No Other Woman (No Other Series) (22 page)

Chapter 12

Shawna quickly leapt from the rock and found her horse, mounting just as the others came around the outskirts of the trees.

"Shawna!" Gawain said with a frown. "What are y'doing here alone, lass?" he demanded. She was somewhat startled to realize that Gawain didn't seem happy that she wasn't safely within the walls of the castle.

"Dusk is such a beautiful time in the Highlands. I stopped to watch the sun fall. But I shall rejoin you all now if you don't mind."

"You must do so," Hawk told her.

Shawna urged her horse along with their party. Sabrina, she noted, was riding ahead just a bit. Concerned, Shawna trotted her mount until she had caught up with her. "Sabrina?"

The young woman turned to her, startled. Still ashen.

"I..." Shawna began awkwardly. "I just want you to know that it's all right, really." She realized she was blushing herself. "I mean, Edwina does tend to be right about such things, and if you are expecting a child, I don't intend to say anything to anyone. I understand—"

Sabrina slowed her horse and swung on Shawna. "No, you don't understand, you can't possibly understand, how could you even begin to say that you understand this, Lady MacGinnis?"

Consequences...
Shawna thought. She couldn't begin to explain.

But she tried to keep her peace and her temper. "Fine. I don't understand. But I won't say anything to anyone since it's apparent this is one matter you've not chosen to share as yet with your sister."

"I haven't yet shared it honestly with myself," Sabrina murmured, her beautiful cobalt eyes closing for a moment as she pressed her temples between her thumb and forefinger. "Everything happened so quickly. My stepfather's death, the trip out West, the journey here..." She opened her eyes, glancing sharply at Shawna. "I'm sorry. But truly, you don't understand."

"Does the father know?"

"Good heavens, no!" Sabrina said in horror.

"Then perhaps—"

"This is nearly impossible!" Sabrina said, more to herself than to Shawna. "How in God's name could that woman
know?"
She stared at Shawna then. "And she—she knew about David."

"Yes. And Fergus heard her. The entire village will be running around, whispering about David's rising from the dead."

"Well... he did rather do that, didn't he?"

"Yes, but he's really alive."

"Perhaps he should just be alive then," Sabrina said.

"I've suggested that," Shawna murmured. "But he's determined—"

"That someone in your family tried to kill him, and he doesn't intend to be killed again?" Sabrina asked.

Shawna flashed her an angry glare, only to realize that Sabrina was sitting her horse easily and watching her sympathetically. "He's wrong," Shawna said, alarmed to realize that her voice held a note of uncertainty.

"Then you have to prove him wrong," Sabrina said. "Shawna, if you'd already been left for dead once, you'd be very careful in the same circumstances a second time."

Shawna shook her head. "You can't have the same circumstances a second time. And you've managed to talk about me instead of yourself."

"Have I? Well, there's not much to say about me at the moment."

"The father really has a right to know—"

"Indeed, he does not!" Sabrina hissed with an anguished vehemence that silenced Shawna for a moment.

"If I can help in any way—"

"You can't. I shall manage. I'm telling you, you can't begin to understand—"

"I'm telling you, I can."

Sabrina shook her head. "You don't know—him. Or the circumstances. It was entirely accidental. I can't—I just can't believe this!" she whispered.

"But—is the father a terrible person? A madman? A monster of some sort—"

"No, no, nothing like that."

"Well, is he a handsome man? A young one, an old one?"

Sabrina looked at her irritably. "Oh, he is quite striking," she murmured, then her words suddenly came forward in a rush. "When he walks into a room, every woman there is instantly aware of his presence. He is tall, lean as a whipcord. He can be quite incredibly charming, but he can be completely merciless. He is unique in all that he is, and we met under the most ridiculous circumstances. Oh, it's all so ironic!"

"But you don't despise him?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. He is so self-assured, so set in his ways, and so caught up in his own conflict! I don't—I don't think that we can solve my dilemma at all right now. Thank God I'm here, and I've got time to think. And—please, I don't want to talk about it anymore!"

Shawna decided that she had best let the matter drop. She was being far too personal.

Yet, so was Sabrina Connor, for—glancing back to assure herself that the others still rode far behind them—she again turned the conversation to Shawna's past sins.

"You've raked me over the coals. Now it's my turn. What exactly happened the night when David was supposedly killed? If you could recall everything in minute detail, perhaps—•"

"I have recalled everything in minute detail thousands of times. And I still have no answers."

"Tell me what happened. Maybe I can help. Looking in from the outside, you know."

Shawna felt her cheeks coloring. "Alistair had been guilty of shifting some money. I was quite sure of myself, certain that I could keep David talking long enough for my uncles and cousins to remove any incriminating evidence that might be found in either his office or the castle's master's chambers."

"So what went so wrong?"

"I don't know."

"See, you're not giving me details. You kept David in the stables?"

"Oh, aye. But then... I don't know. I had closed my eyes. Everything seemed surrounded by darkness. I had—■" She paused, shrugging unhappily. "The wine we were drinking was drugged. Mine wasn't supposed to have been drugged, but David suspected I was up to something, and switched the glasses. I was with David, then suddenly, I was not. I remember darkness and shadows—then the fire. And waking up. Next to..."

"A charred corpse," Sabrina finished.

"God, it was awful," Shawna remembered.

"But it's quite incredible. Someone substituted a dead man for David in the stables. Well planned, don't you think?"

"Evidently. But Alistair did no such thing, of that I'm certain. I think that David's death hurt him incredibly. He felt terribly guilty for what he had done to begin with, then he was ashamed of the way we planned to undo it—and then when David was discovered dead... or we thought he was discover dead..." She broke off, glancing at Sabrina again. "That's what Laird David doesn't understand," she said angrily. "He has simply condemned MacGinnises and has no idea what
we
went through, assuming he was dead!"

"Shawna, you have to see that someone here did want to kill him."

"Then why is he alive?"

"That is the baffling part," Sabrina admitted.

"Do you have an answer?" Shawna demanded.

Sabrina thought a minute. "I've a hunch."

"Oh?"

"I think that several people must be involved—"

"My entire family?" Shawna queried, a rush of anger rising within her.

Sabrina shook her head. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that a lot of things happened for just one person to be involved. The others are coming closer," she warned, lowering her voice, then keeping it quiet but fierce. "You mustn't say a word to my sister or brother-on-law, do you understand? I beg of you, you must keep quiet about—me."

"Sabrina—"

"You must promise me."

"It's not my place to say anything," Shawna told her.

Sabrina exhaled, then turned back to address Hawk and Gawain, nearing them as they rode.

"What a beautiful night."

"Not so lovely as the Night of the Moon Maiden will be!" Gawain assured her.

"It's a guarantee, a promise," Alistair averred, riding abreast of them then. "We've never had rain, or fierce cold, or a touch of snow or frost, on the Night of the Moon Maiden."

"Coming within the week," Hawk added.

Shawna felt his eyes on her, and a sense of unease swept through her.

"Three nights from this very evening," she agreed softly.

* * *

That night, her tower chamber was empty when she arrived there.

Mary Jane had left her a warm bath, which could easily be made hotter by heating a few kettles of water at her own hearth. She stoked the fire burning there, heated her water, bathed, all the while, waiting.

Expecting him...

But he didn't come.

When she slept, it seemed inevitable that she would dream.

Tonight, she ran across the valley from Castle MacGinnis to Castle Rock, cresting that hill, well aware that someone was after her. She passed by Castle Rock, hearing a rustling, feeling the earth move with the heaviness of the footfalls upon it. Far, far before her, she could see the moonlight shimmering down upon the loch. She needed to reach the water's edge. A selkie would rise from the depths, its fur shed, its form that of a man. The selkie, though half-beast, perhaps demon, would save her....

But the Druid Stones lay between her and the water. The main stone, the altar stone. She didn't know that she ran to it, but she was suddenly there, and she stumbled down because her would-be assailant was so close.

So close she could feel breath upon her neck...

So close she could feel warmth...

Fingers, reaching out to draw her back, curve around her throat, steal the life from her.

She fell upon the altar, but rolled, determined to rise upon the other side. Yet, as she turned, a vision of pure horror greeted her. She lay beside a corpse. Burned, charred, the face contorted, blackened mouth opened in a final, horrid scream of agony and death.

She jerked herself awake, shaking, gasping, praying that she hadn't screamed aloud. Then a second cry nearly tore from her lips as she felt strong arms come around her.

"What is it?" came David's deep whisper from the shadows, and she felt his weight as he sat by her side.

He had been with her, she realized. Sitting sentinel before the fire, as often was his way.

Taking her by surprise.

Coming in silence while she slept, like a wraith.

A selkie, risen from the water, slipping in upon her when he chose, disappearing again when he so chose as well. Determined, and taking complete advantage.

"Shawna?" he prompted.

She shook her head blindly. "It's nothing. Dreams, nightmares."

"Of dead men?" he queried.

She pulled away to try to study his face in the dim light of the fire. His eyes looked sharp, his mouth grim, yet he didn't seem to taunt or condemn her.

"Dead and buried," she told him.

"And burned?"

She shivered fiercely. How uncanny. It was almost as if he had been where she had been, heard what she had heard. "Edwina McCloud spoke to me tonight."

"She did?"

"She spoke of a different body lying in your grave."

"A perceptive woman."

"How can she be so perceptive?"

"How has she ever been so perceptive?" David queried. "Yet perhaps..."

"Perhaps what? Perhaps it is time to announce that you live, that you were never buried."

"That's not quite what I had in mind."

"Then...?"

"Well, I think I would like to try to ascertain if the man who lies in my grave is the convict whose life I led in his place."

"Convict?"

"A long story. And it does not matter tonight."

"It matters to me."

"Well, I'm not in a mood to share it at this time."

"I want to know—"

"Shawna, you tell me," he said gravely, "what happened to you on the night of the fire?"

"I was dragged from the stables. I don't know by whom. I only know that I awakened outside—next to your body."

"It would seem, then, that there were two powers at work that night," he mused. "I was supposed to die in the flames, and it was made apparent that I did. But somehow, my body was exchanged for that of another man."

"Perhaps some member of my kin attempted to save you," she suggested.

"I'll allow that. But you needn't say it with such superiority!"

"Really, my dear Laird Douglas. Well, what can you expect? It's incredibly distressing that you are just suddenly here—that you never so much as knock upon the door—or even the bedpost!"

"Ghosts cannot be expected to knock."

"Then perhaps ghosts should not expect to experience other earthly sensations."

"How rude, m'lady. Especially considering the fact that I sat in a chair, awake, and keeping watch throughout the long hours of many a night, ever attentive to your safety."

"Aye, for indeed," she taunted wryly, "if I'm to be throttled, you would choose to be the throttler."

"That I would."

"Then if you would keep watch," she told him evenly, "keep watch." She did her very best to keep her eyes completely level with his. Yet she felt herself shivering again, and her lashes fell to cover her eyes. Why was she so uneasy tonight?

"You are afraid," he told her, "but you needn't be. Because I do keep watch. And because you're quite right. If you're to be throttled, I shall be the throttler."