Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

T hey slept late and the journey home seemed longer than it had the day before. Bella was edgy, deep in her own thoughts, not herself at all. Maclean supposed that he had given her much to think of, and left her alone. They drove mostly in silence until it was time to stop and take a break.

Maclean had insisted on dressing in his plaid and jacket, packing the suit carefully away in the trunk of the car, so when they stopped for a break he was once again the center of attention and speculation. After a couple of lassies asked him for his autograph, Bella lifted an eyebrow at him as if to say, Told you so .

The weather had grown cooler, reminding them that summer was over, and a misty rain hung low over the mountains, hiding them for much of the time.

Bella shivered, huddling into her red woolen coat, her long hair tucked inside the collar. Maclean reached over and tugged the silky locks free, combing the tangles with his fingers. "That's better," he murmured.

She cuddled in against him and he slid his arm about her, hugging her body to his.

"What will happen now?" she said, speaking at last of what was worrying her.

"I dinna know. Mabbe the Fiosaiche will come and tell me that."

"Perhaps I will finally get to meet her." But Bella did not seem to relish the thought.

His spine tingled. It was not Bella meeting the sorceress that worried him so much as Bella meeting Ishbel. She would not want him to have a second chance at life and happiness. He knew that Ishbel would do anything to hurt him; she had told him so.

"Maclean?"

He turned and Bella was watching him, her dark hair teased by the wind, her cheeks stung to pink by the cold. His heart warmed just looking at her—aye, she was his woman. But at the same time something brushed his skin. The icy breath of the mountains, pausing briefly beside him to whisper a warning, before rushing on to the south.

I will no' let you touch her, Ishbel, he called after it. I will not!

"We'd better get going." Bella stretched up to press her lips to his jaw. "Aren't your legs cold, Maclean? Not to mention other parts beneath your kilt."

"Not at all," he said with surprise, and then with a lecherous smile, "I can show you if you like."

"Maybe later."

He bent his head and kissed her properly.

"I will take that as a promise."

* * *

He felt it as they left Ardloch and turned east, toward Loch Fasail. A strong sense of unease that deepened, and darkened. By the time they passed Gregor's croft it had become a weight upon his head and shoulders, like a heavy stone, pressing him down. And he knew that there was something very wrong.

Maclean began to fidget, wishing he had not let Bella talk him into leaving his claidheamh mor in the trunk. The rain had continued all the way home, making the road slippery and visibility difficult. Good weather for hiding for an ambush, bad weather for fighting in the open, he noted out of habit. As they drove on to the crest of the road that gave the first view of the loch, he kept looking, trying to pierce the rain on the moorland, but everything was gray and forbidding. And then the ruins of Castle Drumaird rose above the surrounding land, and the loch was like a silver mirror with someone's steamy breath upon it.

His keen gaze was drawn back to the castle ruins, and he caught a flash of color. Red, maybe. But then the rain came in heavier, shielding whatever it was he had seen. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed, while the windshield wipers slid back and forth.

"Maclean?" Bella was watching him anxiously. "What is it?"

"I dinna know," he answered honestly. "Slow the car down as you get to the last rise. Aye, that's it, slowly, now, so that I can see. . ."

They crested the final small hill and stopped. Everything appeared calm and untouched. Nothing was changed. And yet Maclean knew there was something wrong. He felt the threat to him, to Bella, like the point of a dirk at his throat.

"I don't see anything," she began, and then sat up straighter. "Wait! Is that Brian's car behind the cottage? What on earth can he want?" She sounded more irritable than anxious now.

Maclean frowned. Was that what he was feeling? Brian's anger, like a dark cloud upon his home? Was this nothing more than a jealous lover's petulance?

He wanted to believe it.

Bella was already driving forward again, moving along the track that led to the cottage. Birds, disturbed by the noise of the engine, took off silently from the loch's surface, while some of Gregor's sheep bundled out of the gorse bushes and ran up the rock-strewn hill, their fleeces wet and grubby.

They pulled up outside the cottage, but neither of them moved from the car. The kitchen window was blank and the cottage appeared deserted. There was no welcoming smoke from the chimney; no one opened the door.

"If Brian was here, he would have lit the fire and made himself at home. And why has he parked at the back? He never does that. It's as if he's trying to hide. Brian just wouldn't do that. He'd want to be seen."

"Mabbe you should wait here and I will look," Maclean suggested evenly, but Bella was already opening her door and getting out of the car.

"He doesn't know you," she reminded him. "He won't know who you are. It'd be better if I speak to him first."

"Bella." He said it sharply.

She turned, frowning, surprised by his tone.

"Open the trunk so that I can get my broadsword. Just in case, aye? I promise you I willna touch Brian with it."

She hesitated, clearly not wanting to.

"I give you my oath," he said softly. "I need my weapon, Bella."

Maybe she sensed it, too, the darkness that hung over the land, for she glanced about her quickly, and then with a nod she went to unlock the trunk. Maclean removed his sword and buckled it about his hips. The grubby piece of cloth was there, too, wrapped around the bridle, and without thinking he lifted it out, carrying it with him.

Bella was at the door.

"It isn't locked. I know I locked it when we left. I always do. Habit." She gave a nervous smile.

Maclean nodded, but his face was grim. He stepped in front of her and pushed the door open. Just as he had expected, the kitchen was empty. He glanced to the sink, to the Aga, but there was no sign that anyone had been here.

He heard Bella's footsteps, and before he could stop her she was hurrying through to the back door. He caught up with her and placed his hand over hers and drew the bolt himself. Sure enough, it was Brian's car parked there, the front half of it deep in a briar bush, as if he had lost control at the last moment. Several of the thorny branches had been smashed, and one of the front lights on his car was broken, the plastic casing scattered in the ridges of mud caused by the churning of the wheels.

"I don't understand," Bella said dully.

Maclean felt the fear swell in his throat, making it hard to breathe. He caught Bella's arm, pulling her back inside the cottage and closing and rebolting the door. At once he felt better. Safer. Keeping her close, he made his way back to the kitchen, checking each room as he passed.

Nothing.

He knew with a sense of relief that they were safe in here. He hoped the hag's spell would stop any evil from entering the cottage, and as long as they stayed within it they would be protected, too. However, as Bella turned to climb the stairs he caught her hand and drew her back. Better to be cautious.

"Wait," he said, touching her face, holding her attention.

"Maclean, what is it?"

"I am the one with the weapon," he reminded her.

"I have my broom," she retorted, but her eyes were wide and frightened.

He smiled, to ease her fears, and slowly climbed the narrow staircase. The rooms here, too, were empty, and he could not see that anything had been touched. Turning back to the head of the stairs, he looked down at Bella, who was waiting below.

"There is nothing."

He made her stay in the kitchen while he searched the shed outside and looked about close to the house. Brian's car was open and he even checked the trunk. Nothing. Brian had vanished.

"I have to find him," Bella said when he returned to her side. "I can't sit here knowing he's around somewhere. He'll make a scene, call me names. I just want to face him. I just want it to be over, Maclean."

"Would he go out for a walk?"

"Brian?" she sounded doubtful, and then shrugged. "Maybe he went up to the castle to keep watch for us. Maybe he's on his way down to the cottage right now."

"Aye, mabbe."

"I'll go and see—"

" I'll go and see. You wait here. It is safe in the cottage, but ye must no' leave it, do ye understand me?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't understand you. Tell me what's going on."

"I dinna know exactly," he said quietly, not releasing her gaze, "but I know the scent of evil. I smell it now."

"Evil?" Bella's confused thoughts flashed across her face, but she was quick-witted. "Maclean, could something come through the door from the between-worlds? Could something escape?"

She seemed to be thinking of something in particular, but he didn't have time to question her. Brian might be dead already, but Maclean could not huddle in here if there was a chance to save him, no matter what he thought of him as a man.

"Mabbe."

"Mabbe? Maclean, I need a proper answer!"

"Then it is aye, something could come through the door from the between-worlds. I think that door has been opened, and I think that Ishbel has opened it. She is here, Bella, and she will do anything she can to make me suffer."

Bella stepped closer and wrapped her arms tight about him. "Maclean, please be careful!"

He hugged her briefly, and then lifted her face and bent to tenderly kiss her lips. "I will. But you must stay here where it is safe. Aye?"

His urgency got through to her at last.

"Aye . . . eh, yes."

With an unsmiling nod, Maclean left her. Closing the door firmly behind him, he looked up and saw her white face at the window, watching him.

"Be safe, Bella," he whispered. And then he turned up the path that led to Castle Drumaird.