Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Gordon knew something was wrong the moment he entered the keep.
It was too quiet. Usually, there was some sound waiting for him when he returned: servants crossing the hall, children laughing, Marion’s voice carrying from the kitchens, or Ailis’ laughter.
Sometimes she laughed so freely that her whole face changed, her eyes shining, her dimples appearing, and her shoulders trembling with the effort to contain it.
He had found himself listening for it too many times since she arrived.
He would hear it from the courtyard and know she was there before he saw her.
He would catch it drifting from the kitchens and pause without meaning to.
Even when he pretended to be occupied, some part of him always followed the sound.
Now, the keep was silent, and he missed it.
His gaze moved instinctively across the great hall in search of her. He saw Lileas sitting upon the rushes with Jane, arranging small wooden figures in a row. Brochan waddled determinedly between them, nosing at whatever had caught his interest.
Gordon slowed and hoped she would come out from a corner, but she was not with them either.
His eyes remained on the child as he contemplated asking the servant about her.
The question died before it reached his tongue.
He could not ask.
I have nay right to after askin’ her to leave last night.
He still battled with his longing when Lileas looked up and grinned at him.
“Me Laird!” she called, immediately pulling away from Jane to hurry to him.
Gordon managed a nod then lowered himself to a squat to greet the girl. He ruffled her hair and smiled at her. “How are ye?”
“Happy, Me Laird,” she answered with a grin. “Brochan is growin’ really big. Jane says he is a wee menace, but I think he is bonnie, and he likes to play.”
The hedgehog sniffed indignantly at Gordon and scurried closer like he wanted Gordon to stroke him. Gordon almost smiled, but he stroked the hedgehog a little then pulled upright again.
Jane greeted him with a curtsy as he walked past them and headed up the stairway. His gaze drifted along the paintings hung on the walls. He had meant to thank Ailis for the thoughtful gesture, knowing that his work would never have seen the light of day without her courage.
Gordon had thought of it more than once, yet each time he found himself near her, words failed him. The paintings had given him something he had not known he had lost: the right to remember.
His gaze lingered upon the faint image of his mother.
Thank ye, Ailis.
He turned toward the staircase, hoping to head to his chamber for a warm bath. His muscles ached from the day he had spent in the village, and even though he had hoped it would distract him from Ailis, it had done little in the end.
“Gordon.”
He stopped in his tracks when the panicked tone called for him.
Marion hurried toward him when he turned around. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with terror as she panted.
“Is there a matter?”
“Ailis… I havenae seen her all day in the castle,” she answered. “Have ye seen her?”
His stomach dropped at the question. A tight knot took root inside him, cold dread traveling through him, settling beneath his ribs and gripping hard. “What do ye mean?”
“She is missin’. Nay one has seen her since she left the seamstress shop earlier. Sorcha just returned with news,” Marion explained in a rushed tone that made it hard for Gordon to follow her words at first.
The words struck with such force that his entire body went rigid.
“Missin’? What do ye mean?”
“They say she went out for a walk… for some air in the village, and she did nae return,” Marion said quickly.
Before Gordon could answer, footsteps sounded behind them.
Sorcha rushed into the hall, another woman close behind her. Callan and Rowan followed in not long after, and the worry etched into their features told him they knew what had happened.
“Laird MacLaren,” Sorcha called out in a distraught tone just as Rowan appeared at the top of the landing and began climbing down the stairs. “We have searched the gardens with the guards following us. The village road. The lower fields. She is nowhere.”
For one terrible heartbeat, he could not move as their words sank in. His mind refused to accept it. She had been within these walls only hours ago. He could still picture her laughing with Lileas, still hear that bright sound drifting through the corridors.
Kerr.
Gordon’s blood seemed to turn cold. “Kerr.” He saw Malcolm approach them with guards and instantly ordered. “I want Laird Kerr found and brought to me this instant.”
Malcolm bowed and sprang into action immediately while Gordon turned to other guards.
“Search every chamber. Every stable. Every outbuildin’.
I want every man accounted for. And make certain Kerr is still within these walls.
The rest of ye, take men and go out into the village.
I want me betrothed found and brought back to the keep. ”
“Aye, Me Laird,” his men chorused and dispersed immediately.
Gordon strode through the keep, his pulse pounding violently against his throat as he reached the exit.
“Double the gates,” he ordered. “Nay rider leaves without bein’ challenged. Search the gardens, the chapel, the woodshed, every damned corner of this keep!”
Men scattered around as he gave the orders, and Gordon headed down the halls to the guest chambers where Kerr should be.
Malcolm was stepping out of the chamber when he got there.
“It is empty, Me Laird,” he revealed. “The bed has nae been slept in. The hearth has burned low. Kerr is gone.”
A terrible silence settled over Gordon.
“Find him,” he ordered, “and the guards who should have been watchin’ him.”
They were still on that spot when another guard rushed toward him. “Me Laird, we found the men watchin’ Laird Kerr.”
Gordon went with him immediately, hurrying toward the garden to find the guards beneath the trees.
His stomach lurched at the sight. Blood darkened their tunics, their bodies sprawled among the wet grass. One still clutched the hilt of his sword.
Malcolm knelt beside them and touched the blood seeping out of their wounds. It felt warm.
This just happened. It means Kerr hasnae gone far.
“They were followin’ Kerr,” Malcolm said to him as he rose to his feet, “and he killed them to get away.”
Gordon stared at the bodies as his hands curled into fists. “I will make Kerr pay for every life he’s taken.” He turned to Malcolm while seething. “Get riders on every road. Send word to the northern clans. I want every crossin’ watched. Every ferry. Every road through the hills.”
Malcolm nodded. “And Kerr?”
Gordon’s gaze hardened. “If ye find him before I do, keep him alive.”
Malcolm hesitated. “Alive?”
Gordon’s jaw clenched. “I want to kill him meself. Findin’ Miss Ailis is of utmost priority. Daenae harm a hair on his head until she is found and safe. If he has her, we must ken where he has taken her.”
And if he had harmed her—
Gordon forced the thought away.
He turned and found Sorcha and Marion standing at the edge of the garden, their faces pale with fear.
Sorcha hurried toward him. “Gordon?”
He softened his voice, though barely. “I will find yer sister, and I will bring her back. I swear it to ye on me life.”
“We will come with ye,” Callan volunteered.
“Ye need all the help ye can get,” Rowan agreed.
Gordon nodded to both men then he marched away from them and headed toward the stables to take his horse and head down into the village. The road vanished beneath pounding hooves as he rode out, and his thoughts raced faster.
Every possibility of where she could be collided inside his mind.
The river, the woods…
His chest tightened at the thought of Ailis frightened and alone.
He had faced blades and stood before men who wanted him dead in the past. Gordon knew what danger was… he thought he understood fear.
But this… this was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
He had spent weeks telling himself he could let her go. That he did not need her here, and he could not want her.
And perhaps all of that was true. Now more than ever, he knew it was. She was not safe with him.
But the thought of losing her terrified him more than any of that, and he did not think he could survive it.