Catching Hero about the waist, he lifted even while she yelped with surprise as the stone directly beneath her gave way.
“What the hell?” As he stood with Hero’s weight suspended against him, the stone where he braced his hand for support also began to crumble. One large piece broke away, skipping audibly against the cliff side on its decent to the crashing waves below.
Setting Hero back on her feet, Ian fastened his trousers hastily and bent to examine the wall. Following the mortar line with his finger, it was easy to see that the mortar binding the stones together had been chipped away. The little cement that remained was disintegrating under the weight of the stones. Ian lifted one stone, then another. Each came away as if it had never been secured. “Fook it all!” Ian said thickly, realizing that the damage had been deliberate. “I thought we were done with this!”
“Come away from there now,” Ian said and held out a hand to Hero. “I don’t want you close to that wall until I can have someone in to repair it.” And to inspect the remainder of the castle for any other failings that might result in another “accident.” How many traps had been set for them before Daphne had been apprehended? Would they still find traps ready to be sprung in another week? Another month?
“I sit there all the time,” Hero whispered in horror as she too bent to look at the damage and the wall around it. The mortar had been scraped away only on the low indentation and on a radius of about a foot or so surrounding it. Ian could see the reality of the situation hit her. This was the first time she had been a direct target.
“It was probably done days ago,” Ian said. “Perhaps a week or more before Daphne or Jennings left.”
“We come here so often,” she reminded him. “I never noticed that.”
“Well, we don’t often provide that much reason for it to shift so,” he replied. Ian ground his teeth in frustration. Obviously, their habits were well known. He couldn’t recall how many times he had pressed Hero against that wall to kiss her.
“We need to tell the magistrate, Ian.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Hero and Ian both turned toward the deep voice that came from the growing shadows that extended toward the far end of the ramparts, and a second later Camron Kennedy appeared with a pistol trained on Ian.
“Camron!”
“You?” Ian overrode Hero’s exclamation with his own, his mind spinning.
“Don’t bother shouting for your guards,” Camron said. “They are all sleeping off the effects of too much celebration.”
“You drugged them?”
“Aye,” Kennedy said, then offered a leer in Hero’s direction. “My apologies for my tardiness; I would have made my appearance earlier but the view was so … titillating, I fear I was momentarily distracted from my purpose.”
The knowledge that this man had watched them make love while plotting their deaths sent Ian’s temper skyrocketing. Regardless of the pistol trained on him, he was flooded with the urge to charge. Hero must have sensed his intentions, however, because she lay a light hand on his arm to restrain him.
“I admit I’ve done a shoddy job of it, haven’t I?” Kennedy chuckled. “It was hard to gauge how subtly it could be done. You must admit I’m getting better, aren’t I?” He waved the pistol to indicate the wall.
“You did this? Why? There is nothing for you to gain.”
“Is there not?” Kennedy said with a sly smile. “You think I would allow a mere woman to take line in the succession if you were gone?”
“You would kill your own sister?” Ian asked, balling his hands into tight fists. “Why haven’t you done so then?”
“Because I need her, of course. I need her to take the blame. Anyone given the facts, her history with you, her very vocal declarations that Cuilean is hers will accuse her without taking a moment for deeper reflection,” he explained. “Without her, none of this would have been possible. And, no, to answer your question, I will not kill her. I won’t have to. She is in custody now—I must say, I wasn’t anticipating that—but what is one more charge against her? Murder? The entire staff here will provide testament to her motivations and greed at trial. She might hang or wallow in prison, but she will not gain the title!” he finished with a laugh.
“Why would you do this?” Hero asked.
Kennedy’s mood swung from hilarity to a scowl as he bit out, “Because I will not muddle about as a miserable clerk for my father for even a moment! I am a Kennedy of Ayr.”
“So you would kill two innocent people to avoid working for your father?” Ian snarled incredulously.
“I admit that I should have tried harder in the beginning. I haven’t a lot of experience at homicide,” Kennedy went on, reverting to his previous line of thought and chuckling as if his words were meant to amuse. “I did find some small measure of amusement in toying with you though. Seeing you watch Daphne with such speculation. Wondering.”
“You’re mad!”
“The fire was genius! You have to admit that. It should have done the trick. Imagine my surprise when you weren’t even in the bed! But I’ve decided that I cannot drag this whole thing out any longer. Something more pointed was in order, but still it had to be something Daphne would have done … if she had thought of it, of course.” Kennedy glanced at the half-collapsed wall. “This should have been more effective. I had to remove more of the mortar when it did not break as I wished. I suppose I should have done more.”
Ian eyed the man before him, ignoring his ramblings, looking for a weakness. It was hard to believe the young man was behind this. He was just barely in his twenties, slight and clerkish in appearance. Not at all what one would expect of a killer. “You haven’t been at Ayr in more than a week. You didn’t do this alone.”
“Very clever, Ayr,” Kennedy sneered. “You’re right. I did need an inside man, didn’t I?”
“Jennings?”
“No, Jennings was too much Daphne’s lapdog to be trusted,” he laughed. “I put my own man in more than a month ago. Can you not guess?”
“Dickson,” Ian cursed under his breath. The truth was so obvious in retrospect.
“So clever, yet you didn’t figure that out? Even when he suggested you let the staff off for the night to attend the festival?” Kennedy mocked. “No, you wanted to be able to fuck your bonny bride on the ramparts. I must confess that worked out well for me, though I had many other contingencies in play. So there is no one to save you. No one to hear you scream as you fall to your deaths. Pity, though. Lady Ayr does have the most delicious thighs, doesn’t she? And the way she cries out just so …” He gave a little shudder of pleasure.
Ian growled low in his throat, the menacing sound carrying on the breeze, but Kennedy only laughed, waving his gun as a reminder of who held the upper hand. “I wouldn’t try anything, Ayr. There will be no more accidents after this one … until perhaps Daphne does happen to meet her own unpleasant end, that is.”
“Why didn’t you just shoot me?” Ian taunted to keep him talking. He needed to tamp down his anger, to buy time. He needed to see if Kennedy’s defenses would drop, allowing him an opening to disarm the lunatic. And people thought Beaumont mad! Thinking this demented plan might work was true insanity. “Why all the accidents?”
“It would have been easier, wouldn’t it?” Kennedy drawled. “I shall tell you the truth. It wasn’t my preferred method simply because it is rather hard to imagine Daphne shooting anyone in cold blood, is it not? I couldn’t even prod her into acting against you both. Only Lady Ayr was in her sights, so to speak. But it was enough, and I can’t have any doubts, you know. I could shoot you now and dump your body over the edge, but if your body was recovered and the bullet wounds were discovered, I would face the same problem. I will do it if I have to, but it would be so much easier if you would just jump now.”
“You are a fool if you think we’ll simply jump on your command,” Ian said. Camron leveled the pistol at hi
s chest, but Ian crossed his arms doggedly, facing the barrel of the gun without fear. Bullets did not frighten him. He tensed, intent on charging the madman as soon as his eyes shifted away.
Kennedy didn’t seem surprised or even displeased by Ian’s resistance. Instead he shrugged philosophically and smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t do it, Lord Ayr. You are a stubborn man. But perhaps to save Lady Ayr, you will.”
The gun shifted until it was pointed at Hero, and Ian felt a chill race through his veins, freezing him in his tracks. If he charged, he would leave Hero exposed. Instead, he instinctively pulled Hero to the side just as a gunshot rang out, echoing across the firth. Shielding Hero with his body, Ian glared furiously at the young man, who only shrugged again.
“A warning shot,” he explained, cocking the pistol once more. “Just to prove I’m deadly serious. I do have several shots remaining. How many should I put into her to convince you?”
“You’ll only kill her after I am gone,” Ian spat, keeping Hero’s head firmly tucked beneath his chin. “So what’s the point?”
“I promise you I will not,” Kennedy said with a bow. “Lady Ayr may even stay at Cuilean if she likes. Under lock and key, of course, and with the proviso that she never speak of this. Her life would depend on it, naturally.”
“I would never!” Hero snapped at him, pushing away from Ian’s protective embrace, “so you might as well just shoot us now!”
Ian took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly as he moved in front of her again. For the first time, he felt a shiver of fear … not for himself, but for Hero. It was all for her. About her. Ian knew he could not let this madman win.
“If that is your wish, my lady.” Kennedy lifted the barrel of the gun, aiming down the sights, and Ian knew that his moment had come. It was now or never.
With a shout of rage, he charged forward, catching Kennedy around his midsection and throwing him against the wall. A bullet whizzed past his ear as he threw a hard right to Kennedy’s stomach. Ian heard a satisfying grunt and added a left uppercut that threw the man back once more. Kennedy clasped his hand over his mouth as blood spurted out, and Ian knew the man had most likely bitten off a part of his tongue. He hauled the man up by his shirtfront, ready to beat him to a pulp, but Kennedy staggered to the side and the gun sounded again. The bullet hit the stone balcony with a ping and Hero cried out.
Holding Kennedy’s shirtfront in one fist, Ian turned back in alarm to see Hero against the ruined wall, holding her arm. Blood oozed between her fingers. She had been hit either by the ricochet of the bullet or by the fragments of stone the bullet had dislodged.
“I am all right,” she panted, correctly reading his impulse to go to her.
“Are you sure?”
With a wince, Hero nodded, and Ian turned back to Kennedy with murder in his eyes. “That was a big mistake.”
But Kennedy had taken Ian’s moment of distraction to cock the pistol once more, and he now pressed it against the marquis’s stomach. Kennedy wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and sneered at Ian. “No, the mistake was yours.”
The gun fired for the fourth time as Ian twisted away but a familiar burning in his side told him that the bullet had hit him anyway. It wasn’t the first time Ian had been shot, but he swore it would be the last. Pushing aside the pain, Ian dove at Kennedy, driving him back once more. They hit the lower wall and Ian felt the stone move with the force of their combined weight. As the gun flew from his grasp and skittered across the ground, Kennedy’s eyes widened with alarm and Ian sneered down into his face, pushing the man harder against the shifting stone. “How does it feel, Kennedy, to be taken down by your own sinister plot?”
Drops of sweat appeared on the would-be murderer’s brow as he both clung to and fought against Ian’s grasp as he was bent backward against the rail. “I never thought I was that good,” he audaciously jested, then relaxed his legs, dropping suddenly and using his unsupported weight to drag himself from Ian’s grasp.
The sudden move threw Ian off balance and before he could recover, Kennedy threw himself against the wound in Ian’s side, throwing them both sideways.
“No!” he heard Hero scream, and Ian looked up to find Hero running toward his valet, who had appeared on ramparts, presumably to come to his cohort’s aid. Dickson held another gun in his hands, but luckily killing Hero in cold blood seemed to give him pause. With his hesitation, Hero reached him at a full run and they toppled against the low wall. The pistol flew over the edge.
The satisfaction of seeing some part of this sinister plot fail was short-lived. Dickson grabbed at Hero, winding his arms around her while she kicked and clawed at his hands. He held her easily, but when Hero bit his hand, the valet winced in pain. He backhanded her and Hero spun away with a cry of pain.
Before she even fell to the ground, Ian wrestled away from Kennedy, delivering one last brutal blow to his opponent, driving him to the ground, and charged his valet. Catching him about the waist, Ian spun him around, using the turn to throw Dickson bodily away. He stumbled, and the low outer wall caught him low across his back. The momentum of his upper body continued, bending him backward over the wall, and his feet flew up. Dickson went over the side with a shriek, catching the top with one hand. “Help me!” he begged, looking frantically up at his employer as he dangled helplessly over the long drop.
Ian snorted, thinking of all that this man had done to them. A man who had had Ian’s trust. Dickson had been in his rooms while he slept, and had attempted to murder him and Hero as well. He shook his head tightly. “Help yourself.”
“Ian.”
The fear tightening her voice made Ian turn, only to find Hero in Kennedy’s hold, his arm tight around her waist and the pistol pointed at her temple. “Don’t,” the plea emerged from his lips. Dickson’s frantic pleading faded away as Ian’s focus shifted entirely to the safety of the woman he loved.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“I’m sorry, Ian,” Hero said, sorrow filling her as she watched anger turn to shock and then despair. “I was trying to get the pistol. I thought he was unconscious …”
Ian shifted his gaze to Kennedy’s triumphant expression. “You can have it. All of it. Just don’t hurt her.”
“Really?” Kennedy lowered the barrel of the pistol and ground it against the bloody wound on Hero’s arm, causing her to cry out in pain. Ian leapt forward, but when Kennedy lifted the pistol to her temple he froze in his tracks. “She is the key, isn’t she?”
“Are you truly so depraved that you could just shoot her?” Ian asked.
“It’s not as difficult as you might think to watch someone die.”
Ian’s eyes met Hero’s. Kennedy was wrong. It had been hard enough to see hardened soldiers die on the battlefields, to watch the life leech from the eyes of men under his command, his friends. He could not watch Hero die. Ian would die with her, or certainly without her. “I accept your bargain. Let her go.”
“Ian, no!” Hero pleaded, struggling against Kennedy once more. She couldn’t let him do that. Couldn’t allow him to sacrifice his life for hers. “I won’t let you.”
“It is a conundrum, isn’t it?” Kennedy said thoughtfully. “Problem is, I believe her more than I believe you. She wouldn’t sit quietly at all. What a shame, really.”
With no other warning, Kennedy flung Hero through the gap in the rampart wall. Too terrified to even scream, Hero instead heard Ian’s harsh cry of denial as she went over the side. Desperately, Hero grasped for purchase on the remaining parts of the wall, some of the smaller rocks breaking away at her efforts. Feet dangling over the furious waters of the firth and her injured arm screaming in pain, she fought against the weight of her skirts and petticoats. She tried to push herself up again, but instead slipped farther down, yet to her surprise, the bottom of her steel-boned corset caught on the stone and levered her in place.
Ian was already there, dropping to his knees and catching her under the elbow. “Hero!”
&
nbsp; “Get him!” she panted out. “I’m all right.”
“No!” He pulled her up, wincing at the pain in his side, but the slight movement lifted Hero from the perch her corset had found for her against edge of the stone and Ian was left with her full weight to support.
Her sudden collapse dragged Ian to his knees; his grip slid to her wrist and left her entire weight dangling there from her injured arm.
“Ian!” she screeched in terror, trying frantically to gain some foothold. The pain in her arm was excruciating, sending fire shooting up her arm, but Hero knew only worse things awaited her. Releasing the edge of the wall with her other hand, Hero grasped at his arm with both hands, putting her destiny squarely in his hands.
Black spots danced before her eyes, and for a moment Hero heard strange voices yelling before her vision brightened once more and Ian came back into focus. “Help me! Help me, please! Don’t let me go!” she begged him, staring up into his dark eyes. Eyes that normally carried nothing but love and humor now held despair.
“I’m not going to let you go, my love. I won’t,” he assured her through gritted teeth, but Hero could feel his grip slipping on her bloody wrist. “Just hold on!”
“Oh God, Ian,” Hero whimpered as again her vision dulled. Now red lights like those in her nightmares flooded her vision, and Hero knew then that the nightmare had shown her her death. She blinked the image away, trying to focus on Ian.
“I won’t let go! I won’t!” He clenched his teeth and pulled harder, lifting her back up, until she was able to throw one arm around his waist, allowing him also to take the opportunity to reach down and get a better hold on her. “I’ve got you, Hero. I’ve got you, my love,” he murmured as he pulled her to him.
The terror subsided as Hero felt his arms come around her. She tried to help him by lifting a knee over the edge of the balcony, but her skirts wouldn’t allow it. She was still helpless, though safe for the moment. “We’re fine,” she gasped into his shoulder. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
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