At home he sat amongst his men and their families, or with his brother. He looked down the row of people sitting at the table to see Quinn scowling at a fancily trussed game bird that lay before him in roasted and sauced glory.
He turned to his own plate, which had just been set before him with the customary and annoying flourish, only to be swept away by Bella.
A week earlier, when they had announced the sad demise of her father due to the failing of his old heart, they’d been met with some shouts and murmurs that Lachlan was to be the new laird. Not many, to be sure, and some had merely whispered to each other and cast him sullen looks. These were the ones that worried him most, and Bella had stood up at their first meal with him as laird and hollered at everyone that she would be tasting her husband’s food, in case any lowly coward thought to poison him. That so distressed Gordon, who apparently thought it was a real threat, that he in turn tasted everything before Bella did. By the time Lachlan got his plate back, it was picked over and cold.
He spent that first week in meetings, trying to win the favor of the ones who didn’t trust him, trying to assure everyone that he wasn’t a power hungry fiend, but that they shouldn’t try anything untoward with him either.
He’d had to put two people in the tower, knocked the heads of another two men who thought they might physically challenge his leadership from him, and bribed, threatened and cajoled a host of others. Of the three people besides Bella and Pietro who knew the true cause of Tavish’s death, he didn’t trust any of them.
The young guard who was smitten with Bella could turn at any time, and Lachlan planned to send him on a nice long campaign as soon as he could, with the promise of some land or other reward at the end of it to keep his mouth good and shut.
The physician who had to convince everyone Tavish had died of natural causes was now a very rich man, and in a month or so, when things calmed down a bit, would find he’d only ever wanted to retire with his wealth in Edinburgh.
And Gordon. Though Bella swore Gordon could be trusted, Lachlan just didn’t. All he wanted was to figure out a way to leave these godforsaken Glens and get back to Piper. So many times he’d set out for the woods with his vial of herbs in his hand, ready to leave them all to the devil, but he needed to find a way to settle it so Bella could legally marry Pietro.
He also needed to make sure his brother and his men could go home with no fear of reprisal against the Fergusons. They were still here, treated as a mixture of pariahs and honored guests, little more than well fed prisoners.
His stomach growled and he took his plate back from Bella.
“I havena had the carrots yet,” she said. “And we must wait a bit to make sure.”
“No one is going to poison me,” he said in a much more surly voice than he meant.
Bella was being brave and surprisingly good natured through all this. He saw her sending soulful looks to Pietro, who’d been given a post as a groom in the stables and had to sit on the lower level of the dining hall.
Pietro was being as good a sport as he could, what with his true love having to sleep with another man every night. Not that she slept much. Lachlan had set up a pallet for himself on the floor, as far from the bed as he could get it, and she cried a good deal of each night, calling out Pietro’s name when she did fall asleep.
She insisted on a daily ride for exercise, and made the new groom accompany her so she could at least get an hour or two with him every day. It wasn’t ideal and Lachlan was terrified they would get caught doing something indiscreet, but he couldn’t begrudge her.
“Well, when ye’re dead, I shall say I told ye so,” she said tartly, staring down at Pietro and taking a bite of bread.
“Ye would be better off if I was dead.”
“Och, dinna be a fool,” she replied, but her voice sounded strained now, not the usual teasing tone she took with him to try to get him out of his dark moods.
He turned to see her clutch her stomach and lean into the table, her face growing pale. He grabbed her wrist. “Good God, lass, have they really poisoned ye?” He stood to find the physician, and she pushed him back into his seat.
“No,” she said, straightening. The color returned slowly to her cheeks, but she had a thin film of sweat on her brow. “I’ve been feeling a bit off the last few days is all. I’ll be fine in a bit.” He patted her shoulder and watched her tear up, knowing she wished it was Pietro consoling her.
“I shall ride after the meal,” he announced loudly, feeling foolish as many eyes turned to him. “Will ye join me, wife?” She furrowed her brow in confusion and he refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. “Connor, ready our horses,” he boomed, then floundered for an excuse to bring him along. For whatever reason, Bella had gotten under his skin. He felt sorry for her and wanted a chance to put a smile on her face. “Ye shall accompany us in case my lady wants to pick some flowers.”
He closed his eyes when he heard Quinn snort at the end of the table. He turned to Bella expectantly.
She realized what he was doing and smiled at him gratefully. “I’d love to ride, milaird. And the groom should bring several baskets. Our chamber could use some flowers.” She looked down at Pietro, who was already scurrying off to do his bidding, and the look on her face made Lachlan’s heart sink. Only a blind man wouldn’t be able to see who it was that she loved.
They rode out innocently enough, Lachlan and Bella in the lead with Pietro trailing behind them, laden down with baskets and a put upon expression on his face. As they rode out of the yard, Lachlan made a point to lean over and catch Bella’s hand in his. He couldn’t believe his fears were completely paranoid. He knew at least some of the suspicious side glances they got were real.
When they were well enough into the woods, he fell back so Pietro could take his place by Bella, but instead he rode beside him and peppered him with questions.
What were they going to do? When were they leaving? What in the hell had happened and why was everything so terrible? It was the same thing he got every day from Quinn or one of his men.
He asked the same questions of Gordon, whenever he could corner the man alone, which was rare. The mastermind of the plan never had any answers, so neither did Lachlan. He shooed Pietro away with an irritated flick of his hand.
“Spend some time with your woman while ye have the chance,” he said gruffly, kicking his horse into a trot to get away from them.
He wanted to stew alone, get a few moments of silence, try and hear Piper’s voice in his memory. At a rocky outcropping far enough from the lovebirds that he could keep an eye on them but not have to listen to their inane chatter, he dismounted and let his horse graze on whatever it could find.
He watched them cavorting in the clearing, filling a basket with wild roses, never going more than a few seconds without touching each other’s hand or grabbing a quick kiss. As much as he wanted to wallow and hold onto his bitterness, their stolen happiness was infectious and he found himself relaxing in the last rays of the late afternoon sun.
When they started getting a little too frisky, he turned away, wondering if he should put a stop to it, but sick and tired of being the villain. Someone should be allowed a little happiness. He took a piece of bread he’d pilfered from the table when Bella wasn’t looking and walked further into the woods, thinking he’d rest against a tree for a while and enjoy his hopefully poison-free bread.
It was a cool evening, but not yet bitter cold like he knew it could be. Even more so in the far north at his own land. It had been a long while since he’d seen the place, or his aunt’s farm, and he started to fall back into his dour mood.
He heard a rustling off to his left and ignored it. The Glens sent hunters nearly every day and they didn’t want for fresh game, or any kind of food for that matter. If he were home, he might have investigated, glad to have a rabbit or pheasant, but his heart wasn’t in for a chase at the moment.
When the man slipped up behind him and held a knife at his throat, he fe
lt foolish for not considering the noise might be something other than a wild beastie.
“Ye heathen scum, Ferguson,” the man hissed. “How are ye so debauched that ye would share your wife with another?”
Bugger it, the man must have seen Bella and Pietro together, and today was likely not the first time. This man probably saw something on one of Bella’s daily rides and had been following them, looking for a reason to strike.
His embarrassment at having been caught unawares fed the fire of the suppressed rage he’d felt the last few days. Living at the castle was like living in a huge, opulent cage, every eye on him, most of them wishing him harm. He couldn’t eat what he wanted, he had to sleep on the floor, his men were in constant danger, and he missed Piper.
He wanted to kick himself for suggesting this imbecilic outing so they could have their liaison, all so he might not have to listen to Bella cry herself to sleep one more night. He was sick and bloody tired and just wanted a good night’s rest.
So when the armed simpleton pressed his blade against Lachlan’s throat, he didn’t even think about dying. He merely wrenched the man’s arm down and heaved his elbow hard into his side. Twisting his arm around behind his back, he shoved him face first into the hard packed ground. He placed a boot on the man’s back and looked in all directions for anyone else.
“Are ye alone?” he asked, leaning his weight onto him.
“Yes,” he choked out. “But my brother knows where I’ve gone. He knows what I suspected. Everyone will know what ye’ve made our lady Bella into.”
Lachlan reached down and pulled him up by his shirt, ramming him into the trunk of a tree and looking into his eyes. “And what is that?” he asked in a conversational tone, knowing this would scare the wee snake more than yelling at him would.
“A-a whore,” he said, with much less confidence. “A- a Ferguson.”
Lachlan’s eye twitched to hear his name spewed with much more venom than the rude thing he’d called Bella. This man had meant to cut his throat, and would have succeeded had he been stronger. Lachlan decided Piper would forgive him, hauled back his fist and slammed it into the man’s face.
The cause of the commotion showed themselves, rustling through the brush and laughing as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Keeping his hand firmly on the now freely bleeding man, he turned and scowled at them as they came into the clearing.
Bella gasped and dropped Pietro’s hand. “What’s happened?” she stammered.
“Milady,” the man gurgled through the blood that poured out of his nose. “What has become of ye? How have they made ye so depraved?”
Lachlan almost wished she’d give him a healthy dose of her acerbic tongue, but her uncharacteristic silence unnerved him. Surely this fool hadn’t touched a nerve with her?
“Dinna listen to him, Bella,” he said.
“He doesna understand,” she whispered, backing up and shaking her head.
Pietro grabbed her arm and pulled her away, while the man shouted more insults. Lachlan punched him in the stomach to get him to shut up. A moment later Pietro returned without Bella and looked wildly at him.
“What do we do?” he asked, his voice laced with the panic that was rising up in Lachlan. “That’s Bella’s second cousin. She thinks he’ll tell everyone he saw us.”
“I shall,” the cousin coughed from his doubled over position. “I shall tell everyone, ye fornicator, ye adulterer, ye whoreson follower.”
Pietro dropped his head into his hands. “Is he insulting me or you?” he asked with a desperate laugh.
Lachlan didn’t have the first idea and for a long moment he and Pietro just stared at the man, still muttering oaths against them.
Lachlan grabbed the man’s chin and twisted his face around to force him to look at him. “Stay put, aye?”
He motioned for Pietro to follow him a few paces away. “I’ll admit I’d like to hit the wee bastard a few more times, but I canna see killing the man for seeing something he shouldna have seen.” He glared at Pietro, hoping the unspoken rebuke that they shouldn’t have been doing anything worth seeing was understood.
Pietro looked chagrined and lost all color. “Dear God, no,” he said.
“Will ye murder me, as ye murdered the laird?” shrieked the cousin, stumbling away at a crooked run.
Lachlan swore and caught him by the scruff of his neck before he’d gone five paces. “I will kill ye,” he said seriously, “if ye try to run off again. Do ye understand?” He shook the man until he nodded. “Do ye believe me?” he demanded and the man nodded quicker this time. He turned to Pietro, sorry he had to see him at his most ruthless. “Get some rope, or whatever ye have that we may tie him with.”
They bound him to the trunk of the tree, extracting information from him with threats and a few slaps. It was true, he and his brother had seen Bella acting in such a way with Pietro that it cast doubt on her marriage to Lachlan.
At first they thought her a victim of the monster Ferguson, and was only seeking solace with Pietro. When he followed them and saw that Lachlan not only knew about their relationship, but seemed to encourage it, he decided Pietro was as wicked as any Ferguson, and that poor Bella was probably lost to her family, and indeed, God.
He decided to be the hero and kill Lachlan, freeing the Glens once and for all from his evil. He hadn’t yet decided what to do about Pietro and Bella if his plot succeeded.
“That’s a verra entertaining tale, lad,” Lachlan said, shaking his head in disgust.
He would deserve to be dead if he let this gnat get the better of him, but he was glad for Bella and Pietro’s sake he hadn’t, because her cousin seemed just unhinged enough to kill them, too.
They found Bella standing by the horses and looking forlorn. She couldn’t meet Lachlan’s or Pietro’s eye, and as much as he wanted to rage at them both, he couldn’t do it.
“What’s done is done,” he said gruffly. “We must move forward.”
“Are ye going to kill him?” she asked.
“Dinna be daft,” he said. He closed his eyes against their expectant looks, and wondered if it would hurt them so much to come up with some answers for once. “We must get him away,” he said finally. “I think I could help one of the men sneak away tonight. Perhaps Raff. He wouldna be missed right away, as quiet as he’s kept himself. He could take this one back to my land, hold him until …”
He shook his head. It didn’t matter how long it took. There was no way on earth that Bella’s cousin could ever step foot in the castle again. If he got close enough, he’d holler until he was heard, filling everyone with more distrust than they already had, and giving them reason to act on it.
Eventually he’d be missed, as would his man Raff. More rumors and whispers would get started. It would only be a matter of time before another attempt was made on his life.
“Go on ahead, leave my horse with me, and send Raff back on foot,” Pietro said. “If yon wee idiot doesn’t have a horse hidden about somewhere, they can take mine, though it would be a bear to explain it.” He stepped forward and kissed Bella on the forehead, glanced quickly at Lachlan and kissed her more lingeringly on the mouth. “I’ll stay until Raff arrives. No one will miss me right away, but ye must be getting back.”
Bella wordlessly seized him in a stranglehold of a hug before pushing away and mounting her horse. Lachlan hurried to follow her, still unsettled by her silence.
“He’ll be fine, lass,” he said when he caught up to her.
She crossed her arms over her stomach and rocked back and forth in the saddle. “But for how long? ‘Tis all falling apart,” she said, staring desolately ahead of her. “How much longer can we carry on before one of us is killed?”
Chapter 6
The diary landed in her lap and she stared at it, brimming with nervous energy. A glance at the clock showed her how late it was, and she abandoned her idea to show Evie what she’d discovered.
Her grandmother had gone back in time. Grandma Rose ha
d freaking time traveled to the past. It was unbelievable, and yet she had the evidence resting benignly against her knee.
It was true, the ability to time travel seemed to run in her family, the same as being short and having dark hair. Her poor grandmother must have been so terrified by it, she fled from her home, hoping to leave it all behind. It had to be linked to the land as well.
Piper certainly never winked out to another time back in Texas, nor had she been plagued with dark dreams. A handsome, rugged Highlander had never appeared in the closet of any of her apartments in any other place she’d ever lived. The thought of Lachlan made her heart hurt.
No, she couldn’t wander down that road. She had to find out what happened to Rose. All she had to do was pick up the diary and start reading again. And yet, she continued to stare down at the robin’s egg blue leather, her hands unwilling to open it.
She flexed her frozen fingers and shivered, realizing there was nothing otherworldly about the chill. The room was just cold. Hoover had long since burrowed under the covers, his snout and one paw the only parts of him sticking out.
She stared hard at the empty fireplace grate on the other side of her bedroom until her eyes crossed. “Fire,” she said, then made her voice deeper. “Flames.”
Feeling stupid when nothing happened, she followed the dog’s lead and pulled the comforter over her legs. She tried not to think that it was Daria’s spirit that controlled the fire starting. That the witch might make her do things— dangerous things— yet wouldn’t let her get warm without having to haul her butt out of bed, really chafed.
Now that she was more comfortable, she picked up the book again and held it between her palms. Grandma Rose had traveled back to 1770 before she ran away to America and had her mom. How long had she stayed in the past? Piper knew she could leaf through the pages to find out. It would be easy, just look for the point when she started using a regular pen again.
Reckoning (Book 4 of Lost Highlander series) Page 5