Chapter Twenty Murieall
I came to with my head throbbing and my body being jarred as the horse I was on galloped ahead. An arm pressed heavily across my stomach, holding me in place. Fear gripped me, and I tried to wrench free, only to have my air nearly cut off as the arm around me dug into my belly.
“Hold still,” Gordon hissed, his hot breath hitting the back of my neck.
The ground blurred by as we raced forward. My mouth tasted of blood, and as my senses slowly returned, memories crashed upon me in terrible fragments.
Gordon had dragged me from James’s chamber, his fingers digging into my arm with bruising force. I recalled struggling against his grip as he hauled me down the corridor.
Servants had peered from doorways, eyes wide with shock, but none had dared intervene against the laird’s uncle. I remembered twisting in his grasp, clawing at his face with my free hand until he’d struck me across the cheek, the blow so sudden it had stunned me into momentary silence.
Children’s voices had shattered that silence—Bess and Guinn, running toward us, their small faces contorted with terror.
“Leave her alone!” Guinn had shouted, her tiny hands curled into fists at her sides. “Da will nae let ye hurt her!”
Gordon had merely laughed, the sound sharp as a blade in the tense corridor. “Yer da sent me to collect her, lass. She’s mad, and now she must go.”
“Ye’re lying!” Bess had screamed, tears streaming down her face. “Da would nae hurt Murieall! She helps the ghosts speak!”
The pain in my head intensified at the memory of their cries following me down the stairwell. God’s blood, what would become of them now? Would Gordon and Magdalene twist their minds as they’d twisted Munro’s? Would the lasses forget me, or worse, come to believe I’d meant them harm?
I’d made one desperate attempt to break free as Gordon had forced me down the winding stairs toward the courtyard.
With strength born of pure desperation, I’d wrenched my arm from his grasp and bolted, taking the stairs two at a time.
But my skirts had tangled around my ankles, and I’d pitched forward, my body tumbling down the unforgiving stone steps.
Pain had exploded through me, the world spinning in a blur of color and agony before darkness had swept in, mercifully taking the hurt away.
And now I was on this horse, bound and at Gordon’s mercy.
How long had I been unconscious? Not long, judging by the fact that we were only just approaching the woods that surrounded the castle.
Where was he taking me? Deep into the forest where my screams would go unheard? My blood ran cold at the thought.
He drew the horse to a halt just as we entered the forest, and the sense that my time was running out burrowed into my bones.
“What do ye plan to do to me?” I demanded, forcing strength into my voice despite the fear that clutched at my throat.
“Somewhere ye can do nae more harm,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “Somewhere ye’ll nae be able to interfere with what must happen.”
A cold certainty settled in my stomach. He meant to kill me. The realization should have terrified me into silence, but instead, a strange calm washed over me. If I were to die this day, I wouldn’t do so cowering.
“Ye and Magdalene killed George,” I said, the words falling like stones between us. “Magdalene pushed Isabella from the cliff when Isabella discovered the two of ye were plotting.”
“Ye ken too much for yer own good,” he said, dismounting with a fluid grace that belied his years. “Just as Isabella did.”
I straightened in the saddle, ignoring the pain that shot through my body at the movement. “Munro will discover the truth. If nae from me, then from James, or from the chambermaid who heard the bairn cry.”
Gordon’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. “James will nae live to tell any tales,” he said. “And as for the chambermaid…” He shrugged. “Accidents befall servants all the time.”
My heart sank. What had I done? In my desperate attempt to find the truth, had I condemned others to share Isabella’s fate? The knowledge that Gordon intended to silence everyone who might expose his and Magdalene’s crimes weighed heavily upon me.
He reached for me then, and I jerked back instinctively, but there was nowhere to go.
His fingers brushed against mine, then circled my wrist in a vice grip.
His hands were cold as death, making my skin crawl.
I tried to jerk free once more, but it was futile.
He was much stronger than I was. With a hard pull toward him, I was sliding off the horse, heart racing.
The world tilted, then righted as my feet hit the ground, and I searched frantically for an escape.
In that moment, an odd warmth washed over me.
The horse neighed and kicked up, as if spooked.
Gordon released me to grab the horse’s reins, and then, as clear as if she stood beside me, Isabella’s voice whispered in my ear.
Run.
Panic knifed through me, and I bolted toward the woods.