Chapter 32
Patrick
was beginning to wonder if his glib tongue had deserted him for good.
He’d promised Madelyn somewhere warm and safe. He’d actually been hoping for Ian’s living room in front of that massive fireplace he had. Or maybe even a pair of chairs in front of Ian’s shiny red Aga stove. Even his own hearth, well laid with a small, dry tree, would have done in a pinch.
He hadn’t been planning on Malcolm MacLeod’s dungeon.
He blew on his hands to keep them warm and reexamined his day to see where his plans had gone awry.
Maybe he should have given the forest more time.
But given that spending the majority of the day standing in the shade had accomplished nothing more than to give Madelyn a stuffy nose, he’d decided that a night or two at the keep to regroup was the thing to do.
Unfortunately, they’d arrived only to find Malcolm off repaying a few McKinnons for trying to lift a pair of his prize cattle and his bumbling son Angus in charge.
Angus had put them into the pit without hesitation.
Apparently someone after Jamie had decided that having a dungeon was a good thing, because they’d dug up the bloody pit that Jamie’d had filled in to please Elizabeth.
It would have been bad enough that he stood up to his ankles in that dungeon’s slime, but Madelyn was with him, sitting in the slime with her teeth chattering.
Had that been the extent of things, he would have counted himself fortunate.
Unfortunately, the insanity didn’t end there.
He and Madelyn had been deposited none-too-gently into the dungeon only to find it already inhabited.
By one Bentley Douglas Taylor III.
Who was, lamentably, babbling like a madman.
Patrick had understood why they’d thrust Bentley down into the noisesome hole.
Indeed, he’d understood why he and Madelyn had been put there.
Angus was not, as they say, the sharpest tool in the shed.
Patrick had tried to point out to Angus that they had met before, but Angus had been either too stupid to have remembered it or too terrified .
. . nay, he’d just been too stupid. Patrick had allowed himself to be disarmed simply because he couldn’t bring himself to shed any familial blood when he’d been quite certain that their stay in the dungeon would be very brief.
But to pass those few hours in Bentley’s company?
Aye, now, that was hell indeed.
“Bloody hell, Angus, ye wee fool, what have ye done with them? He bloody rescued me!”
Patrick closed his eyes and sighed in relief at the voice from above. Robert the piper, to the rescue. He reached over and pulled Madelyn to her feet. “Come on,” he said, “we’re saved.”
“Wait,” Bentley demanded, reaching out for him.
“Get me out of here, too. I’ve been here almost two days.
At least I think it’s been two days. Whatever it’s been, it’s been long enough that whoever I find up there is going to get his sorry ass sued.
In fact, let me go first. I have quite a bit to say to the ne’er-do-wells—”
Patrick pushed Bentley back away from the ladder. “Ladies first, you idiot.”
Bentley struggled.
Patrick put his thumb behind Bentley’s ear in a particularly tender spot, waited until he was gasping in pain, then gave him a healthy shove.
Bentley began to complain loudly from where he lay sprawled in the mud.
Patrick took that opportunity to get Madelyn started up the ladder.
And once he’d started her up, there was no sense in not following her up and out.
And there was certainly no sense in not just shaking that ladder free of any other climbers.
“Hey!” Bentley bellowed. “Let me up! Let me out of here, you morons! I’ll sue!”
Robert the piper looked at Patrick. “Who is he?” he asked in Gaelic.
“’Tis a very long tale you would find almost unbelievable.”
“I’ve listened to him,” Robert said, looking faintly alarmed. “He spouts nonsense.”
“He’s a madman,” Patrick said. “An Englishman who wanted to wed with my lady here. He cannot seem to accept the fact that she wants none of him.”
“True,” Madelyn said, leaning heavily on him. “All true.”
“Do you know the man?” Angus asked, blinking furiously. “Perhaps you should return to the pit with him—”
Robert glared Angus to silence, then looked at Patrick. “My apologies, and the apologies of my laird. Come, sit at the table and take your ease.” He looked at Madelyn and smiled. “How do you fare, my lady?”
“Better,” she said, smiling weakly and rubbing her arms. “Better. And you, Robert?”
“Well enough,” he said gamely. “Come, my friends, and let us repair to the fire. Angus will no doubt be very interested in your tale, and his sire will be pleased to know Angus made great efforts to offer you the hospitality of our hall after such a grievous error in your arrival.”
Angus looked baffled at so many words strung together.
Patrick had to shake his head. Jamie would have been appalled to think that such a one as this would be in charge of the clan when his time came.
Maybe it was little wonder that the keep had, in the end, fallen into such a state of decay.
Too many lairds such as Angus and the entire clan would bolt just to save themselves.
Patrick put his arm around Madelyn and helped her hobble out into the great hall. She hesitated, looked around her, then shivered.
“Spooky,” she whispered.
“Aye,” he agreed. It was like seeing before and after pictures, only this was in reverse. He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Fire first,” he said, nodding toward the opposite wall, “then something to eat.”
“And new clothing,” Robert said. “My lady Grudach likely has something that would suit you. I will prevail upon her to share.”
The way he said it made Patrick wonder just how selfless a soul Grudach might be.
Then again, he’d heard quite a bit about her from her half sister, Iolanthe, who happened to be sitting quite happily in her beautiful house in Maine with his nephew, Thomas—another member of that convoluted family tree—who had gone back in time to rescue her.
“What are you thinking?” Madelyn asked as she hitched along next to him.
“I was just pondering the impossibility of trying to map out a proper family tree with my kin,” he said with a smile. “I’ve heard tell of both Angus and his sister Grudach from their sister. Their half sister, actually.”
“Does she live near here?”
“Maine, actually.”
“With her modern-day husband, of course.”
“Who else?”
Madelyn shook her head. “If I’d only realized a simple thing such as a trip to Scotland would have led to all this . . .”
“Do you regret it?”
She paused and looked at him. “No,” she said softly. “No, I don’t.”
“And what of Bentley? Do you mind if we leave him below?”
She hesitated. “It doesn’t seem very nice, does it?”
“Think three weeks in a cage, Madelyn,” he said dryly.
“Then by all means, let him season down there for a while,” she said. “It’ll do him some good. I’m not sure what we’ll tell him afterward.” She looked up at him with a smile. “Maybe we can convince him he was abducted by aliens.”
“We’ll think of something.” He led her to the fire, then helped her sit down in front of it. He sat down next to her on the bench and held his hands to the flames. There was nothing quite like feeling some small bit of warmth after a goodly time without it.
He looked at Angus, who sank down nearby and nervously fondled a cup of ale. Angus looked as if he were about to be whipped senseless for having done something incredibly stupid. He looked at Patrick with a sick smile. Patrick smiled back.
“You know,” Patrick remarked, “my lady has spent quite a bit of time in the Fergusson’s keep without food or water. Perhaps she might appreciate a bit of ale. Something to eat. A bath.”
“Oh, aye,” Angus said, jumping up. “Aye, I’ll have it seen to immediately.”
“Thank you,” Patrick said. “I will speak kindly of you to your sire.”
That seemed to be enough for Angus. He began bellowing for sustenance and demanded that a tub be filled in the kitchen for his lady’s pleasure. Patrick looked at Robert.
“So,” he said, “is this the way of things?”
Robert rolled his eyes. “You’ve no idea.”
“I can imagine. I have some acquaintance with his sister Iolanthe.”
Robert sighed deeply. “That poor gel. I know young Thomas McKinnon tried to find her, but we fear they are both dead. We’ve had no word from either. Have you occasion to have heard from them?”
Patrick chewed on his answer for several moments, then decided it was perhaps better to let it lie.
Not all questions had to be answered, especially when the answer would do none of the parties any good.
He shook his head. “I’ve had no word from them recently.
” He’d talked to Iolanthe on the phone during his three-week wait, but that hadn’t really been recently, had it?
“One can only hope that Thomas found her, and they are living out their lives in some quiet corner somewhere.”
“Aye,” Robert agreed. “Iolanthe was a good gel. Nothing much like her sister,” he said in a low voice. “Ah, here is food, my lady Madelyn. Eat your fill, then we’ll provide other things for your comfort.”
Patrick held a wooden trencher for Madelyn, filling his own belly as he could. She ate everything that was put before her, even the more disgusting things. Patrick ate just as heartily, grateful all the while that he could look forward to better fare when they returned home.
Madelyn drank deeply from her cup, then smiled. “Better,” she said.
“And here comes the accompaniment to your bath,” he said as Grudach swept into the hall.
Grudach was, he decided after ten minutes of listening to her rail upon her brother, every bit as offensive as Iolanthe had said she was. And when she fixed her sights on Madelyn, Patrick knew something had to be done. He stood and gave her his most dazzling smile.
“You must be my laird’s beautiful treasure,” he said. “I’ve heard tell of you.”