His Lass Wears Tartan (20 page)

Beads of sweat appeared on Lady Nell’s upper lip, her face tense, squeezing her eyes tight. “The delivery van turns off the road, speeds up over the rough ground, a flat area or field with one tree... a body falls out and rolls in the mud ...” She stopped, her body shaking. Opening her eyes, she stared at Rogue. “Just before the van went over the cliff.”

“No,” Rogue whispered. “No, not the cliffs. Please, not the cliffs.”

“The body must have been Jonathan jumping from the driver’s side as he appeared at the castle for breakfast.” Baillie’s voice was soft, without emotion.

Rogue turned her head as Bruce shouted, “I canna be dead, I tell ya. This is all a horrible nightmare.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Lady Nell lowered her head, damp strands of auburn hair covering her face.

Rogue stared at Lady Nell, blinking.
Make it not so, woman.
She had to be wrong. He couldn’t be dead, not now, not after ... what? She’d lost her heart to a man who no longer existed? Finally admitted to herself that she loved him, and it was too late? She didn’t even have the strange, wonderful connection Aunt Baillie and Uncle Kai shared. She couldn’t hear Bruce unless Lady Nell created a circle of hands, let alone see him unless some freaking crystals were on the table.

She wanted to strangle Jonathan, lock him inside a stall with Dougal and let the horse finish him. Her blood pressure spiked with the inability to release her wrath. Her arms trembled, anxious to strike out, break something, hurt someone.

Trying to inhale, Rogue felt the jealousy against her aunt rage through her in a surprising wave. This wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t Bruce be a ghost who could haunt her all the rest of her days? At least give her something to hold on to.

Rogue studied the group solemnly mulling over the dark news. Gillian stood and opened the curtains.

Lady Nell downed a large glass of water Putney brought in for her. “You are a blessing, sweet soul.” Snapping a decorative fan she took out of the carpetbag, she flicked it rapidly, cooling her flushed face. The neckline of her dress was dark with sweat.

“We need to contact the authorities, Baillie. Your madman Jonathan killed Bruce and very likely the others and is trying to blame Bruce for the murders.” Gillian stood tall next to Lady Nell’s chair.

Pacing in the corner, Baillie stopped and looked at the flustered medium. “How do I prove that?” Baillie threw her hands in the air. “We have nothing to give the inspectors, no details pointing to Jonathan.”

“Then we’ll get proof. First, I think it is time for a field trip to the cliffs. Do we have the means to move us all to the area?” Gillian asked.

“We have horses.” Rogue’s head came up. The girls bounced on their toes.

Gillian blinked.

A chuckle from Putney. “Aye, I’m sure I can get my Robbie to drive his truck for you, Gillian.”

He bowed in her direction. “I would be most grateful, my dear. The rest of you can saddle up.”

The group quickly changed clothes and, with full cooperation from the weather, gathered in front of the stables. Robbie brought a couple high-powered binoculars and set them in his truck cab.

Rogue walked behind her aunt, bundled up in a short-waisted denim jacket and boots for their trek to the cliffs. Suddenly the older woman stopped like she’d hit an invisible wall.

“I’ve seen dead bodies before, Kai, and I don’t think she’ll stay behind with Putney and Lady Nell.”

“Sure, and I hope Uncle’s not thinking of leaving me here at the castle?” Rogue straightened her shoulders, her eyes flashing. “I’ll be the first one there, I tell ya.”

Stomping into the stables to ready the horses, Rogue fumed at the audacity of her uncle thinking to leave her behind. “Men, I tell ya.” Her aunt moved up beside her. “Uncle’s got his own foible where I’m concerned. He doesna need to treat me like a wee lassie.”

“He loves you, and with that comes a strong layer of wanting to protect.” Baillie grabbed a saddle. “Let your uncle and I take Dougal. He’ll not be satisfied on anything smaller.”

“First the man wants to leave me behind, and now I’m to give him my horse?” Rogue raged like her head would explode. She and Baillie stared in silence for a moment. Rogue took a deep breath. “I’ll take the cream, I guess. The mare canna be away from her foal. I’ll put the girls on the two bays.”

Putney stood back from the crowd near Robbie’s truck. “I’ll have tea ready for when you return.”

Dougal pawed the dirt with impatience; Baillie circled her arms around the emptiness in front of her, a clump of black mane appeared bunched at the bottom of the horse’s neck.

Gillian climbed into Robbie’s truck. “Let’s get started. I know this is a depressing journey, but we need answers.”

Diva barked around the horses. She dashed down the dirt road a few yards before running back, letting out more sharp barks.

“What is it, Lassie? Did Timmy fall down the well?” T-Cup giggled before slapping a hand over her mouth.

Baillie slapped her hand to her forehead as both Rogue and Putney asked, “Who’s Timmy?”

“I get a little silly without alcohol during stress,” T-Cup said. “It’s an American joke. Sorry.”

Baillie shook her head before Dougal suddenly sprang into motion.

“I guess it’s time. We’re off,” Rogue yelled.

The horses left at a brisk walk before loping into a canter, chasing the black blur in front of them. Robbie eased the truck into gear, following behind.

Rogue leaned low in the saddle and urged her mare for more speed. Thoughts of Bruce flashed through her mind. The intensity of his stares, the cloak of warmth when he smiled. So quickly, he’d stolen her heart and wrapped her soul in his care. His responsible dedication as a hard-working business owner combined with a gorgeous face and muscular body had won Putney over from his first day. Why had she waited, avoided meeting him for so long?

And now he was gone. She brushed away her tears. What cruelty brought such an incredible man in her life just to snatch him away? She dug her heels into the horse.

Catching up with Dougal, Rogue glanced over to her aunt, her arms wrapped around thin air, before urging the mare into a full-out run. Part of her rational brain knew rushing to the cliffs wouldn’t make a difference, but her heart urged her on. The pounding hooves on the damp dirt road matched the rhythm in her chest.

Minutes later, the group reached the flat moor above the cliffs.

Gillian stepped from the truck as Dougal snorted close to the edge, his saddle empty, his hooves tapping in a nervous staccato. “Rogue, you might want to move that monstrous stallion away from the cliffs. He’s hogging the viewpoint, and we don’t need any more accidents.”

Rogue grabbed a handful of black wavy mane, burying her face in the equine’s damp neck, whispering, moving off. Inhaling the salty sea air, she watched her aunt move closer to Gillian.

Rogue lifted her tear-streaked face, nudging Dougal closer to her mare, and watched the group congregate at the cliff, their arms stretched out, fingers pointing. At low tide, more of the ragged rocks below would be visible, and it wouldn’t take an inspector to spot a destroyed truck.

• • •

Rogue stood on the sunlit moor, numb to the roar of waves crashing below, numb to her feelings. She tried to remember to breathe. Slow inhale to the count of four and exhale to the count of four. When the truck was found, confirming Bruce must be dead, bile rose in her throat, the sudden acidic taste in her mouth choking her. Diva whimpered next to her, bumping her with her head. Without thinking, Rogue scratched the dog behind her ears. Diva lifted her front paws a few inches off the ground and rammed into Rogue’s backside, causing her to stumble forward.

“Diva, stop, ya sassy cur.” She wiped her wet face with the sleeve of her denim jacket.

In that split second, Diva jumped up and grabbed Dougal’s harness, taking off across the grass with the black stallion trotting away.

“What the—?” she cursed, noting the pair headed toward the only tree in the field. Underneath the broad branches lay the castle’s herd of Highland cattle, with the long-horned Ferdinand lying in the front.

“Uh,” Rogue said. “Diva?”

Diva and Dougal stopped in front of the nestled cows. Diva looked back at Rogue, whipping her tail against the horse’s leg, and dropped the lead.

“Auntie?” she croaked, but it wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the roar of waves below. The hair on the back of her neck stood up; she sensed a presence near her. “Uncle Kai? Bruce?” she whispered. Not a blade of grass moved and she saw nothing, but she had the strange feeling of someone near.

Gillian strode across the field with T-Cup and Rafael on either side, looking determined if not windblown. The trio looked like they were coming toward her in slow motion, the wind flaying their long hair behind them in dramatic fashion. The wind rustled the yards of their floor-length jackets. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, and a weak smile broke out. Her personal security clique, the three Musketeers—such a gorgeous lot.

“What are Ferdinand and his harem doing out here?” Aunt Baillie asked at Rogue’s side.

She screamed then clutched her chest. “Auntie, ya nearly gave me a heart attack. I didn’t see you come up. But that’s what’s strange, isn’t it? They’re out of their pasture.” She put her hand over her aunt’s. “Do ya see Diva? First she shoved me like some billy goat, then she grabbed Dougal from me and dragged him over there.”

Rafael flapped her painted nails. “Someone needs to go over and check it out. Diva looks like she won some sort of prize, like ‘Ta-da, I found the cows.’”

“Kai said he’d go,” Baillie said.

“Of course he did.” Gillian sniffed. “The kilted god to the rescue. Lord knows, I’m not donning a bullfighter’s cape to face those fluffy things. Especially that big one with long body-piercing horns that you adore.”

“My Ferdinand wouldn’t hurt any—” Rogue started before the girls jumped, squealing in a high pitch, as Ferdinand let out a deep sound.

“Godzilla’s coming,” T screamed.

The herd trembled in a group as they began to stand. Some shook, making waves with their caramel-colored hair. Ferdinand lowered his head.

“He’s not getting ready to charge or anything. Kai’s scratching his head,” Baillie explained.

Rogue leaned forward, watching the cattle, hesitant as to what she might see.
Why is Diva acting like her favorite bone is buried there?
The bull moved closer to Dougal, and Rogue spotted a dark-colored lump in the grass.

T-Cup slapped Gillian on the arm a half dozen times, saying, “Look, look, what’s that? Over there?” Her voice hit a high note on the last word.

“It’s Bruce,” Rogue whispered. Her vision blurred just before darkness enclosed her.

• • •

“I’m feeling like the Scarecrow in the poppy fields from
The Wizard of Oz
. People are dropping,” Baillie said, grabbing Gillian’s arm.

The girls flapped about, stressed and whining.

Gillian snapped his fingers. “The girls will check on the limp Rogue—I dare say she’s just fainted. So while we’re dealing with her, Baillie, check over there with the cattle and the possible Mr. Bruce with your ghost lord.”

“And you?”

“I will stand and manage the population,” Gillian replied.

Robbie limped over from the cliffs. “What’s all the fuss over here? Who let the cattle out? Like I have nothing better to do than herding cows?”

Gillian sniffed. “Seems they’ve been sheltering Bruce’s body. The wee one here fainted.”

“Bruce?” The old man looked back at the cliffs. “But ...”

“I don’t know what to tell you. Lady Nell did say she saw someone fall from the truck, and we logically assumed she meant Jonathan. Who knew?”

“Not for me to judge.” Robbie shook his head. “Good to know we brought my truck.” He played with his suspenders, his face stoic.

“Do you have any blankets or tarps, Robbie?” Gillian asked. “We’ll need something to carry the body.”

“Aye, I do.”

“Then let’s walk over and get them. We need to get Bruce’s body back to the castle, as well as our Rogue. At least it’s not raining.”

Robbie opened a metal box in the bed of the truck and pulled out two tarps.

“Good man, you take one to the girls, and I’ll go to Baillie. Lord Kai can carry the boy back here.”

The girls had Rogue awake and sitting up. Her elbows rested on her knees as tears trickled down her face.

Gillian lifted his feet in tiny steps through the mud around the cows. He whipped the folded tarp in their faces as he walked. “I should have had Robbie do this part.” He sighed. “Diva, can you move these creatures out of the way?”

The dog barked and knelt her front half down, wagging her tail and panting.

“No, I’m not playing with you right now, darling. Shoo, herd these things.”

Robbie stepped up beside him and chuckled. “Who you talking to? Hep, hep, c’mon,” and he slapped the nearest cow on the rump. He waved his arms and got Ferdinand turned around and moving. “Seems you owe the cattle some respect. Not sure who set them loose, but they did well for us.”

Gillian nodded his head. “You are correct. They have protected and sheltered the boy.”

Baillie came up to Gillian and squeezed his arm. “Let’s spread this out. Kai will carry the body to the truck.”

• • •

The parade back to the castle moved sluggishly. Bruce crouched where Rogue sat in the bed of the truck, sobbing over the still body.
It’s not fair that she canna see me ghost kneeling beside her, nor feel my arms around her. I’m here, my Rogue. I havena left you.

From the back of the truck, he saw Putney standing in front of the stable, tears falling into the apron she clutched to her face as the line of horses, despondency surrounding them, moved closer. He stayed with Rogue as Putney hustled her way back over the moat.

By the time Kai lifted the body into the kitchen, Putney must have had contacted Lady Nell and covered the oak table with an oilcloth. “Set him right here, Lord Kai,” she ordered. “I need to take care of him.”

A pail of hot water and cloths sat on one of the chairs. Putney soaked one of them in the water and wrung it with determination. She carefully began washing the grime and dried blood from Bruce’s pale face. His bottom lip showed a deep gash, and parts of his face were mottled with more blue than others.