Chapter 19
Thomas stared down at the collection of maps, documents, and assorted papers that his councilors had laid down before him.
Not only did he not have the energy to look at any of these documents—let alone absorb their contents—but he was fighting a powerful urge to fling all of the papers onto the floor.
He didn’t, of course.
“Good day to ye, Me Laird,” the councilors said one by one as they shuffled towards the exit of the meeting room.
Thomas was vaguely aware that there had been a meeting, and now it was over, but that was all.
He had no idea what it had been about. At least Tabitha was here, though, so he wouldn’t have inadvertently agreed to something stupid.
The woman herself paused in front of Thomas, looming over him.
“Good day to ye, Tabitha,” he said listlessly.
She pursed her lips. “Are ye going to tell me what’s wrong, or shall I guess?”
Thomas didn’t look at her. “Nothing is wrong.”
Tabitha sighed heavily, the way she did when he was being particularly stubborn. It was the sort of sigh a long-suffering parent might give to a rebellious child.
“Something is obviously wrong. Ye have not been yourself these past few days.” She hesitated, considering her next words. “Did ye not enjoy the party with the healer’s apprentice.”
Thomas felt his spine stiffen at the mention of Emma, even directly, and knew that Tabitha wouldn’t have missed it.
“I have much work to do, Tabitha. If ye have nothing good to say, then…” he trailed off, hearing the sound of shuffling, uneven footsteps.
He knew who it was before the gentle tap came at the door.
Thomas got to his feet, moving to the door. He opened it, and sure enough, there stood Delphine, leaning on a cane.
“Delphine, is everything all right?” he asked, surprised.
Delphine was paler than usual, a faint sheen of sweat standing out on her papery skin. Her breath was coming hard, and she leaned heavily on her cane.
“I cannot find Emma,” she gasped. “I sent her out for herbs hours ago, and she is not yet back. She ought to have been back by now.”
Thomas glanced over at Tabitha. “Is it not possible she’s lost track of time?”
Delphine shook her head firmly. “I sent her out no later than nine o’clock.
It’s close to four now. There is no chance she’d take so long, not unless something has happened to her.
I’ve been out searching for her. I checked all the usual places where we go for supplies, but there was no sign of her. I don’t know what to do.”
“We must get up a search party,” he said firmly. “Tabitha, can you organize people to search? There’s a place I think she might be, although it’s a bit of a stretch. I’ll start there.”
Tabitha gave a brief nod. “Ye can count on me, Me Laird.”
“What about me? What shall I do?” Delphine asked eagerly.
Thomas laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Ye can go back to your chambers and rest.”
“Rest? When that poor lass is out there, unaccounted for? I think not.”
“Delphine, please. Emma may return quietly and not realize that we are looking for her. There’s no use ye wearing out your strength, not when there are plenty of people to search. I know it’s hard, but ye must do your duty. What if people need a healer?”
Delphine’s shoulders sagged at this, but she nodded.
“Aye, Me Laird, ye are right.”
She turned around and shuffled off the way she came, leaving Tabitha and Thomas alone.
“Hurry, Tabitha, it’s not like Delphine to worry,” he said.
Tabitha nodded. “And where are ye going, then?”
“To the Sinner,” he said grimly.
The Sinner was quiet at this time of day. The laborers hadn’t yet finished toiling, and only a few hardened drunks and old men were in the pub.
Thomas pushed open the door, still out of breath from his long, hard ride.
There’d been no sign of Emma and the man she’d met up on the hill.
It looked different in daylight, somehow.
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.
Had he thought he would see them together, hand in hand, conveniently silhouetted against the pale gray sky?
Stupid, really.
It was the first possibility that had occurred to him, that Emma might have eloped with whoever that man was.
But what if he was wrong?
Dominic was behind the bar and glanced up when Thomas came in. Astrid was perched near the end, looking bored. She perked up when she spotted Thomas.
“Have ye seen Emma?” Thomas asked, leaning over the bar towards Dominic. “Nobody can find her.”
Dominic frowned. “Well, how long has she been missing?”
“Since nine o’clock this morning.”
“That’s not so long. Are ye sure ye need to be worried?”
Thomas bit his lip. “My chief healer is worried, so I’m worried. She was sent to gather herbs, so she could have been hurt, or gotten lost, or…”
Or eloped.
Dominic frowned. “Well, why do ye think she’d be here?”
Thomas swallowed hard, glancing over at Astrid. The woman didn’t appear to be listening in, but he’d wager that she was.
“I saw her with a man here,” he confessed.
Dominic’s eyes widened. “You mean… with a man?”
“No! Just talking to him. They were standing close, and he touched her face.”
“Hmm. Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean the meeting was romantic. Did she touch him? Did she maybe move towards him?”
Thomas shook his head. “She didn’t move much at all. She just… just stood there. Stock still.”
Now that he thought about it, it didn’t seem right. When he and Emma had been intimate, she’d moved a lot. She touched him, put her arms around him, and leaned towards him. A woman—or any person, really—that stood like a statue while you touched them was probably not enjoying the moment.
Have I been an absolute fool?
“Dominic, I—”
“Laird MacPherson, may I speak with ye for a moment?” Astrid requested sweetly, materializing at his side. “In private, if possible.”
Thomas swallowed hard, trying to compose himself. “Anything ye want to say in front of me, ye can say in front of Dominic.”
Astrid pouted. “I’d rather not, Me Laird.”
Dominic rolled his eyes. “I’ll go and ask some of the staff whether they have seen anything of Emma. Ye two can have your chat.” He turned and made his way back towards the kitchens, leaving Thomas and Astrid alone.
Astrid smiled at Thomas, fluttering perfect eyelashes over perfect eyes. “I’m glad to see ye again, Me Laird. I don’t see ye enough. Ye will make a woman pine for ye if ye carry on this way.”
Thomas clenched his teeth, squeezing his hands into fists.
“Astrid, I hope… I hope I haven’t given ye any reason to have false hope of me.
I think ye know what I mean. I am turning my thoughts to more serious relationships these days, and ye are not what I am looking for in a wife.
And, of course, I’m sure I’m not what ye want in a husband. ”
Astrid gave a dainty, one-shouldered shrug. “In my experience, men don’t know what they want until it is given to them. As for me, I know exactly what I want. I want ye, Thomas.”
Her hand slithered across the top of the bar, reaching for his. Thomas whisked it away.
“Astrid, please. Do ye know anything about Emma’s disappearance? Did ye maybe see something or hear something? Any clue, any hint would help me.”
“Help ye?” Astrid gave a tittering melodious laugh that made a couple of drunks lift their heads from the tables and goggle at her. “So ye can go and make that plain, green-fingered fool Lady MacPherson? I don’t think so.”
Thomas backed away, but she kept coming.
“Astrid, stop. This isn’t helpful. Not one bit. If ye don’t know where Emma is, I’ll take my leave.”
He turned on his heel, marching towards the door.
“Wait!” she cried.
Thomas froze, his hands on the doorframe, and glanced back over his shoulder. Astrid stood at the bar, her expression tight and determined.
“Let’s talk outside,” she said smoothly.
Marching across the floor, she shouldered past him, ignoring some poor drunken fool asking for another ale.
It was shaping up to be a fine day outside, which seemed a little inappropriate to Thomas. It was bright and airy, and while the sky was mostly gray, it was a light gray, and the breeze was warm.
Astrid had clearly chosen her clothes with this in mind. She wore a loose white dress that blew suggestively around her figure, adorned with blue embroidery that perfectly matched her eyes.
“The way I see it,” she said meditatively, “becoming a laird is something ye must work for, aye? Ye must show that ye want it.”
Thomas grimaced. “Not me. I was born into it.”
“Why should a lady be any different?” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him.
“Ye need a wife, Laird MacPherson. A fine, beautiful woman to make all your subjects jealous. Who ever heard of a laird having a plain, stocky wife with pockets full of grass and herbs and heaven knows what else? A wife with green-stained fingers is just ridiculous for a man of your stature.”
Thomas bristled. “I’ll marry whom I choose. That’s my prerogative as Laird, and nobody will dare say a word against my choice of bride. Nobody.”
“Do ye intend to marry Emma, then, the pretty wee healer?” she snarled.
“That’s none of yer concern. Do ye have information for me, or not?”
“I think we should be wed. I’ll speak plain. I’ll be a good wife.” She batted her eyelashes at him, taking a step towards him. “I’ll make it worth yer while.”
Thomas shook his head, turning away. “Goodbye, Astrid.”
“If ye marry me, I’ll tell ye where they’ve taken her.”
He froze, glancing back over his shoulder. “Who are they?”
She grinned. “Lachlan McCade and Gregor, of course. I believe Gregor was a soldier in your keep, and he’s got a grudge against ye and Emma.”
Thomas swallowed hard, feeling sick. “Gregor is locked up in the dungeons.”
Astrid pursed her lips. “I don’t think so.”
He thought back to when he’d asked Tabitha about Gregor, and her eyes had slipped away from him, and she’d made a vague comment. Damn the woman, she was probably trying to keep him focused on other matters.
Lachlan McCade, he knew him. He was a vile man, famous for his disgusting pub and trading in human flesh. Nobody respectable would go near him.
And these two men had Emma.
“Ye must have helped them,” Thomas heard himself say, his nails digging into his palm. “Why? What did Emma do to ye?”
Astrid rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. She was in my way, and that’s all there is to it.
I got rid of her, and ye still won’t see sense.
I am the one meant for ye, Thomas MacPherson.
So, we’ll do this the hard way. Announce yer betrothal to me all over the Keep and set it up so ye cannot just change your mind once it’s done.
Then I will tell ye where they took her. ”
Thomas stared at Astrid for a long time, searching her face.
“When I was young,” he said slowly, “me Da used to lie to me a lot. He thought it was fun to manipulate people, to make them think one thing, to make them feel that they were to blame in a situation when they really weren’t.
Lying was an art to him, and he was good at it. That’s why I hate liars so much.”
Astrid’s cheeks reddened. “Are ye going to give me an answer or not? I don’t know what they’re doing to her. Ye may not have much time.”
“I hate lying, and I hate how my father treated me,” Thomas continued, “but it taught me one thing. I can always tell when a person is lying to me.”
Astrid’s face went beet red. “How dare—”
“Ye don’t know where they took her,” Thomas said contemptuously. “Ye never did. What, did ye mean to guess if I’d gone along with yer plan? Goodbye, Astrid.”
He turned to go, and she hurtled across the space between them, her sharp fingernails clawing at his arm.
“Wait… wait…”
Thomas wrenched his arm away, rounding on her. “Ye are done here, Astrid,” he hissed. “Get out of here. Ye don’t work here anymore, and ye have no place in any MacPherson lands. Ye have till sunset to get yourself gone, or I’ll have ye caught and thrown into my dungeons to rot.”
She paled, swallowing hard. “But, Me Laird—”
“I never want to set eyes on ye again. Never.”
He turned away and didn’t look back, not even once.