The Legend of Lady MacLaoch (22 page)

Deloris and I both leaned forward.

“I think,” he repeated, “that Lady MacLaoch has begun a final work. Specifically, she means to have you fulfill what she was denied a millennium ago. I think the final piece, the key, is for you and Rowan to somehow unite. You and Rowan are to marry—that is what the ring is symbolizing.”

CHAPTER 31

T
hank ye, Josh,” Rowan said to his gillie, who had prepped the estate’s old military-issue Mercedes G-Wagon, along with support vans, for the long, rough trek to the hunting grounds. “And the cabin, if we need it?”

“’Tis all prepped—spare rifles, munitions, food, and first-aid kit, should ye need it. Though if it turns out that you’ll need a night up there, only one room on the lower level is made up—the upper rooms havenae been aired out—extra bedding in the storage room. Just like last time.”

Rowan nodded and dismissed Josh, and then, to keep his mind busy, rechecked the vans and his vehicle’s supplies. The weather was going to hold for the hunt; the roads wouldn’t be too muddy, but he had the winch on the front just in case.

Rowan opened the rear door of the old military vehicle and pulled out his rifle case. He’d cleaned and checked the gun earlier in the week, but felt his hands perform, automatically, the check once more. He flipped the bolt handle and peered into the open chamber, then relatched and sighted the scope, making minor adjustments that he’d most likely undo later. Rowan’s mind wandered to her again, the soft feel of her under him just last night, the pull she had on his gut, as though he were caught in her dragnet, her ridiculous beauty—he told himself he was a going to regret her for the rest of his life. He was a fool to have touched her. The zinging of his scar reminded him all too viscerally: Lady MacLaoch would punish him for Cole—it was his fate. By blood, she was the last, it seemed, descendant of Lady MacLaoch’s betrothed, and that meant so many things. But of one thing he was certain—should Lady MacLaoch seek her final vengeance upon him, if Vick’s blood hadn’t been enough, to take Cole before his eyes would no doubt settle the score. The two of them reliving the last moments of that original couple was a dark thought that had settled in, and now he couldn’t shake it.

“No,” he said aloud to pull himself from the shadowy recesses of his mind. He would overcome this, he thought. “Rationalize it,” he mumbled to himself as he looked down the barrel through the scope and into the woods bordering the parking area. “It’s Glentree, not the sandbox—she’ll be fine, she’s not Vick. She’ll be fine. Distance yourself, old boy, and you might be fine too.”

Rowan took a deep breath, placing the rifle back in its case, when he heard the gravel crunch behind him.

“Aye, sir, sorry tae bother ye . . . ”

Rowan looked over his shoulder as he snapped the case shut. One of the temporary castle groundsmen stood behind him. Rowan waved him forward, not knowing how long the man had been standing there, but it had been long enough for him to be looking warily at the chieftain.

“I’ve been told the railing on the southside terrace is loose—apparently one of the guests nearly took a plunge off it. I dinnae know if it’s a real problem or if they were drunk off their arses, but I thought I’d tell ye, if ye want to get someone on it now,” the man said. “I’m off tae see tae the tent set up by the archery field. I can do it after if ye would like.” The man indeed had his arms full of ropes and wooden stakes.

Needing another distraction until they were ready to depart, Rowan said, “No. Thank ye, I’ll take a look myself and see what’s tae be done.”

• • •

The terrace, a narrow pathway on the cliff side of the castle, was rarely used in the present day. Historically, it had served as the site of the castle’s first line of defense against the rare siege from that side of the property.

Rowan emerged from the dark breezeway and looked left and right down the narrow terrace. The groundskeeper hadn’t specified where the problem was, but Rowan had assumed he would be able to see an obvious section rattled loose, since someone had nearly pitched himself off it. He saw none.

The weather was changing—his scar pinched, the sensitive tissue feeling the change in atmospheric pressure. Another storm was coming.

Rowan walked the length of the right-most section of the terrace, running his hand along the rough stone, feeling for any loose areas. He turned back to the left side—and found himself walking toward Kelly, who was leaning against the castle, a foot up on the stone in a pose that told Rowan he was there for something beyond taking in the scenery.

Leaning against the railing opposite Kelly, Rowan crossed his arms and regarded his spoiled cousin. “Aye. Ye have me alone. Very clever. What’s it tha’ ye want?”

Kelly regarded his older cousin, his eyebrows lifting in mock surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rowan, I just heard that I could find ye out here.”

“Really.”

“Really,” Kelly said, looking over his shoulder down the darkened passageway.

“Ye expecting someone, Kelly?”

“No, why?”

“Kelly, I don’t have the time to stand here while ye figure out what it is ye want with me. When ye figure it out, come find me,” Rowan said and made to leave.

“I don’t think so,” Kelly said, stepping in front of Rowan and putting a hand to his chest.

Rowan looked at his cousin’s hand, then to his face. “Well now, ye do have something to say? Because if ye don’t, cousin, I’d take your hand off—”

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan caught movement as Eryka side-stepped out of the shadowy breezeway, a silver
9
mm pointed at him. Rowan let a low growl of frustration escape him and looked back at his cousin, who was now wearing a smug look.

“Ye shouldnae have fired her, Rowan,” he said, his voice rising, as if he’d been working on that thought for some time.

“What are ye doing, Kelly?” Rowan could feel the stinging poison of betrayal from his own kin sink its teeth in.

“Kelly, don’t talk to him,” Eryka cut in, her husky voice sounding delighted in the circumstances. “And Rowan, don’t think you can talk your pretty little vay out of this.”

“And what do ye mean by ‘this’? What exactly is
this
?” Rowan took in the way Eryka held the gun, loose and with the safety on, unaccustomed to its weight.

Eryka’s lips pulled back into a grin. “An intervention, Rowan dear. What does it look like?”

“An assault. But just what do ye think ye are intervening on?”

“You, of course. I didn’t spend all these years working tirelessly for Clan MacLaoch just to be thrown out when a new piece of ass came to town.”

“Working?” Rowan said, letting the last piece slide. “Eryka, don’t lie tae yourself. Ye haven’t worked a day in your life. Ye were fired for good reason, and a Walther PPK isnae helping your situation. Put it away. If ye’re really interested in getting yer job back, we can discuss it,” Rowan lied.

“Oh no, Rowan, we are much beyond that—I don’t want to work here. These past few years have been hell, but I’ve slogged through them because I held out
hope
that you would come around and see me for what I am,” Eryka said, jutting her chin out.

“And what exactly are ye?” Rowan asked buying time.

Eryka snarled, “Worthy of you. I could be your fucking wife, Rowan; I could have made you happy, could have raised our children here.”

Rowan scoffed, “Stow it, Eryka. As soon as your feet touched Castle Laoch soil ye were sharing my uncle’s bed, and when he died, leaving ye nothing, ye looked for new prey. So what do ye really want? Money?”

“No, Rowan,” she said, suddenly calm. “I’ll tell you the truth—”

“Eryka!” Kelly boomed. “Don’t! Father said—”

“Shut up, Kelly! Your
daddy
isn’t here, so I’m in charge,” she spat at him and then turned her attention back to Rowan. “After we call the police to clean up your obvious suicide—”

Kelly sighed loudly.

“—Kelly and I will get married, and I’ll have all I’ve wanted. Now, Rowan, be a good boy and stand back against that sketchy railing of yours.” She waved him back with the gun.

Rowan didn’t move.

Kelly said, “Best do it, cousin. She’s serious.”

“Back!” Eryka shouted over Kelly’s words. “I’ll shoot you right here, Rowan, I will, but blood on stone is so hard to get out. I don’t want Kelly’s and my children to ask us what the stain is.”

Rowan ignored Eryka’s ranting and looked at Kelly. “Why?”

Kelly looked startled, as if Rowan were a statue that had just spoken to him. “Why? Tosh it, Rowan, don’t ask me why. Ye should know why, ye prick. Why?” he scoffed. “The chieftain position is mine. I was here when ye were flying around having the time of yer life! Ye. Ye just come in as I’m making my plans for my ceremony and take it all. That’s all ye have ever done tae me, is take what’s rightfully mine!” Kelly said, building steam. “And now!” he shouted, the veins in his neck and forehead bulging. Rowan simply waited for it. “Ye’re fucking my chances tae break the MacLaoch curse!”

“What?” Rowan asked, not expecting that to come from his cousin’s mouth.

“Cole,” Kelly hissed. “She’s mine.”

Eryka cocked the hammer on the gun and flipped the safety off.

His cousin’s announcement was distinctly similar to that of his cousin’s father.

Reacting, Rowan stepped toward Eryka, swiping her gun to the side, and jabbed her chin with the knuckles of his other hand. The gun fired lodging the stray bullet into the railing. Eryka hit the wall behind her and slid to the ground just as Kelly leaped for the gun, but not faster than Rowan’s foot could connect with his head. Rowan picked up the PPK, popped the magazine, dislodged the chambered round, and unsheathed the slide. He threw all three pieces over the railing.

He turned and made it nearly to the breezeway before Kelly, like a bull that sees the red flag in the arena, went mad. But Rowan had been counting on his cousin’s predictable nature. As soon as Kelly landed on Rowan’s back, Rowan used Kelly’s momentum to flip him over his shoulder and lay him out on his back on the stone terrace. Rowan’s foot came down on his neck and pressed.

“Where’s your father?” Rowan asked, adjusting his wrenched sweater and retucking his undershirt.

Gurgling was all Kelly could manage as he clawed at Rowan’s foot.

“I’ll ask ye once more, then I’ll apply enough pressure tae break your larynx and make ye mute for the rest of your life. That’s no’ a curse from Lady MacLaoch—tha’ one will be personally from me,” Rowan said calmly over him.

“Let’s try again,” Rowan said as Kelly tried to buck his foot and nearly succeeded. “Stupid fuck.” Rowan cut down harder and watched as his cousin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, now ye know I was being nice. Now ye really can’t breathe, can ye? Where’s your father?” he asked again.

Kelly became instantly cooperative, his lips moving, trying to tell Rowan.

“What’s tha’? I can’t hear ye.” Rowan let up just enough for air to pass over Kelly’s voice box.

Kelly’s lips moved but Rowan only caught the most important word: “Cole.”

Rowan released his cousin and walked a few paces away to keep from putting his fist through Kelly’s face. When the urge passed, he turned back to his cousin and found him struggling on all fours to stand.

Rowan squatted next to him. “Say it again,” he said quietly.

Kelly sat back on his haunches, a hand on his throat. “He’s gone tae get Cole.”

Rowan nodded. “Where?”

Kelly shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. Dinnae fucking care,” he sneered at Rowan.

Rowan counted all the way to five, by fives, then broke his cousin’s nose with his fist.

CHAPTER 32

I
stared at Dr. Peabody. He was serious about Rowan and me marrying to break the curse. “I don’t even know him.”

“Oh, on the contrary. If you are really the descendant of the Minory, then you’ve known him for hundreds of years.” Peabody said it as if that were the most rational thing.

“No. I have just met Rowan James Douglas MacLaoch. Your clan may have known about the Minorys for centuries but I can safely tell you that my family never heard of the MacLaochs until I got here.”

“Consciously, yes. But your blood is the same as the blood that flowed through the veins of your Nordic ancestor who took Lady MacLaoch to be his bride. That same blood flows through Rowan—he is a direct and the last, I should add, descendant of Lady MacLaoch. No one else can share the bond that is between the two direct descendants of the curse.”

“Wait a sec. What about Kelly Gregoire?”

“Oh yes, Kelly,” Peabody said disdainfully; apparently he and I were of the same mindset on the heir to the MacLaoch throne. “His bloodlines were traced back to a distant cousin of Lady MacLaoch—not her direct descendant, but a relative.”

“OK, but how am I a direct descendant? I didn’t think the Minory had children. I thought that I was related through another branch of the Minory family.”

“Oh! I see. No, they both did.”

I rolled my eyes. “And how do we know this?”

Peabody opened his mouth to respond and then thought better of just jumping in. “The long version or the short version?”