CHAPTER 29
Margaret saw the old rag doll beside her on the floor and clutched it in her hand. Ella. Ella was waiting for her. She had to get to her daughter. She struggled to get up, but the floor tilted, and her limbs refused to obey her.
She had to get out…had to get to Ella. She pulled herself along the floor to the door. Though she strained with all her might, she was unable to lift herself high enough to reach the latch. She collapsed with her face pressed between the floor and the base of the door.
A draft from the stairwell blew through the crack onto her face, and she drew in deep breaths of the sweet, cool air. Poison. Murder. She felt as if she was sinking into a bog as she struggled to grasp the fleeting thoughts floating through her head and put them together.
Isabel. A few more deep breaths through the crack under the door, and she remembered what Isabel had done.
Poison. That was the answer she’d been searching for. She’d been poisoned.
Death was coming for her in this chamber.
With a surge of strength, she crawled up the door and shoved the bar back. When the door fell open, she fell onto the stone floor of the stairwell. The metallic taste of blood was in her mouth and her elbow throbbed, but she forced herself to her hands and knees.
She did not know how Isabel had done this to her—but she knew she would come back to make certain her dark deed had succeeded.
Isabel is coming for me.
Margaret refused to die here. Her daughter needed her.
And she needed Finn. She needed to tell him she loved him.
Holding on to the wall, she fought a wave of dizziness as she stumbled to her feet.
Her head and elbow throbbed from her falls, but the pain helped keep her alert as she slowly made her way down the stairs.
Somehow, she found herself at the gate with no memory of crossing the hall or the courtyard.
“Are ye all right, Mistress Margaret?” a guard asked as he peered into her face.
She nodded.
“Will be dark soon, and the weather is turning,” he said, looking off at the horizon. “Don’t be long.”
“I must hurry,” she said, her voice sounding faraway to her own ears.
Concentrating on keeping her walk steady, she made her way into the wood. She felt her senses slowly returning as she followed the path through the wood until it opened up onto the vast moorland. She shivered in the wind and realized she had left her cloak behind.
It was growing dark. Remembering Una’s advice, Margaret kept her eyes on her feet and quickened her pace.
As she hurried along, she tried to figure out just how she had been poisoned.
She remembered how hot it was in the chamber and the extra peat on the brazier.
It would not be difficult to add a powdered poison to the peat that gave off noxious fumes when burned.
If Isabel had acted quickly, she could have done it while Margaret talked with Una in the other chamber.
She had already shown herself to be a decisive killer.
Margaret came to an abrupt halt when she suddenly found herself on the edge of a deep chasm, a giant fracture that split the earth in front of her. She must have veered off the path, and she had no notion how long ago she’d left it. How could she make such a mistake?
Her heart beat frantically in her chest as she scanned the horizon, searching for the path or a landmark of some kind. But there was barely any light left, and this land of peat and bog seemed to stretch forever in a dark, beautiful sameness.
When she heard a rustling behind her, she whirled around.
Piercing black eyes set against white skin filled Margaret’s vision for an instant before Isabel shoved her. Margaret screamed and flailed her arms as she fell backward into a black abyss.
###
Finn and Lachlan stood side by side staring up the shoreline. Alex was two hours late, and Finn was worried he would not make it.
“We’ll take him to Dornoch Castle,” Lachlan said. “He should be safe there. Even the Sinclairs would not dare to attack a bishop’s home.”
Dornoch belonged to the Bishop of Caithness, the Gordon ally who most likely procured the murder of Duffus of Sutherland as a favor to Alex’s father. It was the closest safe place to take Alex.
“We’ll have to move him from there as soon as we can,” Finn said. “A bishop isn’t good enough to protect Alex for long. He needs an earl.”
Finn did not trust the bishop to withstand pressure from both the Sinclairs and the King’s Council to return Alex to his guardian. And from what Margaret had told him, it would take another earl to challenge George Sinclair for the guardianship.
“Take him to the Earl of Moray,” Finn said. “He’ll see that Alex gets to Huntly Castle, where he’ll be safe in the midst of Gordon lands.”
“Looks like Alex won’t make it today,” Lachlan said, and clasped Finn’s shoulder. “We’ll come back and hope he makes it out tomorrow. Let’s tell the men waiting with the boat to make camp.”
“Wait, there he is!” Finn said, pointing as a figure emerged in the distance, coming toward them at a dead run.
Finn ran down the beach with his new dog yapping at his heels and lifted his cousin off his feet in a bear hug.
“I heard shouts behind me,” Alex said, looking over his shoulder.
Finn and Lachlan pulled him off the beach and onto a trail that cut across the headland to the inlet on the other side, where the boat was hidden.
“I see ye kept the dog,” Alex said as they ran along the trail.
“I’m giving him to Ella,” Finn said. “A bairn should have a dog.”
“She’ll like him,” Alex said. “He’s as raggedy as her doll.”
The first half of the trail was uphill. When they reached the top and Finn had a good view of the shoreline on both sides of the headland, he stopped.
“Lachlan will take ye to Dornoch,” he told Alex. “I’ll keep watch and divert the Sinclairs if need be while ye get away.”
Finn lifted Alex’s cap off his head and put in on, covering his hair as best he could.
Though he was considerably taller than his cousin, people generally saw what they expected to see.
The Sinclairs did not know yet that Alex had friends meeting him and were likely to follow a lone man running away from them.
“You’re not coming with me?” Alex said.
“Lachlan will see ye safe.” Finn gripped his cousin’s shoulders and gave him a wink. “Remember, I’ve got a bonny bride waiting for me to come home.”
She was waiting to leave him, but Alex did not need to know that.
“Ye ought to get rid of that dog,” Lachlan said, “or he’ll give ye away.”
“Ach, no, he’ll be quiet as a mouse, won’t ye?” Finn said.
The dog barked in response—not a good sign.
“Hurry now!” Finn said.
He watched Alex and Lachlan scurry down the backside of the hill toward the cove where the boat was hidden. Luckily, the sky was growing dark with the coming storm, so they should be able to slip down the coast to Dornoch without being seen.
When Finn looked back the other way, he cursed. A line of men was on the shore coming from Dunrobin. He picked up the wee dog and put him in the bag he had slung over his shoulder and waited for the Sinclair men to spot him.
It did not take long. When he ran inland along the ridge, the Sinclairs started up the hill toward him.
He could see Alex and Lachlan still scrambling down the hillside to the boat.
Run faster, dammit! If the Sinclairs reached the top of the hill and saw them, Alex and Lachlan could not get to the boat and sail away before the Sinclairs raced down the hill and shot their arrows into the boat.
Finn had to keep the Sinclair warriors from cresting the hill, so he dropped down to their side. He shifted direction from side to side, but always making sure they could see him.
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned when he saw that every one of them was following him. Ha, George Sinclair was going to be furious when he learned Alex had escaped. Finn might not escape himself, but he would lead these Sinclairs on a good chase.
###
Margaret screamed as she bounced against the rock walls of the crevice. With a final, jarring thump, she landed in a heap at the bottom. She hit so hard it knocked the breath out of her. For one terrifying moment, she could not suck in air, then she gasped as pain hit her like an anvil.
Far above her, she could just make out against the night sky the darker outline of a figure leaning over the opening.
Clenching her teeth to keep from moaning, Margaret forced herself to remain still.
Though it was too dark at the bottom for Isabel to see her clearly, she could feel Isabel’s cold gaze watching for movement.
How long would the wretched woman wait to be sure?
Finally, the figure disappeared. Isabel must have been satisfied that Margaret was either dead or too badly injured to survive. Or perhaps she was convinced Margaret could not escape and would die a slow death.
When the initial shock of pain subsided, she sat up and ran her hands over her body, checking for injuries.
She was bleeding from cuts and scratches, her knee and hip were badly bruised, and her ankle was already swelling.
Miraculously, nothing seemed broken, but every part of her body ached and throbbed.
When she tried to stand, she could not put weight on the leg with the injured ankle.
The realization hit her that no one would find her here. Una was the only one who knew she’d taken the path to Lachlan’s cottage. And she’d gone off the path, so even Una would not know where to look. If Margaret had any hope of surviving, she had to climb out.
Raindrops hit her face as she looked up at the daunting distance to the jagged edge of her prison. Then thunder cracked, and lightning filled the chasm with a flash of light, briefly revealing the steep wall of rock she had to climb. If she wanted to survive, she had to try.
Feeling her way up the wall for clefts and cracks, she started climbing.
Gritting her teeth each time she had to put weight on her injured leg, she made her way up several feet.
Reaching up, she grasped a brush growing out of the rock.
As she pulled herself up, the brush came loose in her hand.
She screamed as she careened down the side.
When she hit the ground, the pain in her ankle shot up her leg and nearly blinded her. Shaken and gasping for breath, she dropped her head onto her knees. She would have to wait until morning when she could see to climb before risking it again.
She clutched her knees, shivering against the cold. Her gown was wet from the rain and clung to her skin.
With a long night ahead of her, she had nothing to do but dwell on her regrets. When Finn returned and could not find her, he would think she had left him. She had told him she would. How could she have been so foolish? Rather than risk pain, she had thrown away happiness for them both.
She could die in this black hole. If she had the chance again, she would not waste another hour that she could have with him. Her only comfort was knowing Finn would take care of Ella. She had no doubt he would. If only she could be with them…
She felt a prick against her skin and looked down to find the brooch Finn had made for her with the broken bits of onyx hanging by a thread from her torn bodice. Bursting into tears, she clutched it in her hand and prayed Finn knew how much she loved him.
Exhausted, she rested her head against the cold wall of rock. She awoke some time later to the sensation of ice-cold water on her feet. Scooting away from the puddle of rain that had collected there, she felt around her for a drier spot.
Water was all around her.
Fearing the worst, she tasted her wet fingers. They were salty. She tried to remember how close the trail had been to the sea. Too close.
Panic closed her throat. Her rocky prison was filling with the incoming tide, and she had no way out.