Sister of Rogues

by Cynthia Breeding

  And pray that the matron didn’t have another lesson in store.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kier handed the list of supposedly legitimate business contacts to Finley late that afternoon when they met in the tower room.

  Finley glanced at it and frowned. “Is this complete?”

  “No. I…I have not had time to finish it.”

  His friend’s brow shot up. “’Tis not like ye.”

  “I know.” Kier ran his hand through his hair and walked toward the arrow slit that looked into the courtyard. Nearly dusk, he didn’t expect to see movement out there now, but he had been foolishly watching the garden area earlier instead of working on the list for Finley. Fiona hadn’t put in an appearance and Kier suspected Ada had not allowed her outside her room after what had taken place at lunch.

  “Are ye having second thoughts about our cause?” Finley asked. “Ye know Daniel does not want an open rebellion.”

  “No. Yes.” Kier turned away from the window. “I mean, no, I am not having second thoughts about what we are doing. Ireland deserves a voice in Parliament. It is the only way we can control the English rents that keep us poor. And, yes, I agree there should be no bloodshed.”

  “Um.” Finley tucked the paper inside his shirt. “Then can I assume your worries lie with the fae Scot lass ye have as your guest?”

  “Fiona is not fae.”

  Finley shrugged. “Perhaps not, but she has the same effect on ye as if she were.”

  Kier opened his mouth to protest and then snapped it shut. Anything he said to defend himself would merely sound stupid. Besides, he could not deny the fact that Finley was right. Fiona had ensorcelled him as surely as if she had cast a spell.

  Kier decided to change the subject. “I will bring the finished list to the meeting tomorrow night.” At least, he hoped he could attend. He’d spoken with Seamus and Ada this afternoon, giving both of them explicit instructions that no one was to be punished for today’s incidents. Ada had scowled, leading Kier to believe she’d be putting everything that had happened into one of her reports for the warden. “At least, I will try. We had some problems today.” If an order came to take any of the women to the asylum, he wanted to be there to prevent it.

  Finley gave him a studied look before he turned to the door that led outside. “If the fae are at work here, better ye acknowledge it. They can be right troublesome when they are ignored.”

  “The Sidhe do not exist,” Kier muttered, “except in the minds of old crones telling faerie tales to children.”

  Finley grinned and shook his head. “Someday, ye will believe, my friend.”

  “Ye have brought nothing but trouble to this house,” Ada said, glaring at Fiona as she lit the oil lamp in Fiona’s chamber just prior to dusk settling.

  “I should nae have been brought here in the first place,” Fiona answered. “I would be more than glad to be released,”

  “Oh, aye, ye would like that.” Ada chuckled menacingly. “Perhaps I can arrange for ye to have a bed in the ward at the asylum if ye don’t like it here.”

  Fiona’s blood chilled and she clasped her hands to keep them from trembling. She remembered the horrible screaming, shrieking and howling she’d heard at the asylum the day she’d arrived. From what Lona had told her, after the purge, she’d been chained to a wall naked so she wouldn’t dirty any clothing when she fouled herself in what the guards called a cleansing.

  Did the matron really have the authority to send her there?

  Or was Ada simply being a bully again? She showed that trait in just about everything she did, from shoving Lona to making Dulcee cower in fear. Kathleen seemed to be spared the matron’s harsh tactics, but then Kathleen spoke her mind.

  Fiona lifted her chin. “Mr. O’Reilly willna allow it.”

  Ada snorted and stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Ye have a history of violence here. Should I tell the warden about that, your lover willna be able to stop it. Ye might remember that when I ask for a favor.” She chuckled again as she left.

  Fiona stared at the closed door. The threat was real and the blackmail scarcely veiled. Should she tell Kier? Would he even believe her? Ada would deny everything, which would just mean more trouble…but how could Fiona let this go? Bullies just got worse if something wasn’t done to stop them.

  In any event, Fiona had to get Kier alone first.

  Being alone with Kier… Fiona felt her cheeks warm as she recalled Ada’s remark. Kier’s lover. The heat from her face swept through her body as she remembered the soft, sensual feel of his lips brushing hers, teasing with the promise of more and then deepening the kiss until her mouth was full of him. She could still feel the velvety texture of his tongue and the slightly spicy taste of him.

  Kier’s lover… Fiona took a ragged breath. He had made it quite clear the kiss had been a mistake that he didn’t intend on repeating. She didn’t need to waste time fantasizing about something that wouldn’t happen. She needed to escape.

  Fiona went to the door and placed her ear against the wood. She heard no shuffling or movement. As thick as the wood was, she’d probably not be able to hear a horse stomping in the hallway. No one should be standing guard since the door was locked from the outside. Even so, she tried to slide the armoire as quietly as possible.

  Once that was done, she retrieved her candle stub from the chest, making sure her club and coins were safely hidden beneath her tattered blue gown. Taking the candle to the wall lamp, she removed the glass dome and carefully held her wick to the lamp’s. The candle sputtered to life. The stub wouldn’t last long, but at least she could see what lay at the end of the passageway where she’d only encountered space before.

  Fiona replaced the glass and carried her candle to the hole in the wall, hesitating before entering to listen once more for any sound from the hall. Hearing none, she stepped inside the entrance.

  Even with the light, the narrow confines of the passageway closed in on her once more. Now she could see the green slime that covered the stone, evidence of both the damp, cool climate and the age of the castle. The iron railing to her left was rusty with corrosion and she was glad she had not leaned on it the first time she was here. Fiona looked down at the rough-hewn planks of the walkway and wondered how old the wood was. It felt sturdy enough, but she was careful as she inched her way to the right.

  A large rat scurried in front of her, beady eyes glowing red in the glimmer of her candle, and then the creature was gone. Fiona shuddered involuntarily, hoping it was a lone rover. Somewhere from within the bowels of the castle, she heard low strains of sound like something moaning, although she couldn’t ascertain the source. Was Lona’s ghost real after all? Fiona pushed the thought from her mind. She didn’t need her overly active imagination to start conjuring anything right now.

  The candle flickered, reminding Fiona she didn’t have much time. She edged her way farther along the passage, stopping as the stub burnt out, leaving her in the pitch darkness again. As she turned slowly around, one hand on the wall for guidance, Fiona smiled. Before the flame had extinguished, she’d seen what she needed to see—a flight of spiraling stone steps leading down.

  A stairwell to freedom.

  All she had to do was get another candle from the library to light her way.

  Kier studied the women overtly the next day at lunch. None seemed to be harmed in any way that he could see. Dulcee looked lost in her own world as usual, silently muttering to herself. Lona appeared nervous, her gaze moving furtively around the room as though searching for something—or someone. At least she was not spouting off about the devil or ghosts. Kier was all too aware the asylum’s chosen treatment for ridding a person of delusions was removing as much bodily fluid from that person as it could. He didn’t know if Lona could sustain another purging so soon after the last.

  Doctors still relied somewhat on the belief that cer
tain illnesses were associated with different humours like bile, phlegm and blood, and balancing those would restore health. Unfortunately, the effort to exorcise whatever evil spirits lurked in the victim’s body took its toll. Much too often, Kier had seen the horse-drawn hearse go by, carrying another victim of an overzealous ward-keeper.

  By St. Patrick, Kier hated how the inmates were treated. Even when they weren’t being subjected to enemas, emetic purging and blood-letting followed by a near-starvation diet, they were still dealt with as less than human. When he’d first agreed to accept inmates, he’d been given a tour of the asylum.

  The pitiful sounds of men manacled to the walls still lingered in Kier’s ears. When he had asked the warden why they were barefoot and naked in massive cells that were damp and cold, the reply was so they could not harm themselves—and that it saved on laundry. The women’s ward fared only slightly better. Although shackled to the walls, they had straw pallets on the floor and were clothed in loose shifts. The stench of no chamber pots and unwashed bodies permeated the air throughout and he had gagged when he’d left.

  Kier pushed his plate aside, no longer hungry.

  At least today, Kathleen and Fiona sat at opposite ends of the table. Whether Ada had put them there or Fiona had chosen to put some distance between herself and Kathleen, it was a good idea. Kathleen glared at Fiona for most of the meal but remained uncharacteristically silent. Fiona, for her part, seemed oblivious to the veiled hostility. In fact, she looked preoccupied.

  He frowned, wondering what she was thinking about. He’d taken the regular stairs up to the third floor last night, partly to let Ada and Seamus know he was home, but also to stop by her door on the second level. Why he’d given in to such a foolish notion, he didn’t understand. He’d told himself he’d wanted to make sure she wasn’t crying…although she would have had to been howling like a banshee for him to hear it through the solid oak door. He’d had to restrain himself from knocking to ask if she was all right, but he’d have had to shout for her to hear. Good sense had kicked in before he’d made a complete fool of himself.

  “I hope you ladies will join me in the courtyard this afternoon,” Kier said after everyone had finished eating. He thought Ada had probably restricted all of them. From the way the matron’s lips pursed, he knew he was right and barely contained a smile. “The air is warm for this time of year and it is not raining.”

  Kathleen preened as they all rose. “Why, thank you, my lord. I should love to have you escort me for a stroll.”

  Lona snorted and headed for the door.

  “I want to go to my room,” Dulcee mumbled.

  “I…I would like to spend some time in the library,” Fiona said. “I didn’t have time to find a book yesterday.”

  “Of course, I will accompany you,” Kier replied, trying to ignore the lustful thoughts flitting through his brain in anticipation of being alone with Fiona.

  “On second thought, I think I would like a book too,” Kathleen added.

  Kier barely managed to control a groan. He grew tired of Kathleen’s open flirting. Did the brazen woman not understand what he’d just said? Or, more likely, she did and she was thwarting him. Either way, he could not take both of them to the library. The last thing he needed was for a fight to break out.

  “I will get a book for you later,” he said to Fiona. “Is there any particular author you like?” He thought she looked disappointed. Had Fiona wanted to be alone with him too? Did she remember that stolen kiss in as vivid detail as he did? He had no right to be thinking along those lines, but her response to that kiss had been so freely given. Did he dare hope she wanted…but then, she smiled and nodded.

  “Something by Sir Walter Scott. The Lay of the Last Minstrel, if ye have it.”

  “Of course.” A Scottish romance about a woman whose husband was killed. Perhaps their talk the other day about Brice had awakened some memory. Kier hoped it wasn’t true and then he felt ashamed of himself for wishing such a thing.

  Fiona needed to get her memory back…and she had a right to miss her husband.

  Kathleen looked smug as a cat who’d found a way into the creamery a short time later. She stayed at Kier’s side, forcing Fiona to trail behind as they joined Lona and Ada in the courtyard, and managed to give the impression that Kier was escorting her by gushing thank yous at him for taking her for a stroll. Lona rolled her eyes.

  Ada gave Fiona a smirk. “’Tis a lovely day for such a walk,” the matron said.

  Fiona refused to be baited. Instead, she made her way over to the stone bench near the flowers where she’d last seen the faeries. She didn’t dare look down or part the leaves with Ada keeping a hawk’s eye trained on her, but Fiona detected no movement among the small branches. Perhaps they had gone. Faeries were fickle folk, liking to roam at will. She wished she could join them.

  Fiona tilted her head upward, letting the sunshine seep over her face. The sun had warmed the stone on which she sat as well. She should appreciate such a fine afternoon since the weather was considerably milder than it would be in Scotland this time of year, but she missed her home. She missed her freedom.

  Fiona shut her eyes against the tears building. Crying did no good. Instead, she had to think. To plan. Now that she’d seen the hidden stairwell leading downstairs, she needed to know where it went and if it led to an outside door. To find out, she needed another candle to light the way. The library was the easiest place to filch one without being detected. She’d been so close to doing just that until Kathleen had intervened.

  A shadow dimmed the sun and she opened her eyes to find Kier looming tall in front of her. His loose ebony hair lifted slightly in the zephyr breeze as the sunlight played with the angular features of his face, emphasizing the high cheekbones, slightly crooked nose, full mouth and firm jaw. Fiona felt warmth spread through her that had little to do with sun.

  “Why are you not walking about?”

  She could hardly tell him she’d hoped to find the faeries by sitting here. “The walkway seemed a bit crowded,” she said and then bit her lip. The remark sounded snide, and she didn’t want Kier to think she was jealous of Kathleen. When he smiled, she could have kicked herself. He wore the same self-satisfied expression on his face that Ian and Jamie did when women—before Mari and Jillian came along—fawned on them.

  “Yes, well.” He held out a book. “I wanted to give you this.”

  The Lay of the Last Minstrel. When had he had time to get it? Fiona glanced around the courtyard, noting that Kathleen stood on the other side of the courtyard scowling at them. Fiona barely concealed a self-satisfied grin of her own. It wasn’t quite in the same vein of conquest of her brothers, but she did feel just a wee bit victorious. “Thank ye. I will return it as soon as I am finished.”

  “You need not hurry,” Kier said and then paused. “I hope it helps.”

  Fiona didn’t have time to ask him what he meant by that since Ada was advancing on them. She rose, tucking the small volume into her pocket. “I will enjoy reading it.”

  But later, settled on her narrow bed, she’d only read a few pages when tears spilled down her cheeks. The description of Scottish life, even the border feuds in the introduction, brought home to her everything she was missing…everything she had lost.

  Her home. Her family. Her life.

  Fiona put the book down. Somehow, someway, she would get it all back. But first, she needed another candle from the library.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “’Tis a winter gale off the North Sea that’s beginning to blow,” Shauna remarked as she hurriedly shut the harbour office door against the blustery wind that followed Ian inside.

  “Aye,” he replied, rubbing his hands together and then placing another block of peat from the bin into the brazier. “I have nae doubt we will have snow before nightfall.”

  “It is still November,” Abigail said as she
looked up from the ledger she was working on. “Snow falls that early here?”

  “’Tis nae unusual for a blizzard to hit the Highlands before Christmas, although Edinburgh usually is spared until later,” Shauna replied and then furrowed her brows. “’Tis nearly December though, and still nae word about Fiona.”

  Ian gave her a quick glance and Shauna knew he was thinking the same thing, only he didn’t want to say it. She caught the look of pain in his eyes as well. As head of this branch of Clan MacLeod, their people still regarded him as laird, even if the English had forbidden the term after Culloden. As such, he took his responsibilities seriously. She could see by the grim set of his mouth. “’Tis nae your fault what happened.”

  Abigail looked from one of them to the other. “Of course it is not. Ian was not even in London when Fiona was abducted.”

  His face looked as dark as the storm that was approaching. “I should nae have let the lass go.”

  Shauna managed a smile. “Ye ken how headstrong Fiona is. One way or another, she would have gone.”

  “Besides, Jamie was there,” Abigail added.

  Shauna shot her a look. Her cousin by marriage and she had a lot in common since they both liked reading and history, but Abigail had grown up in English society as an only child of an earl. She was only beginning to understand the thickness of a Scot’s blood ties to his kin. Shauna was sure Jamie felt the heavy duty of responsibility as well as Ian did. She was also equally sure that Ian had thoroughly berated him for his failure, for that is how Ian would see it.

  And, if she had any doubt, Ian’s next words proved it.

  “The mon should have kept better watch.”