“I… saw someone in the window above us…” It was difficult for Georgie to speak. He let Matthew check the wound, while Jonet hovered over them both with obvious distress. “I dinnae see who it was… but I saw when they tossed the bowl down.”
“Oh dear,” Jonet gasped.
Matthew shoved aside the rising dread. He focused on getting Georgie to his feet, slinging his uninjured arm around his shoulders.
“Daenae say anythin’ more,” Matthew warned. “Ye can say it all when ye’re better.”
Georgie did not answer. Matthew glanced at his face to see his eyes fluttering, as if he were slipping out of consciousness. He looked up at Jonet and she nodded, intuitively knowing what he was asking of her.
They moved in perfect sync. Jonet rushed ahead into the Castle, fetching her father and the phsycian. Matthew, with the help of a guard, helped a now unconscious Georgie into one of the Castle’s bedrooms. Once the physician had begun working on Georgie, Jonet had wanted to stay by his side, but Matthew coerced her into waiting in the sitting room with the Laird.
Laird MacLagain was eerily quiet. It was clear his mind was running, his large fingers drumming on every surface he could find as he paced back and forth. Like her father, Jonet too was quiet, her concern for Georgie written across her face. She stared at the door, as if willing the physician to enter with his news.
Matthew decided it was best he remained silent as well. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that Georgie would be fine. As far as he could tell, the injury had not been life-threatening. Yet he was not a physician. He knew little about medicine past the shabby jobs he had done on himself when he had faced a few scrapes. He could not convince himself to be rid of his own worry, so how could he convince Jonet? She would hear the uncertainty in his voice.
Georgie was injured because of him. That earthen bowl had been meant for him. Had Georgie not acted so quickly, Matthew might not be alive right now. Thinking about how close he had been to death yet again put a bad taste in his mouth. He found himself strumming with uneasy energy, but he forced himself to stay still, not wanting to make Jonet any tenser.
“Matthew.” Matthew looked over at Jonet’s whisper. Her brows were furrowed, a tender look in her eye as she reached out and took his hand in hers. “It isnae yer fault.”
“I ken that,” he said, hating how little confidence he felt in his words.
“And Georgie will be all right,” she assured him.
Matthew nodded. Just how terrible did he look for her to be so concerned for him? “I ken that too. But I cannae help but feel guilty…”
“I daenae think Georgie would like it if you berate yerself for what happened,” she squeezed his hand. “Rather, I think he would want ye to be grateful, happy that ye are alive.”
“I am.” Matthew let out a shuddering breath. He had not realized until talking to Jonet just how bothered he was by the event.
He looked up to the Laird, who did not seem aware they were speaking. “I dinnae think I would see a day when Laird MacLagain wasnae shoutin’ the entire Castle down.”
Jonet looked over her shoulder at her father and grimaced. “He is tryin’ to understand all that’s happenin’ quickly. That’s how he gets when he’s concentratin’. It’s also how he gets when he’s angry.”
“That’s how he is when he’s angry?”
Jonet nodded. A quick smile appeared on her face. “So, daenae be bothered too much if he shouts. When he’s quiet like that, that’s when ye should be worried.”
Matthew let his gaze wander back to the pacing Laird, welcoming the distraction. At that moment, the door opened, and the physician walked in. The Laird stopped pacing, and Matthew and Jonet stood to their feet.
“He will be fine,” the physician assured. He was a rather old man, coming from a long line of Gaelic physicians who had served the Laird for many years. He rested his weight on the back of an armchair. “Thankfully, there arenae any broken bones. He’s a strong one, it seems, but he’ll need to stay in bed for some time. With the help of some of the guards, ye can have him moved—”
“Nay,” said the Laird. “He will remain here under yer care. He has saved the life of me daughter’s betrothed. He deserves more respect than that.”
“As ye wish, Me Laird.” The physician nodded, looking a bit weary.
Before he could turn to leave, Jonet asked, “Is he awake? Can he see us?”
“He isnae awake right now, but there is a chance he could open his eyes at any time. If ye wish to go see him, ye can.”
With that said, the weary old man left the room. Jonet hurried after him, not wasting a second. Matthew trailed behind her all the way to the room where they had taken Georgie.
The boy was swallowed within the large bed. His skin was pallid, with a faint sheen of sweat coating his brow. Jonet gently wiped it away as she sat next to him, her eyes sad.
Matthew said nothing. He stood by her side with a hand on her shoulder, looking down on the boy who had saved his life. It brought into perspective that they were not alone. That they had others fighting by their sides, others that would be drawn into the danger that was closing in on them. The longer they took to find that person, the more likely someone else could get hurt.
Matthew would not allow that to happen to his new family.
He tightened his grip on Jonet’s shoulder, drawing her attention. His eyes were on Georgie’s serene face, so peaceful in sleep. Unaware of the pain he would experience when he awoke.
“We must find him,” Matthew murmured. For all the convinction in his voice, he might as well have shouted the words. “We cannae allow this to happen again.”
“I agree.” Jonet nodded slowly, turning her attention back to Georgie. “Before else someone else will get hurt. Or worse.”
Chapter 24
When Freya slipped into the bedroom, it was dark, save for a single spot of starlight. The room seemed to have been bathed in a deep blackness that could not be returned to light. Briefly, Freya’s heart trembled at the sight, wondering if it was the manifestation of those evil thoughts that had brewed in this very room.
She cast the feeling aside instantly, closing the door behind her. She had let her hair loose, but now she felt odd. All day, she wore it how she should, acted how she should. Now, her blond hair was free from that restrictive braid, just as how she would free herself from the confines of her position.
She took a few steps further into the room, willing her eyes to adjust. Finally, she made her way to the bed and reached forward, expecting to feel someone under her fingertips. Yet her hands sank into mattress and she found the bed empty.
“Why are ye here?”
Freya jumped at the soft voice from the corner of the room, whirling to face it. It took her a few moments to see the dark shape sitting there. It did not move, but it waited for its response.
Her heart was beating rapidly. Only on rare occasions could she ever feel so flustered. “I came to speak with ye. To see ye.”
“Why?”
“What do ye mean ‘why’?” She blinked, frowning a little. “There is much we need to talk about.”
The dark figure moved a bit. Freya was rooted to the floor, watching it. “I have little to say to ye.”
She tightened her lips, clinging to the anger she had felt earlier. Hopefully, it would dispel her nervousness. “I heard what ye said about the culprit being in the Castle.”
“Ye were eavesdroppin’ on a private conversation with the Laird?” She heard humor in the voice. His voice. “That may be grounds for suspicion, ye ken?”
“Ye would nae try to tell anyone about this. I ken that much.” She took a step forward.
“Actually, ye ken nothin’.”
“I ken there must have been a reason why ye said that in the first place. I’m here to find out why.”
“How many times do I need to tell ye that ye should nae ask too many questions?”
“If it feels as if ye are abandonin’ me to fend for
meself, then I’m sure I have enough reason for this one question. Why did ye say that? Do ye have a plan that I daenae ken about?”
There was a sharp exhale, an exasperated sigh. “That is the exact reason why I have steered the Laird to question ye servants. Ye ken too much about me plans, and all the things I’ve done.”
Freya gasped silently. She clutched her dress, the one she had stolen from Jonet’s closet in order to look pretty. Yet now, with her cascading blond hair and her pretty blue dress, Freya felt very out of place. She felt something akin to shame.
Those words washed over her while she simply stared at the dark figure, willing them to step into the light. She wanted to see their face, but it seemed they were content to stay there. It meant she had to swallow the hurt when she realized what he was trying to do. She had to get to the bottom of it all.
“Ye are tryin’ to get rid of me,” she whispered.
There came a chuckle. “Ye are much too dramatic.”
“But I’m right,” she pressed. She came closer, stepping into the spot of starlight. “Because I ken so much about everythin’ ye’ve done, ye want to get me out of the way.”
“I simply wanted to move away any suspicisoins from meself, is all.”
“I doubt there were any to begin with.”
Again, another chuckle. The laugh she had always liked so much was now condescending when aimed at her. “I suppose that means ye daenae ken everythin’, doesnae it?”
Freya stood as rigid as stone. She fought the waves of emotions that came over her, never taking her eyes off that dark figure. As she did, she knew that he was watching her too. She tried to maintain her composure, not wanting to become too emotional so quickly. Stiffly, she turned and made her way to the bed to sit down. For some reason, it made her feel as if she were on even grounds with him.
“Tell me what ye plan to do next then,” she demanded. “Who will take the fall for this?”
“I never said anyone will take the fall. If nay one can be found, then the Laird will simply forget about it. They will be tense for a while, waiting for a move, but eventually they will let their guard down.”
Freya lifted her head, regarding the figure with narrowed eyes. She did not think it would be that easy. The Laird was well known for being very protective of Jonet. He would not just sit still if he knew that the culprit was still out there.
She also retained a bit of pleasure at how easily she had obtained that information. As standoffish as he appeared to be, nothing could beat the excitement he felt whenever a new plan came to fruition. She imagined it took them one step closer to his goal, the goal she had never been able to learn.
She could hear about it another time—or perhaps weed it into this conversation somehow—after she had discovered all she needed to know for her safety. Being so close to Jonet meant she had her trust, but Jonet was an uncertain woman driven by her past troubles. Freya did not know much longer that would last.
“And if they daenae?” she asked. “If they continue until they find somethin’ that leads to me?”
“Ye are a good liar. Ye have been doin’ it to Jonet for some time now.”
“I willnae fair so well when faced with the Laird. He will throw me into the dungeons at the slightest hesitation.”
“Have some faith in yerself. Jonet willnae let that happen.” The voice was light and friendly. They were becoming more at ease, clearly comforted by their believed perfection of this plan.
It pained her to say what she did next. “I daenae trust ye.”
“Oh?”
“There is somethin’ ye arenae tellin’ me and I want to ken what it is or else I willnae leave here.”
Silence. She held his gaze—or at least hoped she did.
“Ye look lovely, ye ken. I noticed it the moment ye walked in. I’ve always liked it when ye let yer hair out of that braid.”
“Do nae try to distract me,” she was thankful that her voice was steady while her heart thudded.
“I’m nae. I want ye to ken that at least.”
“Thank ye.” The pleasure she felt was insurmountable. The aim had been to hear those words. She had hoped it would be accompanied with a tender embrace, perhaps a gentle kiss that would lead to something steamier, but for now, she would be content with just that.
“Ye are welcome. Now, what is it ye were sayin’? Ah, aye, that ye daenae trust me. Well, I can hardly blame ye.”
“If it bothers ye so much then ye should tell me what the next plan is. I have been with ye through all of this for some time, so the least ye can do is put yer trust in me.”
They chuckled. Freya did not like the sound of it. “Actually, I daenae think I’ll be needin’ ye anymore.”
Her heart sank. If she had not already been sitting, she would have dropped to her knees.
“What?” she croaked.
“Aye, ye have helped me much. But ye are clearly nae ready to handle this as well as I thought.”
“Nay.” She gripped the sheet and forced herself to stay on the bed. “Nay, I am strong enough to take on anythin’ ye ask of me.”
“I’ve already asked for too much…”
She knew what he was doing. He was playing on her emotions; on the feelings she had never spoken aloud to him. Though she showed it as clear as day through her actions. She knew that, and yet she could not stop herself from saying, “Daenae toss me aside just yet. I ken I can be useful to ye.”
“Is that so?”
“I love ye,” she blurted out. Her heart was racing so rapidly that she did not think it was safe anymore. She clutched the front of her—of Jonet’s—dress. “I love ye and after this is all done, I cannae wait to marry ye. So please daenae toss me asi—”
He laughed harshly this time, making her swallow the rest of her words. “Marry?” he barked. “Ye cannae really think I would marry ye?”
“But… but I thought…”
“I have nae feelin’s for ye at all, Freya!” He actually sounded rather amused by her confession, which ripped her to a million pieces. “Me heart belongs with one woman and that’s Jonet. All I have done is for Jonet. Ye cannae hope to hold a candle to her.”
She lowered her gaze to the floor she could not even see very well. That familiar spark of jealousy erupted in her.
“Look at yerself,” he went on. “Wearin’ one of her dresses. Even when ye try to imitate her, ye cannae even come close. Jonet is far too beautiful, too perfect, to be imitated, Freya. Ye should see that ye are so close to her side.”
She wondered if he was hitting all her most tender spots on purpose. The jealousy was growing, molding into something else, latching onto the anger that she was beginning to feel at his words.
“She shines as brightly as the stars that hang over the Castle. She is as lovely as a flower and I want her to be mine.”
It all began to make sense to her. All the things she had done, just for him. She somehow fooled herself into thinking that it might have been for some other sake, one that was far more chivalrous. She had foolishly let herself fall even deeper in love with him because of that.
Yet he had done it all for one person, the person she envied the most in the world.
Freya did not know what to do with herself. He had finally fallen silent and she could feel his heavy gaze, waiting for her to say something. No words came to her mind. Freya wanted to walk out of the room, to turn herself in, to put this all behind her, to do something. The fact that she just sat there made her realize that he had her wrapped around his finger. She was likely to do anything for him, even knowing what she knew now.
He began speaking again, as if he could not bear to stop praising Jonet’s presence for a moment longer. He told Freya all his plans now, his voice quick with newfound fervor. He told her all he wanted to do; things driven by the love he had in his heart for Jonet. One he had kept to himself for so many years.
She sat there and listened, unable to do anything else. Like the pawn she had become, she no longer had a
ny control over her own actions. He wanted to tell her all these things in his excitement. So, she would listen, suffering in quiet pain.
The door banged open. She shot to her feet, watching as an enraged Dougal stormed the room. His eyes landed on Freya first and then the dark figure in the corner.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
The dark figure was on his feet too, but he did not come out of the shadows.
“Dougal.” He sounded surprised. “Ye have been listenin’ all along?”
Highlander's Trials of Fire: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 21