by Julia London
It seemed to Payton that the world was suddenly brimming with color—everywhere he looked there were various shades of the reds and golds of autumn and the greens and blues of the forest. His world, he realized, was suddenly bursting with color.
His future, he thought later, when the men returned and the axle was repaired, was only a few short hours away, bright with color and brimming with possibility.
They did indeed reach Eilean Ros late that afternoon, and as the baggage was unloaded and the coaches and teams put away, Payton divested himself of his cloak and hat and retired to his study to have a look through the post. He’d scarcely begun to do so when Beckwith announced the Lockharts had come calling.
He foolishly believed they had come to welcome Mared home again, for it was his sun that was shining—not theirs.
He found them in the green salon. Mared was already among them, holding Liam’s wee son on her hip, coaxing her long braid from the lad’s grip.
“Good tidings, good tidings!” Carson Lockhart bellowed the moment he entered the room.
“Good afternoon, laird,” he said and smiled at the child in Mared’s arms. Did she know how beautiful she looked holding a wee one? That she’d be a mother one day? That conceivably, she might already be a mother? Did she yearn for one of her own as much as he? “How good of ye to come and welcome yer daughter home again.”
“For good, it would seem,” Grif said from his position near the hearth. He was smiling, Payton noticed, his gray-green eyes as brilliant as Mared’s when she smiled. “We bear wonderful news for all involved.”
“What is it, then?” Mared laughingly insisted. “Ye canna keep me in suspense another moment!”
“Hugh MacAlister has returned,” Grif said, and Payton felt the air rush out of his lungs.
“What?” Mared exclaimed, clearly shocked by the news, forgetting the baby she held for a moment. “What did ye say? He’s here? In Scotland?”
“No’ only is he in Scotland, but at Talla Dileas,” Grif said proudly. “Old Ben was right for a change. He’s come home, he has, and he’s even come with the beastie.”
For a moment, Payton heard no sound, saw nothing. He was only aware of the laboring of his heart as it struggled to pound its way out of his chest, calling to Mared.
But Mared seemed lost in the news. She stared at Payton as Liam’s wife took the bairn from her arms. “Hugh MacAlister is at Talla Dileas?” she repeated, clearly disbelieving.
“Locked in the old dungeon, aye,” Liam said. “We’ll no’ risk losing him again.”
“There’s more,” Lady Lockhart said and came forward, took Mared’s hands in hers, her smile joyous. “Oh Mared…we’ve solved the curse!”
Her eyes as big as moons, Mared blinked. “I donna understand. What is there to solve?”
“When Hugh returned with the beastie, we took it to the smithy in Aberfoyle to have it cut into smaller pieces. But there was a surprise—there, in the belly of the beastie, in a bed of straw, was an emerald.”
“An emerald the size of a bloody goose egg, it is,” Liam chimed in.
“An emerald?” Mared echoed weakly, her eyes still wide with shock.
“Aye, leannan, do ye no’ see?” her mother said excitedly, squeezing her hands. “Think of it—the curse is that no daughter born to a Lockhart will marry until she looks in the belly of the beast. No’ a’ diabhal. The beastie. The first Lady Lockhart gave the beastie to her daughter, aye? It must have been a dowry, cast in that hideous thing for safekeeping. But it would seem that over the years, the promise of the dowry was separated from the beastie, and it became a curse.”
“But…but no daughter of a Lockhart has ever married!”
“Aye, but no’ because of some ridiculous curse,” Grif explained. “Mother read our grandfather’s accounting, and the daughter of the first Lady Lockhart, for whom the emerald was undoubtedly intended, killed herself when her lover was slain by her own father for having aligned himself with the Stuarts. The second daughter drowned in the firth with her lover when they tried to elope. And there were several ugly daughters, too—ye need only look at the family portraits to see that is true.”
“Grif!” his comely wife cried.
“What?” he asked innocently. “’Tis true!”
“Do ye mean to say then, that all this time I was to look in that creature’s belly, and not the belly of a’ diabhal?” Mared demanded, looking very confused.
“That’s it precisely, lass,” Carson said happily.
It seemed to Payton that Mared did not know what to make of the news. She sank into a chair and looked at him—but then she looked away, and her gaze seemed to be on something far away. Something far from this room, if not this world. Certainly not on him.
He awkwardly started toward her, his mind racing ahead of his body, intent on going to her, but then Grif was there before him. “Do ye see what this means, leannan?” he asked her. “Ye are free.”
“Aye, Mared, quite free,” her mother echoed joyously.
But still, Mared could only look at them, tears brimming in her eyes, thunderstruck.
“Ah, the poor lass!” Carson laughed. “She’s overcome!” He grabbed his daughter up and hugged her, then passed her to Liam, who hugged her fiercely.
When he let her go, Mared looked at her father. “I’m free?” she asked, seemingly unable to absorb it.
Grif turned a beaming smile to Payton as Carson laughed and assured his daughter she was free. “There ye are, then, Douglas. We’re able to pay our debts now, aye? Ye can release our sister to us.”
Payton was dumbfounded. He tried to find his tongue, but he couldn’t seem to think, not with Mared, who was clinging to her mother now, looking oddly relieved and saddened at the same time. The rest of the Lockharts seemed not to notice—they were smiling and laughing and chattering wildly about traveling to Edinburgh.
“When will ye pay it, then?” he asked of Grif in a desperate bid for more time.
“Ah!” Grif said, holding up a finger. “We’ve a plan to pay before our year is through,” he said happily. “We are to Edinburra this week—all of us. We shall have the gold sold in a matter of days and pay ye our debt, with interest. Will that meet with yer satisfaction?”
No, no, it would never meet with his satisfaction! He’d only just found happiness, and now the goddamn Lockharts would take it from him? He turned an icy gaze to Grif. “And what of our other agreement?” he snapped. “What of Mared?”
“Ach, now, Douglas,” Grif said, his smile fading. “Surely ye willna keep her in servitude when we’ve a way to repay our debt.”
“And ye would take her now and leave me without a housekeeper?”
Grif’s smile faded to a glower. “I donna give a bloody damn about yer lack of a housekeeper,” he said quietly. “Ye willna keep our sister in servitude another moment.”
No, of course he wouldn’t. Mared did not deserve servitude, and he tried frantically in those few wild moments to convince himself that if she was no longer his housekeeper, they might proceed with the original plan to marry. Quickly. As soon as this week, perhaps.
He tried desperately to believe that, but something inside him warned him that it could not be. Something inside him had died a little when she whispered the words, I’m free.
“Look, now, Douglas, we all know that ye hold her in high esteem, and we donna mean to disregard it, no’ in the least,” Grif said, his voice a bit softer. “But we canna allow her to spend even as much as one night more in the service of anyone. We’ll take her today, aye?”
Payton glared at Grif, hating him as he had never hated anyone in his life. “I urge ye to pay yer debt as quickly as possible, for I will seek the harshest of remedies if ye donna.”
With a cold smile, Grif nodded his assent.
“I’ll have one of the maids gather her things,” Payton said and strode from that happy family reunion into an empty corridor, where the echo of his boots was deafening to his ears.
Everything had happened so fast that Mared could hardly grasp she was leaving Eilean Ros, much less leaving the enormous burden of her curse. Much less leaving Payton. God help her but she couldn’t seem to think. Her mind was racing wildly around the news, and her exuberant family surrounded her, all speaking excitedly and at once of Edinburgh and the things they would buy. It was hard not to be swept up in the exhilaration of their mutual good fortune.
But she could not share their elation completely because of Payton.
“Think of the balls and gatherings you will attend,” Ellie said, having accompanied Mared to her room to finish packing her things. “You’ll be highly sought after, I predict. It will be such fun for a time.”
Yes, life in Edinburgh would be a far cry from the bucolic life of the lochs. Far from the accusing eyes of a superstitious people. And far, far from Payton.
“And the gowns, Mared, think of the gowns you will have!” Ellie exclaimed, holding up Mared’s old purple gown. “You’ll never have cause to wear this old thing again.” She turned around to Mared, her fair face beaming. “Aren’t you thrilled?”
“I am thrilled to be free of the curse,” Mared readily agreed. “And I have long wanted to be gone from these hills,” she added as she folded a pair of stockings.
“Yes, you’ve long wanted to be in Edinburgh, where life will be full of exciting new people!” Ellie exclaimed, prompting her.
“Aye, to Edinburgh,” Mared said with much less enthusiasm than Ellie. Edinburgh. Full of new people. Not Payton.
“Then what has you so downcast, darling?” Ellie asked laughingly. “One would think you’d be dancing on air!”
“I am, truly, I am,” Mared tried to assure her in a less than convincing manner.
“But?” Ellie prompted.
Mared looked at Ellie. “But…but I canna seem to fathom how everything has changed so suddenly,” she said quietly, and she felt her heart tilt a little.
“Is it Laird Douglas?” a smiling Ellie asked as she put the purple gown in Mared’s portmanteau.
Mared shrugged, uncertain as to what she was feeling.
“You will still see him, darling. But first you must have your turn in Edinburgh, just as you’ve always wanted.”
Yes, her turn. It was her turn now.
“Douglas will still be here, waiting for you, I’d daresay. But you deserve a bit of happy freedom for a time. He’ll understand, I am certain of it. You’ve been denied life too long.”
A lifetime. She’d been denied a lifetime.
With her family at her side, Mared said good-bye to the servants, feeling as sad in leaving them as they apparently felt about her leaving. Rodina and Una seemed especially disturbed by it. But when Mared took them aside, all she could think of was Payton. “Donna forget the laird’s laundry, Rodina,” she urged her. “He’s very particular about it, aye? And Una—ye must make his bed and clean his chambers every morning while he’s abroad.”
Una exchanged a look with Rodina. “Aye, miss,” she said, trying to smile.
Even Mr. Beckwith seemed a little downcast by Mared’s departure as he wished her good luck.
After Alan and Charlie had carried her things down to the cart, Mared gave her little room one final look, then walked out, her head and heart reeling so badly she could scarcely see. Her world had altered so quickly and so dramatically that she felt almost as if she was another person entirely, her familiar self noticeably absent and replaced by painful confusion.
And there was Payton, the man to whom she’d given her virtue. Payton. What was she to do?
He was waiting there by the cart, next to her father and mother. He looked very grim, and she frantically racked her mind for what to say to him. But how could she possibly know what to say to him? She scarcely knew what to think herself, much less what this must seem to him. Even worse, she hadn’t reached a firm conclusion about what had really happened between them at Loch Leven and afterward. What it really meant. The only thing she knew in all certainty was that she did love him.
But in the midst of her desperate confusion, there was something else that she knew with all certainty—her curse was lifted. She felt it, almost as if it had been physically lifted from her shoulders, and she had never felt more light in bearing than she did at that very moment. For the first time in her life, it seemed as if the whole world was open to her. All of it. The whole fat globe and everything and everyone on it.
That was, perhaps, why she smiled at Payton when her mother patted his arm and said, “Ye must no’ be maudlin, laird. This is quite good news for ye, for ye donna want Mared as yer servant, aye?”
Payton did not respond.
Her mother’s smile was emphatic, and she squeezed his forearm. “Just give her a wee bit of time, Douglas, please? Just a wee bit of time to taste her freedom at long last.”
He nodded and looked at Mared, and she smiled instead of showing him the sorrow, the ache in her heart.
She just needed a moment of peace in which she could think.
Payton did not return her smile, but looked at her with his heart in his eyes. He said nothing as he took her hand in his to help her up on the cart—but he squeezed it meaningfully and looked directly into her eyes, obviously searching for her, obviously wanting a word, some signal. He deserved one, he did…but she didn’t have the right word to say as yet.
Instead, she squeezed his hand back and blurted helplessly, “I…I must think.”
“I understand.”
What? What did he understand? What could he possibly understand when she couldn’t understand anything at all? She slowly disengaged her hand from his. “Good-bye, milord.”
With jaw clenched, Payton nodded and stepped away from the cart as Liam sent the donkeys trotting, telling everyone with his booming voice that the first thing they’d purchase was a team of four grays. “And I’ll no’ brook any argument!” he loudly insisted. Her family laughed; Mared laughed, too, but her eyes were on Eilean Ros and Payton, who stood in the drive, his chin high, his hands clasped behind his back. His expression frighteningly unreadable.
Twenty-five
T hey argued over their sherry—the one bottle they had saved for this very occasion—as to whether or not they would allow Hugh to join them for dinner. The men were firmly of the opinion that the bounder could rot below. The women were less convinced.
“He did return the beastie,” Anna said to no one in particular. “I can’t see how we might possibly hold him prisoner.”
“He’s right fortunate he is no’ twisting in the wind from the highest tree,” Grif said as he laid his hand on Anna’s belly to feel the baby kick.
“But it’s awfully dark and cold down there,” Natalie said to Carson. “He might be very afraid.”
“There, there, leannan,” Liam said soothingly. “Let the lad rot.”
“Well I, for one, should like the courtesy of an explanation,” Mared said.
Liam sighed and looked at Grif. Grif groaned. “Very well then,” he groused and reached in his pocket to produce a key. “Will ye no’ fetch him, then, Mared, and escort him up? He may give ye his ridiculous version of events, but I canna possibly hear it again.”
“Natalie, darling, please find Dudley and have him add another setting for supper,” Aila said.
Hugh wasn’t really in a dungeon—certainly it had been one long ago, but now it was just a room, below ground, devoid of light and heat. Mared and her brothers had played there as children; for a time, the family had stored dry goods there. Holding a candle high, she walked down the worn narrow steps and paused at the edge of the darkened corridor.
There was a flicker of light from the cell where they kept Hugh. “Ho there, who comes to tend me body?” he called.
She stepped off the last step and into the corridor. Hugh MacAlister, as devilishly handsome as ever, was standing at the bars that went across the door, his arms hanging uselessly through them, his weight cocked on one hip.
“I canna see
ye—come closer, then. Who is it? Mrs. Griffin Lockhart? Ah, Anna, bless ye, lass! I knew ye’d rescue me. I always believed it was me ye loved above that bloody scoundrel!”
“’Tis no’ Anna, Hugh,” Mared said and walked closer so that he could see her. “’Tis me…the reason ye doth exist. Remember?”
“Mared!” he cried joyously. “On me honor, I hoped ye would come. Can ye imagine how I’ve yearned for ye, then? I’ve wasted away in grief for having lost ye, I have.”
“Ye donna look wasted away to me,” she said, holding the candle above her head to see him clearly. “Ye look as well as a fatted calf. Tsk-tsk, Hugh MacAlister. After all ye’ve done and still a rogue.”
“I’m no’ a rogue!” he gamely insisted. “I’ve kept ye in me heart, Mared! Why do ye think I came back, then?”
“Grif said ye tried to steal the beastie and run away with an Irish lass.”
“Ah, how he seeks to hurt me!” Hugh cried, clapping a hand dramatically over his heart. “Why should he spread such vicious lies? No, no, leannan. Miss Brody stole yer beloved beastie, and I, being the true friend of Lockhart that I am, went after her to retrieve it. I almost lost me life in Ireland, mind—all so that I wouldna return to ye, m’annsachd, empty-handed.”
“How very gallant of ye,” she said. “And if I am truly yer beloved, did ye no’ think to write and tell me ye’d gone to Ireland?”
Hugh blinked. And then he smiled beatifically. “Mared, lass…I had no’ even a coin to me name. How might I have purchased paper and pen? No, leannan, I believed ye would trust me.”
She laughed roundly at that. “I wouldna trust ye if ye were the last man on God’s green earth, MacAlister,” she said, but fit the key in the lock and turned it, opening the door.
Hugh was instantly through it, his arms going around Mared without a care for the candle she held. “Diah, how is it that ye’ve grown even bonnier since I last laid eyes on ye?” he asked, attempting to nuzzle her neck. “I didna dream ye’d be so beautiful. Ah, lass, yell no’ regret rescuing me from this bloody pit,” he whispered wickedly in her ear.