Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
The triumphant horns echoed across the hills as the riders returned to the walls of Fraser keep. Darragh led the charge, his shoulders back, a look of victory that didn’t match the growing unease in his chest.
One way or another, the hunt has given me clarity.
Not far behind him, two riders stayed close together.
Slung between their two saddles was the great stag that Darragh had shot.
Following them was a procession that showcased the rest of their prizes, though none could compare to his.
It wasn’t a new sight, though. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken down a creature bigger than him.
“It’s good to see ye, Me Laird,” a servant who he couldn’t see within the walls called.
“Another successful hunt!” a laird several rows behind him cried, clearly eager to be the first to report on their venture.
Normally, the almost childish reaction would grate on Darragh’s nerves. At the moment, the only thing he cared about was getting back within the walls. He’d stepped away from his duties long enough.
And if I could just lay eyes on Amelia, that might settle somethin’ in me.
As soon as they rode through the gates, the servants rushed forward to help unload the spoils of their efforts.
A majority of the meat would be on the table for dinner that evening.
The rest would be prepared to go home with the men who caught it when they left over the course of the next few days.
Most notable to Darragh was that it would keep a majority of his staff occupied for the rest of the day.
Perhaps I can still make somethin’ productive out of me day.
He dismounted his mare, handing the reins off to a groom standing by smoothly. Knocking residual dust from his clothing, Darragh stepped to the side. His eyes scanned the courtyard instinctively, searching for Amelia’s face before he even realized what he was doing.
The search was fruitless. Even though it looked as though nearly every person in the castle was here, her gray-green eyes were missing. A feral growl rumbled deep in his chest, that fundamental feeling of wrongness intensifying.
It isnae wrong for her nae to be waitin’ for me.
Even as he tried to calm himself, he searched for the next best thing. Jinny was standing by, looking relaxed and ready to jump in to help with preparing the spoils. She didn’t seem to sense his eyes on her as he approached.
“Jinny,” he said, keeping his voice casual though nothing about this felt conversational, “I was hopin’ to find ye. Have ye seen Amelia recently?”
Without a flicker of concern in her body, the maid turned toward him.
She furrowed her brow as if she were running through each detail of the day.
Finally, she replied, “The last I saw her, she was in the kitchens. But she doesnae seem fond of the crowds. She may have snuck away to her chambers when we werenae lookin’. ”
“Ye may be correct,” Darragh said, crossing his arms over his chest as the men whooped at the sight of their catch, knowing that they’d more than fed the keep for the evening.
Several of them broke out their flasks, already beginning their celebrations.
He didn’t feel the same kind of revelry.
“This doesnae seem like the kind of event she’d enjoy, does it? ”
“Nay, Me Laird,” Jinny agreed, torn between giving him the attention his title demanded and the bustle of work being divided amongst the staff. “I imagine she’s much more comfortable wherever she is than she would be here.”
Darragh grunted, ending the conversation with a nod. It wasn’t serving either of them. Jinny wanted to ensure she had a desirable task. Darragh needed to get to the first floor and confirm that Amelia was where the maid said she’d be.
If she’s nae there…
He didn’t let himself dwell on the thought, taking the steps up to her wing two at a time. There was hardly anyone around; all the servants were preoccupied with things that kept them in other parts of the castle. It felt like an oversight, like an omen that he’d left an opening.
He stopped at Amelia’s door, tilting his head and listening. No noise came from within, and after a beat, he knocked twice. As he rapped his knuckles against the wood a third time, he said, “Amelia, I’d like to speak with ye.”
When he didn’t get an answer, the hollowness in his chest morphed into something much sharper, much angrier.
Protective rage coursed through him, and when the chambers stayed silent, he couldn’t stand by.
He pulled the latch free and burst into the room, looking around for signs of Amelia. Or, worse, signs of struggle.
The room was empty, nearly the exact same as it had been before he’d rescued Amelia from the tower, save for the painting on the mattress and a note folded next to it.
For a long moment, he stared at the anomaly.
Then, he took in the rest of the space. It was completely untouched, like Amelia had never been here.
“What have ye done?” he snarled, marching forward to her bed.
He picked up the note with a soft kind of reverence. Before he even started to read it, he knew that he wouldn’t like what it said. It felt like it was meant to be the last piece of her he’d ever have.
It willnae be.
Unfolding the parchment, he ran his fingertips over the ink. These words hadn’t been written that long ago. Despite how precise the penmanship looked, there was a rushed, desperate quality to it.
My family name is Mackenzie. I know I should have told you sooner. My father sold me to the very place you saved me from. And he is here.
Darragh’s fingers tightened against the parchment. Somehow, in the rush of lairds arriving at the keep, the very man he’d been looking for had snuck inside. And he’d ridden away, apparently leaving the woman he meant to protect alone with someone dangerous. He forced himself to keep reading.
If I stay, he will bring ruin to this place, and I will not be the cause of harm to you or your people.
I’m sorry I did not wait to tell you in person.
Everything I told you was the truth. I wanted to stay.
More than I have ever wanted anything. Forgive me for leaving without a farewell.
And know this much, at least. I love ye. —A
For a long time, he could do nothing more than stare at the page. Shifting his thumb revealed something that looked like a tearstain. It was singular, warping the paper in a perfect circle. It was barely dried, the page still soft. She hadn’t even realized she was crying when it had fallen.
After he’d taken a moment to collect himself, had all of his theories solidify, and processed that he might love the fiery lass too, Darragh folded the note.
Holding it tightly in his fist, he walked out of Amelia’s quarters.
The door shut behind him with a resounding thud, and the heels of his boots were sharp against the floor as he went directly to the first guard he could find.
“Search every corner of the castle,” Darragh demanded, holding his hand next to his heart. “Ye’re lookin’ for Amelia. Daenae stop until ye find her. And daenae let a single soul leave these walls until she’s found. Aye?”
“Aye, Me Laird,” the guard replied, giving a tight salute before he hurried down the corridor, alert both in his search for Amelia and fellow members of his troop to spread the command.
* * *
When Darragh stormed back into the courtyard, as many guards as he could find on his way alerted to their new directive, the celebrations didn’t stop.
Nearly everyone was too absorbed with bragging about their performance.
Even Ewan didn’t seem to sense Darragh coming for him with the force of a raging thunderstorm.
Then, one by one, as he walked by, bringing with him the breathtaking low-pressure system, the groups fell silent.
By the time he reached Ewan, his man-at-arms had turned around to investigate the icy atmosphere.
His arms were crossed over his chest. He held his chin high, understanding without words that this was no longer a celebration.
“Amelia is missin’, and she’s in danger,” he said, his voice low and cutting. Though it was meant for Ewan’s ears only, it seemed as if the entire keep heard and held its breath. “It’s Laird Mackenzie.”
Ewan was already acting, the merriment in his features completely gone.
His hand found the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the crowd, likely in search of the groom who had taken his stead.
As he shifted his weight, positioning himself in anticipation of Darragh’s word, he asked, “I saw her before we left. Do ye ken how long she’s been missin’? ”
Darragh remembered the softness of the barely dried tear on the letter. His calloused fingertips tingled, the letter crumpled in his palm. “Nae an hour has passed. I’m sure of it.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the courtyard flew into a frenzy. Keep guards rushed to saddle horses, calling for the grooms to return the steeds. Reins were pressed into Darragh’s hands in the middle of the mayhem, the head groom having left to retrieve his mare the moment he’d passed.
Tucking the letter into his inner pocket, Darragh positioned himself to mount.
Horns sounded around him, echoing through the hills and valleys, creating a harmony that felt much less jovial now than it did a few short hours ago.
He needed their assistance to search his lands, but his skin itched with the need to do something.
His jaw set with a wolfish determination, Darragh turned his horse in a slow circle. The new vantage point allowed him to see what he was working with. Already, he was envisioning where certain men would excel and where others would fail.
For a moment, the preparations paused. The full force of his dedication, his focus, was impressed upon everyone around him. Being stationed above the crowd gave his influential rule an even wider reach.
Their fear, as they understood the gravity of Darragh’s intensity, faded nearly as quickly as it came. Each of them was trained in putting aside discomfort. They had a job to perform. Here and now.
“Spread through the forest,” he commanded, urging his mare toward the gate. As he led the charge, more men mounted, falling in line to follow him beyond the walls. Turning around in his saddle to give the men gathered one last look, he said, “Find her.”
Then, without a thought other than locating Amelia and seeing her safe, he dug his heels into his horse’s sides and bent down low over the saddle.
As he rode, his eyes scanned the tree line for any signs of her or Laird Mackenzie.
Something murderous took root in his chest, and he knew that the trouble with that man would end tonight.
And Darragh would not lose.