“When will ye speak with Marsaili?” Donald asked.
“Tomorrow,” Alex answered, thinking of how he had not held Lena in his arms in two days. He wanted one more night with Lena because he feared that once the wheels of the plot were set in motion, it may very well be the last night he would have with her.
“Lara, where is Greer?” Lena asked when Greer did not appear in the kitchens for the second day in a row.
“She sent word through Baldwin that she has a malady of the stomach.”
Lena frowned. It could be true, but her gut told her it was an excuse not to be seen. Lena knew well about making excuses to hide the bruises on one’s face or arms until they faded enough that people would not gape. In her time with Findlay, she’d lied about having a great many ailments while the real sickness had been in him.
She strummed her fingers on the counter, debating whether she should mind her own business or stick her nose where she knew she was not wanted but was likely needed. It didn’t take long for her to decide that she could not do nothing. Too many people had done exactly that when Findlay had been abusing her, and she refused to do the same thing. She’d rather risk being wrong and making Greer angry rather than risk being right and doing nothing to help the woman.
“How do I get to Greer’s cottage?” Lena asked Lara. “I’d like to take her some soup and bread.”
“She’ll nae be pleased if ye do,” Lara gently warned. “She’s been ill many a time before, and myself and others in the kitchen have tried to bring her food. She turned us away without opening the door even once.”
Lara’s revelation made Lena all the more certain her instincts about Greer were correct. “Perchance it is because none of ye bother with her when she’s here in the kitchens,” Lena said softly, hoping to help solve two problems in one day.
Lara’s mouth slipped open, but the woman promptly shut it as her face reddened. Lena feared she’d overstepped until Lara let out a sigh and nodded. “Ye’re correct, and I’m verra shamed. I used to speak with her and think her a friend, but then the laird’s cousin plotted against him, and the whispers amongst the men and women of the clan were that the laird suspected Hamish.” She quirked her mouth. “I suppose I avoided her, as did most others, because of what her brother might have done.”
“Her brother’s doings are nae Greer’s fault,” Lena said fiercely. Anger beat within her breast as she distinctly recalled her own feelings of shame at what Findlay had done to her.
“Aye, my lady, and I’m going to apologize to her the minute I see her. I’ll speak with the other women, too.”
“Oh, no, that—”
Before Lena could voice that speaking to the others might worsen matters, Lara bellowed for the women to listen to her and told them how she and they all had wronged Greer. When the women quickly agreed, many exclaimed how embarrassed they were at how they’d acted and how kind Greer had always been to them. Lena was astonishingly pleased by the way the women seemed to be truly sorry and came together in a scurry of activity to put a basket together for Lena to take to Greer.
Just as Lena was about to depart the kitchen with the basket, Marsaili entered. “Where are ye going?” she asked.
“I’m taking some soup to Greer,” Lena answered, feeling a niggle of guilt as she thought of the letter she’d asked Broch to deliver to Dunvegan. She’d yet to tell Marsaili she’d written to Iain, and she did not have the time to talk to her about it at the moment.
“I’ll walk with ye,” Marsaili offered.
“Nay,” Lena hastily replied, fearing Greer would be less inclined to talk honestly with her if Marsaili was there, as well.
Marsaili scowled and leaned close to whisper, “I need to speak with ye.”
Lena patted Marsaili’s hand, assuming her sister was simply worried that Lena was still vexed. “I want to speak with ye, too,” she promised.
When she went to turn away, Marsaili grabbed her by the elbow. “Did ye tell yer husband about our conversation?” she asked, concern etched into her expression.
Lena shook her head. “Nay. Why?”
Marsaili nibbled on her lip for a long moment before finally shrugging. “I was simply fashed ye may have,” she mumbled. But when her sister did not look her in the eyes when she spoke, Lena felt certain she was not telling the truth. And as much as she wanted to discover what was prompting these questions, she needed to see Greer first.
“Wait here,” she stated firmly, giving Marsaili a narrow-eyed look. “We will speak of truths when I return.”
When Marsaili’s cheeks flushed red, Lena knew her sister was keeping something from her. With a shake of her head to let Marsaili know that she understood she was being deceived, she swung away and strode out the door.
Greer lived on the outskirts of the MacLean lands, so by the time Greer’s cottage came into view, Lena’s irritation with Marsaili had cooled and she’d thought about what she should do. She felt guilty that she’d not yet confided in Alex about Marsaili. She honestly did not believe Alex would join forces with the Steward, but she supposed there was the slightest fear that she was mistaken. She could not let this continue, however. It was wrong not to confide in him and to doubt him.
Before she could think upon it further, shouting from the cottage drew her attention. First a man’s voice boomed threats, and then she heard Greer screech. Gasping, Lena drew up her skirts and raced toward the cottage with the basket banging against her thigh and the soup sloshing out of the container, over her hands and splashing her skirts.
When she got to the door the shouting had died to a dull roar. “I dunnae wish to leave, Hamish!” Greer wailed.
“Well, we must, and that is that,” Hamish bellowed.
“Why must we? Why will ye nae explain yerself?”
Lena’s hand hovered beside the door to knock, but she froze, listening to the conversation.
“Ye want explanations? Fine! I knew that the laird’s cousin was plotting to take the lairdship. And more than that, I helped Archibald.”
Lena almost dropped the soup, she was so shocked.
“Oh God, Hamish!” Greer cried. “What did ye do? What did ye do? Why? Why would ye do such a thing?”
“He kens!” Hamish growled, his words slurred. “The MacLean kens, and he waits like a wolf, sly and wily, to catch me. I’ll nae stay here and wait for death, stay here and be degraded any longer.”
“Why’d ye do it, Hamish? Why did ye help Archibald plot against our laird?”
“I’m more than just a guard!” Hamish bellowed. “I deserve respect and my own land. Archibald vowed it! The MacLean gives me naught! He did nae ever give me a thing, and now he has demoted me to the stables. He has stripped me of everything. The men laugh at me, and the women whisper behind my back. We are leaving!”
“I’m nae leaving!” Greer shouted.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and Lena could do no more than gasp before Greer collided with her. The air whooshed out of Lena’s lungs as she stumbled to the ground and dropped the soup and the basket. Greer tumbled down beside Lena, slipping on the soup and landing on her knees.
When the woman shoved her mass of heavy hair off her face and Lena saw her bloody lip, she cried out, but the sound was muffled by the roar of Greer’s name from her brother, who came thundering out the door. “Greer!” Hamish bellowed, tripping over them but catching himself before he fell on his face. He reeked of mead, and his eyes were glazed. “Ye!” he roared, pointing at Lena. “How long have ye been standing here listening?”
Lena’s face went hot with guilt, and she cursed inwardly.
Hamish’s gaze narrowed as he glared at her. “I’m sorry to say, ye must die.”
Terror swept through Lena’s body, and she dug her heels in to propel herself backward, but before she could move, Hamish reached down and grasped her ankle.
“Hamish?” Greer asked, shock in her voice. “What are ye doing? Ye kinnae truly mean what ye said!”
Lena gave a tug o
n her left leg, but Hamish tightened his grip until sharp pricks shot through her ankle.
“Release her!” Greer cried, grabbing Lena’s leg, as well, and tugging.
“Stop!” Lena gasped when Hamish yanked in the opposite direction as Greer did. It felt as if they were going to rip her leg in two.
Hamish’s face twisted as he looked at both of them. “She kens the truth, and once the MacLean has confirmation, he will hunt me down and kill me. She must die. I’ll make it seem an accident, and we will slip away before she’s discovered.”
His voice was so devoid of emotion that Lena shivered. She’d not spoken because she feared anything she say would worsen matters. She’d seen the look on Hamish’s face before; it had been one Findlay had worn often. It was the look of a man with no remorse.
“We must kill her,” Hamish stated again.
Lena’s breath caught in her chest, and she barely contained her protestation.
“Have ye lost all sense?” Greer gasped, releasing Lena and attempting to stand, but Hamish kicked out, hitting Greer in the chest, and she fell backward against Lena once more.
Lena’s nerves tensed. “Hamish—”
“Dunnae talk, or I’ll kill ye here and slow.”
She choked back a cry, frightened and furious at once. She’d not survived Findlay to die at the hands of this man.
“She’ll nae tell!” Greer assured her brother in a voice one would use to reason with a petulant child. Greer turned a pleading, warning gaze on Lena. “Ye’ll nae speak of this, will ye, Lena?”
Lena immediately shook her head to confirm Greer’s words, but Hamish’s abrasive laughter told her the man knew the promises to be false. He yanked Lena toward him hard, causing her to slide across the ground. He bent down, released her ankle only to latch on to her wrist, jerked her to him, and spun her around until her back was pressed to his chest, his arm now heavy around her waist and a dagger at her throat. Lena’s stomach clenched, and she struggled to keep her breathing even. She locked gazes with Greer, praying the woman would help her.
“Perchance ye’re correct,” Greer said, frowning fiercely at Lena. “Ye should kill her.”
Lena felt her belly hollow out with frightful uncertainty. Was Greer simply playing along, or was she serious?
“Finally, ye speak sense. A good thing, too, Sister. For if ye had tried to fight me, I would have been forced to rid myself of ye, as well.”
Greer did not look surprised, which actually gave Lena a bit of hope. If Greer had realized her own life was at risk, mayhap she was just saying what her brother wanted to hear. Or mayhap she was doing as her brother commanded to save herself. Lena’s stomach roiled with the thoughts. She felt as if she was going to be ill, but she forced herself to take slow, shallow breaths in a desperate attempt to calm her nerves. She had to escape. That’s all there was to do.
“Take her to the stream and drown her,” Greer said matter-of-factly.
Sweat trickled down Lena’s back at the cold pronouncement of how she was to die. “If Alex discovers what ye’ve done, he’ll kill ye. Slowly,” she added. “Painfully.”
“I dunnae doubt it,” Hamish responded. “Yer husband dunnae forgive or forget.”
“He forgave ye, from what I hear,” Lena said, deciding it might be better to keep him here and talking. Maybe someone would come looking for her soon. Maybe Greer had a plan. Of course, Greer had told her brother to take Lena to the stream and drown her. Bile rose in Lena’s throat. Was she ruining Greer’s plan or foiling her own murder?
Hamish laughed, the sound bitter. “He dunnae forgive me naught. He simply makes me shovel horse dung while waiting to discover the truth of my betrayal. When he does, he’ll kill me. This is nae a life! Yer husband has nae ever given me my due.”
Greer’s gaze widened for a moment, and Lena had thought she saw fear, but the emotion was already gone. “Aye!” Greer added. “Me neither!” she said, pointing an accusing finger at Lena.
“Finally!” Hamish boomed. “Ye ken what I have been trying to beat into yer thick skull all this time.”
Greer nodded and gazed at her brother with a look of fondness that made Lena’s scalp prickle. “I see now, Brother! Together, we can bring down the MacLean! We will have our revenge!”
“Aye!” agreed Hamish. “I would have been right hand to Archibald! I would have been revered! Time for ye to die, my lady!” he snarled.
As Hamish turned and started away with her, Lena kicked and hit him to no avail. He simply dug the knife point sharply into her throat until she cried out and stilled.
“Hamish,” Greer called, her voice sounding sweet, like that of a loving sister. “Drown her on the side where the cave is. Use rope to tie rocks to her feet so she’ll nae be found.”
“Aye, Sister. ’Tis good to ken ye’re back with me as ye once used to be!”
Dear God! Lena had no notion whether Greer was betraying her or trying to help her, and if she was attempting to aid her, could anyone even get to her in time?
Thirteen
“My laird! My laird!” a frantic voice called, stopping Alex’s swing in midair. He jerked his sword to his side, gave Fardley a terse command to hold, and swung around to find Baldwin standing there.
“Aye?” he asked, taking in the boy’s ratty clothes and dirty face. Lena’s accusations of not having control of Hamish immediately came to mind. Baldwin did not look well cared for. Alex was frustrated with himself that he’d failed to take note of it sooner. And now that he was really thinking upon matters relating to Hamish, the last time Alex had seen Greer, she’d had a haunted look about her. Alex had assumed it had something to do with a man, but now he wondered if Hamish was releasing his anger at Alex on his sister and son.
The boy ran straight up to Alex, snatched him by the hand, and tugged. “My sister said to find ye and tell ye to go directly to Weeping Widows Cave on the east side of the loch. Yer wife’s life is in danger! My da is in a fierce rage!”
Shock gave way to anger, which mingled with gut-wrenching fear. “Stay here!” he clipped at the boy. Gripping his sword, he motioned to Fardley, who was the only one near, to follow him. He turned in the direction of the cave and set out at a sprint over rocky land and through brush. He didn’t slow as he raced up the hill. He had to get to the other side of the woods to come out at the water where the cave was. His lungs and legs burned as he pushed harder until he crested the hill.
He barreled down the slope faster than he’d gone up it, catching himself twice when he nearly lost his footing in his haste to reach Lena. As he neared the bottom of the thick terrain, he came out onto the shore. That’s when he heard her screaming. His heart jerked as he ran toward the noise. He turned the corner and blinked, looking around in confusion but not seeing her. When she screamed again, his chest tightened as he realized she was above him. He looked up, and shock rushed through him.
She stood at the very edge of the cliff, nothing but jagged rock and water below her. In front of her was Greer, but as Alex watched, Hamish, who stood facing both women, swung out, his fist connecting with his sister’s head. She crumpled to the ground at Lena’s feet, unmoving.
“Hamish!” Alex roared as he raced toward the rocks to climb up the slope he’d just come down. Hamish raised his sword, and Alex knew he’d never make it to Lena in time to save her. Rage exploded inside him, along with the certainty that he loved her and could not imagine living without her.
“Hamish!” he bellowed again, his voice animalistic to his own ears. Silence greeted him, and when he paused, panting, to glance up toward the ledge, what he saw took away his breath—and his hope.
Lena’s hair whipped in her face as she glanced behind her. The drop made her stomach roil and her body sway. She had but a breath to take action. At her feet, Greer lay unmoving, the dagger she’d tried to stab her brother with by her side. Hamish stared down at his sister, mumbling something about betrayal. Blood dripped steadily down his arm, hitting the ground and making a p
ool of red. Greer had come with two daggers to save Lena. The first she’d thrown at Hamish in the cave. She’d hit his sword arm, and he’d dropped his sword, which had allowed Lena and Greer to escape, but not quickly enough.
A roar—or more like an inhuman bellow—came to Lena on the wind. She gasped, certain it was Alex, and when the sound came again, closer this time, she glanced backward. He climbed the rocks, determination etched on his face and the muscles of his arms bulging with his efforts. He raced to save her. But he was too far away.
“I’m glad he’ll watch ye die,” Hamish said from behind her, and she knew her time was here. She had to save herself or die trying. She’d not be a victim ever again. She looked to the water far below, beyond the jagged rocks, attempting to judge the distance. Mayhap it was too far, but mayhap it was not.
Hamish’s sword hissed as he arced it above his head. Gooseflesh swept over her body and fear made her tingle, but she took a deep breath and shoved off from the ledge as hard as she could.
The fall was fast and dizzying. Her body hit the water with such jarring force that she cried out, her words swallowed up by the loch that pulled her into its depths. For a moment, she froze, feeling her body sink into the darkness. Which way was up? Blackness surrounded her. Desperate to live, to see Alex and tell him she loved him, she began to kick and push her arms through the water, not sure whether she was headed toward air or down to her death. Her head pounded, and her lungs protested the lack of air.
Her body was suddenly sluggish, and it was hard to move. The certainty that she was close to death sent a burst of anger through her, giving her the strength to kick harder than she had before. When she swept her arm above her head and felt air on her fingertips, relief flowed through her, but just as her head popped above the water, something splashed down so near her that she felt it brush past her. For one moment, confusion blanketed her mind, and then a hand clasped around her ankle and jerked her under the water. Arms encircled her waist, and she knew without a doubt that Hamish had jumped in after her and intended for both of them to die this day.
When a Warrior Woos a Lass Page 16