Sword Dance (12 page)

‘She may not be mine, but she'll never be yours either, McGunn,' Cameron snapped back, ‘because you'll soon hang for what you did.'

Rose glanced uneasily at him then turned to McRae once more. ‘You lied about everything, and now you're lying about Bruce having… having…'

‘You think I'm lying, don't you?' McRae arched a quizzical eyebrow. ‘McGunn, why don't you tell our lovely friend here how you met Malika in that brothel in Inverness?'

Bruce swallowed hard and closed his eyes. His head spun. His throat felt too tight to speak. Defeated, he let out a sigh. He was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, from which there was no way out. Except one.

‘Bruce,' he heard Rose plead once again. ‘Please tell me it's not true.'

‘That part is true,' he started slowly. ‘I did see Malika in Inverness, but I can't remember what happened before, or after.'

‘We all know what happened,' McRae pursued, relentless. ‘There were witnesses. The ladies from the brothel will testify at the trial. But they're not the only ones. There's someone else too.'

Bruce flicked his eyes open. ‘Who?'

‘Me.' McNeil entered the room and looked straight at him, his bushy eyebrows drawn into a scowl.

‘But you work for Morven!' Rose cried out. ‘I heard you when you boasted about poisoning Bruce's drinks with datura – that very same plant that grows in the orangerie at Westmore.'

She turned suspicious eyes towards McRae. ‘In fact I wouldn't be surprised if you were behind it all, if you were trying to kill your very own brother.'

This time it was McRae's turn to look surprised. ‘So you know about that, too?'

Bruce too stared at Rose. How had she found out the secret of his birth? His gaze returned to McNeil as the understanding of what Rose had just said dawned on him. He wasn't terminally ill or plunging into madness like his mother before him, but being poisoned.

‘You've been feeding me datura all this time?' he asked McNeil.

The man stiffened then shrugged. ‘Aye. I brewed the concoction and mixed it with your tonic, your whisky, your tea… pretty much everything you drank and ate, and you never even noticed anything.'

‘I don't understand. Why did you do it?'

McNeil shook his head but didn't answer.

‘Damn it, man, you owe me an explanation,' Bruce insisted. ‘I trusted you. You betrayed me, tried to kill me. I want to know why.'

‘You stole my woman, that's why.'

‘What woman?'

‘Priscilla. Priscilla Andrews. Don't you even remember her?'

Bruce frowned. Priscilla… the redhead who tried to trap him into marriage, the one he had sent back to Tongue when he couldn't take any more of her silly tricks and tiresome recriminations.

‘She said she was a widow. She never mentioned being engaged.'

‘She promised she'd marry me when I returned from the army, but by then you had given her a place in your kitchens, and in your bed, and she didn't want me anymore. You used her, humiliated her and spat her out. When she arrived back home, she refused to have anything to do with me and took off for Glasgow.'

Bruce let out a sigh. ‘I'm sorry, McNeil. I didn't know the woman was spoken for.'

It was pointless to say anymore. He could see from the man's stubborn stance that he wouldn't listen to a word he'd say. Right now, it didn't matter anyway. He had questions that needed answering. Lots of questions.

‘So you've been working for McRae all this time. It was really you I saw at the Old Nag's Head at Porthaven, wasn't it? You were in league with the men who attacked me at the harbour. Come to think of it, I thought I recognised the voice of one of the thugs who attacked us on the docks in Inverness.'

McNeil shrugged but didn't answer.

‘Talking about Inverness, I have a few questions for you,' Bruce carried on, trying to focus his thoughts. ‘First of all, who was that other girl I'm supposed to have manhandled?'

‘The McKay girl.'

‘Fenella? And how did she end up in a brothel in Inverness?'

McNeil stared stubbornly at his boots.

‘Then tell me how I got both women back to Wrath,' Bruce asked.

This time McNeil cast a nervous glance at McRae before answering in a hesitant voice. ‘You ordered me to hire a carriage, a driver and a henchman to take them back to Wrath ahead of us. Malika and Fenella were in a bad way by then. I took them to the usual place.'

‘The usual place?' Bruce's throat tightened again. Dear Lord. So there had been other women?

‘A cave near the beach. That's where you killed them. You were violent, demented…'

Bruce rubbed his forehead with a weary hand. ‘Where are the driver and his associate now?'

‘They went back to Inverness. I don't remember their names.' McNeil crossed his arms on his chest, a stubborn look on his thick set face. ‘That's what I'll tell the constables and the judges. You killed that Arab dancer and the McKay girl in a fit of rage.'

Bruce felt a great emptiness inside him. Was that the truth? Had the datura affected him so badly that he actually raped, tortured and killed two young women and didn't even remember any of it?

Worst of all was the knowledge that Rose must hate him right now. He couldn't blame her. Whatever he'd hoped in his wildest dreams would never happen. She would never be his.

It came as a shock to hear Rose's calm voice pierce through the haze of doubt and pain torturing him.

‘This is a pack of lies,' Rose said to McNeil. ‘But considering for one minute that it is the truth…' She paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘The judge will ask why you did nothing to prevent the women from being killed, why you didn't speak out to denounce Lord McGunn to the authorities, and you will be sent to jail, too.'

‘I'll run away.' McNeil turned an anxious face towards McRae. ‘You promised to pay my passage to Canada, my lord, if I testified.'

McRae shook his head and snarled. ‘Shut up, you big fool.' He walked across the room and poured another whisky. His hand shook so much he spilled most of it onto the front of his jacket but he didn't seem to notice.

‘Actually, McGunn,' he started, ‘there is still a way out of this unsavoury mess. Give me that letter we talked about and we'll forget all about Inverness.'

Bruce shook his head. The time had come to tell the truth. ‘I don't have it. And I don't have the faintest idea where it is.'

‘You lied?' McRae snarled, hatred shining in his eyes.

‘I have the letter,' Rose said in a calm voice then.

‘What?' Both Bruce and McRae exclaimed in unison.

Bruce stared at her, once again marvelling at how brave she was. She didn't know where the letter was – how could she? – yet she sounded so convincing he almost believed her.

‘Looks like our little lady has a few more surprises in store for us,' Morven chuckled. ‘Where is it, lass?'

Rose stood up, defiant. ‘I won't tell you anything until you give my father's journal back.'

‘I'm afraid it's a bit late for that,' McRae said, pointing to the flames in the fireplace.

With a cry of despair she rushed to the fireplace, knelt down and stared into the pile of ashes on the grate.

‘Oh no… You destroyed it? I hate you!' she said, springing to her feet.

McRae shrugged. ‘Please yourself.'

‘That's all you ever wanted from me, wasn't it? First you offered to buy it from me, then tried to destroy it in Algiers, and after that you arranged for the burglaries in my hotel room.'

Annoyance and surprise flashed in McRae's eyes but he raised his glass in a mock salute. ‘Well done, Rose, you're not half as stupid as I thought. And when that didn't work either, I courted you and you fell for it. I paid three drunks I met in a dockside tavern to act as vicar and witnesses for our wedding. The idea was to get the diary from you after enjoying my wedding night and sail away in the morning. Unfortunately, and unbeknown to me, you'd taken the blasted thing to the bank and spoiled everything.'

‘What if I had come after you to Scotland, or complained to the authorities in Algiers that you'd conned me, raped me and stolen from me?'

He shrugged. ‘You wouldn't have dared. I would have left a note explaining we were never married. You were alone in Algiers since that hopeless old manservant of yours had left and your mother and brother were hundreds of miles away. You would have been far too ashamed to make a formal complaint against me. No, the way I saw it, there was nothing you could have done.'

The bastard had everything planned, Bruce thought.

‘Yet something went wrong,' Rose remarked. ‘You hurt that dancing girl in Algiers, didn't you? Malika saw you, that's why you had to leave without waiting for the bank to open. You ordered me to wait for the
Sea Eagle
, and told me to keep our so-called marriage a secret. You were going to take the diary from me as soon as I arrived, then send me back or dispose of me before I could make a fuss and alert your precious fiancée… Morven knew about me that's why he had the mail guard and the driver lock me up in that abandoned cottage in
Sith Coille.
'

‘That's right, my dear… Anyway, enough talking. You said you knew where the letter was. I want it now.'

Rose shook her head. ‘First, you must give me your word that you'll let Bruce go unharmed.'

‘This is getting bloody ridiculous,' Morven interjected. ‘Let me handle the girl, sir. She'll soon tell me what we want to know so we can finish this.'

‘All in good time, Morven,' McRae replied. ‘Darling Rose, I fear you have the whole thing the wrong way round. You see, I'm the one holding all the cards here. McGunn's life is hanging by a thread – or rather by a golden hair of your pretty head. There are two things you can do to save his skin. One is to give me the letter my useless father wrote to his slut of a mother. The other, we'll deal with later, and this time I swear you'll enjoy it as much as I do…'

His gaze roved over her, hot and hungry, and he licked his lips. ‘If you don't want Morven to shoot your precious McGunn, you'll get the letter for me now.' McRae gestured to McNeil. ‘You go with her, and hurry. My patience is running thin.'

McNeil nodded, grabbed hold of Rose's arm and yanked her to him. Once again Bruce groaned with frustration. What was she going to do now? There was no way she knew where the letter was. She was bluffing, and all because of her misguided belief that she loved him.

Even now, after all she had heard about him killing Malika and Fenella, she was prepared to play a lethal game to save him from McRae, the man who sought to destroy him. His brother.

Chapter Nine

‘Faster, lass.' McNeil pushed her up the stairs so hard she tripped on the landing.

‘Which way now?' he asked, pulling her to her feet. ‘And don't try anything stupid.'

She gestured towards her old room – Bonnie's room.

He frowned. ‘Are you sure? It's where Lady Patricia is resting.'

The door creaked softly as he pushed it open. The curtains were drawn and a blazing fire made the room hot and stuffy. Dr Kilroy sat on the bed, watching over a woman who was asleep.

So this was harsh, merciless Lady Patricia locals had nicknamed the female Black Donald. She didn't look so formidable now with her grey hair stuck to her pale forehead, her eyes sunken in deep orbits and her hollow cheeks.

‘Rose?' Doctor Kilroy let Lady Patricia's arm down gently onto the counterpane. He stood up, strode towards her and took her hand. ‘My dear, I had no idea you were here. Do you know what's going on? I couldn't get any sense out of McGunn earlier, and even less out of McRae and his men.' Turning towards McNeil, he added, ‘I see you chose your camp, you traitor.'

‘This has nothing to do with you, doctor, so shut up,' McNeil retorted in a harsh whisper. Gesturing to Rose, he urged, ‘Get on with it.'

Rose's throat was tight as she stepped towards the fireplace and her fingers shook as she reached out to touch the clock. Was Niall McRae's letter still in there? Had it ever been there? Perhaps Morag was mistaken or deluded, or she'd made the whole story up.

She lifted the clock off the mantelpiece and shook it slightly. There was the rattling sound again, just like the first time she touched it. ‘I need something sharp to open the panel at the back,' she said.

Doctor Kilroy looked puzzled, but pulled a scalpel out of his medical bag. ‘It's very sharp,' he said, taking the clock from her hands. ‘I'd better handle it.'

He unfastened the tiny screws at the back of the clock then delicately lifted the panel off. ‘Here you are.'

‘Give it to me.' McNeil snatched the clock. Shoving his fingers into the opening he pulled out pieces of yellowed paper and a medallion hanging at the end of a leather thong. Niall's half of the medal.

‘You were right, lass,' he said in a surprised voice. ‘It's here, it's all here.'

Just then the clock made a clinking sound, so loud in the silent bedroom that McNeil recoiled in shock. The clock and the papers fell to the ground.

Rose quickly bent down and clutched the letter and the medallion against her chest.

‘Give them back,' McNeil snarled. ‘Give them right back or I'll…'

‘If you value your life, you won't do anything at all,' Doctor Kilroy said, slipping behind the man and holding the scalpel to his throat. The sharp point dug into his skin.

‘You're making a mistake, doctor,' McNeil grunted, standing still but with a murderous glint in his dark brown eyes. ‘You won't get away with it. Neither of you will.'

‘We'll take our chances,' Doctor Kilroy answered calmly. ‘Rose, please bring me the roll of surgical tape in my bag so that I can secure our friend to that chair.'