Lana and the Laird (41 page)

*   *   *

A pounding on his door woke Lachlan, though he was in no hurry to answer. He stretched and smiled and reflected on the fact that this was his wedding day.

Odd that.

He'd never thought he'd see the day when he would take a bride. Never thought he'd feel such an unaccountable lightness of spirit at the prospect.

But he allowed it. Not only had Lana finally agreed to be his, he had recovered two pieces of the MacAlpin Cross and had them secured in his chest. Two pieces, and only one left to find. Only one. Surely that was not so impossible. Hope was a frail thing to a man like him, but he held on to it fiercely.

Suddenly, astoundingly, the world seemed to be a warm and welcoming place where anything was possible.

And it was all because of
her
.

She was a miracle, his Lana.
His
miracle.

The hammering increased. “
Lachlan!
”

Urged by the alarm in Alexander's tone, Lachlan rose from the bed, tugged on a robe, and padded to the door. He was surprised to find a crowd on his threshold. Alexander, Hannah, Andrew, Susana, Magnus, and Hamish … even Isobel was there. They were all frowning.

“Tell me Lana is in your bed,” Hannah commanded.

Lachlan glanced over his shoulder, though he was fairly certain she was not. She had been, though. Not so long ago. “Of course not.” He feigned offense, although he wasn't terribly convincing, even to himself.

“Oh, lord.”

He didn't understand Hannah's wail.

“What's wrong?”

“Lana is no' in her room. I went to wake her … and her bed hasna been slept in.”

Lachlan's gut rippled. She'd left long before dawn. Surely she would have slept. Mussed her bed at the very least.

“We've searched for her throughout the castle, and couldna find hide nor hair of her,” Susana said through clenched teeth.

Andrew turned to Hamish. “If she's not here, we must rally the men and extend the search to the woods.”

The woods?
Good God.
His blood went cold as the possibilities flittered through his mind. Each more horrifying than the last. Bloody hell. He should have walked her to her room.

Fuck.
He should have
kept her
here.

“Let me get dressed. Shall I meet you downstairs?”

Worry plagued Lachlan as he pulled on his breeks and a simple shirt and hurried down to the morning room where the others had assembled. Alexander and Andrew had maps spread on the table and were quartering them out. Hamish was talking to his men, all trained trackers. Magnus sat in the corner, sipping a whisky, though his hand shook with such force it sloshed from the glass.

The bustle made him feel useless, worthless. He didn't like the feeling.

Dounreay's factor appeared in the doorway with a small ragamuffin in tow. “Your Grace. This boy says he has a message for you.” The announcement sent a cold chill through the room. Silence fell.

An icy fist gripped Lachlan's heart as he stared at the child; in his dirty fingers, he clutched a letter.

Lachlan took it from him and stared at the flourish on the envelope.
To the Doomed Duke
, it said. It was Dougal's handwriting. His gut churned as he slit the missive open with a finger. Somehow he knew what it would say.

Return to Caithness Castle at once if you ever want to see Lana Dounreay again. And come alone.

It wasn't signed, but then, it didn't need to be.

Dread curled through him. Clearly, his cousin was deranged. Insane. And he had Lana. He slumped into a chair and raked his hair.

Andrew took the letter from his slack fingers and scanned it. Then he handed it to Alexander. Dunnet bristled. “Who gave this to you?” he barked at the boy. Hannah set a hand on his arm and he cleared his throat and asked again, in a gentler tone.

The boy shook. His lips were pale. His response was little more than a whisper, but Lachlan heard. They all heard. “A man. On the pier. He gave me three pence if I delivered this letter to the castle in the morning.”

“On the pier.” Andrew frowned. “Then he is taking her by sea?”

Of course. Lachlan dragged his fingers through his hair. “It is the fastest way.” The journey would take a day or two, that which would take weeks by carriage.

Hannah exchanged a glance with Susana. “She hates the sea.”

Did she? He hadn't known that. There were so many things he didn't know. He'd had so little time with her. And now, he had to wonder … had he run out? So soon?

“By sea. Of course. Then that's how we shall follow,” Alexander said, a resolute expression on his face.

Lachlan's head snapped up. He stared at his friend. “I canna ask you to come.”

Alexander's jaw firmed. “You
need not
ask us to come.”

He scraped to his feet. “'Tis too dangerous. I fear Dougal is mad. There is no telling what he might do.”

“All the more reason for you to have support. Aside from which, until she is wed to you, Lana is my responsibility.”

Andrew nodded. “Of course we're coming.”

“Absolutely.” Hannah leaped to her feet as well. “She's our
sister
.”

Alexander gaped at his wife. “Oh,
you're
no' coming.”

“Of course we are.” Susana earned a frown from Andrew as well.

“Nae. You're no'.”

“I canna have my husband-to-be wandering into dangerous territory without me to protect him!” Susana fingered her bow.

Andrew went pink to the tips of his ears. “I can take care of myself.”

She gestured at his chest, still heavily bandaged. “You were shot less than two weeks ago.”

“I can still defend myself. And Susana, darling, I couldn't bear for you to be in danger. We doona know what we will face.”

“Then we shall face it together.” Susana tipped her chin at a stubborn angle. “I am not staying here to
worry
.”

“Aye,” a small voice piped up. “I'm going, too.”

Susana whirled around to gape at her daughter. She paled. “You most certainly are no' going!”

Isobel put out a lip. “If you are all going, then I'm going, too.”

Magnus sighed. “I suppose I should go as well.” When everyone whipped around to stare at him, he shrugged. “She is my daughter.”

*   *   *

In the end, it was decided that the entire company would go, but Lachlan insisted that when they arrived on the east coast, only he, Alexander, and Andrew would approach the castle. The others would stay at the inn in Ackergill. He couldn't stomach the prospect of any of them being harmed because of his curse.

And it was clear to him now. He was cursed.

Only his curse was named Dougal.

The castle was as dismal as he remembered, if not more so. As they approached it from the town of Ackergill, Lachlan had the benefit of experiencing it from another's point of view. Perched on the top of the rise, on the cliff overlooking the ocean, the main hall, the most habitable portion, was flanked on either side by ruin. It wasn't pleasing.

Andrew whistled. “That's a lot of castle to search.”

Lachlan nodded, though he doubted any search would yield results. Dougal knew every nook and cranny of the fortress and would likely be holding Lana in a remote spot. He could only pray she was safe, that his cousin hadn't hurt her.

If he had, Lachlan would kill him.

He eyed the castle with a dark frown. He'd never hated it more than he hated it now. But it wasn't the crumble of stones he hated, he realized in a sudden, snarling revelation. It was Dougal.

“Our best bet is to draw him out. Let him know we are here and see what he does, but be on your guard.”

“Excellent idea,” Andrew muttered.

As they rode into the deserted bailey and stabled their horses, all was silent. But then, Lachlan didn't expect Dougal to tip his hand until he was ready.

Though he was anxious to find Lana, to make sure she was safe, there was nothing they could do but settle in, eat the dinner they'd brought with them, and wait.

It was a long night.

Lachlan had no intention of sleeping, but he urged Andrew and Alexander—who had set up pallets in the antechamber of his suite—to get some rest. He tucked his knife into his boot and spent the night pacing … and fretting. With each hour, his anxiety rose.

Where was she? Was she safe? Was she frightened? How had she fared on the voyage here? The fact that she was frightened of water and had been forced onto a ship horrified him. Beyond that, had Dougal been rough with her? Had he hurt her? Had he—

“I told you to come alone.”

Lachlan's heart lurched. He whirled to see Dougal standing in the corner, holding a pistol. It stunned him for a moment, to see his cousin appear, as though from thin air, but then Lachlan saw the flutter of the tapestry behind him, and he realized his rooms here, as those in Dounreay, had a valet's door. He should have suspected as much. He didn't know why it had never occurred to him. This was an old castle. There were probably a lot of secret passages. He should have asked Archie Dunphy about that before he sent him to Newgate.

Lachlan ignored the pistol, and the smirk, and growled, “Where is she?”

Dougal's lips curled. “Your
lover
? She's fine. But I did warn you, Lachlan. I did warn you it wasna a good idea to tangle with her.”

“If you've hurt her, I swear—”

“I already told you. She's safe. Now, come along. Lana is waiting for you and there isna much time.”

Panic flickered. “What do you mean?”

Dougal responded with a malicious smile. He lifted the tapestry, exposing a shadowy tunnel lit by a flickering lamp. “Because the tide is rising.”

What the fuck did that mean?
He had no clue, but it was enough to incite him to comply with his cousin's unspoken command, and lead the way into the tunnel.

As he made his way along the dark corridor, Dougal followed. Going was difficult, because the floor was littered with rubble and, as Dougal was holding the lamp behind him, it was hard to see. He stumbled several times.

“Turn left here.” They made their way down a narrow staircase and then another, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle. If they woke to find him gone, Andrew and Alexander would never be able to find him here.

He knew, if he wasn't lucky tonight, his cousin would have his way and see him dead. But, by God, he would do whatever he could to save himself and, more important, save Lana. Beyond that, he needed answers to his questions. So as they followed the path he asked, “Why are you doing this, Dougal?” Damn him to hell, he deserved to know.

Dougal's laugh was harsh. “Do you no' know? But nae. You always were a trusting soul.” The way his cousin spat the words, the vitriol infused in them, surprised him. It shouldn't have, given what he now knew, but it did. “Do you think I enjoyed serving you all these years? Nae. I dinna. I hated it. Every moment.”

“Then why didn't you leave? You dinna have to stay with me.”

“Aye. I did.”

“Why?”

“Because even as you had your quest, I had mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“The treasure, of course.”

“The Rosslyn Treasure? Surely that was only a legend.”

“Aye. The same way the MacAlpin Cross was only a legend?”

“But there has never been a hint of the lost gold.”

“Nae. There wasna. Until yer father found a map.”

Lachlan skidded to a halt; Dougal pushed him forward. “A map?”

“Aye. He was fool enough to show it to my father. My father dinna like being a
servant
, either.”

A sudden, chilling realization swamped him. “My father didn't kill himself.” It wasn't a question. Lachlan already knew the truth of it.

“Nae. He did no'.”

“Nor my mother.” Also, not a question.

Dougal jabbed him with the pistol again, urging him forward. The steps were slick now, the air tinged with dampness. Lachlan could smell the brine of the sea. They entered a stony chamber where the light of the lamp danced over a rack, an iron maiden, and several tarnished pokers on a rickety table. To the right, there were several dingy cells. He scanned them quickly, searching for Lana, but didn't see her there. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not.

“Did your father kill my mother, too?” he asked, but only to keep Dougal distracted while he searched the shadows of the chamber.

“She deserved it. She was a whore.”

Fury riffled him, but he swallowed it down. He needed to maintain his calm if he was to save Lana.

“You might be interested to know, this is where they met their end.”

“In this room?”

“Nae. Here.” Dougal held the lamp lower, revealing a pit dug into the dungeon floor. “It was the castle well, long ago, before the seawater began seeping in. And then it became useful for another purpose.”

Lachlan's blood chilled. “What is that?”

“An oubliette. Do you know what that is?”

He did. And the thought appalled him.

“French for ‘forgotten,' I think. My French is rusty. But it is a useful place to put people who need to disappear. And you, my dear cousin, just like all the poor doomed dukes before you, need to disappear.”

“Why?” How could his death possibly benefit Dougal?

“For one thing, the Marquess of Stafford pays very well.”

Ah. Of course. “Stafford is paying you to murder me?”

A shrug. “He wanted you dead ages ago, but I was in no hurry. I convinced him I could use my hold over you to assure he got something else he wanted.”

How it rankled that Dougal felt he had a
hold over him
. That he had. “Which was?”

“Your decision to clear the land. With all the northern lairds in accord, with all parishes cleared, any rebellion would be easily stifled.”