He held the ring in front of her finger. “You were wonderful, Ursula. You are wonderful. Just say ‘yes’ and I’ll slip this on right away. There’s no need for us to wait. You know how it works here? All we need do is declare ourselves married before witnesses and it’s good as done. They don’t mess about up here. O’course, we can have a formal ceremony later, with a white dress and all the fancies, but we don’t need to wait a moment longer. Just say it, Ursula. Say “yes” and be my bride, right here and now.”
Ursula felt her legs buckle under her. He wanted to marry her because he got carried away and made a mistake? Because he thought she might be pregnant? Did that happen when you’d only had a man inside you once? She supposed it could. It hadn’t occurred to her that it was a likelihood. Rye had murmured something about taking care of that side of things and she hadn’t given it another thought.
But she understood now.
He was asking her to marry him because he felt he should—that it was the “right” thing to do. Not because he loved her, or couldn’t live without her. Not because he needed her and couldn’t bear to let her go. Only because he had a sense of honour, and he thought she might be carrying the next Dunrannoch heir.
It would be easy to say yes—to let him slip that ring on her finger, but was that what she wanted? Didn’t she deserve better? If she was to give up on her plan for independence and entrust her future to a man, she needed to know he wanted her for the right reasons.
Slowly, she curled her fingers into her palm.
“Ursula?” Rye’s voice wavered. “Am I takin’ things too fast? I can give you more time if you need it.”
With her stomach turning somersaults, Ursula made herself look into his eyes. It was breaking her heart to do this—to turn down what she would have grasped with her whole heart, if only he’d asked her in a different way, if only she believed he was asking her for the right reasons.
“Rye…I…” She didn’t get any further.
From across the room, someone was sounding the dinner gong very loudly, and calling for attention.
“Guests!” Lady Balmore addressed the room. “On behalf of the Earl and Countess Dunrannoch, I bid you welcome. We hope you enjoy the hospitality we’re so pleased to share with you. Eat, drink and be merry.”
A round of applause rippled through the room.
“There has been sorrow within these walls, but we must look to the future. I therefore suggest a toast to our new viscount—Lord Balmore.”
Ursula felt herself blush to the roots as everyone around them turned to stare at herself and Rye, standing within the window alcove.
Arabella continued. “I know that Lady Fiona and her cousins will be eager for us to return to our dancing—” She smiled in the direction of her daughter. “But, I invite you to indulge in some festive merriment—a parlour game that was a favourite when I was a girl.”
Her suggestion was met with an excited hum.
“I expect most of you are familiar with the rules. I shall select two guests to come and hide with me, somewhere in the castle. Your task, dear guests, shall be to find us within the hour and, when you do—singly, or in pairs—join us in that hiding place. When we gather ten, our tin of sardines shall be full and all who have completed their mission shall be rewarded with a prize!”
The applause, this time, was all the louder. Several of the footmen already had their eye on which of the maids they’d like to partner with; no doubt, skulking about the house in the dark would be reward in itself!
Ursula breathed a sigh of relief. Once the party dispersed through the house, she’d slip away. No one would even notice.
Arabella, however, hadn’t finished.
“Without further ado, I invite Lord Balmore and Miss Abernathy to join me in seeking out a hiding place to baffle you all.”
Holding out her hands like the good Moses, Lady Balmore parted the sea of guests, creating a path across the room directly from the window alcove to where she stood beside the gong.
“Hear, hear!” shouted someone.
“Show us how it’s done Lord Balmore.” Ursula was sure she recognised the first footman’s voice.
With his usual beaming smile, Rye offered her his arm.
There was no escape!
“Excellent!” declared Lady Balmore. “Now, we need ten minutes head start. No one should come looking for us until we’re well away.”
Whisking them both before her, Arabella ushered them into the hallway.
“Now, my dears, as quickly as you can, follow me. I know just the place!”
Chapter Nineteen
Mid-evening, 20th December
“Down there?” Rye squinted through the darkness beyond the door.
“Yes, go carefully on the steps. They’re rather old and worn. Centuries of castle feet scraping up and down—although more down than up, of course, this being the dungeon.” Arabella gave a tinkling laugh.
“It is a good hiding place, I s’pose.” He gave Ursula’s hand a tug. She’d gone mighty quiet and didn’t seem at all keen on the game. It was the shock of the proposal, he guessed—and then the awkwardness of the whole room suddenly turning to look at them.
He knew ladies liked to take their time in deciding to become engaged and, despite his best intentions, he’d tumbled everything out like a man spilling his guts after one too many beers. Not the suavest of proposals, he had to admit—reminding her that she might have a bun in the oven.
Goddam, Rye. You could’ve done better!
But it couldn’t be helped. He’d simply have to make it up to her.
If his grandmother could round up the pastor, they’d have a real Christmas wedding, with the bells ringing out for their happiness, as well as the day of Jesus’ birth. Wouldn’t that be something.
Arabella handed him a stump of candle and struck a match, taking an oil lamp for herself. “No one comes down here much, with it being so damp. No fireplaces for heating, just an old brazier the gaoler used to light.” Arabella held up her lamp, leading them downward.
“Best of all, there’s a secret hiding place—one hardly anyone knows about. Brodie was excavating down here a few years ago and found what he thought was an old well, but the passageway leads to a hidden chamber. It’s where they must have stashed the prisoners they really never wanted to lay eyes upon again. There were some remains…” Arabella lingered over the word, “But we had those removed, of course.”
Rye felt Ursula shiver. Her eyes looked huge and her face so pale.
Was she afraid of the dark? He wasn’t usually himself, but this place was darned spooky—and thinking about the poor wretches who’d been incarcerated made it worse.
“Chop, chop!” Arabella looked back at them. “We’re almost there.”
Reaching the bottom, she guided them through a narrow passageway, past several anterooms, until her illumination revealed a solid granite wall.
They could go no further, and he saw no sign of a well.
“Under our feet,” Arabella lowered the lamp. “You see?” She kicked at the straw rushes that had been scattered over the earthen floor.
Bending, Rye made out the edges of something round and a good three feet in diameter.
“It’s a lid of sorts,” Arabella explained. “If we lift it, you’ll see a rope ladder. Brodie attached it, to make it easier to get up and down. There’s a drop of about ten feet and then you’re in the chamber.”
“They sure didn’t do things by halves, did they.” Working his fingers around the rim of the wooden cover, he prised it upward. Below, the darkness was palpable.
“You’re sure about this Aunt Arabella?” Rye grimaced. “You don’t think this might be going a little far?”
“Nonsense! Where’s your spirit of fun?” Holding the lamp over the hole, she placed her hand on Rye’s shoulder. “If you wouldn’t mind going first; when you reach the bottom, you can keep the ladder steady for us to follow.”
“As I’m the one wearing the kilt, t
hat’s probably the best idea.” He laughed nervously then cleared his throat.
Passing the candle to Ursula, he lowered himself down. Sure enough, the rope seemed strong enough to hold him and, within a minute, he’d found the bottom.
“All safe and sound,” he called up. “Come on, Ursula, I’m holding the ladder. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I don’t want to.” Ursula’s voice quivered.
Rye tilted back his head, peering up at the opening. He could see only the two women’s faces, lit by a dull halo of lamplight.
Arabella laughed again. “Balderdash! We can’t go back now. They’ll already be looking for us.”
“No!” Ursula announced more resolutely. She leaned over the hole. “Rye, you should climb back up. We shouldn’t be down here. Something isn’t right.”
Arabella tutted. “It would have made things so much easier if you’d climbed down.”
From above, Rye heard Ursula shriek.
Headfirst, she was tumbling through the air.
On instinct, Rye held out his arms and she fell straight into them, her weight knocking them both over.
“Dear God—Ursula!” Rye gasped. “Are you alright?” He was sprawled on the ground beneath her, the air having been flattened from his lungs.
“Rye!” Ursula threw her arms around his neck, her voice terribly small. “Oh, Rye. She pushed me!”
“Ahoy down there.” Arabella’s voice drifted down. “Still alive?”
“I think so, but what the Hell, Arabella! You could’ve killed us!”
“Yes, that was the idea…” Lady Balmore clucked her tongue. “You just don’t seem to take the hint. Quite tiresome, I must say.”
Moving Ursula to one side, Rye got to his feet. The illumination had become fainter, as if Arabella had put the lamp to one side, but there was enough light to show the rope ladder disappearing upward. He jumped to grab hold but it was already out of reach.
“Hey, what are you doing? Arabella!” Rye was getting angry now. Whatever party game this was, it sure wasn’t his idea of a good time.
“I’m leaving you entombed, you ridiculous man! You and that tart. Don’t think I hadn’t noticed. I warned Fiona not to bother with you. You weren’t even supposed to turn up. The devil knows how Lavinia came up with the address for your father in the back of beyond!”
She made an unladylike spitting sound. “As if either of you could have stepped into my husband’s shoes! He was worth ten of you—but that didn’t make him good enough to take on the title, nor that pompous Lachlan. Mary’s better off without him. I did her a favour, really. She’ll see that in the end.”
“Arabella? What are you talkin’ about? It’s true Ursula and I are in love, but she’s no floozy. It might take some gettin’ used to, but I hope you’ll come round.”
“Ha!” Arabella snorted. “The only thing I shall be ‘coming round’ to is Cameron taking the title of Viscount Balmore. Once his position is secure, I’ll help old Finlay on his way, and dear Cameron will be able to make me his countess.”
Rye rubbed his ear and swallowed. He couldn’t be hearing straight. Either that, or his aunt had taken a strange turn. He wasn’t one for believing women prone to hysterics, but Arabella wasn’t behaving like herself at all.
“I overheard them.” Ursula tugged on Rye’s sleeve. “It’s true that there’s something between her and Cameron. I think they were…” Ursula lowered her voice, “lovers!”
Rye nearly choked.
“Who do you think arranged for the bagpipes to play, making everyone think Camdyn was back, foretelling the deaths of the future lairds?” Arabella gave a cackle. “It wasn’t easy persuading Buckie to go up onto the roof with the gramophone player. He made such a fuss about being afraid of heights, but I told him I’d strangle him in his bed unless he did as he was told. It was easier to get him to put the thistle under Brodie’s saddle, and yours! As for Lachlan, I did that myself—a quick push down the staircase and the job was done.”
Dear God! She was a murderess!
“Arabella! You can’t just leave us here. Everyone will be looking.” He scrambled to think of a way to bring her to her senses. “They know you were with us. Nobody will believe we got here by accident.”
“I’ll tell them I only led you as far as the upper corridor and have no idea where you’ve gone—that you begged me to let the two of you go off and canoodle on your own. I’m not the only one to have noticed you have a sweet spot for Miss Abernathy here. I’ll come back when I can be sure you’re dead and put the ladder through the open hole—with the rope shorn through, of course, so it looks as if it broke when you were climbing.”
Far above, Arabella began nudging the lid back into place.
“You can’t do this, Arabella. It’s inhumane! It’s criminal!” Rye tried to keep the desperation from his voice, and failed miserably.
“It’s fiendish!” added Ursula. “You’re a bitch of the highest order!”
“I shall take that as a compliment. Now, I must go, my dears. Do enjoy the last few days together—or hours, possibly. The air isn’t terribly fresh down here.”
With that, the lid slid over completely and plunged them both into utter darkness.
Chapter Twenty
Later that evening, 20th December
From the far side of the room—which wasn’t far enough, as far as Ursula was concerned—there was a scuffling sound.
A scuttling sort of scuffle, and a squeaking.
“Are those rats?”
“No, definitely not.” Rye didn’t sound convincing. “Mice maybe…or a hamster.”
“A hamster?”
Rye had her on his lap, where she might sit without getting damp, and Ursula had her arms round his neck. She couldn’t see him, but she could certainly feel him—warm and hard, and smelling a great deal better than anything else down here.
“Elsbeth and Blair keep them as pets. They might have escaped and come down here on an adventure.”
“Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” she murmured, with more humour than she thought possible, given their present predicament.
“You probably would have, given time.” Rye nuzzled her ear and poked his tongue into the whorl.
Ursula jumped and gave the back of his neck a pinch. “Stop that!”
“Don’t you like it?” He chuckled.
“No. There are enough things down here that might be slimy without you sticking one in my ear.”
“You know, it could be worse.” Rye moved his right hand to cup the side of her bosom.
She shifted in his lap, but didn’t slap the hand away.
“You really think so?”
“There could be water rising around us.” Rye gave the handful a light squeeze. “And there could be alligators in the water.” With his other hand, he found the hem of her skirt and appropriated an ankle. “And piranhas swimming between the alligators.”
“There aren’t any piranhas in Perthshire. No alligators either.” Ursula bent her knee and Rye scooted his left hand higher.
“All right. There could be spikes descending from the ceiling, gradually skewering us.” Reaching her thigh, he fumbled for the top of her stocking.
“Skewering? I swear you have a one-track mind, Lord Balmore.” She turned her head, searching out his lips. When she found them, he pulled her tight against his chest and kissed her deeply.
Everything had turned out horribly.
Arabella was a mad woman.
And they were probably going to die.
But they were together.
With her eyes closed, Ursula could nearly forget where they were. Forget that it was damp and cold, with water dripping down the walls, and vermin waiting for them to become too weak to fight off a carnivorous assault.
Rye’s kisses were almost that good.
Almost.
They’d already tried shouting, and climbing up the walls. Neither had worked. No one had come.
“Are you
ready to say ‘yes’?” Rye brought her hands into her lap and held them with his own. She felt him draw out something from his pocket—cold metal brushing her fingers; his mother’s ring.
Ursula sucked her lip.
She still hadn’t quite forgiven him, but he’d told Arabella he loved her. That they loved each other, actually.
He’d said it without a moment’s thought, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
That must mean he believed it.
He’d defended her honour as well—telling that madwoman that she wasn’t a floozy.
“You don’t just want to marry me because I might already be having your baby?” It felt strange to ask when she wouldn’t be able to see the expression on his face. How would she know if his answer was truthful? Would she be able to tell from his voice alone?
“Don’t you know yet?” His hand came to her cheek. “I don’t want to marry you because of what we did, or because you might have conceived. I want to marry you because I can’t imagine you not being here. Now I’ve found you, I don’t want you to go away. I want you here with me, Ursula, always.”
She smiled. “If I’m going to die, I suppose I might as well die engaged.”
She couldn’t see it, but she knew that Rye was smiling.
He slid the ring right onto her finger. “That’s the spirit.”
When the wooden lid slid back and lantern light filled the opening, it seemed so bright that Rye could hardly bear to look.
Cameron called both their names.
“By all that’s holy, I’m glad to see you.” Shielding his eyes, Rye waved his hand.
“She’s gone off her rocker!” Cameron’s voice was shaking. “I’d no idea, I swear, but she told me everything—including that she’d shut you in here.”
Rye reached down to pull Ursula to her feet. “Get that rope ladder down here, buddy. It’s been a helluva party, but I’m ready to call it a night. Get us out of here, and you can tell us everything.”
“To think that, for a while, I thought I might be in love with her.” Cameron could barely bring himself to look Rye, or Ursula, in the face. “I’ve been trying to break it off for months.”
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