Chapter 27
Bump. Bump. Bump.
Melody’s forehead knocked against smooth, warm leather. She could smell saddle oil. Her stomach hurt, and her hips and shoulder joints ached horribly.
She woke in a rush, and her situation became a little clearer. Metaphorically clearer, that is, not literally, since she was lying belly-down across a horse saddle, her vision blurred by blood rushing to her head. The ground slunk by beneath her, and a rush of nausea seized her middle.
Groaning, Melody tried to shift her position, to wriggle free, but found to her consternation that her wrists and ankles were tied, and there was a length of rope affixing her to the saddle, too.
“Daenae fret, lass,” came Angus’ tired voice.
If she lifted her head up as far as she could manage, Melody could just get a glimpse of his hunched back, leading the horse through an open, grassy field.
Just ahead, the ground seemed to end abruptly, leaving only an iron-gray sky.
A tendril of fear uncurled in Melody’s stomach.
“We are just about there. Ye were only unconscious for a moment or two. I am sorry that I had to strike ye. I never intended ye to be hurt.”
“Never intended me to be hurt?” she exclaimed.
“You are going to throw me off a cliff and make it seem as though I have taken my own life! Which, I imagine, will infuriate my sister and her husband, and will create bad feelings at best between clans MacDean and MacLeon, and war at worst,” she paused, considering. “War is what you want, isn’t it?”
“There is somethin’ cleansing about a good war,” Angus responded tersely. “It is a good opportunity for new things. Daenae be sad, lass.”
“I am not sad. I am angry,” she shot back. “Angry at you.”
He sighed. “Aye, that’s fair. Well, here we are. Take a look at the view.”
Melody lifted her head again. The blood in her head pounded, and her vision kept blurring. People were not meant to be upside-down for very long. Her queasiness had only gotten worse, spurred on by a definite, simmering fury.
They had reached the end of the earth, it seemed. White, rocky stone broke out from under the turf, and beyond it was just nothing. Melody had a vague idea that this place was somewhere in the high hills surrounding a deep valley below.
It seemed like a terrible place to die.
Angus turned toward her, a silver blade glinting in his hand. She barely had time for a squeak of fear before he cut the ropes binding her to the saddle and the ropes around her ankles. He hauled her unceremoniously down.
Now, of course, would have been a good time to consider struggling, but Melody’s limbs had turned to wood and did not respond to her panicked urging. She could do nothing but wriggle limply as Angus dragged her toward the edge.
The view was indeed spectacular. The cliff overlooked the valley, as she’d imagined, but the vast expanse of space, the sky above, and the gouged-out ground below, was simply nothing as she had envisioned.
When they were only a few feet from the edge, Angus hauled her upright, placing her on her feet.
“Can ye stand?” he asked, with all the solicitousness of a father helping his daughter out of a carriage.
“I willnae hurt ye with the knife. Nay, ye must fall, I’m afraid.
Fall or jump, the choice is yers. It’s a quick death.
When Lady MacDean fell, she was killed instantly.
The fall lasts only a few seconds. Nay, only one second, I’d imagine.
Over in an eyeblink. I ken many men and women who were nae blessed with such a quick and easy death. ”
Melody swallowed thickly, turning her back to the drop—terrifying as it was—and facing him.
“Did you push Lady MacDean?” she demanded.
He sighed. “Nay, lass, I did nae. The poor lady was done with life. It’s a tragedy, and I am sick and tired of those.”
“And yet here you are, about to murder an innocent woman.”
“I cannae imagine that ye, bein’ a fine lady, ken much about cookin’. Do ye, lass?”
Melody blinked, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
Angus smiled tiredly. Leaning forward, he seized her bound hands before she could pull away.
With one neat movement of the knife, he sliced through the ropes around her wrists.
That freed her, but he kept a firm grip on her hands, even so.
She did not dare wriggle or pull away. The edge was just there, only a few steps behind her.
“If ye wish to make fried eggs, ye are goin’ to have to break them first,” he explained.
“Sittin’ around worryin’ about crackin’ the shells will get ye nowhere.
There are men in this world who are willin’ to crack eggs, and those who arenae.
I am a man who makes things happen, Lady Melody.
I’m sorry that ye got mixed up in all this. ”
“So am I,” she muttered, glancing fearfully over her shoulder. If she tried to dart past Angus on either side, he would simply shove her back over the cliff. It would look exactly as if she had fallen.
He wants me to jump of my own accord, she realized in a sickening rush. That way, he can feel as though he is not really responsible.
She encircled her wrists with her opposite hands, thinking.
The ropes had not been tight enough to leave marks, and she had not worn them for long enough anyway.
When her body was found, there would be no sign that she had been tied up at all.
There would be no implication of any foul play.
However, people would look suspiciously at Callum, even so.
A wife and a betrothed, both ending their lives at the same location? He must be cursed.
It isn’t fair.
“Come, lass, enough dallyin’,” Angus sighed, taking a step forward.
He held the blade out in front of himself, and Melody stepped back to avoid it.
Cold wind buffeted her back. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed that she was half a step away from the most sickening fall.
Far, far, far below was a carpet of rocks, with a hollow in the middle, where some rainwater had collected.
Is this how I’ll die? Broken and twisted on a bed of stone, raked by an unfeeling Highland wind, with cold rainwater soaking into my back?
No, that wasn’t it. That couldn’t be it. Melody turned back to face Angus, her face set.
“I’m not a wallflower,” she said aloud. His face crumpled in confusion.
“What?”
“I’m not dull,” she added, raising her voice. “I do not want to die. If you want me dead, Angus, you’ll have to push me over the edge yourself.”
Angus scowled. After a moment, he switched the knife from one hand to the other and advanced.
“If ye think I do not have the stomach for this, ye have got another thing comin’, I’m afraid,” he stated.
Melody braced herself for the expected tussle.
There was only one way it could end, of course.
She had no illusions about being able to overpower Angus.
There might be signs, though. Odd scrapes and bruises.
Defensive marks. Perhaps he’d cut her with the knife, which would be noticed when her body was found. Perhaps…
Movement caught her eye. A figure stepped out of the woods.
“So it is ye, Angus.”
Both Angus and Melody froze, standing as still as if their feet had grown roots.
“Callum,” Melody breathed, her voice ragged with relief.
Angus turned slowly, angling himself to keep an eye on both Melody and Callum.
“Stay back, me Laird,” he warned. “I’m concerned about Lady Melody. She’s actin’ strange and speaks of throwin’ herself off the edge of the cliff. I’m tryin’ to talk her down, but she’s determined.”
Melody gave a furious gasp. “That is not true!”
“Give it up, Angus,” Callum snapped. “I have seen and heard enough. There’ll be nay wrigglin’ out of this for ye. Step away from her.”
Angus stared at Callum for a long, taut moment. His face shifted, the expression changing from minute to minute. Melody watched him carefully. She longed to stare at Callum, to smile at him in relief. But if she took her eyes from Angus, that could be… well, it could be fatal.
“Ye are killin’ this clan,” Angus whispered. “If yer brother had been Laird—”
“He would have done nay better than me,” Callum interrupted. His expression was taut and angry. “It’s over, Angus. Tell me, did ye plan to unseat me from the moment Fletcher put the idea into yer head? Or did ye put it into his head?”
Angus clenched his jaw, lifting his chin. “I thought of it years ago, aye. But with Fletcher gone and the babe dead, it was clear that our hopes of replacin’ ye were over. I never told him to kill Alexander, ye ken.”
“Shut up. Daenae say his name.”
“I was resigned,” Angus continued angrily.
“But then ye refused to wed, refused to get an heir. It could nae have been clearer that ye did nae care what happened to the clan after yer death. Then Lady Melody appeared, and I learned that ye were only mockin’ us.
A pretend betrothal? To an English woman? For shame, me Laird, for shame!”
Callum flinched, jaw tightening. “Perhaps I have been a fool. But do ye think it justifies this?”
“I think that the ends justify the means,” Angus retorted. “I always have.”
Then he turned, planted a hand squarely on Melody’s shoulder, and pushed.
The movement was so sudden that she only had an instant to brace herself. She staggered, the world spun around her, and the ground dropped out from under her feet.
To her own amazement, she did not scream.
Perhaps it was simply because the shock of falling knocked the air out of her lungs.
Angus’ shove was quick and clumsy, and had only enough force to put her off balance.
Melody slammed into the ground, her upper body on the stone edge and her legs windmilling in empty space.