Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
James stood before the tall mirror in his chamber, fastening the clasp of his plaid with practiced precision as the pale light of morning crept through the narrow window. A sudden, frantic knock sounded at his door.
The urgency in it made him frown, and he crossed the room in long strides. Pulling the door open, he was met with the sight of Fiona and Beatrice, both pale and breathless.
“What is it?” he demanded at once, his voice low but edged with concern.
“Me Laird,” Fiona said, dipping into a hurried curtsy, her hands trembling.
Beatrice stepped forward before the maid could continue, her eyes wide with panic. “I cannae find Eloise,” she said. “I thought she might be here with ye.”
James stilled, his expression hardening as a chill ran through him. “She is nae here,” he replied, his tone sharpening. “I have nae seen her since the ceilidh.”
Fiona wrung her hands, glancing between them. “She is nae in her chamber, me Laird,” she said quickly. “The bed… it has nae been slept in.”
Beatrice nodded rapidly, stepping closer. “And there is more,” she added, her voice dropping. “There is sign of struggle. A broken glass upon the floor… and a chair knocked over.”
The words seemed to hit him hard, and James went utterly still. His mind raced, piecing the fragments together with brutal clarity.
“Nay,” he muttered under his breath, his expression darkening into something dangerous. “Where can she be?”
His gaze snapped to Fiona. “Go,” he barked, his voice rising with command. “Tell the guards to sound the bells.”
Fiona straightened at once, fear replaced by obedience. “Aye, me Laird,” she said, turning and running down the corridor without hesitation.
James stepped out into the hall, already moving with purpose, his long strides eating up the distance. Beatrice hurried after him, struggling to keep pace.
“Do ye think she left of her own will?” he asked sharply, glancing at her for only a moment.
Beatrice hesitated, her brow furrowing. “I… I daenae think so,” she admitted, though doubt flickered in her eyes. “She has fled before, aye… that is how she came here. But she wouldnae go without a word this time. She would tell me.”
The first toll of the alarm bells rang out then, loud and echoing through the stone halls. It sent a jolt through James’s chest.
“Then it is possible she has been taken,” he said grimly, more to himself than to her.
Beatrice’s face went pale at his words. “Taken?” she whispered, her voice barely holding together. “By whom?”
James did not answer at once, though Mairead’s face flashed unbidden through his mind, followed by a darker, more dangerous thought.
He turned abruptly, stopping so suddenly that Beatrice nearly collided with him.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice firm and commanding. “Go to her chamber. Search it thoroughly.”
Beatrice blinked, still shaken. “Search…?”
“Aye,” he snapped, though not unkindly. “Look for anythin'. A note, a sign, anythin' that might tell us where she has been taken or who is responsible.”
Beatrice swallowed hard, nodding despite the fear in her eyes. “Aye, me Laird,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I will look.”
“Good,” James said shortly, already turning away. “Daenae let anyone disturb ye while ye search.”
Beatrice gave a quick nod and hurried off down the corridor, her skirts gathered in her hands as she ran.
James watched her go for only a moment before he moved again, his pace quickening.
The bells continued to ring, their relentless toll echoing through the castle and into the courtyard beyond.
Servants began to emerge from doorways, guards rushing forward in confusion and alarm.
“Seal the gates!” James roared as he descended the stairs, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Nay one leaves this castle without me command!”
A pair of guards snapped to attention at once. “Aye, me Laird!” they called, sprinting toward the gates.
James’s hands curled into fists at his sides, fury and fear twisting together in his chest. His mind burned with one thought, over and over again.
Eloise is gone. And someone within me walls is responsible. And I think I ken who.
James did not knock. The door to Mairead’s chamber slammed open beneath the force of his boot, striking the stone wall with a resounding crack that echoed through the corridor. Mairead spun at the noise, her hands clutching the edge of a table, her eyes wide with shock.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, her voice sharp though it wavered at the edges. “Ye cannae simply barge into me room, me Laird.”
James stepped inside like a storm given flesh, his presence filling the space with a dangerous intensity.
“Where is she?” he thundered, his voice low and lethal.
Mairead blinked, recovering quickly, her expression smoothing into a sweet tone. “I daenae ken what ye mean,” she said softly, tilting her head as though confused.
“Daenae lie to me,” he snapped, taking a step closer. “Tell me where she is, or I swear to God ye will regret it.”
Mairead’s eyes narrowed then, the sweetness falling away to reveal something colder beneath. “Ye presume much,” she replied coolly, though her voice held a flicker of defiance.
“Presume?” James barked, his restraint fraying. “Her chamber shows signs of struggle, and ye expect me to believe ye ken nothing?”
He closed the distance between them, his towering presence forcing her back a step. “Ye have been nothing but trouble since ye returned,” he growled.
Mairead lifted her chin, refusing to retreat further. “Everythin' I have done has been for the good of this clan,” she shot back, her voice rising. “For the strength of Calibroch, for the alliances that matter.”
James stared at her, incredulous. “Ye call this strength?” he demanded. “Ye call harmin' an innocent lass strategy?”
Mairead’s expression hardened, her eyes flashing. “She is nae innocent,” she countered sharply. “She is a problem. A distraction. Ye were meant for somethin' greater than some wanderin' girl with soft words and softer hands.”
James’s breath came heavier, anger coiling tightly in his chest. “I understand what ye were raised to believe,” he said, “But I will nae forgive this. Nae now. Nae ever.”
Mairead faltered then, just for a moment, the first crack in her composure. “James…” she began, her voice softening, pleading now.
But he cut her off with a sharp motion of his hand. “From this day forth, ye have nay place here,” he declared coldly. “I strip ye of any influence within this castle, within this clan.”
Her eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. “Ye cannae mean that,” she said, her voice breaking. “This is me home.”
“Nay,” James replied, “It was.”
“And more than that,” he continued, his gaze hard as stone, “I should throw ye into the dungeon for what ye have done.”
Mairead’s breath caught, fear now fully taking hold. “Please,” she said quickly, stepping toward him. “Daenae do that. Send me away instead. Send me back to me family.”
James studied her for a long moment, his silence heavy. “I will consider banishment,” he said at last, his voice measured. “But only if ye tell me where she is.”
Mairead hesitated, her lips pressing together as her eyes flickered with conflict. James took another step closer, his patience gone.
“Speak,” he demanded. “Or I will have ye dragged to the dungeon before the next bell tolls.”
She flinched, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his fury.
“Drummond,” she said finally, the word barely more than a whisper.
James went still.
Nay. Anyone but him.
“I helped deliver her to him,” Mairead added, her voice trembling now. “His men came in the night.”
For a moment, the world seemed to fall silent around him. James felt it all at once, the fear, the rage, the crushing weight of memory. Jenny’s face flashed in his mind, followed by Eloise’s, pale and still. His heart pounded painfully, his breath coming sharp and unsteady.
“Nay. How could ye be so cruel?” he muttered, more to himself than to her. He turned away abruptly, running a hand through his hair as fury surged through him like fire.
“I will nae lose her,” he said, his voice low and shaking with restrained violence. “Nae to him. Nae again.” He turned back to Mairead, his eyes blazing. “If any harm comes to her…” He did not finish the threat, but the promise in his gaze was unmistakable.
Mairead lowered her eyes, unable to meet it.
James strode from Mairead’s chamber with purpose carved into every line of his body, his anger held tight beneath iron control. A guard rounded the corridor corner just as he emerged, and James seized the man’s attention with a sharp look.
“Ye,” he commanded, his voice cutting. “Stand at that door.”
The guard straightened at once, eyes flicking nervously toward Mairead’s chamber.
“Aye, me Laird,” he replied.
James stepped closer, his tone lowering into something deadly serious. “She doesnae leave that room. Ye daenae take food or drink from her. Nae for any reason. If she tries to leave, ye stop her.”
The guard swallowed but nodded firmly. “Aye, me Laird. I will nae fail ye.” James held his gaze a moment longer, ensuring the command was understood, before turning away.
He moved down the corridor and stopped at a narrow window overlooking the courtyard below.
Chaos had already begun to take hold, the alarm bells still ringing as men rushed to and fro, voices raised in urgency.
Servants scattered, guards armed themselves, and the entire castle seemed to pulse with rising tension.
“Callum!” he roared, his voice carrying down into the courtyard like thunder. Heads turned below, and a moment later Callum stepped forward, shielding his eyes as he looked up.
“Here, me Laird,” Callum shouted.
“Fifty men,” James shouted, his tone leaving no room for delay. “Armed and ready to ride for battle, now!”
Callum did not hesitate. “Aye, me Laird!” he called back, already turning to bark orders of his own.
James did not linger. He turned sharply and made his way to his chamber, his strides swift and unrelenting.
Inside, he moved with practiced efficiency, strapping his sword belt tight around his waist. The familiar weight of steel settled against his hip, grounding him even as fury burned beneath the surface.
He reached for his dirk, sliding it into his boot with a firm motion.
Grabbing his heavy cloak, he swung it over his shoulders, fastening it without pause.
Every movement was sharp, deliberate, driven by the need to act.
“She will nae be lost,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with restrained emotion.
The image of Eloise, her laughter, her stubborn defiance, the warmth of her presence, flashed through his mind. It twisted something deep in his chest, fueling the fire that already raged within him.
“Nae to him,” he added, his tone hardening. Without another thought, he turned and left the chamber.
By the time he emerged outside, the castle yard had transformed into a flurry of motion.
Horses were being saddled at speed, their restless stamping echoing against the walls.
Men hurried, fastening armor, checking weapons, their voices overlapping in urgency.
The sharp scent of leather and steel filled the air, mingling with the tension that hung thick as a storm.
Callum stood near the center of it all, already armed, his presence commanding as he directed the men.
“Move!” Callum barked, pointing toward a line of mounted soldiers. “I want every blade sharpened and every man ready!”
He turned as James approached, his expression grim but resolute. “They’ll be ready within moments,” he said, stepping closer.
James nodded once, his gaze sweeping over the gathering force. “We ride to Drummond’s castle,” he announced loudly, his voice carrying across the courtyard. A murmur rippled through the men at the name.
“Drummond has taken Miss Eloise,” James continued, his tone dark with fury. The reaction was immediate, anger flared, voices rose, hands tightened around weapons.
“We will nae wait,” he said firmly. “We ride now, and we bring her back.”
A chorus of agreement followed, the men rallying under his command.
Callum stepped beside him, his eyes sharp. “Then we ride to war,” he said quietly.
James met his gaze, something fierce burning there. “Aye,” he replied. “To war.”
His horse was brought forward, and James mounted in one swift motion, settling into the saddle with ease. Around him, the men followed suit, the sound of hooves and shifting gear filling the air.
Callum swung onto his own horse, positioning himself at James’s side.
“We’ll take the east road,” James said, “Fastest path to Drummond’s lands.”
Callum gave a curt nod. “Then we waste nay time.”
He turned his horse toward the gates, lifting his voice once more.
“Open them!” he commanded. The heavy gates creaked as they began to part, revealing the road beyond.
The men fell into formation behind him, a line of steel and resolve.
James gripped the reins tightly, his heart pounding with a singular, burning purpose.
Then he drove his heels into his horse, and they rode.
Hold on, Eloise. Me lass… me heart.