Possession of a Highlander

by Madeline Martin

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The wet heat of an impending storm clung to Brianna’s skin and muddled the reassuring scents of the garden. Her damp clothing stuck to her legs, her arms, her chest—slowly suffocating. A fire kindled inside her, fueled by thick air that refused to fill her lungs. The slow, whining buzz of an insect in the grass penetrated her skull and frayed her nerves.

  Her garden no longer offered comfort.

  She wanted to tear her clothes off to be free of their clutching weight. She wanted to stomp the grass until the insect fell silent beneath the crush of her heel. She wanted the whole world to stop so she could just think.

  A rock caught her gaze, egg-shaped and white, nestled against the rose bed. Where it did not belong.

  She swooped upon the hapless stone like a hawk. Etchings marred its smooth surface, carved to form perfectly shaped letters.

  Brianna MacKinnon.

  The proud K declared the writing as Colin’s.

  She turned the stone over and it clinked against her ring’s gold band.

  Colin MacKinnon.

  The fire roaring inside her cooled with the significance cupped in her palm. Her fingers traced the carefully hewn lines. Deep grooves scored with a thin object, most likely the blade of a dagger. She pulled in a deep breath of sticky air.

  He’d carved a marriage stone. A raindrop plopped against the top of her head and left a wet dot of hair pressed to her scalp.

  Marriage stones were a Highland symbol of union that bespoke adoration for the intended bride and the love uniting them together. Thunder cracked overhead and another drop pelted her.

  Perhaps Colin had cared for her. Her hands wrapped around the stone, and her heart staggered down the path of possibility once more.

  One stone with two names opposite each other.

  Wind whipped around her in a chaotic cyclone and left her staggering against the pull of its wrath. The pattering of wet footsteps sounded behind her.

  “My lady, please come inside.” Magda’s words were weak against the storm’s assault. “You’ll catch your death.”

  Guilt propelled Brianna toward the castle more so than Magda’s insistent tug. Her aging nurse shouldn’t have to risk her own health to come into the downpour for Brianna’s sake.

  Together they ran through the rear door of the castle, into its dark shelter. The scuff of their feet across the floor echoed down empty halls. Though the shutters were thrown open, the storm allowed little light to grace the heart of the castle.

  Where there was once warmth, there was now cold silence. Where there was once security and love, there was now blackness and uncertainty.

  For six long days.

  Nothing was the same without Colin’s presence. Her hand hugged the stone.

  She was lost between her head and her heart and didn’t know which she needed to believe.

  • • •

  The manacles of Colin’s ankles were a weighty reminder of his captivity. He managed to make his way to Lindsay’s solar with a wide-legged gait that stretched the binds of his confinement. The room was small, its shutters locked tight. A lived-in odor of halitosis and sweat permeated the dark furnishings.

  Stacks of books lined the floor and crushed into the room. Colin narrowed his throat in an attempt to filter the offending air. Futile efforts against so vile an atmosphere.

  Lindsay scuttled around his desk, his breathing labored. A rattle began in his chest then rasped from his throat into a foul hacking cough.

  A grin lit Lindsay’s paling lips. “You were…quite interesting…the way you walk…in chains.”

  His tortured breathing made Colin’s chest burn for air. “Is that why ye escorted me with the guards then?”

  Lindsay lifted a shoulder and dragged in another whining breath. “I had to…see the sight…for myself.”

  Colin kept his face impassive. “I see yer efforts paid off.”

  The grin fell from Lindsay’s face. “You’ve got a smart tongue on you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Colin grinned. He was goading a beast and enjoying every damn minute of it.

  “It was not meant as such.” Lindsay’s palms pressed to the surface of the desk and he rolled to his feet. “I will see you punished. But first—”

  He nodded once and an arm caught Colin around the throat. Blood pumped through him, hot and insistent, demanding he fight. But he was bound with steel and outnumbered by armed men. The odds were not in his favor.

  Another hand grasped his wrist and roughly yanked on the signet ring. It slid loose, and his finger immediately mourned the loss of its weight. He stiffened and the hold around his neck tightened.

  Lindsay’s head tipped back in a show of satisfaction. He held his hand out, palm up, and received the gold seal for what it was—the greatest treasure Colin possessed. “Prisoners need no finery such as this.”

  Lindsay slid it over his fingertip and frowned. The ring could not slide past his fat knuckle.

  Colin did not realize his body strained forward until the pressure around his throat increased.

  Lindsay opened a long silver box at the edge of his desk and threw the gold seal inside before slamming the lid shut.

  He did not lock it.

  “A jeweler can fix that easily enough. Know that when you hang, I will be wearing proof that I own Edzell.”

  The tension around Colin’s neck eased and something smacked between his shoulder blades. He staggered forward and narrowly missed tripping over the length of chain between his feet.

  Lindsay intended to make him appear weak, to strip away everything Colin possessed. To see him humiliated.

  Colin’s cheeks burned with Lindsay’s success, but he’d be damned if he’d let the bastard see as much. “Ye’re a coward if ye hang me without a trial.”

  Lindsay’s face darkened from red to purple. “You are lucky it is you I have in chains and not your wife.”

  The manacles bit into Colin’s wrists beneath his straining muscles. “Leave her out of this.”

  “Oh, but I can’t leave her out. Not when she is the reason you are here.” Lindsay pulled a ledger from a haphazard pile at his left and thumbed through the dingy pages. “Ah, yes.”

  The spine of the book gave a dry crack, and a folded parchment slid onto the desk. He unfolded it with the tips of his thumb and forefinger.

  “I have here a confession from your wife’s own nurse declaring my brother was dead long before your arrival to Edzell.” Lindsay waved the letter in the air. “Do you care to read it yourself?”

  Colin’s stomach tightened.

  He reached for the implicating evidence, the slight movement causing his chains to clink against one another. One of Lindsay’s guards stepped forward and passed the parchment to Colin’s outstretched fingers.

  If he didn’t cooperate, nothing would stand between Lindsay and Brianna. Colin turned his hard glare to the parchment and skimmed its contents.

  The slanting letters wavered across the page, penned in a hand that trembled. The confession admitted to finding Laird Lindsay’s room empty before Colin’s arrival, to Brianna running the estate despite the laird’s absence, and to her illegitimacy. It was signed with the same scrolling lettering.

  Magda Swinton.

  Colin’s chest ached for the old woman and the pain it would cause her to know what her confused words conveyed.

  No mention was made of suspected murder, but then none was needed. Too many assumptions would be made with the facts listed, and none pointed to innocence.

  The guard snatched the parchment from him and passed it back to Lindsay.

  “What do you intend to do with that?” Colin asked, his gaze never leaving the incriminating letter.

  Lindsay folded the confession and tucked it into the breast of his heavy brocade jacket.

  “I intend to give you a choice, barbarian. I thought I’d made that clear before.”

  Colin tore his stare from Lindsay’s jacket. “What choice?
”

  Lindsay’s fingertips steepled atop the desk and a smug grin sunk into his face once more. “You can either go quietly to your hanging and accept your fate as a murderer.” He patted his hand over his chest where the letter had been concealed. “Or I send this evidence to Parliament, and Brianna will carry the guilt. No one will stand for you after that display of Catholic tradition at your wedding. Your gifting of a ring had the nobles in an uproar for over a week. But I digress.”

  Lindsay leaned forward and sucked in a whistling breath. “Would you see your wife accused of treason, or will you hang?”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Brianna faced away from the bed she had shared with Colin and tried to ignore the way his scent clung to the curtains, the coverlet, the tapestries—everything.

  “My lady, you must set this down.” Magda’s warm fingers wrapped around Brianna’s hand, the one gripping the marriage stone. “Your sleeve will not go over your arm if you continue to hold it.”

  Brianna hesitated. The stone was solid, real. Proof that Colin held feelings for her. Proof that perhaps he had not used her.

  A shiver slipped across her damp skin.

  Magda tsked softly. “I don’t know how you always manage to get yourself into such messes.”

  The stone dropped from Brianna’s hand. “What?”

  Magda nudged the sodden pile of Brianna’s ruined gown with the toe of her shoe. “The fountain again?”

  The old nurse’s memory faltered with more frequency in Colin’s absence.

  “We were both in the rain,” Brianna said. “You came to get me because I had foolishly stayed outside.”

  Magda waved her hand, and a crinkle of confusion showed at the corners of her rheumy eyes. “Oh pish. If that were the case, I would be soaked as well.”

  Brianna caught her lower lip between her teeth to keep the crush of helpless pain at bay. She’d insisted Magda change first, a decision she did not regret. The older woman was too frail to remain in such heavy, wet clothes for long.

  Magda eased a dry satin sleeve over Brianna’s hand and slid it up her arm. “If your father finds out you’ve been floating rose petals in that fountain again.” Her jaw tightened. “Well, never mind that. We’ll make sure he never knows.”

  Magda paused to retrieve the stone from the floor. She studied it a moment, and a soft smile touched her mouth. “Where is your husband?” She traced the etchings with the same gentle care Brianna had. “You’ve been sad without him, and I know he must miss you.”

  “You mean Colin?” Brianna asked with surprise. “You remember him?”

  Magda looked up. “Of course. How could I ever forget a man who looks at you in such way?”

  “In such a way?” Hope chose her reckless words even as caution guarded her wounded heart. “How does he look at me?”

  The unfastened dress sagged around Brianna’s shoulders. “With all the love I’ve ever seen in a man’s eyes, sweet child.” She caressed Brianna’s cheek. “With all the love you deserve.”

  Brianna could not speak, could not draw breath. She stood weighted to the floor by her own guilt and shame. Robert had twisted her with manipulation. And she had fallen prey.

  She wrapped her arms around her slender nurse. “Thank you, Magda.” Something crinkled in the older woman’s bodice.

  Brianna released her and both women looked down. Magda’s fingers plunged into her gown and withdrew a crumpled parchment. Bewilderment lined her face. The bold seal of Edinburgh’s Parliament imprinted the yellowed wax seal on the front.

  “Where did you get that?” Brianna plucked the letter from the woman’s limp grasp.

  Magda shook her head. “I don’t recall.”

  Brianna snapped the thick wax seal and ripped the letter open. The breath choked from her lungs. She read the missive once more. Edinburgh’s Parliament had responded the same as the local authorities.

  No criminal by the name of Colin MacKinnon stood accused. If he was not registered as a criminal, then where had her uncle taken him?

  • • •

  The light filtering through the crack in the wall had faded to dusky gold. Darkness squeezed Colin in a grip that would only tighten as night descended. His chest pressed against the slick wall, a squinted eye searching through the window of freedom, frantic to glimpse his last sunset.

  To no avail.

  Colin looked down at the hem of his once fine shirt, to where a pinprick of dried blood stained the golden yellow fabric. He did not need light to know there were two more against his back.

  Brianna’s blood. The efforts of her labor.

  He had endured many injuries in his lifetime. Weapons and war had left marks peppering his body, yet none of them compared to the pain in his chest when he summoned the image of Brianna’s face.

  He longed to caress her silken hair, to tease her lips with his own, to see the trust burn bright in her eyes. But she would never gaze at him with trust again. He would never hold her again.

  The spear of light now lost its golden tinge, and dusk began its quick descent upon his cell.

  His goals had not yet come to fruition, and now they wilted beneath the drought of time.

  Edzell was well-maintained and its people safe. He had sacrificed much to see it so, yet his father would never bear witness to his efforts. His father would never regard him with respect.

  The land would pass to Brianna upon his death.

  Colin’s fists clenched with the knowledge of how Lindsay intended to use Magda’s confession to persuade Brianna to marry his son.

  Brianna.

  She would never know how he felt about her. There would be no opportunity to apologize, to tell her he loved her.

  The gray light of dusk yielded to the menacing pull of darkness, and his shoulders sagged beneath the shroud of black.

  Tomorrow he would die.

  • • •

  Brianna ran through the courtyard. Steam from the drying cobblestones hissed against her skirts and clung to her hair. She paid little heed to any of it as she searched the faces of each roaming guard.

  A shock of light blond hair caught her attention. Jonathan.

  “Lady MacKinnon. What’s happened?”

  “Come,” she gasped. “Please.”

  She led him into a guard room to the right of Edzell’s entrance.

  He stopped just inside and released her. “If possible, I would prefer to leave the door open lest rumors rise.” His low voice echoed off the domed ceiling and stone walls.

  Rumors?

  She glanced around the dimly lit room. It lent a privacy lovers would seek.

  Rumors didn’t matter now, though his consideration was appreciated. She thrust the letter from Parliament toward Jonathan.

  He snagged the missive in his hand. “What—”

  “My uncle has not given Colin to the law.”

  His brows knit together. “If he’s not awaiting trial, then where is he?”

  “I can only assume he is within my uncle’s manor.”

  The look on Jonathan’s face, the flicker of horror and dread, indicated the other option she had not allowed herself to consider.

  “We must go to him.” Her words rang sharp with the force of her determination.

  “We?” He shook his head. “I’ll gather the men to take the manor. And you will wait here.”

  Brianna crossed her arms over her chest in the steadfast way she had seen Colin do so many times before. “No.”

  “The laird would not have you—”

  “The laird would not have you sacrifice his guards for a mission that would end in naught but death. If you and I go alone, we can go under the cloak of deception. We can move quietly. We can escape without the sacrifice of lives.”

  His gaze turned appraising. “You sound as though you have a plan.”

  Perhaps he would consider her scheme after all. The weight in her heart eased. “Indeed I do.”

  If her uncle would go against the law to seize her hu
sband, she would go against the law to see him saved.

  Chapter Forty

  Brianna pressed her back against the rough tree trunk and stared through the moonlit forest to where Jonathan stood. Her heart drummed so loudly, she suspected the guards surrounding her uncle’s manor would hear.

  She peered around the tree once more and squinted into the darkness. The guard stationed at the rear of the manor had not moved.

  And his face did not appear familiar.

  She swept off her cloak, revealing a bodice pulled too low and laced too tight. Jonathan’s averted gaze confirmed her attire was anything but appropriate.

  The attire worn by women who visited this manor at such an hour.

  Marie’s lessons would be well used tonight.

  Brianna stepped onto the path toward the manor, into the glowing white light of the full moon. She masked her unraveling nerves with a loose-hipped saunter, the kind that offered the promise of greater things to come.

  The guard’s stare burned into her exposed flesh. He would be far too distracted to notice Jonathan creeping through the trees to his right.

  She stopped before the man, but his eyes did not leave her breasts. “Which one are you here to see?” he asked.

  Brianna took a deep breath, so her bosom swelled against the tight bodice. “Both.”

  The man stiffened and tore his gaze from her chest.

  She held her breath in an attempt to keep her reaction from showing.

  His suspicion melted into a wide grin, exposing a chipped front tooth. “Both, eh? You’re an eager one.” His stare rested on her breasts once more. “Think there might be some left for me when they’ve finished with you?”

  “Perhaps if you are still awake when I leave.” She forced the words from her mouth.

  The guard cocked his head. “There’s something about you I like.” He looked up at her face. “Something familiar.”

  Jonathan crept up behind the guard, his feet silent.

  Brianna shook her head, hoping Jonathan would realize the action was meant to stay his attack. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” She took a bold step closer to the guard and trailed a finger down his shirt. It was moist with sweat. “I know I’d remember if we had.”