The Witch and The Warrior (41 page)

Her gray eyes were wide and earnest, and her lower lip trembled slightly, making it clear how vital this issue was to her. Alex found himself deeply moved by her desire to protect the MacDunn women.

“I will speak with Elspeth tomorrow,” he promised, stopping before Gwendolyn's door. “And I will make certain she abandons these practices immediately.”

“Thank you.”

Her black hair was spilling wildly over her badly wrinkled gown, giving her a sweetly disheveled look that only endeared her more to him. The memory of lying naked with her last night flooded his senses, stirring his body and heating his blood. He wanted to lift her into his arms and take her to his bed, to hold her and kiss her and pleasure her until neither of them could bear any more. But dark crescents bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes, and if it was possible, her face seemed even paler than usual. He sensed a deep melancholy to her as well, which he attributed to her severe fatigue. Last night he had kept her awake deep into the hours of early morning, and then she had endured a day that had been both physically and emotionally exhausting. The sight of her looking so frail troubled him.

“You will stay in bed until these marks under your eyes have faded,” he ordered, tracing them with the tip of his finger. “If I see you appear before then, I will carry you back to bed myself. Is that understood?”

Gwendolyn nodded as she stared up at him. She would never see him again after this moment, for she would be gone long before the castle began to stir. There was suddenly much she wanted to tell him, and yet she found she could not speak, for fear her tears would betray her and make him suspicious. And so she regarded him in silent anguish, memorizing the burnished gold of his hair and brows, the brilliant blue of his eyes, the elegantly chiseled line of his jaw, and that distinctive cleft in his chin that he had passed on to his son.
I will keep you safe,
he had vowed, and she knew he believed such a feat was possible, even if it meant he had to die to achieve it. But he had a son who needed him, and a clan who depended upon him. She could not let any of them suffer for something as insignificant as the preservation of her life.

“Good night, Gwendolyn.” Alex bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He did not trust himself to kiss her mouth, knowing desire would overwhelm him. “Sleep well.”

She tentatively raised her hand to his jaw, then slowly traced her fingers along the same path she had taken with his son; down the sandy plane of his sun-bronzed cheek, finally stopping at the depression in his chin.
I love you,
she told him silently, wondering if he could feel it in her touch.
I always will.

“What is it?” Alex demanded, sensing her distress.

She abruptly took her hand away. “Nothing,” she whispered, turning from him. “Sleep well, MacDunn.” She slipped into her chamber and closed the door, then listened. She heard him hesitate a moment, perhaps waiting to see if she might emerge again.

Finally he left, his gait slow but sure as he made his way to his own chamber.

Gwendolyn approached the bed with leaden legs, using her candle to guide her through the shadows. There was something lying upon her pillow. Anticipating yet another talisman of iron or horse bone, or perhaps even a bloodstone, which was thought to have the power to break spells, she approached it with weary indifference. But as she drew closer she saw the shimmering handle of a dirk. She stopped and glanced nervously around the chamber, thinking that whoever had left this for her might still be lurking in the shadows. Then she reached out and pulled the dirk from the pillow, freeing the scrap of paper that had been skewered on its wickedly sharp point.

Gwendolyn,

Whatever the price, it will be mine. You will bring the stone to me at the south end of the woods before first light, or I swear I shall not rest until every MacDunn man, woman, and child lies butchered on the ground, and that mad fool's head has been hacked from his body and placed in the hands of his precious son.

Their fate lies within your power.

Robert

Sick, dark fear spiraled up from the pit of her stomach. MacDunn. She must show this to MacDunn. She raced toward the door, clutching the note in her hand. And then she stopped. What could MacDunn possibly do? she wondered helplessly. He could not prevent Robert from burning the cottages and laying siege to the castle. Nor could he keep his people trapped within these walls forever. Eventually the MacDunns would have to go out, whether to find food or to face Robert's army. The instant they did, Robert would cut them to pieces. There would be unimaginable suffering and death, because MacDunn had sworn to keep her safe, and he would fight to the hideous, blood-drenched end trying to keep his word.

She could not let him do that.

She inhaled a steadying breath, fighting to master her panic. She had planned to leave tonight, hoping to lure Robert away by leaving a note for him with the MacDunns, saying that she was returning to the MacSween lands to retrieve the stone, and Robert and his army should follow her there. That was impossible now. Robert was giving her an ultimatum, and he would tolerate nothing less than his terms. She had no choice but to go to him. Once he learned that the stone was hidden on MacSween land, he would not waste any more time here. He would depart before light, aroused by the promise of finally having that powerful charm within his evil grasp. No doubt he believed that once he had used it to give him unbridled power, he would massacre MacDunn and his people anyway.

But the moment she held the stone in her hands, she would use its power to destroy Robert instead.

C
HAPTER
13

“What do you mean, she's gone?”

Ned grimly handed him a damp, rumpled square of paper. Filled with dread, Alex forced himself to take it.

MacDunn,

I shall always be grateful to you for pulling me from the fire and bringing me to your home.

For one brief moment, I almost belonged somewhere.

Gwendolyn

Fear clenched his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He turned from his training warriors and raced into the castle, taking the stairs three at a time in his haste to reach Gwendolyn's chamber. The door flew open with a thundering crash as he entered, absolutely determined that he would find her obediently resting in her bed.

The chamber was empty, the bed untouched, except for a few feathers that were clinging to the plaid. Frowning, Alex went over and studied the pillow. More feathers were protruding from a small slash in the center of the cushion.

“Where did you find this note?” he demanded as Ned, Cameron, and Brodick entered the room.

“She must have given it to me,” replied Ned. “Last night.”

“What do you mean, ‘must have'?” asked Cameron, quickly scanning the note with Brodick. “Can you not remember?”

Ned shook his head in frustration. “Late last night I saw her emerge from this chamber dressed in a dark cloak. She told me that she needed a special herb she had seen in the courtyard, to use in an elixir she was making to ease Clarinda's pain. I asked her if it couldn't wait until morning, and she said this particular herb must be gathered at night, or else it lost its healing powers. And so I agreed to go with her. She searched the grounds in vain, then told me there was a place where the herb grew in abundance just beyond the castle walls. I told her it wasn't safe to leave the courtyard, but she pleaded with me, saying Clarinda had suffered greatly while birthing her bairn and that if I were Cameron I'd not be so heartless as to deny her request. And then she added that with the storm raging so hard, Robert and his warriors were likely halfway back to MacSween lands. Finally I relented, and ordered Garrick to let us pass through the gate.” Remorse shadowed his face. “I know it was wrong, Alex.”

“Go on,” Alex said tersely, uninterested in the issue of blame.

“Once we were beyond the walls, Gwendolyn withdrew a skin of wine from her cloak and asked me if I would like a drop, to keep me warm. I swear I took no more than a swallow or two, but it must have been drugged, for soon I could barely keep my eyes open. She suggested I sit beneath a tree and rest while she collected the herb.” He gave a helpless shrug. “The next thing I knew, I woke up with the sun shining in my face, and Gwendolyn was nowhere to be found. She must have placed the note in my shirt when I was asleep.”

Pain webbed through Alex's head, making him feel dizzy and unfocused. Gone. She was gone. But where? And why? He rubbed his temple as he scanned the letter again, searching for some clue, some explanation as to why she would suddenly leave in the middle of a storm.

For one brief moment, I almost belonged somewhere.

Is that what she thought? he wondered helplessly. His son adored her, Clarinda would have no other by her as she birthed her child, and although his clan had often tried to drive her away, ultimately they had been prepared to fight to the death for her against Robert. How could there be any question as to whether she belonged here?

“Clarinda will be devastated when she learns Gwendolyn is gone,” reflected Cameron. “She has come to feel like a sister to her.”

And David would be heartbroken, Alex realized dully. Which of course Gwendolyn must have known. He thought of her emerging from David's chamber the previous night, her gray eyes shimmering with despondence. At the time he had attributed her melancholy to weariness, coupled with the rawness of emotion a woman might experience after helping to bring a new life into the world. He was a fool, he realized. The despair in Gwendolyn's expression was one he should have recognized instantly, for he had seen it often enough as Flora lay dying. It was the tormented look of a woman who must leave those she loved behind. That was why she was so adamant that he promise to speak to Elspeth about her methods with birthing mothers. Gwendolyn had known she would not be here to help them herself. He closed his eyes, damning himself for his blindness as he recalled her exquisite touch skimming along the contour of his jaw.

She had been saying good-bye to him, and he had been too consumed with lust to recognize it.

“ 'Tis strange that she would choose to leave in the middle of a storm,” Brodick said, frowning. “I mean, why couldn't she have waited a day or two, until it was over?”

“Gwendolyn conjured up that storm to keep Robert from burning the cottages,” Ned pointed out. “I don't suppose it bothered her much, since it was her spell that made it.”

“Odd, though, that Robert hasn't paid us a visit now that the storm is over,” Brodick reflected. “Do you suppose he really has gone home?”

A sickening realization began to swirl through Alex.

“By what I've seen of him, I'd not think Robert is the type to give up so easily,” Cameron observed. “Surely the lass must have realized he and his men might well be camped somewhere in the woods. Was she not afraid of getting caught?”

“She wanted to be caught,” Alex said, his voice hollow. “That's why she left.”

“That makes no sense, Alex,” protested Brodick. “She knows Robert will burn her, and she knew she was safe here. Why on earth would she want to be caught?”

Alex stared vacantly at the note.
I almost belonged somewhere.
Moments before Robert arrived, she had told him of what her life had been, living completely ostracized by everyone. Yet when Robert attacked, the MacDunns had not turned her over as she had feared they might, but instead had fought to defend her. It seemed Gwendolyn could not accept the MacDunns risking their lives for her. That was why she had climbed onto the parapet and challenged Robert to shoot her, hoping to bring an end to the battle. And that was why she was offering him her life now.

She was trying to protect Alex's people.

“Look at this,” said Brodick, fishing a scrap of paper from the hearth.

The note was badly burned, but the dampness of the ashes had extinguished the flames before the paper was completely consumed by them. Holding it gingerly between his fingers, Alex read:

                                                                                                                                                
mad fool's head has been hacked from his body and placed in the hands of his precious son.

Their fate lies within your power.

Robert

“Christ,” he swore, his fear suddenly shadowed by the magnitude of his rage. “Robert threatened her with killing me, to force her to go to him.” He crushed the paper within his shaking fist and hurled it into the hearth. “Divide the men into two forces. Half will remain here to defend the castle. The others will ride with me.”

Cameron stroked his beard as he stared at the scorched ball lying in the ashes. “How do you suppose he got a note into her chamber?”

“That's a good question,” snapped Alex, striding out of the room, “and I damn well intend to find out.”

         

“Gone?” repeated Owen blankly. “Gone where?”

“She can't be gone,” Lachlan said, looking genuinely crestfallen. “I've made a special wine for her.”

Alex shoved his dirk into his belt. “You will have to save it, Lachlan, for when I bring her home.”

“But why would the lass want to leave us?” Owen asked. “I thought we were all getting along splendidly.”

“I found a note from Robert in her chamber saying if she didn't surrender to him, Robert would kill me,” Alex explained.

Reginald grabbed for his sword and roared, “By all the saints, I'll mince the swine so fine, the frogs will have to lick him off the ground!”

“You mean my uncle was in this castle?” asked Isabella, her face paling.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Farquhar belched and gazed blearily about the great hall. “I don't recall seeing Robert skulking about.” He sighed and buried his face back into his cup.

“If one of those bloody MacSweens got in here, it wasn't through the gate,” Garrick assured Alex. “Me and Quentin kept a careful watch, and the only people who went through last night were Ned and Gwendolyn.”

“What about during the day?” Brodick asked. “We had the gate open while we inspected the outer wall.”

“Well, now, that's true enough,” agreed Garrick. “But you can't expect me to recall everyone who passed through during the day—especially since many of you had your heads covered to protect you from the rain.”

“I don't, Garrick,” Alex assured him. “What I want to know is, did any of you notice someone entering or leaving Gwendolyn's chamber yesterday?” He scrutinized the faces assembled before him, searching for a flicker of reaction. His gaze fell hard upon Elspeth, knowing she had every reason to want Gwendolyn gone. But her expression remained utterly flat, betraying no hint of either guilt or intrigue. “Alice?” he prompted, suddenly detecting a shadow of uncertainty cross the cook's face.

Alice regarded him nervously.

“Did you see someone in Gwendolyn's chamber?”

“I was taking her a tray,” Alice said, wringing her apron with her hands. “I knew the lass had been helping Clarinda birth her bairn for most of the day. I thought she might need a wee bite to eat.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” commented Alex. “And so you went into her chamber?”

She shook her head.

“You left the tray outside the door?”

She shook her head again.

“Then what did you do with the tray?” demanded Alex, struggling for patience.

“I gave it to Robena,” Alice blurted out. “She was just coming out of Gwendolyn's chamber. She said she would take the tray inside for me. She was most adamant about it.”

There was a hushed gasp as all eyes in the hall fastened on Robena, who was standing near Alex.

“Surely you cannot believe that I had anything to do with Gwendolyn's leaving, Alex,” she scoffed lightly. “I simply took the tray into her chamber and left. I've no idea how that note came to be on her pillow.”

For a moment Alex was too stunned to speak. Robena and he had been friends since they were children, and he did not want to believe that she could possibly have anything to do with Gwendolyn's disappearance. But cold, simple logic forced him to finally ask, “How do you know it was left on her pillow, Robena?”

“I—you said it was,” Robena stammered. “I'm sure you did.”