by Madelyn Hill
“Pack our bags.”
The older woman gasped and wrung her hands. A pounding on the door made her jump.
“Tell Laird Maclean I have retired.”
Nessa nodded but hesitated until the door rattled once again. In a nervous scuffle, she yelled through the door. “M’lady is sleeping, she is.”
“Stand back,” vibrated through the hard wood.
Nessa cowered in the farthest corner. The door exploded open.
“Leave,” Vivian bellowed.
He searched the chamber and found Nessa shivering near the window. A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I would like to speak to Vivian.”
“Stay where you are, Nessa.”
Galen met her furious glare with an even look. “’Tis my castle, I’ll do the commanding.”
Her maid rose and practically ran through the gaping doorway, her eyes wide with fear. “I’ll be in the corridor if you need me, m’lady.”
“Not to worry,” Galen called after her. “I promise not to eat her.”
Vivian chuckled despite herself. “I’d be pleased if you didn’t torture her so,” she reprimanded.
He shrugged and paced around the room. His commanding presence sucked the breath from her. She’d miss the strength of him. “We’ll be ready to leave on the morrow.”
He cocked his brow. “’Tis too dangerous.” Galen’s gaze read predatory—possessive.
She opened the armoire and took out the serviceable wool gown she had worn to the isle. “Donal and my mother survived the voyage. Surely I can too.”
“Burke admitted a rower shall arrive in four days to retrieve them.”
“See?” She gave him a weak smile. “We can arrange for him to take us as well.”
She felt Galen watching as she folded her night wrapper and placed it in the bottom of her valise. “What of our experimentation?”
She kept her gaze on her traveling bag. She must remain strong, not allow her emotions to rule her actions. ‘Twas time for rational thinking, as a scientist. Her emotions must wait until she returned to Westington. “I’m confident you will complete it successfully.”
He stepped forward and tipped her chin. He watched with an imploring look on his face and her heart clenched. “Together, we’d be successful.”
Reluctantly, she pulled away. “Nay. You’d only come to realize you despised me. I’ve brought death and deceit to your home.” She gave a shaky laugh mixed with tears. “My mother. You can’t imagine how difficult this is for me.”
He swept her into a tight embrace. “Indeed, I can. My father brought pain and suffering to this castle as well.”
At first she resisted, then she sank into the kindness of his gesture. His heat seeped into her weary body, supporting her, giving her a respite from punishing herself.
“All these years,” she said quietly, “I’ve waited for my mother to return. She’d beg forgiveness and I would tell her none was needed. I just wanted her to say she loved me.” She felt the ropes of Galen’s tensed muscles. Immediately, she chastised herself. Surely he wished the same.
How similar their situations appeared to be, when they were so vastly different.
He stayed silent. She wondered what he thought, but was too cowardly to ask. She pulled from him and gazed once again on his handsome face. His brow rose in question, yet she said nothing. She just continued to study his sapphire eyes, strong jaw, and the endearing streak of gray in his ebony hair. She secured the image to her mind, hoping it would never fade, though time would attempt to rob her of it.
With a quick shake of her head, she said, “I must pack.”
Galen clutched her arms tight to her side. “I will keep them in the dungeon until another boat can retrieve them. You needn’t fear them.”
Her heart pounded with uncertainty at his insistence.
He hadn’t asked her to stay. He was content to allow her to leave on the next vessel.
Vivian kept a tight rein on her emotions, lest they reveal themselves and shame her as a wave of despair swept through her.
“Vivian?”
She glanced at him. Had he seen her shudder? Hopeful, she met his gaze. “Aye?”
He shook his head and left her chamber without a backward glance. She longed to call after him, profess her love and desire to be with him. But she didn’t.
Those thoughts stayed with her as she folded each piece of clothing. Mundane, but the task helped still the tremor of her limbs. The cracking of her heart. The shattering of her future.
Galen’s steps took him from her chamber and into the corridor with a heaviness that rivaled his sober thoughts. She’d be leaving him. ‘Twas what he’d planned.
He shook his head at Vivian’s claim she’d brought death and deceit to Lomarcan. The death and deceit had already been here, deeply built into the walls of the castle and oozing out of each and every crevice.
Vivian had brought light and laughter—love. And because he loved her, Galen had to allow her to leave.
He kenned there was no surviving without her. She pervaded the very air he drew, the blood pumping through his veins.
He forced himself to continue in the direction of the dungeon. It was time for answers, and if it required Galen beating him within an inch of his meager life, Donal Burke would provide them.
Galen nudged Bernard with the tip of his boot. The poor man had stood guard the entire day. Weary lines etched deep in the old man’s face.
“Go up and eat. I’ll stay here.”
With a grateful nod, he bowed. The bite of guilt waylaid Galen for a moment at the stiff, measured steps of the elder man.
“I demand to be released,” a haughty voice informed him.
He cast her a look of disdain. “You are not in the position to demand, Mrs. Stuart.”
She leaned toward the bars. “I am called Madame.” A coquettish gleam seeped into her gaze. “I will share all with you.”
His stomach churned at her duplicity. “Do you care naught for your daughter?”
In an instant, her expression changed to one of sympathy. “Poor Vivian. She truly has suffered at the hands of her father. He’s the one who brought Burke to the estate.”
Galen grunted and fisted his hands. The woman had no shame. “After you shoved him in the direction of Westington with treachery on his agenda.”
She brought her hand to her chest. “Do you think a mere woman capable of such?” she purred.
He shrugged. “Aye.”
Her hand eased through the iron bars as she skimmed her finger along his jaw. Galen flinched and stepped back. “You’ll not trick me. You abandoned your daughter, murdered my father—”
She waved at him and moved until she was in front of him. “Burke had a hand in those.”
Icy fury raced through him. Did this woman actually believe she was innocent of all the havoc she’d wrought? “Your guilt will be proven to the magistrate. Burke,” he said as he nodded toward the huddled figure sleeping in the corner, “will only assist in giving evidence against you both.”
She bared her teeth and raked her nails across his face. He touched the raw scratches.
He turned on his heel and stalked toward the stairs.
“You’ll regret this,” she yelled after him. “You’ll rue the day you tangled with The Madame.”
He ignored her ranting and headed to a place of solace within the castle.
His study.
He picked up the decanter resting on a nearby carved table. After he poured a measure of whiskey, he stared into the dancing flames.
He threw the snifter against the stone hearth, grimacing as the glass shattered and the amber liquid seeped over the stones. So like his life, draining away before his eyes.
The sun rose too quickly on the fourth day. Vivian glanced out the window of her chamber, praying to see an impenetrable storm. Her prayers failed to reach God however, as the sun broke through the morning’s mist as if sneaking a peek at her last day in Wolf’s Castle.
/> “Up with ye, lass,” Nessa chimed, “’Tis time to leave this God forsaken island.”
Her heart laden with pain and despair, Vivian began her morning ritual in strained silence.
Her maid tucked the coverlet into place. “The first thing I’ll do when we get back to the mainland is get me a stiff tankard of ale.”
Bemused, she chuckled. Her mood sobered when she checked the armoire one last time. Lady Maclean’s regal clothes hung as if waiting for her to try them on and play princess.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, blurring her vision and making the gowns dance with color. A folded piece of ivory parchment on the floor caught her eye. She picked it up and recognized her father’s slanted script. She’d completely forgotten about the letter. “Nessa, take my valise to the kitchen. I’ll be there shortly.” Her voice quaked as she spoke.
Nessa gathered her into an embrace and patted her back. Her tears escalated into a whimper, piteous and keening.
“Lass, you’ll make yourself sick, you will. Now, now. Dry up. ‘Twill be a sweet sight when we reach Inverness.”
She nodded and gave a weak smile.
“That’s me girl.” Nessa lumbered around the chamber, picking up her valise and a dark woolen cloak. “Bernard and I will be waiting for you.”
After Nessa had gone, Vivian dried her tears, but more came to replace them.
Galen hadn’t come to see her.
He hadn’t asked her to stay.
She glanced about the chamber, the parchment still in her hand. She’d become accustomed to the bleak features of Lomarcan’s unique landscape, felt a kinship to it. And soon it would be lost to her.
With her heart pounding its thunderous beat against her throat, she sat and opened the paper.
‘Twas not the alchemy notes she’d expected.
My Dear Vivian,
If you are reading this letter, then I have left this earth for good. Not to worry, my dear lass, I’ll be watching over you. I must warn you of an important matter. Do not trust Donal Burke. A nasty piece of business, that man.
Vivian covered her mouth with a shaking hand. She had learned that horrific lesson on her own.
I’m so proud of you, my girl. I can’t recall if I ever let you know, more’s the pity. I fear I may have smothered the life from you. Please realize ‘twas only love guiding my intentions. Forgive me and do me one last favor. Live your life, Vivian lass. Don’t worry about convention, continue to study alchemy (Aye, I caught on to your nightly visits to the lab), find a good man of your own choosing, one you love. Use that good head on your shoulders. The trust I didn’t give you while I lived is there for your taking. Grasp on and don’t look back. Be happy, my love. You’ve been the gem of my heart.
Your loving father,
Robert Stuart
Tears flowed down her cheeks and dropped onto the parchment. She folded the letter and held it to her heart as she left the chamber. Vivian mulled over the contents and how they inspired and saddened her all at once.
She walked slowly, a part of her thinking if she gave Galen enough time, he’d come running after her. When she reached the kitchen, she searched for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
The rower, a broad man with a weather-beaten face, stood near the hearth warming his large hands. He nodded a welcome to her and slipped his gloves back on. “Are you ready, m’lady?”
She glanced at the other gentleman, dressed in a fine wool mantle and leather gloves.
“I’m Sir William O’Grady, Miss Stuart. Magistrate of Inverness.” He came forward, hand extended. “I’ve received word from Edinburgh of Ellen Stuart and Donal Burke and their nefarious plans. Their trail led me here. Appears they have caused much pain throughout Scotland.”
Confused, Vivian reached for the table. Alice bustled in and scolded him. “I told you to be waiting for me before you told her.”
Efficient as ever, she poured tea and guided Vivian to a seat. “Now, lass, don’t you be worrying about riding with your mother and that scoundrel. The magistrate will keep you safe, he will.”
“My lady,” Sir William said with a bow, “I guarantee your safety.”
Slightly reassured, she finished her tea. Before long, Nessa and Bernard, bundled and ready, came into the kitchen.
The magistrate nodded and walked in the direction of the dungeon. The rower followed with heavy steps. Aye, she’d feel safe with these two burly men.
“How did they know my mother was here?”
Alice shifted her gaze, wiped her apron, and cleared her throat. “Been more trouble in Edinburgh and Inverness. ‘Twas why your mother left in such a hurry and came here with Burke. The law was fast on her heels.” She shook her head, a grim expression on her face. “Lucky we secured them.”
She wrung her hands. Ellen Stuart’s vile machinations reached far beyond Lomarcan. With deliberate motions, she headed down the slippery steps toward the dock. Nessa and Bernard followed silently, save for their footfalls on the stone.
Vivian watched the door at the top of the stairwell. Fanciful hope rose in her as it creaked open, only to plunge into despair when Sir William emerged with her mother and Donal in tow.
Conflict raged anew at the thought of a voyage with Ellen Stuart and her former fiancé. To share the vessel with them would take unimaginable strength.
Once again she glanced at the door, willing it to open with the sheer power of her heart.
The rower and Sir William led them to the boat. Bernard and Nessa climbed into the vessel as her mother and Donal were assisted by the rower. Their hands were tethered by manacles and a rusty chain.
Vivian’s feet seemed rooted to the wooden dock.
“Come, lass,” Nessa pleaded, her eyes widened with concern.
For the first time that day, she smiled, knowing her happiness lay here, on Mac Tìre. Her worries seem to float away, gone with the boat about to sail. “I must stay.”
Nessa tried to get out of the boat. “We’ll stay with you, lass. We love you.”
Bernard nodded his head and grinned. “Aye, lass.”
“Are you certain?”
They both nodded as Nessa climbed out of the boat. “Lass, I’ve been with you since you were a bairn. I want to be there when you have your own.”
Vivian nearly swooned with all of the emotions filling her heart. “Aye, please stay. We’ll settle Westington later.”
Her servants climbed back on the dock and waved to Sir William.
Donal yelled and demanded to be released. And though her mother glared at her, Vivian’s resolve wavered not as she stepped away from the boat. Sir William saluted, then grasped the oars to guide the boat out of the cave.
She watched them leave, knowing for certain she’d never see her mother again. Though it pained her to admit, she was glad. If only her mother had been the mother of her dreams. The mother who loved her daughter.
She trotted up the stairs, eager to find Galen. After searching his study, the main hall, even Alex’s nursery, she left the castle and went to the cliff.
There he stood. Straight, unyielding to the sea breeze. A lump formed in her throat at the overwhelming love she felt for him.
Galen turned toward her, grief stark in the tense lines of his face. “Vivian,” he said as if the words were wrenched from his gut.
She ran into his embrace.
His hand skimmed over her as if to ensure she was indeed there. “I went to stop you, but I saw the boat leave,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”
“Nay,” she cried. “I couldn’t leave.”
He framed her face in his hands and tipped it up to his. “I’ve been the fool.”
“Aye.”
Chuckling, he kissed her. “Be mine. Be my wife.”
“Aye.”
He swept her into his arms, his blue eyes never leaving hers. As he crossed to the castle, he smothered her with kisses, whispering words of love and devotion.
Epilogue
Vivian kneaded
the arch of her back where the wrenching pain had plagued her for the last day. She waddled toward Galen’s study, ready to enjoy their ritual of afternoon tea and conversation. Absently she rubbed her girth, swollen to bursting with child. A smile tugged at her lips with the thought of cradling their bairn.
Auld Alice clucked her tongue. “M’lady, you should be resting.” She often scolded Vivian for walking about the castle so close to the impending birth.
“I’m as stout as a ship,” she countered, although her labored breathing may have given her true state away.
They entered the study and Alice set down the silver tray overflowing with the makings of tea. Galen turned and a smile brightened his handsome face and caused Vivian’s step to hitch. Overwhelmed by the power of his love, she hastened to the lab table.
“We’ve done it,” he proclaimed.
Amazed, she looked into the ceramic crucible he held. Shimmering liquid swirled enchantingly.
Gold.
“Oh, Galen—” She clutched her stomach.
He set the crucible on the table and rested his hand on her arm. “Are you well, lass?”
She nodded. “I will be once the babe is born.”
He looked confused. “’Twill be soon?”
She nodded once again. “Sooner than you can imagine.” She gripped his hand, leaning on him as they moved toward the damask settee near the table. He seated her and knelt on the floor beside her. “What do you need?”
“Nothing.”
She cringed.
“Alice,” she called, “I’ll need a midwife now.”
Galen blanched as comprehension dawned on him, then he sunk onto the floor.
With a derisive snort, Alice stepped over him. “Mon, they’re all fools.”
Vivian chuckled, then clenched the arm of the settee as another pain started.
Sweat drenched his clothing as he paced outside their chamber. With each groan, he reached for the door.