Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
SHARP FEAR
Mathilda
Callum jammed his feet into his boots, his features tightly held and an air of controlled fear hanging over him. “Take the Rover to Braithar. Get Wasp. Can ye find your way in the dark?”
“Don’t worry about me. Find your brother.” I was on my feet, ready to help.
He leapt up, palmed my face, then kissed me like our almost-argument was a distant memory.
Outside, the noise of a helicopter’s rotor blades chopped up the air.
It grew to a din as we reached the front door, and I half hid myself behind the frame.
Callum stormed into the snow-covered field outside the cabin.
The helicopter landed, he climbed on, then was gone.
Silence swelled. Freezing air swirled around me.
In minutes, everything had changed.
Happiness had shifted to sharp fear. As razor-edged as the sword tattoo I’d spotted inked down the centre of Callum’s back before he’d dragged on his shirt. A reminder of who he had to protect?
Right. In a numb state, I dressed from my overnight bag, packed up our clothes and belongings, and found the keys to Callum’s Land Rover.
In the cold dark, I faced the night with a small degree of trepidation in driving the narrow, icy path.
If I could help in any way with this, I would.
I could retrieve Wasp and then find another way to be useful.
I needed Callum to see my decisions were usually sound. It hurt to consider what he must think of me now.
The car door creaked as I swung it open, slinging the bags inside. The metal was bitterly cold to the touch. The thought of Ally in the river somewhere nearly floored me and I hurried to the driver’s side.
The water would be icy. The night pitch black.
I liked the boy so much. All of Callum’s brothers were wonderful, but Ally…for all his size, he was a child, still. Lost, out in the cold. His brothers would be desperate. My heart hammered.
The Land Rover trundled forward under my careful, shaking hands, and I took the route back to Castle Braithar.
After a twenty-minute anxiety-inducing downhill slalom, I crossed the river to the castle.
The place was a hive of activity with vehicles charging about.
Though the evening I’d had with Callum had seemed to go on forever, we’d left the party early, and many guests were still here.
Groups in suits and evening dresses gathered on the riverbank, torches in hand.
Somewhere, the roar of the helicopter ripped through the air.
I dipped my lights and rolled off the road and onto the grass, searching the faces for anyone familiar. Then I spotted Una with Wasp at her side. Bringing the car to a halt, I half-fell as I ran over.
“Wasp!”
“Mathilda!” The boy lurched forward and wrapped his arms around me. I hugged him in return, placing my hand on the back of his head. Damp. His clothes were, too. The smell of river water was rich in his hair. He’d obviously been searching for his twin.
“Any news?” I asked.
Wasp dragged me a couple of steps. “No. Come on. Get back in the car. We need to join the search.”
Una caught up with us, her pale face alarmed. “Gordain left William in my care. He’s at risk of winding up in the river himself, trying to find Alasdair.”
“I’ve got him. Thank you,” I replied, snapping into management mode. I’d handled all kinds of emergencies before, though none had included missing boys. Family members. “Where’s Gordain now?”
“Out on the rescue boat, heading down to the loch. The search party is going to convene at Castle McRae.”
I gave her a grateful nod and continued to the car. Wasp threw himself into the passenger seat, and I stepped on the gas, propelling us away.
Along the dark road, a restless Wasp filled me in on the night’s events.
Ally had been goaded into a secret rematch by Lachlan’s stepgrandson, a young man named Paulo.
He’d taken the bait and not told Wasp or Gordain, but ten minutes after Paulo had reached the fast-flowing bend that was their end point, Ally still hadn’t appeared.
Paulo waited but eventually panicked, returned alone, and told the brothers.
So stupid.
In hindsight, so predictable.
The road followed the river, and lights occasionally flickered through the trees. Wasp jolted up at each one.
“Callum will find him,” I said.
“Can we get out and look? I need to help. It was my fault. He always has to go that one step further, and I should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to ignore that lad. All for a stupid challenge.”
My heart hurt. “It isn’t your fault, and he will be found. Your brothers are both trained in this, right? We’ll find out more when we get to the castle.”
Wasp stared into the dark night. The beam from the helicopter lit the clouds ahead like a star guiding us home.
“Check your phone,” I suggested. “See if you have any messages.”
The twins were permanently attached to their devices, and Wasp gripped his in his hand.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
Ahead, the trees thinned and the night sky emerged. We were closing in on the downhill path to Castle McRae.
“Check mine.” I rummaged in my bag tucked at my side, then handed the phone to Wasp. The boy took it and turned it on, the screen lighting up the Land Rover’s cabin.
I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Message after message landed, scrolling up. Wasp looked through them but didn’t speak. I knew I had notifications from Dad trying to get hold of me, but the screen kept moving.
“What?” I asked. “Is there news?”
“You…” Wasp pushed the messages up, reading through. The cold in the car seemed to dip the longer he paused. “They’re not from Callum. These are all congratulation messages. And links to news sites. Who is Dominic Hanswick? Mattie, are you engaged?”
Shock had me snap my head around. “No!”
Had I thought the evening couldn’t get any worse? It just had.
We pulled up outside Castle McRae at the same time the helicopter appeared overhead.
Several things happened at once. Two support vehicles raced past us and down the slope to the path that led alongside the loch.
People jumped out and waded into the water, their figures backlit by the powerful lamps on top of the cars.
Angry vibrations shook the air around us as the helicopter hovered, readying to land.
Then, finally, a rescue boat purred under the road bridge and coasted toward the waiting group.
Wasp and I took off to join the onlookers at the edge of the water. Alongside the uniformed emergency services, I recognised a number of estate workers huddled together, and the expression on their faces was identical to how I felt. Sheer terror at what the boat was bringing in.
“G!” Wasp yelled over the noise, his tone desperate and his hands clutching my arm.
Gordain’s voice called back from the boat, resounding in the freezing air. “Got him. Cold but fine.”
I nearly dropped to the rocky beach. Wasp grabbed me tighter, and we both gasped with relief. They’d found Ally. His twin left my side and staggered into the shallows.
“I’m alive,” Ally’s voice came. Though he sounded weak, his voice was music to my ears. Then the boat cruised in, and waiting hands moved to help the passengers with quiet efficiency.
Behind us on the grass, the helicopter had touched down, and heavy footsteps pounded down the track.
Then Callum was crashing into the water, lifting his brother from Gordain’s arms and turning back to shore.
The look on his face was pure determination, and it melted as he held his brother to his chest and the young man threw an arm around his neck, holding the other out for his twin.
“Mathilda, keep close,” Callum boomed, reaching the beach, and I jumped to follow. Gordain caught up and placed a hand on my back and, together, we moved into the castle.
The rescue was over, but I had a new battle to face. What on Earth did all those messages on my phone mean, and how was I now engaged?
The last remaining visitors stood around the fire in Castle McRae’s great hall. A paramedic had just concluded tending to Ally in his room, and the other parties began to disburse.
Playing host, I’d made hot drinks and directed people around the castle. Beth and James, still sick, had been ordered back to bed, and Callum and Gordain had carried out a rapid debrief but were taking care of their family upstairs.
As I understood it, Callum had spotted Ally by his frantic waving of his phone light.
No signal in the rocky river valley to allow a rescue call.
He’d been swept off his raft, submerged, much farther past the point Paulo had reached, but he’d managed to scramble to the river’s steep bank.
Then he’d sat and shivered until the boat reached him.
Despite the warmth from the fire, I trembled at the thought of how bad it could have been.
A knock came from the open castle door, and a new group of people entered, breaking my moment of reflection. It was Lachlan, a woman and young man with him. The boy Ally had raced.
“We won’t stay long,” Lachlan announced. “This is my wife, Marianne, and this wee idiot, Paulo, has something to say to the laird.”
“Callum’s with his brothers,” I said, folding my arms and throwing a glance at the wooden staircase behind me. I didn’t want to be rude, but the family needed their peace. Now was not the time.
“Please pass on my apologies to Ally. And to his brothers.” The dark-haired young man at Lachlan’s side toed the flagstones. His voice was thick with regret.
“Damn right you’re sorry. You knew it wasn’t safe to go downstream but you still went ahead with your challenge,” Lachlan barked at the young man.
At a guess, I’d put him at seventeen or eighteen.
“But it was only to the third bend, before the rapids, then we were meant to walk back. I wrote it down and gave it to him at the start. Why did he go past the mark?”