Down the Rabbit Hole

by J. D. Robb

  While the others enjoyed their fine meal, Beth vowed to herself to pay close attention, for there was evil in this place. And magic. Or else, she was going completely mad.

  * * *

  Beth stood on the balcony of her room and watched Colin Gordon walking the garden path below. Since he was alone, it seemed the perfect opportunity to try her luck with him yet again.

  Snatching up the hem of her skirt, she hurried across the room and down the stairs.

  Once outside, she paused a moment to catch her breath before walking quickly toward the figure moving along the pathway.

  “Would you mind some company?”

  At her words, the figure paused before turning. His head was bent, his hands behind his back. A man, it seemed, with much on his mind. But once he spotted her, he forced a smile to his lips.

  “My lady Campbell. I’d be pleased for your company.”

  She flushed at his courtliness. “I know I’m intruding on your privacy, but I’d like to discuss the terms of the sale, if you’re willing to listen.”

  Distracted, he merely nodded before starting along the stone pathway, with Beth doing her best to keep up.

  “Connifer-Goldrich would like to offer you . . .”

  He paused, placing a hand on her arm to halt her words. “I know not this name.”

  For the space of a heartbeat, she couldn’t find her voice. Her entire being was concentrated on the flood of heat radiating from his touch to every part of her body.

  She stepped back, away from the heat, and waited for her heart to settle.

  “I work for them. I’m here to present their offer for”—she swept a hand to indicate the lovely view before them—“all of this.”

  “They desire my gardens?”

  She smiled. “And all that goes along with them. Your lodge. Your land. These glorious hills. The lake.”

  “Aye. The land. The hills. The loch.” His smile was gone. “The Campbells have always wanted what is mine. ’Tis not for sale, at any price.”

  “But . . .”

  He was already several steps ahead of her. She moved quickly to match his pace.

  He never once stopped to admire the lovely roses in full bloom or the birds fluttering their wings around the sculpture of a goddess in the center of a fountain. He strode straight and sure on the stone pathways between the hedgerows.

  But as she struggled to keep up, Beth found herself enchanted by the view. The fragrance of roses hung heavy in the air. The sound of water flowing from the sculptured fountain was a balm to her troubled soul.

  “I can understand why you would be loath to consider selling all this. Now that I’m here, I think it may be the loveliest place on earth.”

  He stopped then, and though his frown remained, he allowed himself to look around, as though seeing it through her eyes.

  His own eyes softened. “Aye. ’Tis a bonny place. We stand on hallowed ground.” He pointed to a small chapel across the garden and started toward it, with Beth trailing behind.

  When they came to a fenced area, dotted with stone markers and sculpted angels, he paused. “My ancestors lie here. Those who died in battle, and those who mourned them. One day I’ll join them as well. Until then, I see it as my duty to nurture the land and the life they left in my care.”

  Without thinking, Beth touched a hand to his. “I can’t think of a more peaceful place to spend eternity.”

  He glanced at her small hand, and then up into her eyes with a fierce look that had her heart racing.

  Before she could pull away, he closed both hands over hers. “Are you telling me a Campbell can understand what this place means to me?”

  She swallowed. “Please don’t judge me by my name.”

  “How else am I to judge you?”

  “Judge me by my character. By my behavior. By the choices I make.” She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips. “I’m more than a name.”

  “As am I.”

  She nodded and managed a small smile. “Maybe . . .” She sighed. “Maybe we could start over. I know I made a bad impression when I . . .”

  He touched a finger to her mouth to stop her. Just the merest touch, but she felt the fire all the way to her toes.

  “My lady Campbell . . .”

  “Beth,” she corrected.

  “Beth is not a name. I shall call you by your full name. Bethany.”

  She was caught by surprise. “How did you guess? Most people think it’s Elizabeth.”

  “Nay. It could only be Bethany.” He spoke the word in a harsh whisper. “For ’tis truly a bonny name.”

  And then there were no words as he lowered his face to hers and kissed her full on the mouth.

  An earthquake would have been less devastating than the kiss, which seemed to spin on and on, catching them both by complete surprise.

  His arms came around her, drawing her against him, while his warm, firm lips moved over hers with a thoroughness that had her trembling.

  She was so caught up in the moment, she found her arms around his neck, though she didn’t recall how they got there. And when his hair brushed the backs of her fingers, she absorbed a tingling sensation that raced through her veins.

  When at last he lifted his head, he stared down into her eyes with a look that was devouring her. “Are you a witch then, Bethany Campbell? For I know of no other reason I should behave so boldly with a woman I’ve only just met.”

  Though she knew her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide with surprise, she couldn’t look away. “I’m no witch, my lord.”

  He reached out a big, rough palm to cup her cheek. His voice was husky with emotion. “Perhaps not, but I’m bewitched all the same.”

  “I’m the one bewitched.” Her tone was low. Breathless. Troubled. “Ever since arriving here my world has turned upside down. Nothing is as it should be.”

  “’Tis true for me, as well. You’ve brought a candle to my darkness.” He bent to brush a soft, butterfly kiss over her lips. “Now, my sweet, fair Bethany, you must leave me. This very moment. Before I do something that would shame us both.”

  She stared mutely as the meaning of his harshly whispered words sank in. She caught up the hem of her gown and turned away.

  She knew she was taking the coward’s way when she ran as fast as she could from the garden.

  And all the while she could feel the heat of his gaze fixed on her as she made her escape.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Beth paced the length of her room and back before pausing at the balcony to see Colin pacing the garden like a caged animal. Even from so great a distance it was clear that he was as tormented as she.

  What in the world had she been thinking? How could she expect to conduct business, for heaven’s sake, to negotiate terms of a sale with a man after allowing him to kiss her like that?

  Allow? That was too mild a word. She’d been a full participant in that kiss. And it shamed her to realize that if he hadn’t been the one to call a halt to it, she would still be in his arms, taking pleasure in the amazing feelings his touch aroused in her.

  Though it was completely out of character for her, she’d welcomed the unexpected rush of passion. Had embraced it. And even now, just thinking about his kiss had her trembling like one of the silly, lovesick heroines in the novels she’d kept hidden from her aunt in her teens.

  She turned away from the balcony when the door to her room was opened and old Maura stepped in, her arms filled with fresh clothing.

  “If yer to ride to the hunt, m’lady, ye’ll need proper clothes.” She set her burden down in the middle of the bed and began to sort through them. “We keep a store of the lady Catherine’s clothes.”

  “Lady Catherine?”

  “The laird’s mother. Though she’s been gone these many years, the old Laird Collier kept her gowns in a small room abo
vestairs. Since she was near your size, I thought they would do, though I’m sure Edwina will sulk.”

  “How kind of you, Maura. Who is Edwina?”

  “Why, the laird’s stepsister. She and Ian are the product of the old laird’s second wife and her first husband. Laird Collier Gordon wed her after Lady Catherine died.” Under her breath she muttered, “May God rest her dear soul.”

  “You cared for her.”

  “The lady Catherine? Aye. She was loved by all who knew her, my lady.”

  “And Laird Collier and his second wife?”

  “Both gone to the grave now. Our affection for the old laird never wavered, though we all questioned his wisdom. He lies buried beside the chapel, next to Lady Catherine.” Her smile turned to a frown. Her voice lowered with a trace of scorn. “His second wife was taken by her children to be laid to rest with those of her clan.”

  “Do Ian and Edwina live here?”

  The old woman shook her head. “They live among their mother’s people. She first wed a wealthy laird from the clan Campbell . . .” She stopped, her eyes wide as she realized what she’d revealed. “Begging your pardon, my lady. Ye probably know of yer kinswoman? The lady Darda Campbell.”

  “Darda . . . ?” Beth turned away to hide her shock. Her aunt’s name was uncommon enough that she’d never before heard it. And now, to hear it in this place seemed unimaginable.

  “Was she as beloved as the Lady Catherine?”

  The old woman’s voice was icy. “She was undeserving. All she loved, all she coveted, was the old laird’s gold and lands. There now, my lady. I’ve spoken ill of your kinswoman, and may my Maker smote me for it.”

  Beth managed a smile. “You’re free to say whatever you wish. My clan is far from here, Maura. In a land across the sea.”

  “Across the sea? ’Tis more than the mind can imagine.” The old woman shivered at the thought of it and shook her head in amazement before holding up a gorgeous long skirt and fitted jacket in lush green velvet. “This will keep ye warm as ye join the hunt.” She began helping Beth out of her wool gown and into the riding clothes.

  When Beth was dressed, Maura held up a jaunty green hat adorned with a veil and a jewel-toned peacock feather. Placing it just so on Beth’s head, the old woman stood back to admire her handiwork. “There now, m’lady. Take these.” She offered a pair of softest kid gloves. “The laird instructed me to tell ye yer groom will be waiting at the stables with your mount. Mistress MacKay is preparing a picnic luncheon to be served in the meadow.”

  “Will the other women be joining the hunt?”

  Maura shook her head. “They care not for it. But they’ll attend the meal in the meadow.”

  When Beth stepped from her room, Jamie stood waiting, and walked beside her down the stairs and across a sloping lawn to the stables.

  It was clear to Beth that, even though she was being treated as a guest, she was not to be trusted. Colin Gordon wanted her where he could keep an eye on her. Which was no doubt the reason he’d invited her to join the hunt. And when he wasn’t around, that duty would fall to this lad.

  Colin was astride a spirited black stallion. He wore a woolen cape tossed rakishly over one shoulder. When he saw Beth striding toward him, his gaze fixed on her with such intensity, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

  She paused beside a stable lad holding the reins of a horse and looked up at Colin. “I hope you don’t mind that Maura offered me the use of your mother’s things?”

  “Not at all.” He was out of the saddle and striding toward her. “I’d instructed her to use whatever suited you.”

  “Thank you. That was very generous.”

  “It was necessary. You could hardly sit a horse in a day gown.”

  While the groom held her mount, Colin assisted Beth up a carpeted set of steps that made it possible for her to slide easily into the ornate sidesaddle.

  When she was offered the reins, she felt a moment of panic. But the docile mare stood perfectly still, allowing Beth to relax.

  Colin returned to his horse, mounted, and led the way from the stable area.

  The horsemen fanned out in a wide circle, except for their host, who reined in his stallion so that he could easily ride alongside Beth.

  Why had she worked herself up over this? What could she possibly have to fear on this lovely, sunny day?

  At the end of the day, when the contest had been decided and the men were celebrating, she would find time to talk privately with her host and present the firm’s offer once again.

  She would close the deal, ride off into the sunset, and return to her firm to enjoy the spoils of victory.

  And she would remember for a lifetime that memorable kiss from a Scottish nobleman.

  Lulled by that thought, Beth let go of the last of her tension. She’d never seen a lovelier place. With the sun high above, and a field of heather all around, she decided to take the time to savor the view and simply enjoy the day.

  * * *

  “So.” Colin’s voice was low, so as not to be overheard by his guests. “You seem clearer of head with each passing hour. Have you put aside whatever was troubling you last night, my lady?”

  “I have, thank you. I know I caused quite a fuss when I crashed your party last night. Blame it on the fall.” Beth touched a hand to her head. “I’ve got a nasty bump. But other than that, I’m fine.”

  “Fine indeed.” He was studying her far too closely. “And fair of face.”

  At his words, his gaze moved over her with a thoroughness that had the heat rushing to her cheeks. Almost as if, she thought, he was replaying their kiss in his mind.

  He cleared his throat. “You remind me not of any Campbell. Neither in looks nor demeanor.”

  “I’m told I take after my father, though I don’t remember him. He died when I was very young. And I’ve seen pictures of my mother. I have her eyes. She was a Douglas. Cybil Douglas Campbell.”

  His eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re a long way from either clan.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t born in Scotland.”

  “England, then?”

  She shook her head. “I’m from New York.”

  At his puzzled frown she added, “America.”

  “I know of it. I’ve heard it described as a primitive place.” He glanced skyward, to watch the path of an eagle soaring toward a distant ridge of trees.

  Beth felt a quick rush of alarm. Was he teasing her? Or could it be as she’d feared? Could that fall have pushed her into another dimension? Some strange, mythical world? In truth, hadn’t she felt as though she’d traveled back in time to some long-ago place of her imagination, where animals walked upright and some even turned into noble heroes?

  She arched a brow. “Tell me something. Do you invite your friends here often?”

  “This is a rare respite. As you well know, the times are troubling. Our beloved Highlands are divided. Some of the clans have grown rich accepting favors from the English. They would swear fealty to the English queen, subjugate the surrounding clans and strip us of our ancient lands and titles unless we do the same. But we will stand by our beloved Mary. With our Highland warriors at her side, she will prevail, and all disputes will be settled.”

  Stunned, Beth thought about the Scottish history that she’d so loved in her college years. If what this man said was actually true, she’d somehow been thrust back to the sixteenth century, when Mary returned from France after the death of her young husband, Francis, and assumed the throne of Scotland, paving the way for a deadly duel with Elizabeth I of England.

  A perilous time in history, with two powerful nations hovering on the brink of war.

  Beth chose her words carefully. “And you don’t doubt your loyalty, my lord?”

  “Regardless of the outcome, I am loyal to our Mary Stuart, who deserves to sit upon the throne.”


  He saw the way her brow furrowed. “’Twould seem you disapprove.”

  “No. It’s just that I know what will happen . . .”

  At a shout, he looked up, before turning to her. “I must leave you.” He turned back to Jamie, who rode a short distance behind them. “You’ll stay with the lady while I see what Ian has found.”

  Beth watched in alarm as he nudged his horse into a run.

  She remembered a great deal more about the history of this country than mere names and dates. She knew the outcome of this rebellion. And it spelled disaster for all who defied England. Many would lose their ancestral lands. Some would die in an English prison, or be hanged as traitors.

  Sweet heaven. Now she was certain that this wasn’t just a bad dream or a head injury. Somehow that fall had transported her back to Scotland’s dark and dangerous past, where Highlanders were divided, and many would pay with their lives. As long as she was here, she had no way of escaping the fate of Colin Gordon and his clan.

  These were very troubling times. And she was trapped, with no way out.

  * * *

  Colin watched as his guests cheered the sight of hundreds of quail and pheasants lifting into the air as young lads from the village raced through the brush, brandishing tree branches to frighten the birds into flight.

  He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Let the contest begin.”

  At once Ian and the others notched their arrows to their bows and took aim.

  Each Highlander used the feathers of a different bird to balance his arrows. Thus it was an easy task to determine by the arrow embedded in the dead bird just which hunter had made the kill.

  Ian turned to their host. “You’re not joining us?”

  “Aye. In time. I prefer to give my guests the honor of first kill.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed. “You think yourself so much better than the rest of us that you would hold back?”