while with Lord Weatherby, who sends his regards, by the way.”
“We,” Colin said flatly, and his eyes moved to Eamon now, who stood stiff as a board and met that challenge.
“Aye, I went with her,” Eamon said flatly. They’d talked about this – talked about the best way to handle the inevitable confrontation – but she hadn’t gotten very far with him. He’d gotten closed off, the way he did when he was angry, or bitter. “What was I to do, let the wee lass wander the lands unaccompanied?”
“Marianne,” Cora said brightly. “Audrina. Why don’t the three of us go and catch up? In there?” She jerked her head toward the entrance hall.
Marianne was happy enough to leave the entrance hall – the energy bristling off the three men was enough to make her want to go all the way back to San Francisco. Let them sort it out themselves.
God, she hadn’t thought of San Francisco for…weeks, it felt like.
Audrina was very interested in the work that Weatherby’s nurse had done on Marianne’s face – she interrogated her about the herbs that had been used, which Marianne was ashamed to admit she didn’t know much about.
“I’m not that kind of witch,” she explained, feeling her usual cringe of shame at how little witchcraft she was actually capable of – before remembering with a start the way that the chains had snapped, right when she needed them to. Maybe it was a coincidence…but she’d take it, for now.
“Well, it looks like it’s healing very well, anyway,” Audrina said happily, replacing the bandage with a fresh one from her own supply – she’d sprinted off up the stairs to collect her kit as soon as they’d come into the hall.
“You didn’t really fall off a horse, did you?” Cora said in an undertone when Audrina had been gone.
“After your lessons? No way,” she said, lowering her voice too. “Teodoro wasn’t dead, but Weatherby was embarrassed that he’d harbored him and his men, especially since he was planning on moving against the MacClarans. Coming after you and Audrina, I think. It would’ve been war.”
Cora shuddered. “How’d you beat him?”
“Witchcraft.” Marianne grinned, waving her fingertips – then relented. “Mostly luck, if I’m honest. They took us prisoner – he sliced my face before Eamon got free and beat him to death.” It was too good a story to be telling so quickly, she thought grumpily to herself – but she wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea to let Audrina in on the details. Not when she was so close to the Laird. Cora she trusted more than anyone, though.
“Eamon,” Cora murmured, raising a suggestive eyebrow.
“Oh, aye,” Marianne replied in her best impression of the man. “Whatever filth you’re thinking is absolutely true.”
Cora’s hands flew to her mouth. “You’re not serious.”
“He’s got a mole on his —”
“Marianne!”
They collapsed into giggles. When the men joined them later, there was a decidedly different energy between them – Eamon almost looked taller, if that was even possible, and Ian was grinning from ear to ear, hitting his cousin on the shoulder occasionally as though he couldn’t quite contain his pleasure.
“— but you’re on thin ice, remember,” Colin was saying, his tone warning, though there was a brightness in his eyes that belied the seriousness of his voice. “You’re just lucky we need a new Captain of the Guard with Mac headin’ off. And you’ve got good references.”
“You’re back?” Marianne asked, her eyes wide.
Eamon nodded, the grin that had been lurking behind his eyes finally breaking onto his face – and without even thinking about it she hurled herself into his arms. He swung her around and set her back down, crushing her in that comforting bear hug he so often gave, and when they separated it was to the raised eyebrows of Ian and Colin, the smug grin of Cora and the shocked, but pleased, staring of Audrina.
“If I have to plan another wedding I’m going to lose my mind,” the woman said flatly, then grinned wide enough to crinkle her eyes up. “So I hope you’ll enjoy accommodating a mad woman at the ceremony.”
Chapter 30
They talked and laughed a little longer over cups of tea that were quietly brought out to them by Margaret, queen of knowing the right moment for something. There was a lot of awkwardness and tension between Eamon, Ian and Colin still – she could tell that they were still suspicious of what it had been that had happened that night in the tavern, and he had a lot of work to do to regain their trust. But regain it he would, she knew. He was a good man. She knew that better than most, now, having spent so much time with him, seen him at his worst and at his best. Within a few months – maybe even a few years, depending how stubborn these Scotsmen could be – all of this unpleasantness would be behind them.
Maybe Eamon could even tell Ian, finally, where he’d been that night – once he’d forgotten the sting of the breakup that had resulted. He should’ve forgotten it already, she thought crossly, looking at Cora. He’d won the jackpot about thirty times in a row, getting to marry her cousin. He ought to be thanking his lucky stars for everything that had brought her to him.
Audrina caught her hand as they were leaving, gently guided her until they were out of earshot of the men.
“Elena?” she murmured, and the question was sincere and not prying.
Marianne
nodded, her chest suddenly and unexpectedly full of emotion. “At rest, now.”
“Good.” Audrina smiled and squeezed her hand. “Then we’re safe. Until the next woman gets dragged back through time, I suppose.”
“We’ll set up some kind of school for them,” Marianne joked, smiling. “Medieval Scotland lessons. Speaking of… I guess I’m stuck here, hey?”
“Aye,” Audrina said softly. “No way back I’m afraid, even with your ancestor’s spirit laid to rest.”
“There are worse places to be stuck, I suppose,” Marianne murmured, looking around the Great Hall – and at Eamon, who was cracking some kind of joke with Ian, both of them laughing and play-fighting with one another. It was yet another glimpse of the younger man she’d seen in him – behind the bitterness and drinking – a promising sign of things to come, if just a short hour in the company of his cousins had brought it out so much.
“You’re a good match.” Audrina had followed her gaze. “I think you’ll be happy.”
“I want to make myself useful, though,” she sighed. “You’re a nurse and Cora’s a midwife – I’m afraid ‘phone psychic’ doesn’t have a great deal of applications here.”
“You’ll find your place sooner or later,” Audrina said. “Eamon was saying you’re good with horses. Said the bay he brought back was half-wild before you got to him.”
She blinked. “Seriously? He’s a kitten.” Her old friend from the road, half-wild? Was that why Eamon had let her ride him all the way home?
“Not according to Eamon. He was very impressed. So that’s something you could pursue, if you want to. Once that wound has healed, mind you,” she added, a bit of the whip crack of a nurse coming through in her voice. “Don’t want you getting an infection. You’re already looking at a scar if you’re not careful.”
“Scars are cool,” Marianne objected, thinking briefly of Eamon, shirtless and covered in countless battle wounds. The thought filled her now that they had all the time in the world to get to know each other, scars and all, and a smile spread across her face, wide enough to twinge at the wound on her face. She said her goodbyes at the foot of the stairs and carried the rucksack Dolores had given her up the stairs by herself, looking forward to being back in the little room she called home. Audrina had said that she was welcome to take her own quarters – there were a few spare rooms in the castle to choose from – but she wanted to stay with Dolores at least a little while longer.
Highlander Protected: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 3) Page 18