Her Kilt-Clad Rogue (10 page)

Before she could answer, he closed the distance between them, yanking her into his arms. She gasped as his arms wrapped around her like iron bands. Her hands were trapped against his chest and although she struggled, he only held tighter.

“You will answer me,” he commanded, looking down at her with a fierce gaze. “I need to know. Do ye think I killed Janet?”

Genevieve’s breath burned in her throat. “Ewan said he heard you arguing with Janet in the tower the night she died. About him. He watched you storm down the tower stairs and afterwards, he crept up to see her. She had already fallen.”

A wild flash of shock and grief ripped across his face. “Ewan saw her?”

Her stomach knotted. “He did.”

Connor closed his eyes and after a moment he opened them again. “He thinks I pushed her?”

“He doesn’t know what to think. He’s just a child.”

The muscles of his arms hardened beneath his jacket. “And what say ye, Genevieve? Ye’ve yet to answer me.”

She reacted with anger to the challenge in his voice. Furious that he seemed able to lock and unlock her heart at will, she glowered. “You want the truth? Then I’ll tell you the truth. You are, at times, an insufferable, arrogant and supercilious rogue. But you are no murderer, Connor Douglas, and I believe that with all my heart.”

He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, seeming to weigh the sincerity of her words. Then without a sound, he lowered his face to her hair, his arms sliding down to her midriff to rest at the small of her back. The stiffness of his body seemed to melt into her and his fingers drew light circles on her back, his touch nearly unbearable in its tenderness.

“Thank ye, Genevieve,” he murmured against her hair. “I needed to hear ye say it. God knows I wasna even sure ye believed it.”

He released her and stepped back, the muscular arms that had nearly crushed her falling to his sides. Still deeply shaken by what had transpired between them, Genevieve sought to still her trembling hands.

Misery etched his face as he looked at her. “There’s more I want ye to know. When Janet told me that she was wi’ child and the babe was no’ mine, I raged for a week. Then after I considered, I told her I’d raise him as mine. She was grateful. ’Twas one o’ the few times I ever saw her smile.”

Genevieve felt her heart clutch. “But things did not go smoothly.”

“Nay, they did no’. We began to quarrel more frequently, more passionately. I should have done something. I should have tried harder to please her, but ’twas too late. For both o’ us. We muddled along for several years more before she finally had lived the lie enough. Jumping was the easy way out, and I’d be lying if I told ye I hadn’t considered it myself.”

Genevieve swallowed the lump in her throat. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Och, but I do. For this and much more. It means more to me than ye will ever know to hear that ye dinna believe I pushed Janet. I swear to ye that I didna. But I’m still partially responsible for her death. For making her life a living hell and making her feel as if she had no other choice.”

“Connor, I’m sorry.” It seemed all she was able to say. She was sorry for Connor, sorry for Janet, sorry for Ewan and sorry for herself.

He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I might have followed her except for Ewan. Now ’twas just me and him and I had no idea how to handle the lad. Then there was the matter o’ Catherine.”

“At last you were free to wed her and she was free as well.”

“But I couldn’t stop thinking o’ ye…o’ our summer together. I heard ye had turned down a suitor some years earlier. I wondered why. And I couldn’t stop wondering what kind o’ woman ye had become and if ye’d ever forgiven me.”

She never thought she would say the words, but to her surprise they came out easily. And they were true. “I forgive you, Connor.”

Their eyes met and locked. “Thank ye yet again.”

She sighed. “And now that your conscience is eased in regards to me, you are free to wed Catherine.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Catherine?”

“Yes. She told me you intend to announce your betrothal tonight.”

“Tonight? Genevieve, I’m no’ going to wed Catherine.”

She blinked in surprise. “You aren’t?”

“Nay, I’m no’. I dinna intend to make the same mistake I made wi’ Janet. I can’t wed Catherine because my heart lies elsewhere.”

To her utter astonishment, he knelt to one knee and took her hand, his warm and powerful fingers wrapping around her fingers. “It lies wi’ ye, Genevieve. I fell in love wi’ ye that summer in England. I’d never met a lass so self-assured, so keen in wit, so enjoyable to be wi’. I’d found my soulmate and I was too young and foolish to realize it. Well, I’m older now and far wiser. And I still love ye.”

She was so astounded by his revelation that she simply sat there in shock. “You
love
me? Now?”

He laughed. “I tried to show ye wi’ my kisses, to make ye believe in the magic again, but ye thought me too bold…a rogue.” He paused, his mouth twitching at the corners. “I’ll be the first to admit my approach wasna the most refined.”

Stunned, she groped for something,
anything
, to say. “How can you be certain you love me?” As if she didn’t know for herself what it felt like to be completely and utterly in love.

He considered the question. “Because despite the years, my feelings for ye havna changed. I knew the moment I saw ye again. My heart slammed against my chest so hard I couldna breathe. And each time I’ve seen ye since I’m as nervous as a lad. My palms get slick and my tongue feels heavy. I should tell ye that even before your grandda died, I was already plotting to get ye here to
Caisteal na Mara.
I am truly sorry for the loss of your grandda, but it gave me the perfect opportunity to bring ye here. I thought I only had to break through the mistrust ye had for me, and make ye see that my feelings were true. Instead, ’twas ye who saved me, giving me a chance to redeem myself through the love o’ my son.”

He gazed at her with such a burning intensity that it touched her very soul. “The truth is I brought ye here, Genevieve, because I had to know. Did I really love ye or just a memory o’ what once was? Now I know.”

Genevieve felt close to tears, the last of the wall she had so painstakingly built around her heart crumbling to dust with his words. “I don’t know what to say.”

He stood and embraced her, holding her close against his chest. “Then say that ye love me. Or if not that, at least that ye could learn to love me.”

Emotion like she had never known before welled in her throat and broke, leaving bright unshed tears glittering in her eyes. “I do love you, Connor. I always have. You did make me believe in magic, as you’re making me believe now. But I’m frightened. I was so terribly hurt when you left. I grieved for you for many years. I just couldn’t bear it if you left me again or changed your mind.”

“Never. Not this time. Wed me, Genevieve. Be my wife and stay wi’ me forever.”

Without any more hesitation, she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down toward her mouth. “You know that I will. But when will you tell Catherine?”

“Tonight.”

The promise lingered between them as his lips claimed hers in a hungry, possessive rush. And then she thought no more.

Genevieve watched the sunset from her window seat, her nerves jangling, her thoughts so scattered she could hardly think straight.

Connor loved her.

She wanted to pinch herself and yet feared waking to find it had all been a dream. But it had to be true. Her heart brimmed with so much happiness, she thought she’d burst.

She didn’t dare tell a soul, not even Ewan. In fact she was almost afraid to attend the closing feast, terrified everyone would see the joy in her eyes and know what Connor intended. But he had asked her to come. Now, she had only to act as normal as possible, whatever that was.

Earlier she’d begged off her afternoon tea with Mrs. MacDougal who stared at her strangely. But bless her heart, the housekeeper said naught a word.

Now Genevieve took extra care in preparing herself for the feast, braiding her hair and choosing her best gown. She had just finished dressing when the servant girl Lucinda knocked on the door and handed her a note. Puzzled, Genevieve took it and closed the door. She unfolded the parchment and read the bold, sprawling handwriting.

Meet me in the north tower at half past six. ’Tis important.

Connor

Perplexed, Genevieve read it again. What could Connor possibly have to tell her that couldn’t wait until after the feast? And why did he wish to meet her in the tower? She folded the note and sat down in the chair in front of the hearth. Her heart thumped uncomfortably. Had he changed his mind after all?

She stood and went to check her timepiece on the desk. It was nearly half past six now. Hurriedly, she left the room.

Walking down the corridor, she heard a noise coming from Ewan’s room. Genevieve decided to check on him.

He smiled when he saw her, whistling approvingly. “Ye look awful fancy.”

She perched on the bed beside him. “For that welcome flattery, I’ll bring you some food later.”

He grinned. “Hurry, would ye? I’m hungry. Bring some plum pudding.”

She patted him on the cheek. “Only if you eat some venison first.”

“Must I?”

“You must.” She rose, walked to the door and paused at the threshold. “Ewan, does your father often go up to the tower room?”

He seemed taken aback by the question. “Sometimes. Why?”

“Well, he’s invited me up there to talk.”

“About what?”

She lifted her hands helplessly. “Something important that apparently can’t wait until after the feast. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Smiling, she headed toward the tower stairs. She climbed up, thankful that Connor had lit the torches all the way to the top. When she reached the door, she pushed down on the latch and the door swung open. Standing on the threshold, she could see that Connor hadn’t arrived yet, but the window was open again. The same eerie moaning noise echoed through the room bringing to mind the legend of Christina Douglas and how she supposedly haunted the room. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Deciding to wait for Connor at the bottom of the stairs, Genevieve turned to leave when she heard a slight noise behind her. Before she could move, something hard hit her on the back of the head.

“No,” she breathed as the world turned black.

Connor stood in the courtyard, helping the stable master, Mac O’Donnelly, calm a restless steed. One of the guests had taken the horse out for a ride and for some strange reason the beast had become uncontrollable. Connor always had a deft touch with the horses, and had a particular fondness for this steed, so he rushed out to help Mac even though he was already dressed in all his supper finery.

“Hell and damnation,” Connor cursed as the steed nearly kicked him in the leg. “What’s got into him this evening? He was fine during the foxhunt.”

“I dinna know, sir,” Mac said, barely escaping a buck to his ribs. “I’ve never seen him act this way.”

“Did he throw a shoe?”

“No’ that I can tell, sir. Seems to me his stomach is hurtin’. As if he’s eaten somethin’ rotten.”

A small crowd had began to form around them. Connor wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and stopped to catch his breath as the horse quieted momentarily. So much for his impeccable evening finery. He’d have to go and change again before supper.

Mac had just offered the steed a lump of sugar as a bribe when Connor suddenly noticed Ewan walking unsteadily toward him still dressed in his bed clothes.

Connor dropped the reins and ran toward the lad. “Ewan. My God, are ye all right? What are ye doing out o’ bed?” He knelt in front of the boy, noticing his face was deathly white and contorted with pain.

The boy needed a moment to breathe. “I…I looked out my window and I saw ye in the courtyard, Da. Ye are here.”

Connor frowned, puzzled. “Aye, Mac needed my aid with the steed. Where else would I be?”

A trickle of sweat slipped down Ewan’s temple and Connor realized the effort it had cost the boy to get there. “B-but Miss Fitzsimmons said ye wanted to meet her in the north tower. Now.”

Connor felt the world stop for an instant, his heart turning over in his chest. “Stay here,” he ordered the boy and dashed toward the castle at a dead run.

Genevieve came to, her head pounding, her stomach queasy. The room seemed to be spinning, so she blinked, but the movement didn’t stop. It was then she realized someone had grabbed her beneath the armpits and was dragging her across the floor…toward the open window.

“No!” She twisted her body to the side, causing her attacker to lose balance. Genevieve rolled sideways, freeing herself from her captor’s hold. The movement nearly caused her to retch and her vision spun so badly she could barely see. Nonetheless, she managed to come to a crouch amid her skirts.

She could see her attacker blur and then split into two figures. Genevieve blinked hard until it became one figure again.

“Dinna move.” The form spoke almost reassuringly.

Genevieve started at the familiar voice. “Mrs. MacDougal? What are you doing here? Someone hit me and…” Her words trailed off as the housekeeper took a step closer, effectively blocking the door. The waning rays of the sun glinted off a dirk in the woman’s hand.

Genevieve pressed a hand to her head. “You? You hit me. But why?”

Mrs. MacDougal took a careful step forward. “Because I’m no’ goin’ to let ye give Connor even one moment o’ happiness. He deserves to suffer as she did.”

Genevieve rose to her feet. “You think he murdered Janet.” She steadied herself, trying to ignore the wild throbbing in her head.

“He did murder her.” Cold rage punctuated every word. “He drove her to her death as surely as if he’d pushed her wi’ his two hands.”

“So you know he didn’t push her.”

“Mayhap no’ physically, but he sent her to her death. O’ that I’m sure.”

“It was a doomed union from the start.” Genevieve stepped back until she felt the cold wall. “Surely you can’t put the blame solely on his shoulders.”

“She was my niece…my baby. I raised her as my own. And she took care o’ me by bringing me here to run her household. But I failed her.”

Genevieve’s eyes widened in shock. She’d assumed Mrs. MacDougal had been in Connor’s household since he was a babe. But it was Janet who had brought her to the castle and that was where her loyalties lay.

“Janet was so verra young and frightened. And he didna want her.”

“She didn’t love him either.”

“She might have if he’d shown her any true affection. But she told me at night when he slept, he murmured the name o’ another.”

“W-who?”

“Ye, lass. He was dreaming o’ ye.”

Her heart clutched with emotion. “I didn’t know he was betrothed to her.”

“Nevertheless, ’twill cost ye yer life.”

Glancing behind the housekeeper, Genevieve noticed that the wall was at an odd angle. She blinked but the wall stayed where it was, strangely out of alignment with the rest of the room.

Genevieve suddenly understood. “A secret passage. That’s how you got up here without anyone seeing you. It was
you
who kept opening the window.”

Mrs. MacDougal nodded. “’Tis one o’ many passages that were sealed since the death o’ Black Gavin. He used them to evade capture by his Scottish neighbors while he was shamelessly aidin’ the English. After he was killed, the passages were sealed. I reopened this one wi’ the aid o’ John MacDonald.”

“Janet’s lover.”

“Aye, ’twas me who helped reunite the true lovers. This was where they met and loved, safely shielded from the prying eyes o’ others at the castle. Janet was so happy.”

“How could you do that to Connor?” Genevieve’s anger rose to the surface. “Given time, they might have been able to make their marriage work.”

She scowled. “Never. And look at him now, the heartless bastard. Janet was barely cold in her grave before he sent for ye. But I’m no’ going to let his little plan work. Wi’ ye gone, he’ll at last turn to the poor, grieving widow Catherine Montclair. She’ll make his life utterly dismal, the same as he made Janet’s. Let him live the life he forced on her.” Again she laughed, waving the dirk in front of her.

Genevieve desperately searched for some escape. The housekeeper had already come within two steps of her.

Summoning an inner courage she didn’t know she possessed, Genevieve lunged forward and slammed her foot directly into the housekeeper’s knee. She darted sideways toward the door, but Mrs. MacDougal reached out grabbed a fistful of her skirts, yanking her backward. Genevieve let the full force of her body knock into the housekeeper, sending them both hurling to the stone floor. Genevieve managed to roll away but Mrs. MacDougal recovered quickly and charged her again, apparently furious at her unwillingness to go meekly.

Genevieve turned and dashed for the secret passageway. She’d taken a step or two inside when Mrs. MacDougal crashed into her from behind wielding the dirk. Genevieve wrenched her body to the side at the last moment and the blade slid into her upper right arm. White hot, searing pain enveloped her and she screamed, pushing at the housekeeper with all her strength.

With a cry of triumph, Mrs. MacDougal yanked the dirk out, aiming it once again at her neck. Genevieve threw herself to the side of the narrow passageway, crashing her body hard against the crumbling wall. The dirk missed her head by a hair’s breath, and sent a shower of small stones sliding to the floor. A bright glint from something lodged in the wall caught her attention, but she had no time to examine it further. Mrs. MacDougal lunged, grabbing her injured arm and twisting it hard behind her back. Genevieve sobbed as an agonizing pain shot through her. Blood, hot and thick, ran down her arm and back, her gown was soaked and sticky. Still, she struggled until she felt the cool metal of the dirk against her throat.

“Stop.” The housekeeper pressed harder. “Fight me no more, lass. Let me help ye end this as peacefully as possible.”

Genevieve’s legs trembled, her vision blurring with tears. The housekeeper half-carried, half-dragged her across the floor, the dirk pricking her skin and causing a trickle of warm blood to slide down her neck.

Mrs. MacDougal led Genevieve to the open window. “Fare thee well, lass.”

Tears streamed down Genevieve’s cheeks and she hadn’t even realized she was crying. She didn’t want to die like this…like Janet. Without ever having the chance to see Connor again.

Suddenly the tower door crashed open. Mrs. MacDougal screamed in rage and Genevieve glanced over her shoulder, seeing Connor dart toward her, his face stricken with fear.

Mrs. MacDougal gave her a push. Genevieve screamed and stretched out a hand to him just as she started to fall out the window.

“Connor!”