“I’ll get him for you. You just stay put. But first, let’s tidy you up a bit before I bring Lord Connor up here.”
Devin tamped back a sob. “Thank you, Mrs. Goode; I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Don’t you be fretting about that none. I’m not going anywhere. Now sit still while I get you a warm basin of water and a washcloth. We’ll have you ready in a jiffy.” She hurried off into the bathroom.
Roughly fifteen minutes later, Devin sat back against the bed pillows nervously fidgeting with the lace trim on the coverlet. As much as she wanted to see Lord Connor, she didn’t have a clue what she was going to say to him. Part of her didn’t want to say anything at all.
Why did it have to be this way? She knew in her heart that something had changed between her and Laird MacLay the morning after they made love, but why now? Why did it have to be so fast? She felt the tears threaten to fall and willed herself not to cry. She had to remain strong, had to fight away the memory at least for a little while.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door. “Come in,” Devin called out.
She watched as the door slowly opened and a tall man came into view. “Lord Connor?”
“Aye, milady. Lord Connor MacLay at your service.” He gave a small half-bow.
“Please, come in and have a seat. I’m sorry I can’t get up and properly welcome you to the castle, but…” Her words trailed off.
“Don’t worry yourself over it, Lady Noone. I’m sorry I came at such a difficult time. Please, forgive my intrusion.” He settled himself in a wingbacked chair by the fireplace.
Devin found herself staring at him. Kyle? No, he wasn’t Kyle. Kyle was gone.
This man was tall and handsome. He wore a black turtleneck and black dress pants. Every inch of the man was pure muscle, not an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. A warmth filled her body as she continued to stare at him. He was the spitting image of Kyle, but not. And too, there was something different…
“Milady, are you alright?”
Devin pulled herself from her musings. “I’m sorry, forgive my staring. You look so much like Laird MacLay, but that’s impossible.” As hard as she tried, she couldn’t pull her gaze from him. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t remember the reason why you’re here.”
He cleared his throat and moved to stand. Her eyes followed his every movement. “I’m here to…” He looked at the floor, then back at her. “I’m here to assume my rightful place as the owner of Castle Loch Haven.”
“I beg your pardon.” Devin sat up straight in the bed. “I don’t believe I heard you correctly.”
“Aye, you did milady. I am the heir to Castle Loch Haven. My great, great, great-grandfather was Lord Kyle MacLay and as such, I am entitled to the ownership of the Castle.”
“That’s impossible. Kyle never married nor had children.”
“It’s true he never married, but he did father a child. My great, great-grandfather was his son.”
“Lord Connor, do you have proof of this?” Devin felt shaky; her hands clenched into fists, her palms became clammy.
“Yes, I do have proof. I would have come sooner, but I have been away on business in Australia and only found out last month about Lord Rolland’s passing and of your inheritance of the castle.”
“And where is this proof you have?” She tried to make her voice sound strong, to show she didn’t believe him, but something niggled at the back of her mind. Was it possible?
“It’s in my room, Lady Noone. I shall be back posthaste with it.” He turned on his heel and left the room.
Seconds later, Mrs. Goode bustled in. “I don’t know about that one, Lady Noone. He seems to be who he says he is, but keep your guard up. Your barrister was mighty excited about talking to you yesterday. He said he had something important to tell you. He did say the Lord was coming to the castle and that he did, barely minutes after the phone call.” She paused and took a breath. “And it’s a good thing he did, milady, or we might not have found you when we did. It was Lord Connor who pulled you to safety from the battlement. I hate to think what would have happened if he hadn’t heard Algee’s barks and ran after the dog.”
Devin stared at her. “It was Lord Connor who pulled me up?”
Mrs. Goode nodded. “Aye, that he did and just in the nick of time. I don’t think you could have held on much longer.”
“But Kyle…”
Mrs. Goode shook her head. “The Laird was gone, we haven’t seen him since.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Maybe this will help you, Lady Noone.” Connor’s voice broke in from the doorway. He walked to the bed and held out a small linen-wrapped packet.
Devin took it from him and laid it on her lap. She stared down at it. Carefully, she peeled back the cloth and gasped.
“The diary, how did you get Elsbeth’s diary?”
“It’s been in my family for generations, apparently. Only last month did my grandmother give it to me when she learned of Lord Rolland’s death. She said it was time to set things to rights again.”
“But you couldn’t have had it. I have it.” Devin looked first at the packet, then up at Connor. She ran her fingers over the front of the book, and then opened the cover. “Oh, my.”
Mrs. Goode leaned over. “Lady Noone, are you all right? What’s wrong, lass?”
Devin lifted her head and met Connor’s stare. “This isn’t the same diary.”
“I don’t understand.” He took a step forward.
Devin pushed back the covers and made to stand; pushing away the hand Mrs. Goode offered her. “The dresser, I need to get to the dresser.”
“Milady.”
“Lady Noone.”
She brushed aside their concern and slowly made her way to the dresser. Pulling open the drawer, she reached under the pile of sweaters and lifted out a small cream-colored book. “This is Elsbeth’s diary,” she proclaimed.
“As is this,” Connor lifted the other cream-colored book off the bed. “It seems there are two diaries.”
“Good gracious,” Mrs. Good exclaimed, clutching her hand over her chest.
Devin took a step toward the bed and felt herself start to sway. Before she could take another step, she was lifted up into the arms of Connor.
“Easy, milady, wouldn’t do you any good to bash your head a second time. Let me help you.”
“I can walk,” Devin protested weakly, knowing she couldn’t.
He sat her on the side of the bed and stepped back. “Mrs. Goode, it’s probably best if you do the rest.”
The older woman bustled about, tucking Devin back in between the covers.
“Two diaries,” Devin said softly. She couldn’t seem to get her head around the fact that there might actually be two. When and how?
She lifted her hand to her throbbing forehead and closed her eyes. Suddenly, nothing made sense. She was tired, so very tired.
“That’s it. You’ve got to rest now, milady. No more talking for awhile.” Mrs. Goode glared at Lord Connor. “Off with you now. The Lady needs her rest. You two can chat more after lunchtime.”
“Milady, if it would be all right, may I read the diary that you have. And perhaps it would be best if you read the one I brought. Afterwards, we can compare what we have learned.” With a sideways glance at Mrs. Goode he added. “No rush, of course.”
“Fine,” Devin slide down under the covers and let the housekeeper tuck her in. “Read the diary and we’ll talk later.” She closed her eyes and fell asleep within seconds.
“Lord Connor, unless you want to be risking my wrath, I suggest you take the diary and hightail it out of Lady Noone’s chambers. I’ll not have you upsetting her while she is ailing. Do you understand me?”
Connor smiled at the woman. “I understand completely, Mrs. Goode, and might I add you’re a formidable force to be reckoned with.” With a wink, he picked up the diary and left the room.
The next few days passed in a blur as Devin slowl
y pulled herself back together. Her head throbbed terrible, but at least the bruises were beginning to fade. Looking down at her bloodied knuckles, she realized just how close she had come to falling off the battlement. The thought sickened her to her core.
Reaching for the diary, she had to force herself to open the cover. Unlike the first one, this time she was scared to see what was contained between the creamy-covers. Flipping the page, she noted the familiar handwriting at the top of the page.
January 2, 1603
Diary,
It has been a long time is passing since I last wrote. My Lord Duncan presented me with this book in which to keep my thoughts and hopes. He knows I have much on my mind and believes this is the cure. Diary, I am happy. So very happy. But it came at a great cost. I have learned that Lord Kyle has perished. He fell from the battlement on the night I rode away with Duncan. It is my fault Diary. If I hadn’t left, none of this would have come to pass.
I cannot turn back the hours to that fateful night. I can only go forward in knowing I have wronged my Lord Kyle. Till my dying day, I will not rest easy with the knowledge it was I who killed the Laird. Your humble servant, Elsbeth MacPherson
Devin shut her eyes and felt a tear slide down her cheek. So Elsbeth knew what had happened to Kyle. She choked back a sob and forced herself to continue reading.
January 26, 1603
Dairy, the babe is moving well now. There are times when I wish he wouldn’t be so active. But it is a good thing. I am learning to be a good wife to Duncan and have made great strides at running a household. Lord Duncan is a good man, and has been very kind to me. Our love was created in the shadows but now is allowed to bloom outside the confines of the darkness.
Till later, dear friend. Elsbeth
So if nothing else, Elsbeth was happy. That mattered a lot, but at what cost? At the cost of Kyle losing his life? At the risk of sending an innocent man plummeting to his death? She felt herself grow angry, and she tossed the book on the bed next to her. Resting her head back against the pillows, Devin sighed.
Knowing that she wouldn’t find the answers she sought unless she finished the diary, Devin glanced at it. Did she really want to know what happened to Elsbeth at the end of the pages? Part of her did, and the other part didn’t.
Maybe a change of scenery would clear her head. Pulling on her sweater she moved toward the bedroom door. The doctor had given her clearance to move freely about the castle. Her wounds all healed but her knuckles. Tucking the diary in her pocket, Devin headed for the kitchen.
Pushing open the kitchen door, she started. “Lord Connor.”
Connor MacLay looked up from where he was rolling dough and grinned. His face was covered in flour and his black dress pants were speckled with white.
“Afternoon, milady, might I say you’re looking a mite bit finer than the last time we met.”
“Thank you, what are you doing?” She surveyed the room, smiling at Mrs. Goode and her young assistant. “It looks as though you’ve had a flour fight.”
“Not exactly, but close. I’m teaching the lasses how to make my famous cinnamon buns.” He picked up the dough and tossed it high into the air and neatly caught it with one hand.
Devin watched as Mrs. Goode blushed. “Aye, milady that he is. And a right fine baker the Laird is.”
“Please, Lady Noone, have a seat. I’ll put on some tea for you. Galene, get her Ladyship a cup of tea and some cookies.”
The young girl curtseyed and scurried away to do Mrs. Goode’s bidding. Devin took a seat at the far end of the table and watched as Lord Connor pounded the dough, then broke it off into pieces for the buns. He certainly looked as though he knew what he was doing. She watched as he joked with the kitchen staff, putting them totally at ease. He looked so very much like Kyle...
No, she shook her head. He wasn’t Kyle. She needed to stop thinking that he was. What she did need to do was finish reading and find out whatever it was that made Connor believe he was heir to Castle Loch Haven.
Galene put the tea and plates of cookies down in front of her and curtseyed again. “Thank you, Galene.”
“You’re most welcome, milady.” She scurried back to her spot at the other end of the table and resumed greasing and flouring the pans for the rolls.
“Okay, we’re all set. Put the dough in the pans, top it with the nuts, cinnamon, brown sugar and honey, and then put it in the oven to bake. While that’s baking, you can mix up the powdered sugar and water for the icing. How about it, Lady Noone, care for a fresh, hot cinnamon roll from the oven? Can’t beat them, made it myself.” He smiled at her and Devin felt her stomach flip over.
“Maybe later, thanks.”
His gaze clouded over, then brightened. “As you wish, milady.”
A few minutes later, Devin strolled into the library and took a seat on the plush window-bench. She pulled the heavy lap-robe over her legs and settled back to read more about Elsbeth.
Feb 22, 1603
Diary, it is growing closer. The babe stirs most of the day and night now. Duncan believes it to be a boy I carry. I am carrying low, as did his mother and sister. Hence the feel that it be a male within my womb. I don’t care either way. As long as the child be healthy, that is fine for me. We are leaving the keep to stay with Duncan’s mother in Glasgow. It is but a two days ride from here. The midwife that delivered him and his sister will be there to assist in this birth. So dear Diary, it is with heavy heart, I must close the door to another part of my life and journey forward once more. I wish Mother were around to see my child. Aunt Cecelia as well, I miss the closeness we shared, but know nothing in life is guaranteed. Till the morrow.
Elsbeth
The baby was due soon, Devin mused. And Elsbeth was off to another castle to deliver her child. How uncivilized things must have been for her. No modern medicine, no mother or aunt there to hold her hand and reassure her that things would be fine. She turned the page and continued on.
March 11, 1603
Diary, I have given birth to the most beautiful child on the face of God’s earth. A boy, a darling, little boy who came howling into the world as though the demons of hell were on his hells. It was a difficult labor and not one I wish to repeat. I am weak and the midwife has banished me to bed. I am to remain in my chambers for the next two fortnights to regain my strength. They bring the babe in to suckle during the daytime hours. I am weak Diary; Duncan tells me there was great bloodshed at the birth. It was a long and arduous labor to bring my son into the world. But well worth it as he is everything to me. Duncan and I have a son. A child to carry on the name of MacPherson. His family is well receiving of the child. I believe I actually saw tears in his father’s eyes the first time he held him aloft for the villagers to see. I must rest now diary, I fear my strength is wasting away. Till we meet again, Elsbeth
Something wasn’t right, Devin could feel it. She hastened to the next page, almost fearful of what she would see written there.
May 17, 1603
Diary, it has been a long time since we last visited. I am still not well; the simple task of walking down the stairs from my chamber to the Great Hall exhausts me. My son, Lord Braedon MacPherson is my life. He is such a good babe. He does not fuss, nor cry out. Happy is the child that has love lavished upon it, and Braedon is such a child. Granted he is just a babe in arms, but Duncan takes him everywhere with him. To the stables, the village, everywhere father and son go together. I cannot say enough about the father Duncan is. If only my father were here to witness this, it would make matters simpler in my mind. But it is not to be and never shall.
Devin shook her head. As much as she wanted to believe everything was fine and dandy, something wasn’t ringing true about Elsbeth’s last entry. Not sure what it was, she read on.
July 21, 1603
Diary, I am remiss at writing within your pages. I have been ill, and time slips past me without my notice. I am with child again. Duncan and I are to be parents in the late winter of thus year. I ho
pe the child is a girl, but Duncan has sent prayers upon high for another boy. Braedon is the light of his life. He is still such a good baby, never a cry from him. He is moving about now, and the castle has all fallen under his spell. His blue eyes, dark hair and wide smile enchant even the dourest of maids.
The shadows crept into the library but Devin kept on reading. Reaching over, she flicked on the switch for the lamp next to the window-seat, but never lifted her gaze from the page. Trapped within the pages of the book, she read on.
December 25, 1603
Diary, this will be my last entry of the year I fear. The babe will come soon. I am swollen and am constantly ill with nausea. The child moves slowly within my womb, not like his brother did. The movements still for many hours at a time. My back hurts as does my stomach, I cannot bear the thought of food and water makes me ill. I wish for the babe to arrive so that I can return to my normal life. I am not well. Elsbeth
“No, this can’t be happening. She can’t be this ill. It isn’t right,” Devin whispered, turning the page. She dashed away a tear from her cheek and bit back a sob. “Not Elsbeth.”
January 1, 1604
Diary, the child within my womb no longer moves. I have lost the babe. The midwife says I will never carry another child again. I am beside myself with worry. The babe was a boy. Another son for Duncan. Labor was strong, the intense pain pushed away any thoughts I had. I remember nothing save the screams that rent the air upon the delivery. The screams were my own, I am told. I am grateful I remember nothing but the onset of the labor. But the pain of losing a child is more than I can bear. Duncan has not come to me in many nights since the birth. He is feeling pain as well. I have dishonored my husband, his mother tells me. She claims I have done this on purpose. Diary, what am I to do? I feel so ill, so weak, I cannot bear the thought of my husband’s desertion should it be so. Elsbeth
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