She started down the tower stairs to greet him. Between her ankle and the fading light, the trip down was worse than the one up. She was forced to move so slowly that the walls seemed to close in on her. By the time she got to the bottom she was limping again.
When she emerged from the tower, Alasdair was crossing the depression that had once been a defensive ditch. She hobbled toward him, through the remains of what had been the great hall. “Alasdair.” She called and waved. “I’m over here.”
He started toward her. She didn’t want company. She was too numb to talk to anyone, but she waited for him. From the beginning Alasdair had been unfailingly kind to her.
He covered the distance with long strides. “Billie, what are you doing here?”
She didn’t want to tell Alasdair she was leaving Druidheachd. She wasn’t sure she could. Not yet. She needed time to summon the strength to deal with more partings. “I just came for a view. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but there’s no finer scenery anywhere than from that tower.”
“I used to come here often as a lad.”
“With Iain and his friends?”
“No. I was never part of their fun. I was younger and no’ one of them.”
She thought she detected a well-masked note of bitterness. She dredged up comfort from the wreckage of her heart. “Well, I was the youngest of four children, so I know what you mean. No one wanted me tagging along, either. And my brothers are older.”
“You came along far behind the others?”
“Technically they’re my half-brothers. Their mother died young, but my mother raised them as if they were her own.”
“Now that’s interesting. Then they are no’ MacFarlanes?”
“No. In fact, their mother’s people were from Germany, so they aren’t even Scots. Just me.”
“And are there many of your mother’s family left in the States?”
“None that I know of. My mother was an only child. Her father was an only child. As far as I know, I may be the last remnant of that sorry portion of the clan.”
“Sorry portion?”
“It’s hard to be thrilled with my roots.” She gestured expansively. Wind swept across the open field where once a castle stalwartly had stood. “Look around and what do you see? A history of betrayal and battles and men standing by as their own children were slaughtered. And then, of course, there’s the curse.”
“Dinna tell me that you hold any stock in that?”
“Then I won’t.”
“You believe that it still exists?”
“I don’t know what I believe, exactly. But I know that the power of suggestion can be astonishing. I’ve been influenced by it, too. And if the curse is nothing more than that, it’s still vile enough.” She sighed. “But this is no way to spend the evening. I’m heading back to my car. Are you going up in the tower?”
“No’ tonight. I’ll walk with you.”
She didn’t want Alasdair’s company or anyone’s, but she didn’t know how to tell him. She walked slowly beside him. Her ankle hurt, the wind chilled her to the bone, and her car seemed very far away.
“I’m surprised that Iain isn’t here with you.”
“What was he like as a boy, Alasdair? You said once that he was good at everything, and that you wanted to be like him.”
“Why do you ask?”
She’d asked because now she wondered what Iain might have become without the terrible pressure of his future. The boy was almost always the embryo of the man. “Just curious. And who better to tell me?”
“He was painfully polite to me. He was ordered to be polite by his parents, of course. Lady Mary, in particular. But when he was no’ with me, he laughed, I’m sure. I had a wee stutter, and when I would try to talk with him, it always grew worse.”
“It’s hard to imagine Iain laughing at anyone, even as a boy. Raising an eyebrow, perhaps, but laughing? Uh-uh.”
“You’ve no idea what it’s like to be different, no’ to be able to speak as quick as your thoughts. I suspect he thought I was slow-witted.”
“I seriously doubt it. But if he did, you certainly fooled him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, look at you. You’re a successful doctor, and I don’t know about here, but in the States you’d be every mother’s dream of a son-in-law.”
“How about your dream, Billie?”
She almost stumbled. “Alasdair.” She stopped and faced him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You’ve had no idea I was interested in you?”
“None.” She touched his arm. “And I’m incredibly flattered. But I think of you as a friend. A good friend. Can’t that be enough?”
“Do you think of Iain Ross as more?”
She was startled, but when she looked in his eyes she saw nothing but affection and perhaps a trace of concern for her. She was relieved. “It doesn’t matter. Iain doesn’t want me.”
“Then he’s a bit of a fool.”
“No, he’s not. It’s just too complicated to explain.” Her hand dropped to her side. “I hope you understand.”
“I certainly do.”
Billie started toward their cars again, but when Alasdair spoke, she stopped. “Have you had the whole tour of the ruins, Billie?”
“Iain showed them to me.”
“I know something about the castle that even Iain doesn’t know.”
“What’s that?”
“A secret room.” He pointed. “Over there. I found it as a child. It was my own special hiding place. I went there when I had no one to play with.”
“It sounds like you were a resourceful little boy.”
“Would you like to see?”
She didn’t want to see anything. She wanted to go back to Flora’s and make arrangements to leave. But she owed Alasdair something. His feelings for her were deeper than hers for him, and he had been kind to her. He was still being kind, even though she had gently dashed his hopes. “It’s getting dark,” she hedged.
“It won’t take long.”
“Okay. But then I really do have to get back. Flora will worry.”
“You’ll be glad you saw this. It’s a true slice of medieval Scotland.” He reached for her hand. Since the snow had begun again and his hand seemed more an aid than a romantic gesture, she allowed it. They wound along the ditch, across the great hall again, then turned and ducked under the shelter of the walkway between the towers.
“Exactly where are we going?” She was unhappy that they had backtracked so completely.
“We’re almost there.”
“I’m afraid my ankle’s hurting worse.”
“You should have said something before. Well, we’ll have a spot to rest out of the snow when we get there, and I’ll have a look at it.”
She had to content herself with that. She let him pull her along, but she stopped when they reached the second tower. “I don’t think this is safe, is it?”
“Oh, we’re no’ going up. I’d never take you up these stairs.”
“Then what?”
“Come and see.”
He sounded as excited as a small boy sharing his clubhouse with a friend. As shattered as she felt, she could not refuse.
The massive tower door hung slightly askew. With a surprisingly mighty thrust Alasdair moved it far enough to one side that they could enter. “It was always locked when I was a lad, but my father had a key, and, like all lads, I had ways of getting what I wanted.”
There were narrow ventilation slits along one wall, but the room was almost pitch black. “I’m not sure this was such a great idea,” Billie said. “I think we’d better come back when it’s lighter outside.”
“Don’t go yet. Wait. I’ll need to look at that ankle.”
Seconds passed; then a light wavered in the far corner. For a moment Billie was transfixed; then she realized what it was. “A candle. Alasdair, where did it come from?”
“I kept a cache in here as a boy. A tin of the
m. The room was nearly untouched the last time I came here. The tin was still here, so I brought new candles. For auld lang syne.”
It seemed an odd tribute to his childhood, but she was grateful for the light. “So this is your secret room.” It was fairly large, but gloomy, as only windowless rooms can be. “I can see you here as a boy. Plotting and planning.”
“Plotting?”
“Well, I was always plotting against my brothers. Didn’t you plot terrible crimes against Iain and the others?”
“On the contrary. I plotted ways to make them admire me.”
She felt a thrill of sympathy for the friendless boy he had been. “Did you miss this place when you moved away? Did you find another secret room somewhere?”
“There was no time to play after we moved from Fearnshader. I was forced to grow up quickly.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Then it wasn’t a good move?”
“My father was a hard man. He became harder after Lord Ross fired him.”
“Fired? I didn’t realize. Iain never said…”
“I doubt he knew. You see, Lord Ross was losing his mind by then. He discovered something about my father that sent him over the edge.”
A shiver crept along Billie’s spine. She didn’t like the room. She felt trapped, enclosed, despite how spacious it was. She forced herself to breathe slowly. There was plenty of air. “What?” She wanted the conversation to end.
“He discovered that my father was a MacFarlane.”
For a moment she thought she hadn’t heard him right. “A MacFarlane?”
“Aye. On his mother’s side. Just like you, Billie. Exactly like you.”
“Then you and I…”
“Are cousins. Aye. Distant, distant cousins. You come from the family of Christina’s oldest brother, and I come from the family of the cousin she was betrothed to marry.”
Fear exploded inside her. Mara’s words rang in her head. Watch everything and everyone. And listen for the things that are not said, as well as those screamed in anger. She started toward the door, but Alasdair reached it before she did. “There’s more to see. You can no’ go yet.”
“I’m very tired, and my ankle hurts like heck. I really do have to go. We’ll come back. You can show me later.” She was babbling.
“I want to show you now.” He took her arm.
She was afraid to scream, afraid she had misread this entire situation and was overreacting. She had come through too much today to trust her instincts. But Mara’s words continued to beat a steady rhythm inside her. Walk with care, Billie.
“I don’t like being in here.” She tried to pull away. “You can tell me the rest of the story outside.”
“There’s no’ much more to tell. Lord Ross had to file some legal papers on each of his employees. My father could no’ hide the truth. When Lord Ross saw that my father’s middle name was MacFarlane, he fired him then and there. He was afraid, you see, that my father would bring the curse down on his head. By then, of course, he was already quite mad, already a victim of the MacFarlane curse.” Alasdair laughed. There was nothing pleasant about the sound.
“Alasdair, let me go! I’m beginning to feel frightened.”
“I suppose Christina felt frightened, too, when she realized she had no place to run.”
She tried once again to jerk her arm from his. When he didn’t let go, she lunged at him. But Alasdair was not Jeremy Fletcher. He easily avoided her, twisting her arm so that she was trapped against him.
“My father never found another position. Lord Ross would no’ recommend him. And he had been a good keeper, one of the best in Scotland. Every April I went with him to the moors to burn off strips of the land. He knew every bush, every rock, every game bird. The deer would eat from his hand….”
“Your father taught you to burn the land?”
“Aye. And I learned the skill well.” His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “I remember it still.”
She brought the heel of her boot down sharply on his instep. His grip loosened for a moment, and she broke free. But she had no more reached the door than he had her again.
“You’ve no’ seen my secret room!”
She struggled, but he dragged her slowly back toward the center. She managed one shrill scream, but he clapped his hand over her mouth. “My father began to drink too much after he was sacked. And when he drank, he was a violent man. Lord Ross did that to him, and to me. And every time my father beat me, I told myself that I would come back to Druidheachd someday, and I would make Iain suffer for his father’s sins, just as I had suffered for them!”
He was insane. Now it was so clear that Billie couldn’t believe he’d hidden it. She wanted to plead with him, but his hand was firmly covering her mouth. She was losing ground. He wasn’t a large man, but he was strong and in superb condition. Between her injured ankle and inferior size, she couldn’t stop him from dragging her.
She felt him kick at the floor with his foot. Once, then again. She used the third time to try to break free, but he held fast. “My secret room has an interesting secret itself.” He laughed. The sound was terrifying. “Once this was a prison cell, Billie, and below us is the dungeon. Historians would call it a bottle dungeon now, because the top is narrow and the bottom just a wee bit wider. You’ll see.”
She twisted and turned, trying desperately to escape. But a hole appeared in the floor where the planks he had kicked away had covered it. She felt him force her toward it, despite her struggles.
“Iain had you, too.” He sounded sad. “He had everything, and I was left with nowt.”
She couldn’t plead, and struggling did no good. She was helpless. When he removed his hand from her mouth and shoved her toward the hole in the floor she gave a piercing scream. But as she fell through the horrifying darkness, she knew that no one had heard her.
CHAPTER 16
Hollyhock whined. Iain watched the dog leap to his oversize feet and start for the window. Once there he rose on his hind legs and rested his front paws against the sill, soulfully gazing into the darkness.
Iain couldn’t remember when he had last taken the dog for a walk. He was already a large animal, growing larger, and he needed exercise. Thanks to Billie’s intervention he was no longer impossible to restrain on walks. He came when he was called—most of the time—and obligingly fetched sticks that Iain threw for him. Iain hadn’t wanted a dog. He had only taken Hollyhock for April’s sake. But somewhere along the way—and reluctantly—Iain had grown fond of him.
“What do you see, Hollyhock?” Iain went to the window, too. He was talking to a dog. His life had come to that. His days stretched ahead of him, days when a dog would be his best hope of a conversation, days when he would isolate himself more strenuously to wait.
He wondered if Billie truly understood that his worst fears of slowly going mad had been for the people he loved and not for himself. He wondered if she would ever realize that it wasn’t cowardice but courage that had made him set her free.
For the first time I made you feel alive. I made you want to fight.
Iain could almost hear her saying the words. They were true. She had done both. He had almost succumbed to the lure of life coursing through his veins, to hope and passion and joy. He had almost forgotten that he was destined to writhe in agony and terror for the remainder of his days, and that if she was at his side, she would share in that horror.
He was a twentieth century man. He didn’t believe in the MacFarlane curse.
But he believed in its legacy.
Hollyhock whined again and pawed at the glass.
Through the window Iain could see that the snow had picked up in intensity. As a boy he, Duncan and Andrew had often gone for walks on evenings like this one. Their whole lives had been ahead of them, and they had been impatient for the fun to begin. They had planned and plotted in turn, each boy more grandiose than the last.
Iain knew he could lose the dog in a drift if they waited much longer. “All right. A short
walk. And you’d better stay with me, or there’ll be no more walks at night.”
Hollyhock started for the door.
Outside, the air was frigid. Hollyhock bounded to the nearest drift and dove into it. Iain shoved his gloved hands in his jacket pockets and started down the drive. There had been no forecast of a storm, but weather in the Highlands was difficult to predict. Billie had once joked that the weathermen in Scotland chose predictions from a hat, because on any given day, one was as accurate as another. A little rain, a little snow, a little sun.
Billie.
Hollyhock raced past, stopped and shook the snow off his coat, then took off at a run again.
Iain whistled, but the dog—who could hear the rattle of food tumbling into his bowl from any of Fearnshader’s fifty rooms—ignored him.
“Hollyhock!”
The dog was a dark streak against the white snow. A rapidly disappearing dark streak.
Hollyhock was headed the back way toward Ceo Castle, the same path that Iain had used to carry Billie to Fearnshader after she’d nearly drowned. Iain called again and whistled shrilly, but Hollyhock was out of sight.
Iain considered what to do. He could go back home and wait for Hollyhock to return—if he did. Or he could go in search. It took only a moment to decide. He had already suffered too many losses. He turned back home for Hollyhock’s leash before he started in the direction the dog had gone.
There was little traffic on the loch road because of the hour and weather. Hollyhock would probably be safe from cars, but Iain didn’t trust the dog’s sense of direction in the snow. If the night worsened, he might die of exposure.
Iain was halfway to the castle when he heard Hollyhock barking somewhere up ahead. He shouted again and followed with another whistle, but Hollyhock didn’t appear. Every few hundred meters he stopped and shouted again. Hollyhock barked once, as if to let Iain know the game was still on, but he didn’t return.
Iain was beginning to feel the chill through his coat. The landscape was white, but landmarks were easily detectable. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, the same scarf he had used to help Billie screen the smoke when Cumhann Moor had burned.
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