CHAPTER 28
As soon as they had provisions and horses gathered, Malcolm and Callum rode into the night, pounding the ground at a full gallop to get to the meeting point in the village.
Malcolm hoped Jamie had all the information needed to get into the MacDonald keep and get the lassies back.
But there was a foreboding feeling deep in his gut that was telling him something was wrong.
After nearly two days of hard riding, they arrived at the rendezvous point in the village as the sun was coming up over the horizon, turning the inky sky into shades of indigo and crimson.
The blustery wind had never stopped during their frantic journey and, even with his tartan wrapped tight around him, Malcolm was chilled to the bone.
The village itself was starting to come to life slowly.
A misty fog lingered above the fields. Farmers were already hard at work tending to their crops and livestock.
The early morning sun cast long shadows along the thatched roofs of the cottages and buildings.
White and gray smoke curled in lazy tendrils from the chimneys.
The earthy smell of bread baking permeated the air.
In the village itself, the market vendors were out early to set up their stalls of food and cloth.
Their low chatter between each other was a quiet hum.
The inn was at the end of the street. A tavern connected to it, but since it was still early, it wasn’t open for business yet.
There was a fair amount of activity at the inn.
When they entered, they headed to the common room, where a servant was stoking the fire.
The aroma of fresh bread filled the air, making Malcolm’s stomach rumble.
Though they had their own provisions for the ride to the village, they had rationed them to make sure they’d have enough for the lassies on the return trip.
Callum selected a table in the far corner where they both sat and observed the door. A servant bustled over to take their order.
“What can I get ye?” he asked.
“Bread and ale,” Callum said.
As the servant left, Malcolm took in their surroundings.
There were several tables around the room, most of them empty save for a few of the early-rising guests.
A rough looking man sat alone in the opposite corner.
His dark gaze flickered over them before he looked away and hunched over his bowl of porridge.
Two more men entered the inn and headed for the common room. Malcolm met their gazes. They peered at him, then his brother, before taking a table between them and the hunched man in the other corner.
Unease shifted through him. “I dinnae like this.”
“Nor I,” Callum replied, keeping his voice low. “Jamie should be along soon.”
“And if he isna?” Malcolm asked.
“We will deal with that when the time comes,” he replied.
The servant returned with a large loaf of dark brown bread and two tankards of watered- down ale. He placed them on the table without a word and then headed off to tend to the other customers.
The two newcomers made Malcolm uneasy. He kept his eye on them as Callum tore off a hunk of the bread.
Impatience bubbled through his veins as he eyed the few who were inside the inn’s common room. Callum shoved the bread toward him.
“Eat something,” he suggested.
But his stomach was twisted into a knot as he thought of Evie and Chloe held captive in the MacDonald dungeon. A few more people trickled inside, taking seats around the room. A sense of unease passed through him.
“How long do we wait?” Malcolm asked.
“As long as we need to.”
Callum seemed far more calm than he. How, he didn’t know. Malcolm drummed his fingers on the wood table.
The two men who came in together rose, standing a moment at their table.
The taller of the two cast a suspicious glance at Malcolm and Callum.
Then the two walked toward them. Callum reached for the hilt of his sword, wrapping his fingers around it in anticipation of a fight.
Malcolm sat straighter and did the same.
They came to a halt in front of their table.
“Can I help ye?” Callum asked, his eyes wary.
“We ken who ye are,” the tall one said. “We ken who yer looking for. Ye will no find him here.”
Remaining calm and cool, Callum said, “I dinnae ken who ye mean.”
A smile crept along the man’s face. “Och, aye, ye do, MacLeod. Yer brother was captured and is being held in the keep.”
“Lies,” Malcolm spat.
The man’s gaze landed on him then. “’Tis no a lie. I tell ye true.” Then he looked back to Callum. “If ye wish to save him, there is a way it can be done.”
Callum relaxed his grip on the hilt of his claymore but kept it there in case he needed to use it. “Who are ye to help us, then? MacDonald’s own men wouldna give us this information.”
The tall man gave a questioning glance to his companion, who have a quick nod. Then the tall man motioned to the chairs opposite Malcolm and Callum.
“May we sit?” he asked.
Malcolm stared at his brother. They exchanged a silent communication until finally Callum nodded.
“Aye.”
Each man pulled out a chair and sat. The tall one rested folded hands on the table. He leaned toward them.
“My name is William. This is my brother, John.”
John gave a nod of greeting as William continued, dropping his voice low.
“We have no love for our laird. He taxes us, takes our crops and livestock when he wants, and doesna offer us protection in return. I offer ye this bit of information in return for yers.”
“My protection?” Callum asked.
“Aye,” William said.
Malcolm and Callum exchanged a glance. He shook his head to indicate he didn’t trust these two. He saw the contemplation flickering over Callum’s face as he glanced back at the two brothers.
“Tell me,” Callum said. “And ye have it.”
“There’s a rocky creek leading into a cave on the north side of the castle. That, in turn, will take ye up a path where there’s a postern gate. It’s no guarded. Ye can enter the keep there. The dungeon is on the south side. That’s where ye’ll find yer brother.”
And Chloe and Evie, Malcolm thought, but kept that to himself. Willam seemed not to know about the two lassies and he wanted to keep it that way.
Callum dropped two silver coins on the table and pushed them at the two brothers. “Ye have my thanks, lads. Go to Dundale. Tell Dougal I sent ye. If ye betray me or my clan, then the both of ye will be put to death.”
William swiped the silver pieces off the table and closed them in his fist. “I wouldna expect anything other than that.”
The two of them rose and walked away. Malcolm kept his gaze on their backs as they exited the inn.
“Do ye trust them?” he asked.
“No,” Callum answered honestly. His clenched fist rested on the top of the table, his knuckles leeched of color. Impatience and determination emanated off him in waves. “If he leads us into a trap, then he dies when I return to Dundale.”
His brother sounded confident he would, in fact, be returning to Dundale.
Malcolm nodded. “Aye, then. Let’s hope there is no trap waiting for us.”
***
It was a long, dark, cold walk through the passageway from the dungeon.
At times, the cobblestones were slick. Other times, there was no air within the confining passage.
They went up an incline, then back down.
There were twists and turns leading them through the bowels of the keep. To where, neither of them knew.
Evie kept her hand tight on Chloe’s as they walked.
Chloe kept the torch held aloft in front of them to light their way, but it wasn’t much light to hold back the shadows.
They hadn’t spoken since leaving the dungeon cell.
Chloe knew when their absence was found, the alarm would be sounded and it would be difficult to escape unnoticed.
Once step at a time, she reminded herself.
At one point, the path started to ascend, which gave Chloe hope that they were headed to higher ground. Perhaps even closer to the main floor where they’d find the great hall and, hopefully, Bruce.
Next to her, Evie emitted a faint whimper.
“Are you all right?” Chloe asked.
“I need to stop a minute,” she said.
They halted where they were. Evie released her hand and leaned against the wall, blowing out a breath. Her head thumped back against the stone as she closed her eyes.
“I’m tired,” she said.
“I know. But we have to keep going,” Chloe replied.
She lifted her head and opened her eyes to look at her. “We’ve been walking a long time and we’ve seen no hint of a way out.”
“We have to keep going,” Chloe insisted.
She waved the torch toward the passageway. The flame flickered against the sudden movement.
“I can’t walk another step,” she whined.
“You have to. I can’t leave you here. And we’re not going back. We have to get your piece of the keystone.”
“But how?” Evie asked, her voice tinged with a bit of hopelessness.
“I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure out something.”
The worry on her sister’s face made Chloe step closer to her. She reached for her, placing a hand on her arm in reassurance.
“You’re stronger than you think, Eve.”
She scoffed. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I watched you run up those stairs in the museum that night. I watched you kick Bruce in the face.”
A small smile flickered over her face. “I did do that.”
“You did. We’ve never talked about that night,” Chloe said. “I was terrified something horrid had happened to you. I had no idea where you were. When the police came afterward, they brought me your shoes and handbag. They swore to me you were nowhere to be found.”
Her face contorted in pain. “I’m sorry, Chlo. I never intended to use the keystone to go back in time.”
She grinned. “I know that now. I retraced your steps that day we spent on the Royal Mile with Bruce. That’s how I ended up at the antique store.”
“Mystic Treasures,” she said with a nod. “And you saw Moira there.”
“I did. And she gave me the piece of keystone I have now.” She patted her pocket to reassure herself it was still there. The weight of it was slight but the object was still there.
They lapsed into silence as Evie continued to rest against the wall.
“What do you suppose Brianna is doing right now?” Evie asked.
Chloe snorted. “Probably lounging on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean, sipping a drink with a little umbrella.”
“Probably. But I do wonder how she’s going to end up in Edinburgh at Mystic Treasures when she hasn’t spoken to us in years.”
It was something that had crossed Chloe’s mind as well.
She and Brianna didn’t get along so well.
The grudge Chloe held wasn’t small—her sister’s behavior after their parents had died etched a bitterness too deep to ignore.
Brianna had been interested in doing what she had to do to make sure she and Evie graduated high school.
Once they’d turned eighteen, she washed her hands of them.
She’d headed back to her sunny beaches and her mojitos as if they’d never existed.
It cut Chloe to the bone.
Evie, though, was more forgiving. She liked to give Brianna the benefit of the doubt. Chance after chance. Brianna, though, did nothing but disappoint them both time and time again.
“You know she’s not interested in what we’re doing,” Chloe said. “I can’t see her stepping foot in Edinburgh. Not after spending most of her adult life as a beach bum.”
“But we know there are three pieces to the keystone. Three pieces that represent Present, Past, and Future. Brianna is the future. She has to come, doesn’t she?”
Hope lit her sister’s face, spilling into her voice. Chloe had her doubts about their older sister appearing in the past, but the last thing she wanted was to crush that spark.
“Maybe Moira will find a way to bring her to us,” she suggested. Then she changed the subject. “Are you ready to keep going?”
Evie pushed off the wall and nodded. “No, but I don’t think we have much of a choice.”
She laced her arm with Chloe’s. Together, they started through the inky shadows once more.
They walked and walked and walked. Eventually, the narrow corridor widened, giving her hope.
At last, they saw what appeared to be a door carved into the wall.
Halting, Chloe stared at it for a long moment, then glanced at her sister.
“A way out?” she whispered.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Chloe replied.
She handed the torch off to Evie. Then she pressed both hands against the door. There was no knob. It looked as though it were merely an indention within the wall. Taking a deep breath, she gave it a weak push. It didn’t budge. She tried again, pulling instead of pushing, and it cracked open.
A whoosh of cool air seeped through the crack. She peered through it but saw nothing. Or, rather, it appeared to be a tapestry. The hidden door was behind a wall hanging. Men’s voices floated to her. At first, she was unable to make out what they were saying.
“I say we kill him,” said one man, his voice rough and gravelly.
“Och, we cannae do that, laddie,” replied another man. “If we do that, the whole MacLeod army will be upon us.”
Chloe sucked in a sharp breath. MacLeod. Who was on the other side of that tapestry? Was it Malcolm? Had he been captured?
“What is it?” Evie whispered.
Chloe shook her head to indicate she didn’t know.
“Ransom him.”
That was Bruce’s voice. She was sure of it. The sound of his voice raised all the hackles on the back of her neck.
The first man snorted derision.
The second man said, “Ransom him, eh? MacLeod kens we have his brother and their women. He’ll want them all back. Nay. We willna ransom any of them.”
“Then what, Da?” the other man asked.
A cold, shivering fear went through her. She turned to Evie.
“I need to see who’s in the room,” she said.
Evie shook her head. “No way. That’s too dangerous.”
Chloe reached for her, grasping her free hand and squeezing it. “They captured one of them.”
Evie stared at her, hard, for a long, quiet moment. “One of them?”
“Malcolm or Callum. I don’t know which. I need to find out.”
Her sister took a deep breath, expelled it, and then nodded agreement.
Chloe turned back to the door. She nudged it open enough to squeeze through without disturbing the tapestry. With her hand shaking and her breath quaking, she reached for the edge, pulling it back a scant inch to see into the room.
The man called Rory MacDonald stood in the center with his arms folded over his chest. Bruce was seated, his feet propped up on a nearby table. The third man she was unable to see.
But there, in a chair, with his hands bound behind him, was not Malcolm or Callum.
It was Jamie.