by Ava McArthur
“Do you know who sent it?” he demanded.
“I have a shrewd idea,” Niall replied, frowning. “I think it is my good-for-nothing cousin Drew, and I think he has acquired a partner in crime—our local healer, Maggie McGraw. I will wager that she is responsible for Craig and Hamish’s deaths.”
“We will go with you and make him sorry he ever heard Elspeth’s name!” Colm’s voice was laden with rage.
“No!” Niall snatched the paper back. “Look at the last line. He will kill her if I do not come alone.”
“We can hide in the forest,” Colm suggested desperately. “Niall! You cannot let this happen!”
Niall shook his head firmly. “I am taking no chances with Elspeth’s life.”
Colm thought for a moment before he realized what Niall had just said. “You are going to give him what he wants!” His eyes were wide with shock. “Niall, you cannot!”
Niall stood his ground, drawing himself up to his full height. He folded his arms over his chest and glared at Colm. “It is mine to give,” he pointed out.
“But it belongs to the Clan!” Colm protested, outraged. “Niall, you cannot do this!”
“Even though he is vermin, Drew McLaren is a member of the clan,” Niall replied, taking a step closer to Colm. “I am within my rights, and you know it, Colm.”
The two men stared each other out for a moment, but it was Colm who looked away first. He turned on his heel and stamped into the nearest parlor, where he downed two full glasses of whiskey in quick succession. When he came out again, Niall was gone, and when Colm ordered his horse to be saddled so that he could follow him, he found that Niall had ordered the drawbridge to be pulled up. He could order it to be let down again, but by that time, Niall would have had too much of a head start.
The keys to the castle were so heavy that they had to be transported in a little chest specially made for the purpose, which Niall tied to his saddle with strong leather straps. He left Tweedsmuir Castle in the darkest hour before dawn and rode the mile to St Matthew’s Church with his heart in his mouth. What would he find there? What was happening to Elspeth at this moment? He was torn between dread and desire; the desire to see her again, but the dread of what he would find when he did. It was at that moment that he resolved to kill Drew if he had laid a finger on Elspeth.
Elspeth watched Maggie and Drew eat a hearty breakfast as her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered. She could smell the aroma of roast grouse, fresh farm cheese, and baked apples; it was torture. She had eaten nothing for almost a day, and her two captors had not even offered her a drop of water. She had tried to ask them for something to drink, but they had laughed at her and mocked her because she could not make herself understood with the gag over her mouth.
The past few hours had been freezing, but she had been given only one thin blanket to cover herself with, and she was chilled to the bone. She wondered if Niall knew where she was yet and if he was on his way to save her. If things had been the other way around, she knew that she would have moved heaven and Earth to rescue him.
Presently, they stood up, then both of them stared down at her. There was a malicious gleam in Maggie’s bright blue eyes, and somehow, she knew that these two would not let Niall or her out of this situation alive.
“We are goin’ tae see yer husband,” Maggie told her. “He has the keys to the castle, an’ when we get them, we will have nae use for you anymore—either o’ ye!” She pulled a small hip flask out of her pocket and shook it so that Elspeth could hear the liquid sloshing about inside it. “A nice tincture o’ arsenic,” she said appreciatively, as if it were a fine wine. She laughed as she saw Elspeth’s wide, stricken eyes, and then she wiggled her fingers in a little wave before closing the door behind her.
17
Resolution
Niall’s soul burned with hatred as he galloped along towards the ruined church. With every thud of Rex’s hooves, he imagined he was landing blows on Drew’s face, stomach, and throat. He was beheading him and chopping his limbs off, then dragging him behind his horse, flaying him alive. He was disemboweling him and burning him at the stake, then inflicting small, deep cuts on him so that he would bleed to death slowly and in absolute agony. He was racking him, starving him, and imprisoning him in an Iron Maiden.
He had begun to invent some new tortures of his own when he realized he had reached St Matthew’s. There was no sign of Drew or Maggie, so he waited in the clearing in front of the old building, surveying the ground and wondering if there was any way to use it to his advantage. He needed every advantage he could get.
Would Elspeth be with them? He had no time to speculate further, for at that second, a cold and lethally sharp blade was pressed against his throat.
“Do not move a muscle,” Drew’s voice purred with evil satisfaction from behind him, “or I will slit your throat from ear to ear, Cousin, and smile while I am doing it.”
Drew slowly circled around in front of him, then moved the dagger from Niall’s throat to his stomach in exactly the same way Maggie had done to Elspeth earlier. At the same time, he pulled Niall’s sword out of its scabbard and tossed it on the ground.
The two men made quite a picture since they were so alike and yet so different. Although Drew was tall, Niall was three inches taller and much more powerfully built. He was handsome in a different way too, with stronger, more well-defined features as opposed to Drew’s more finely chiseled ones. Drew was definitely male, but Niall was completely and wholly masculine in character as well as in appearance. Drew knew this and was insanely jealous of his cousin—not just of his physical beauty, but of everything he did and everything he owned, even his wife, whom he would gladly have married himself.
“Now, Cousin,” Drew said with an evil smile. “May I have what is mine?”
“First, let me greet your good lady,” Niall said with a note of censure in his voice. “It would be very discourteous of me not to. Milady Maggie, as I expect everyone will be calling you soon. How are you?” He bowed and kissed her hand, giving her a charming smile.
Despite herself, Maggie was flattered. “I am well, M’Laird,” she replied, smiling and blushing. The smile was wiped from her face when Drew glared at her.
“How long have you been married?” Niall asked politely, and with apparent interest. He gave her his best, most seductive look, to which very few women were immune. Winning Maggie over would be very useful to him.
“We are not m—” Maggie began, and at that moment, Drew dashed across the clearing and struck Maggie hard across the mouth with the back of his hand. She stumbled backward and landed with a thud on her backside.
“Shut up, woman!” he yelled furiously. “Are you completely brainless? He does not need to know that!” He stood in front of her, his chest rising and falling with rage.
Maggie cowered away from him, a look of terror in her eyes, and it became clear to Niall that his cousin had struck her before, perhaps many times. However, in his haste to reach his partner, Drew had forgotten about Niall’s sword, which was lying on the ground a few feet away. By the time he remembered it, Niall had snatched it up and was holding it up in front of his cousin’s face.
“I could kill you right now,” he said, his voice throbbing with hatred. “And I would take great delight in doing it, for any man who strikes a woman is lower than a snake. But I will spare your life if you tell me where my wife is.”
Drew shrank back, unable to take his eyes off the sword. His cousin’s enormous right hand could have killed him even if it were not holding a weapon. He glared at Niall, eyes glittering with malice, then looked at his dagger lying on the ground. Niall could almost read his mind. Could he reach it?
“Do not even think about it. You have no chance, but I will give you one, although, by God, you don’t deserve it. Draw your own sword and fight, you worm.”
Drew did as he was told, trying to look as intimidating as he could, but the fight was over in seconds. He lunged at his bigger opponent, aimin
g for a direct stab through the stomach, but Niall feinted to the left and swiped his broadsword’s blade sideways with the full force of his arm into Drew’s thigh, slicing it down to the bone. He screamed in agony; Maggie squealed and rushed forward to help him, tearing a piece off the hem of her skirt to bind the wound. Despite her best efforts, there was blood everywhere, and she had none of her medicines with her.
“Where is my wife?” Niall demanded as Drew passed out. “If you have harmed her, I will kill you—both of you. I will slice you in two”—he pointed the sword at Maggie—“and finish the job I started on him.” He hauled her to her feet. “Tell me, you murderous bitch!”
“She is in the abandoned cottage beside the auld dry well near Mullan’s place,” Maggie sobbed, looking at the puddle of blood that was soaking into the ground around Drew’s prone body. “Let me tend tae him, M’Laird, please.”
Niall let her arm go, and she knelt back down to resume her task. Maggie gazed down at the man she loved but who had always treated her like a serving wench, someone to obey and suffer punishment if she committed the slightest infraction. She wavered; he had lost a lot of blood. Perhaps she should leave him in God’s hands now. He would decide whether Drew should live or die, for she could not.
She had no illusions about her own fate. In a short while, the church and its grounds would be crawling with Niall’s guards, and when they caught her, she would be tried and hanged, which at least would be a quick death. However, her life until then would be spent in a cold dungeon cell with only filthy rats for company, and she could not bear the thought of that.
Maggie glanced around her to see where Niall was, and as she saw his broad back disappearing into the church, she breathed a sigh of relief. She stood up and looked down at the little flask with the poison in it, which was even stronger than the one she had given Craig, and suddenly her decision was made.
Maggie kissed Drew’s lips softly, then brushed his tousled hair back from his face and gazed down at him for a moment with a countenance full of love. She said a silent act of contrition. She was not sure if she was going to eternal bliss or eternal agony, but she was ready. She opened the flask and tipped the poison down her throat, laid down beside Drew, and closed her eyes. It did not take long, and she did not suffer, for she did not struggle against death but welcomed its embrace. Soon, it came to claim her.
Niall had gone into the old church to say a prayer for forgiveness for the damage he had done to his cousin, both in thought and in deed. Hate was a dire sin. The church was beyond dilapidated; it had several gaping holes in the roof caused by the fierce wind from the sea, and the subsequent downpours had caused the rotten wood of the pews to grow a thick, furry layer of moss. Grass had begun to grow in tufts between the cracks in the marble floor, and the altar table was cloven in two, its halves leaning drunkenly against each other. Rare and expensive glass windows, which visitors from miles around came to see, lay in shards on the broken floor, and the whole building stank of mold.
It was a sad sight, but despite its decrepitude, it was still a holy place. As Niall bowed his head and spoke silently to his maker, a fleeting moment of peace invaded his soul. Somehow, he knew Elspeth was alive. He knew he would have felt it somewhere inside if she had not been, but he also realized that she needed him. It was that thought that made him stand up and cross himself, then leave the building without a backward glance.
He saw the two figures on the ground at once, and his heart gave a leap of fright. Drew was moaning painfully, and the temporary bandage Maggie had put on was already soaked with blood, which had also seeped into the earth around him. However, to his utter shock, Maggie lay absolutely still beside him, her right hand clasping his, her face strangely at peace. Niall put a hand to her throat and felt a few faint beats, which stopped after a moment. Maggie McGraw was dead. Niall did not know whether to be angry or thankful, but he had other problems to solve now. Elspeth was in trouble, and she needed him.
He looked around; he knew the dry well was almost directly to the east, but the main road used by horses and delivery carts did not go straight there, which would mean a long detour. He would have to go on foot.
This had been a church, though, and a poor people’s place of worship, therefore most people would have walked to it. So, Niall reasoned, there must be a path somewhere.
He skirted around the edge of the clearing and soon found what he was looking for; there was a slight lessening in the thickness of the undergrowth, and as he parted the branches and peered inside, he could see a barely discernible path there. Further on, it advanced into darkness, but that had never frightened him, and even if it had, he knew that he would conquer it for Elspeth’s sake.
He went back to Rex and took out the food and ale he had brought with him, then patted him on his rump, smiling. “Stay here, boy,” he said fondly. Rex, like a homing pigeon, had always had an uncanny ability to find his way back to Tweedsmuir Castle from wherever he was. He was also unquestioningly obedient, and Niall had never had to tether him. Now, he bowed his head in acknowledgment as Niall walked into the forest.
Elspeth was waiting.
18
Reunited
Elspeth frowned at her bonds, which were made of rough fibrous rope that chafed the tender skin of her wrists and ankles. She knew the pain of trying to remove them would be excruciating, but she was determined to free herself since her life probably depended on it, so she began to tug at the cords with her teeth. Her jaw ached, and as she had expected, her wrists soon began to bleed, and she started to weep with pain. However, she realized that in their haste to leave, Elspeth’s captors had neglected to properly secure her bonds after untying her to relieve herself, and after a few more tugs, the knots fell apart.
She ripped her gag off and set to work on the ropes around her ankles. In a few more moments, she was completely free. She sat back on the floor and looked at the dirty thatch of the roof above her, recovering her breath and rubbing her stinging hands and feet.
Elspeth was desperately afraid that Maggie and Drew would come back for her as soon as they had finished their gruesome errand, and was determined to make her escape as soon as she could. She had heard them discussing their meeting with Niall when they thought she was asleep, so she knew exactly where the meeting place was.
She struggled to her feet as soon as she could manage it, but was assaulted by a wave of dizziness as soon as she stood up. She clung on to a wooden post beside her and fought against a bout of nausea that threatened to overcome her; she had not quite recovered from her brush with death. However, she almost laughed out loud at the thought that she could not be sick even if she wanted to; her stomach was completely empty since her captors had given her nothing to eat or drink since the day before. She had no time to look for food, though; every second was vital.
Elspeth reminded herself again and again what Drew and Maggie’s errand was. They were going to kill Niall, the husband that she loved with her whole heart; the husband that she would die for or kill for. She had to try to save him if she could, even if she had to give her life to do it. She wondered if she was even capable of following them in her weakened state, but she was absolutely determined; her will would have to be stronger than her flesh.
Elspeth stretched her back, which was aching from sitting in one place for so long, and made sure that she could stand properly before taking a few tentative steps towards the door. One of the goats outside bleated, and her heart missed a beat as she paused for a moment. She heard nothing but the wind whistling in the pine forest outside, breathed a sigh of relief, and put one foot tentatively out of the doorway.
She looked around, seeing nothing but a thick forest of conifers with dark webs of shadow under and between their branches. Their foliage was so thick that she could barely see through it, but she could discern enough to know that it was daylight.
Then she saw it—a tiny pathway between the trees. It led into almost total blackness; her heart quailed, but she knew s
he had no other choice. No matter how terrified she was, she had to go this way. She said a silent prayer, took a deep breath, and plunged in.
For a while, the path was so dark that Elspeth had to feel her way by touching the tree trunks on either side of her, but presently it rounded a slight bend, and she could see it thinning out a little. More daylight began to stream through from above, and Elspeth was finally able to hitch her skirts up and break into a run. She knew that she would not be able to sustain the pace for long, but tried her hardest, driven relentlessly by the thought that she could somehow find Niall.
The path took another turn, and she squealed as she saw a figure running towards her—a big, muscular man with red-brown hair that flew behind him in the wind as his powerful legs drew him closer to her. When he saw her, he began to run even faster.
“Elspeth!” he called joyfully.
Elspeth ran forward and threw herself into Niall’s arms; the solid hardness of his chest proved that he was real. She was overwhelmed with relief, thinking for a second that she might collapse with it.
“Elspeth!” His voice broke as he said her name, and he embraced her so tightly that the breath left her body for a moment, but she didn’t care. Niall was with her. He had come to save her, and she realized that she had never really doubted that he would.
“Thank God you’re safe, my love. I thought they would kill you,” he said.
Elspeth heard the frantic beating of his heart as his body rose and fell against her cheek, and she burst into tears. “They...they told me they were going...going to...”
“Kill me too?” he finished for her. “They will no longer harm anyone, Elspeth. Do not think about them anymore. They are not worthy of your tears.”