Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

D arren couldn’t say what was bothering him, only that something was.

Alayne was with Erin, planning the celebration feast. He, Adrian, Bard, Marcus and Donall had gathered in the main council chamber to discuss everything they knew. It wasn’t much more than they’d known before, but Marcus provided a fresh pair of eyes and new insights, and he had a better knowledge of the older relationships that might have soured than Adrian and Bard did.

Adrian had left a short time into the meeting, claiming he’d an irritated gut and training drills to give to the captains of the guard while he was in the courtyard. He hadn’t returned, and Darren had wondered if the drills were more difficult than expected, or if Evina had decided to hold Adrian for observation for some reason. She might have, if he was more ill than he’d been letting on.

It was approaching time for the noon meal, and they’d agreed to take a break. Bard offered to seek out some musicians for the evening festivities, and Marcus had offered to go check on the warriors in the training yard. Donall had requested to go with Marcus, clearly hoping to build a better relationship with Darren’s younger brother.

Left to his own devices, Darren had opted to look in on the women first, before going to look for Adrian to let him know they were taking a break.

He found Erin in the kitchen, engaged in some sort of baking. His sister-by-marriage greeted him with a smile. “Och, did Alayne find her ring, or are ye helping her look fer it now?”

Darren’s brow furrowed. “Her ring?”

Erin’s smile faltered slightly. “We were getting ready tae dae some baking, and she realized she didnae have her wedding ring. She went tae look fer it, some candle-marks ago.”

“Did she say where she was looking?”

“Nae tae me, but she must have had some idea where she left it.”

“She was wearing it in me study last night.” Had she been wearing it when they went to bed, or when they made love? He couldn’t remember, though he wouldn’t be surprised if it was somewhere among their sheets.

“She might have begun her search there.” Erin nodded.

“Well, Marcus is out supervising the warriors, and we’ll be settling down tae the noon meal soon.”

“I ken. I’ll go collect him so he doesnae forget.” Erin waved him away with a flour covered hand. “Go find yer wife.”

If Alayne had left candle-marks ago, she’d likely already searched the study and not found the ring there. So if she hadn’t returned to Erin, she was either searching the corridors or searching their rooms. Darren considered, then decided to start with their quarters.

The rooms were empty when Darren arrived, with no sign that Alayne had ever returned to them after breakfast. Darren frowned, but made a cursory search of the bed linens anyway. He’d only been looking for a few minutes before he spotted a glint of gold almost buried under the pillows. He reached for it, and smiled in triumph as his hand closed around smooth metal.

He’d been right about where, and likely about how, it had been lost. Now all he needed to do was find his wife and return it to her.

Since she hadn’t been in their quarters, she must still be searching his study, or the corridor between them. Darren started off for the study, ring tucked safely in his sporran.

He’d only traveled a part of the way before a spot of color caught his eye. The placement, carelessly puddled against the stone of the corridor, was the first thing he noticed. Then the color, a soft, slightly faded heather color. Darren frowned and went to pick it up.

The item turned out to be a shawl. Darren’s frown deepened as he took in the familiar color. He bent to pick it up, and his fingers encountered a very familiar silken texture.

It wasn’t just a shawl, it was the shawl. The shawl Alayne had been wearing to hide the love mark he’d left on her. The shawl that was their own private joke, a quiet game between them.

She wouldn’t have just left the shawl in the hallway. There was no reason for her to do so, and no reason she would want to. Something was wrong.

On impulse, he went to his study. The door wasn’t locked, though it should be, and his papers were in disarray. There were faint signs of a scuffle as well, as though someone had moved in a hurry, or two people had struggled.

His unease solidified into outright worry. Something was definitely wrong, and Alayne was caught up in whatever it was. How she was involved he didn’t know, but she was.

He hurried back to where he’d found the shawl, his steps slowing as he realized that the spot wasn’t that far from the Western Tower, or the place he’d been attacked less than a seven-day ago.

A closer inspection revealed that the door to the tower was open though, like his study, it shouldn’t have been. Very few people had any reason to enter the tower. And Alayne…

Alayne was afraid of heights. She wouldn’t go up there by choice, and certainly not without a shawl to ward away the early spring chill.

Darren swore under his breath, then went back to a more occupied hallway and caught the first servant he saw. “Find Marcus in the training yard, as well as Bard, Adrian and Ryan, and Laird Ranald. Tell them tae guard Lady MacDougall, and tae send someone tae the Western Tower. There’s an intruder about, and he may have taken Lady MacLean.”

The maid hurried away, and Darren turned and raced back to the tower and through the lower door. His body ached as he began climbing the stairs, but he ignored it.

Someone had entered his tower and taken his wife. They’d regret that. And if they’d hurt her, or worse, then they’d live just long enough to truly regret their actions, and no longer.

Alayne regained consciousness to find herself cold, slightly dizzy, and being dragged gracelessly up a set of stairs like a sack of potatoes. Then her mind cleared a little further, and she began to notice other things.

She’d lost her shawl somewhere. That’s why she was cold. Furthermore, the stairs that Adrian - she was horrified to realize that hadn’t been some sort of bad dream - was dragging her up, seemed familiar. A moment later, she recognized them as the stairs to the Western Tower, which Darren had led her up a few days ago.

Of course. The Western Tower, where few if any of the clan-folk ever went. What better place for Adrian and his accomplice to hide or meet? No wonder Darren had been attacked near the tower, and small wonder she’d often felt uneasy passing by the door that led to the staircase.

She started to struggle, and Adrian’s hand tightened painfully on her arm. “Keep fighting, and I’ll toss ye back down the stairs. I should do it anyway, for the trouble ye’ve caused me, but ye might survive that.”

“What?”

Adrian gave her a cold, sneering smile. “We’re going tae the top balcony. ‘Tis a lovely view, and looks toward yer lands. And then… ye’re going tae have a tragic accident. A fall from an unstable portion o’ the balcony. I’ll get there too late tae save ye… or mayhap I’ll let Darren ken I saw ye going up here, and make it look as if he murdered ye. Might be enough fer yer braither tae kill him in vengeance, and ‘twould solve all me problems.”

Cold terror washed over Alayne, and it was all she could do to keep silent. Darren would know it was no accident. He knew she’d never come this way alone.

Darren knew how much she feared heights, and why. Adrian didn’t. Which meant, if she could stall him long enough for someone to come looking, Darren would know the truth. Even if she couldn’t, a fall would reveal the traitor.

She wondered where her shawl had fallen, and if it might provide a clue to whoever found it. She hoped so.

She swallowed back the terror that made her want to scream and fight him. “Why? Why would ye dae this?”

“And why should ye care?”

“Because ye’re plannin’ tae kill me fer it. Dae I nae deserve tae at least ken why I’ll be dyin’?”

Adrian sneered as he pushed open the high door and shoved her out onto the balcony. Alayne shivered in the chill air as she turned to face him. “Please…” She let her voice quaver, let him see her as a weak and helpless woman. “Why should I go tae me death without kenning why I’m tae be killed? Surely nae one else has tae suffer such injustice. Why should I receive such treatment from ye?”

Adrian snorted bitterly. “Och, well, it doesnae matter so much, and ‘tis worth it tae watch ye fall cursing yer husband’s name.”

“Darren? But… he’s yer laird.”

“Me laird ?” Adrian spat the words with enough venom to make Alayne flinch. “And by what right is he me laird? When he’s a kinslayer and the son o’ a kinslayer, what right has he tae wear the laird’s torc and lead the clan, when he should be in exile or dead fer his crimes?”

Darren had told her the story, and that was the only reason she wasn’t completely horrified. Still, she gasped and widened her eyes as if it was the first time she’d heard such things. “I dinnae understand. I kent he helped murder me faither, but it was self-defense…”

“He’d like ye tae believe that, just as he’d like everyone else tae believe ‘twas defense when he killed his own faither.” Adrian’s lip curled. “Aye, but nae afore the blackguard killed me faither, and left me orphaned, nor afore the man killed his own wife.”

An ugly laugh, matched by an equally ugly snarl, contorted Adrian’s once handsome face, making him resemble the tales of Dark Fae she’d often read - fair of face until their true natures and intentions were revealed. “Defense o’ self and clan, he calls it, but how convenient that it should come after everyone else who had a claim tae the lairdship aside from him was dead. Save fer a braither who ran away in disgust and another who practically licks his boots when he’s nae acting like a bitch in heat.”

Adrian grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I might have forgiven him, had he done the honorable thing and stepped aside, tae give another the lairdship. Or had he even considered giving wereguild fer the deaths his accursed family caused. But he didnae.”

“He took ye intae his household.”

Adrian slapped her. “And what o’ it? Did he place me in line tae inherit? Nae even when his braithers married intae different clans. Nae acknowledgment o’ our kinship, or granting o’ any status. Nae even a proper place among his folk, until I worked me way through the guard and fought me way intae the position o’ war leader. And that only because his braither had luck enough tae claim heirship in another clan by seducing that hard-tempered wench o’ his that nae one else would have.”

The coldness in Adrian’s voice was edged with madness, all his rage pouring into the cold air like a river of bile.

“I thought then I might get some recognition, but then he went and married ye, and didnae even offer me stewardship o’ Ranald.”

His face twisted further. “I wanted tae kill him - I’ve been hopin’ tae have an ‘accident’ in the sparring yard fer so long, but the one time I was truly close tae it, yer braither had tae interfere. As long as he wasnae married, I’d hoped tae take the lairdship, but after he wed ye, he told me that if he died without issue, his brother Keegan would be the next in line. Asked me tae serve a bastard third son, as if ‘twas nae enough o’ a disgrace tae be forced tae serve him!”

“Ye always planned tae kill him?” Alayne heard her voice waver in truth. She couldn’t imagine such hatred. Even knowing what sort of man her father had been, even with all his cruelty, she and Donall had never planned his death with such calculating coldness.

“I thought I might at least take the gold due me as wereguild, planned tae force him intae that much, but then he decided tae be a stubborn fool.”

So he had been behind Darren’s kidnapping. She’d guessed it, but it was somehow worse to hear him admit it. She wondered who Cyprian was. Was it a name he’d used, or someone who was helping him?

“Enough talk. Ye ken what ye wanted. Time fer ye tae have yer accident.” Adrian’s hands seized her shoulders.

“If anyone is tae have an accident ‘twill nae be me wife.” The familiar, beloved voice made Alayne’s heart melt with relief as Darren stepped out onto the landing, sword drawn and cold fury in every line of his body.