Mary Robb - Down the Rabbit Hole

Colin stood and offered his hand to Beth, who got to her feet beside him.

His face was as dark as a thundercloud as he watched the procession of villagers, followed by the mounted hunters. In their midst rode Ian, laughing and slapping the others on their arms as he boasted of his trophy.

Without a word Colin helped Beth into the saddle and then mounted his own stallion, just as Jamie rode up with his leather pouch filled to overflowing with game.

Seeing the dark look on the laird’s face, the lad drew back his mount, allowing Colin and Beth to lead the way.

In silence they rode side by side to the lodge, with the lad trailing behind.

When they arrived, the women spilled out of the hunting lodge and hurried down the lane toward the stables.

The mounted hunters drew near, and Ian came thundering up to the head of the procession, wearing a look of supreme satisfaction as he dismounted.

When Colin drew near, Ian held out the sack of coins to his stepbrother, calling in a loud voice, “I know I gave my word, but you must admit your command was unjust, since it would have cost me a fortune I could ill afford to lose. I was not about to let such a bounty pass me by.”

Hamish, who rode up behind Ian, looked sheepish.

Colin’s voice held a note of cold fury. “You gave your word, knowing you would not keep it? So now your word will mean nothing to all who know you. You prove to one and all that you revere gold more than our father’s good name.”

“He was not my father. And his precious name will not pay my debts, nor put food on my table.”

“When the laird wed your mother, he offered her children his name. Yet you refused, and claimed that of your mother’s clan instead.”

Still hot with anger, Ian’s voice rose. “I bear my mother’s name proudly. And though she accepted your father’s gold, she accepted neither his name nor his clan as her own.”

Their guests wore looks that ranged from shock to horror.

“You think to dishonor me, Ian. But in truth, you dishonor yourself, along with the woman who bore you and the clan that sheltered you.”

Edwina rushed to Ian’s side and locked her hands on his arm, physically restraining him from reaching for the dirk at his waist. “You are distraught, brother. Go now and return your horse to the stable.”

He looked at her as though she were mad.

Her voice rose. “And then you will ask forgiveness of our laird.”

“He is not my—”

She silenced him with a hand on his mouth before leaning close enough to whisper in his ear.

He shot her a triumphant look before turning away.

She smiled up at Colin. “My brother’s blood runs hot with the hunt. But when he has had time to cool his temper, he will realize how deeply he has hurt his brother-laird.”

She turned to the lads, who continued to hold the bloody carcass of the stag, and dared to give orders like a queen. “Do with this as the laird instructs you.”

She lifted her skirts and turned away, with the other women gathering around her and chattering like geese as they made their way to the lodge.

And all the while, Colin sat stone-faced on his horse, watching as Ian disappeared inside the stable.

When they were alone, Beth reached over to touch a hand to Colin’s arm. “I fear for your safety. There is something I need to tell you. Something I overheard that troubles me . . .”

He seemed unaware of her words as he turned in the saddle to Jamie. “You will tally the kill, so that we may reward our hunters at the banquet this night.”

Beth looked stunned. “After that scene with Ian, you would hold a banquet?”

“It is customary for the laird to offer his guests a feast and to reward those who deserve it.”

“But . . .”

He silenced her with a wave of his hand before slipping from the saddle to take her reins. “Forgive me, my lady. I know you are troubled, as am I.” He helped her dismount and closed a hand over hers, squeezing it gently as though to reassure her.

He leaned close to press a kiss to her cheek. “Go inside now and allow Maura and the servants to help you bathe and dress for tonight’s banquet.”

“And you?” She looked up into his eyes and saw something dark and dangerous before he managed to blink it away.

“I, also, must prepare.”

He turned away.

While Jamie began leading the horses toward the stable, Colin turned toward the gardens, his head bowed, his manner thoughtful.

Though Beth yearned to go after him, she knew she had to respect his need for privacy.

As she entered the lodge and climbed the stairs to her room, her thoughts were in turmoil. She fully intended to warn Colin about the threat she’d overheard. If he chose to scoff at it, she would do whatever it took to convince him to take it seriously. She was more convinced than ever that his life was truly in danger.

Ian’s hatred was now so out of control, he’d revealed it to the entire company. Only a man bent on violence would show such utter disrespect to a much-loved Highland laird.

The look in Ian’s eyes in that moment before Edwina intervened spoke volumes about what was truly in his heart.

There was darkness in that young man’s soul. He’d seemed, in that moment, the personification of evil.

Beth’s hands were cold as she stepped into her room. She nearly groaned aloud at the number of people milling about. Old Maura was giving orders to the serving girls as they filled a round tub with steaming water and set folded linens to one side. The bed was piled high with brightly colored gowns and shawls and delicate underpinnings. Another servant stood beside a dressing table, where she would prepare the lady’s hair for the evening’s festivities.

As Beth allowed them to attend to her needs, she forced herself to smile and nod and pretend that all was fine. But her heart was heavy with the thought that at this very moment Colin could be facing great peril.

She was desperate to finish this charade and go to him. She needed to get him alone, so that she could share with him all the terrible secrets that were whirling around her mind, giving her such distress.

All she could see was the evil in Ian’s eyes.

All she could hear were his hateful words, hurled like arrows straight to the laird’s heart.

* * *

Colin paced the garden path like a caged beast.

Though he’d seen evidence of Darda Campbell’s evil magic before, this was the first time he’d witnessed just how deeply, how completely, she’d managed to control her children. Even in death, she continued to wield power over their minds and wills.

It was clear now that Ian had turned his back on all that was good and decent, and had somehow descended into a hell of hatred. And the choices he made going forward would affect not only him but everyone around him.

It pained Colin to acknowledge his father’s folly. How easily the old laird had been manipulated by a woman’s youth and beauty. When Darda was thwarted in her effort to control her new husband’s estate, she had put a curse on him and on his only son.

At the time, Colin had scoffed at her attempt to manipulate him. And yet, the first half of the curse had already come to fruition, and it appeared that the rest of Darda Campbell’s curse would prevail.

That knowledge made this night all the more important. Though he could not remove the curse, he could leave behind a legacy of his own heart. He would reward the friendship of his guests. And if the Fates were willing, he would taste the wine of true love before going into his final battle.

Old Maura stood back, admiring the work of the village lasses who’d been pressed into service.

“Ye look lovely, my lady. I’ve no doubt Lady Catherine would approve the use of her gown.”