Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Innes closed her eyes as the air washed over her body; the ride back to the Keep from the heathered hills wasn’t long, but Lachlan had taken his time, as lazy and content as she was from their afternoon together.
The sun was just starting to vanish behind the hills now, and her eyes were drooping, her mind drifting to her bed.
Though she knew it was far too early to retire for the night, she couldn’t think of anything better than being alone with Lachlan again, especially if this afternoon’s excitement had been anything to go by…
But they had scarcely reached the gate before a guard emerged from behind the portcullis, calling for Lachlan.
“My Laird! Please, it’s urgent!”
Her head snapped up, the sound of the guard’s panic enough to wipe away whatever comfort she had been sinking into. Lachlan drew the horse to a halt in the courtyard and climbed down, offering her an arm to do the same as he turned his attention to the guard.
“What is it, lad?” he demanded.
“It’s Master Keith,” the young guard blurted out, his face pale. “He was attacked.”
He kept talking, filling Lachlan in on what had happened and where his friend now resided, but Innes could only hear the ringing in her ears at the shock of it. Attacked? Who had attacked him? And why?
The image of the woman she had seen back in the village flashed to the front of her mind once more, and a cold shiver rushed down her spine. Could they have been connected?
Lachlan took off towards the healer’s quarters, and Innes followed close behind. Though she knew it was silly, she could not help but feel culpable for what had happened. If Lachlan had not dedicated the afternoon to her, he would have been there to fight alongside his friend, and maybe…
Her hand flew to her mouth when she saw Keith sprawled on the healer’s table, feet freezing in the doorway. Lachlan rushed to his side, crouching down next to him.
“Keith,” he muttered, and Keith lifted his head, his eyes bleary.
A recently cleaned wound was slashed along his chest. A bandage barely containing the gore that was still leaking through. A large bruise showed on his jaw, and he looked entirely spent, like he had only just made it out of there with his life.
“My Laird…”
“What happened?” Lachlan demanded. “What do you remember?”
“Bandits,” Keith rasped. “They came fae the forest. Attacked me. But they took off when they realized that you werenae with me.”
“They were looking for me?”
“No,” Keith shook his head and looked past him. “They were looking… they were looking for her.”
His eyes locked on to Innes, and her knees grew weak at the revelation. Those people who had hurt Keith so cruelly, they had done it to find her. But what could they have wanted from her? What could they have intended? What would they have done if they had managed to get their hands on her?
“Rest, Keith,” Lachlan told him, straightening up, his eyes darkening with a sudden fury. “I’ll deal wi’ this.”
His jaw was set tight as he stormed out into the corridor, leaving Innes to chase behind him.
It was like he had slipped into another mode entirely, responding to the threat that was laid out against his bride.
He had been so soft and so gentle with her before, but all of that was gone, his urge to protect overwhelming him completely.
“Nathan!”
A guard snapped to attention at the far end of the hall, clearly hovering there in the hopes of finding out what had happened. Lachlan jerked his head towards the courtyard, motions short and sharp.
“Gather the men,” he ordered him. “Send half a dozen to patrol the borders and another half-dozen to watch over the walls. I don’t want a single inch of this place without eyes on it at all times, do you understand?”
“Aye, my Laird,” Nathan acknowledged, and he stood there for a moment till Lachlan glowered at him.
“What are ye waiting for?” he demanded. “Go! Now!”
The man took off, perhaps glad to be free of Lachlan’s fury. Innes could not take her eyes off her husband. The tight jaw, the clenched fists, the shoulders drawn high—it was clear he was shaken by what had happened.
Could it have something to do with the woman she had seen in the village before?
It seemed impossible, seemed nothing more than her paranoia getting the better of her, but that woman had seemed almost familiar to her.
Almost as though it had been Isobel, keeping watch on her, tracking her presence to make sure that she could not get too far without her knowing about it.
For a moment, she considered telling Lachlan about what she had seen.
Perhaps it would help bring some clarity to all of this if he knew that she was a part of it.
But if she were to point fingers, it would bring Arthur’s world crashing down around him, and she did not know if she was capable of such a thing.
Would he ever forgive her if she tried to make it so that his wife was part of this and it turned out not to be true? Or would he ever recover if he knew that the woman he had fought so hard to marry had been meeting in secret with the very man she was meant to have turned down?
Her mind seemed to twist in a hundred different directions at once, none of them offering her any more sense than the last. Eventually, after Lachlan had laid out his commands for all of his men, he retreated to his study, where he poured himself a large whiskey and knocked back a few gulps.
“Lachlan,” she called, moving to the edge of his seat and planting her hand on his arm. “It’s going to be alright. They didnae find me, I’m safe.”
“Aye, only by the grace of God,” he growled, his voice pulled taut like catgut across a fiddle. “You could have been taken. If they had ambushed us when you were with us…”
He drank from the whiskey again, the mere thought of it was enough to make him ill.
“I’ll take the fight to the Anderson Keep myself. I’ll find the one behind this,” he declared, shaking his head. “I’ll burn the Highlands to the ground if that’s what it takes. They cannae get away wi’ this for a moment longer.”
“Lachlan, please!”
He fell silent, looking at her for a moment, but she could see nothing of the sweet, gentle man who had held her on the hill. No, the man in his place was fearful, ready to rain down hellfire on those who stood against him, or, at least, those who he thought might dare to do such a thing.
“You dinnae ken if my brother had anything to do with this,” she pointed out. “It might be… it could be a misunderstanding. I’m a Lady now, after all. Perhaps those bandits thought they might get a fine ransom if they took me.”
“You cannae believe that, Innes,” he returned darkly. “How many times must you almost be taken from me before I act?”
His voice rose as he spoke, and she drew back, unsure of how to deal with him in this state.
She knew he had a point, of course, given how close she had come to being taken, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to admit it.
Her brother would not be prepared to stand against any army that Lachlan brought against him, and if he marched on the Anderson Keep, she could not ensure his safety.
“I must gather my men,” Lachlan muttered in the silence that followed, finishing the last of his whiskey. “Dinnae set foot outside the Keep without me. You understand?”
She planted her hands on her hips, staring back at him.
“Ye still hate him. Ye still hate my brother! How can you possibly be so blinded by yer own emotions, Lachlan? Ye told me Isobel means nothing tae ye now!”
“It’s not about her! It’s about you. Your safety is my duty!”
“I thought love was enough to melt the hatred away,” she retorted. “Or is it not as important to you as control?”
“Innes,” he growled. “You dinnae understand. This is a matter of honor, of duty!”
“No! It’s a matter of forgiveness,” she told him, hands on her hips. “It doesnae need to be blood and honor and duty. Some things are better left in the past!”
“Do you think that I’d let them get away wi’ this?” he snapped, rounding on her, eyes blazing. “That I would stand by and let them threaten my face in such a fashion? No, they must pay fer this. I willnae let it stand. I cannae.”
“If ye stopped for one second and let me help ye see things clearer…”
If only there was some way she could convince him to see past what lay on the surface, to the truth of this; that it would go back and forth forever if they did not lay it to rest now.
“Lachlan…”
“Innes, I’ve made mysel’ clear,” he growled through gritted teeth. “To yer chambers. Now!”
“I really wish there was room for love in yer heart, Lachlan. If not, I have no place here.”
“Cannae ye see? I’m doing this oot of love, Innes!”
“No, ye are about to spill blood. Dinnae ye dare say it’s for love,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Are ye questioning my feelings for ye now?”
“I’m questioning yer motives, Lachlan. I know how our marriage started, but I thought ye had changed…”
She could tell from the look on his face that her words hurt him. She could do nothing to change his mind now.
“This conversation ends here.”
He turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving her with no choice but to obey.
She watched him go, her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to make sense of it all.
She knew that he was only trying to protect her, but she could not live this way, torn between her brother and her husband.
She cared for them both, and she would not be able to stand it if she caused such trouble between them.
Rushing to her chambers, she gathered papers and a pen and set about drafting a letter to Arthur in the hopes that it would reach him before any of Lachlan’s plans did.
She had no idea what to say, nor if she would even be able to smuggle the letter out of the Keep in time to get it to him, but she needed to spill her thoughts somewhere.
But how could she put it into words that his own wife might have been the one causing all this trouble?
She doubted he would believe her anyway.
He had gone so far to ensure that he could take Isobel as his wife, would he trust for a second that she would work against him?
Or would he think that his own sister had been corrupted by the influence of Lachlan and his clan?
She could feel tears nagging at her eyes, and she dashed them away quickly, willing herself to stay focused on what needed to be done.
She scribbled down page after page and tossed them away, casting them into the fire that one of the maids came to set for her while she was in her chambers—though she got the feeling that it was rather more so someone could check that she had not tried to make a run for it.
Nothing seemed to be enough, and she could feel the weight of the world closing in around her, the truth of it all mixing with the fiction till she couldn’t tell one from the other.
It was past dinnertime when a knock sounded on the door, and she lifted her head from the papers to offer an answer.
“I’m not hungry.”
“My Lady?”
A maid’s voice came, but she did not recognize it right away. There was a strain to her voice that caught her attention, as though this was about more than bringing her food.
“Come in.”
The maid darted around the door, her eyes sliding around the room. Was she expecting someone to catch her in the act? Innes stared at her for a moment, bemused. What on earth could have happened to cause even more trouble since the last time she had stepped out of her chambers?
And then, she noticed something clasped in the girl’s hand—a piece of paper. No, a letter. She held it out to Innes, chewing her lip so hard it seemed a miracle the skin did not split.
“A man came by the Keep earlier today,” she explained hurriedly. “And he told me that a curse would be put on my head if I didnae make sure that this letter found its way to you.”
“A curse?”
The maid shoved the letter into her hand, like she wanted nothing more to do with the thing.
“Please, just dinnae tell anyone that I came here or gave this to you.”
“I won’t,” Innes assured her. “You have my word.”
As soon as she had heard that, the maid seemed satisfied and darted for the door once more, leaving Innes alone with the letter.
It was sealed with unmarked wax, and the paper did not look like any she recognized, marked with any particular grain one way or another.
She tore it open with shaking hands, and, as she skimmed across the page, the words cut through her veins like ice.
Meet me at the village tavern tonight. Alone. Your brother’s name depends on it. Speak to no one.
She read it again and again, as though the words might change shape if she looked at them long enough, though she knew that was mad.
Who had sent this?
She turned the paper over in her hand, searching for anything that might give her some kind of clue, but nothing stood out. Whoever had sent this to her, they had not wanted her to know who they were, and she wasn’t sure if that was because they were a friend or a foe.
But either way, what choice did she have?
If she did not go, her brother’s name could be smeared, and that would give Lachlan all the reason he needed to finally go after him and put all of this to rest at last. And, if the attack on her had been intended as fatal, he might not stop until he was sure she was safe.
The thought made her ill, a shudder running down her spine at the thought.
No, she had to do what the writer of this letter had asked her, no matter how ridiculous it might have seemed, how unfair and dangerous. She wasn’t sure how she would get out of the Keep, given that Lachlan had just ordered the guards to stay on patrol all night long, but she would have to.
She glanced at her wardrobe, mentally sifting through the clothes within. If she wore her dark cloak, she might be able to pass as the woman who brought bread to the Keep every evening. Maybe she could disguise herself and sneak out right under their noses, without anyone looking twice at her.
Yes, take a horse, make for the roads at the back of the Keep, and be down at the village by midnight…
To meet whoever was there waiting for her.
And whatever fate they intended once she got there.
For her brother. For her husband. And for the good of this land that she loved so much.