Chapter 11
Merith scarcely remembered climbing up the stairs.
The image of the imprisoned villagers followed her through every corridor of Carnegie Keep. Each torch she passed seemed dimmer than before. Every smiling servant now appeared uncertain. Every stone wall felt as though it concealed something dark beneath its surface.
The elderly farmer’s face haunted her most of all.
Only hours earlier he had stood before Murdoch speaking respectfully of broken bridges and dwindling supplies. Murdoch had listened with patience and concern. He had promised assistance. He had spoken like a protector.
Now the man, his clansman, sat behind iron bars.
Why?
The question pounded relentlessly inside her mind as she hurried through the keep. She barely noticed where her feet carried her until she found herself standing outside the guest chambers.
Outside Locke’s door.
For several seconds, she simply stared at the heavy oak panel. Anger still remained and distrust lingered even more. He had lied to her and he had stolen from Murdoch. He had manipulated his way into Carnegie Keep under false pretenses.
Yet despite everything, he was the only person who had warned her. The only person who had looked at Murdoch and seen something she had refused to see.
Merith raised her hand and knocked sharply.
There was no answer. She knocked again, and the silence haunted her.
Frustration flared. “Locke.”
She pressed her hand against the latch and the door opened. The chamber beyond stood empty.
Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating an untouched bed and a cold hearth. No cloak was hung upon the chair. No boots rested beside the wall.
He was gone.
Merith stepped inside, her pulse quickening. Where would he be? As she turned to leave, a shadow detached itself from the darkness at the far end of the corridor and she gasped.
Locke emerged from an alcove, his curls damp from the mist outside. A charcoal cloak hung loosely across his shoulders, and his blue eyes immediately fixed upon her face.
For once, there was no teasing smile or clever remark. Only concern.
“What happened, lass?” he asked. “Ye look as though ye’ve seen a ghost.”
Merith swallowed. “Worse.”
Something hardened in his expression. Without another word, he crossed the distance between them. “What did ye see?”
“The villagers.” The answer left her lips before she could stop it.
Locke became very still. “The eastern delegation? Where?”
Her voice trembled. “They never left and I just had this feeling. I saw them, Locke. In the dungeons.”
A curse escaped beneath his breath. For a second, they both remained silent. The silence felt heavier than any argument she had ever shared.
Finally, Locke nodded once as though confirming something he had already suspected.
Merith stared at him. “You knew.”
“Nay.” His jaw tightened. “I suspected.”
The distinction mattered little and fury surged through her chest.
“Ye suspected?” she repeated. “Those people came seeking help. Murdoch welcomed them. He promised assistance. Then he threw them in cells.” Her voice cracked. “I saw them, Locke.”
Something in her expression must have affected him because his features softened slightly.
“I cannae stop seeing them,” she added.
Locke watched her quietly then walked into his room and reached beneath the bed and Merith stiffened immediately.
Instead of a weapon, however, he produced a folded wool cloak and tossed it toward her. She caught it automatically. Confusion replaced anger.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“Put it on,” he said.
Merith frowned. “Why?”
His gaze held hers steadily. “Because ye asked fer proof.” The corridor suddenly felt colder and Locke stepped closer. “I’ve tried tellin’ ye. Ye wouldnae listen.” His voice lowered. “So now I’ll show ye.”
Merith hesitated. “Show me what?”
“The truth.”
She stared at him. Every sensible part of her warned against following him anywhere. Yet the memory of iron bars and frightened faces remained painfully vivid.
Slowly, she wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and Locke gave a brief nod. Then he took her wrist and led her toward the stairs.
“Locke—”
“We need tae move,” he cut her off.
“Where are we goin’?” she asked.
“Outside.”
At this hour? Merith gasped, automatically glancing over her shoulder.
However, Locke did not seem bothered. “Aye.” His pace never slowed. “And before ye argue, lass, we need tae be back before dawn. There’s no time.”
Merith couldn’t speak because something in his expression told her the argument would accomplish nothing.
The night air struck her face the moment they slipped through a side entrance. A cold Highland wind swept across the courtyard carrying the scent of heather and distant rain. Above them, clouds drifted across the moon, allowing pale silver light to spill intermittently across the landscape.
The keep seemed transformed beneath the darkness. It was less welcoming and more watchful. Torches flickered along the battlements while guards patrolled the walls.
Locke kept close to the shadows as Merith followed.
Every few moments she glanced nervously toward the sentries. “What if we’re seen?”
“We willnae be,” he promised.
“That is hardly reassurin’.”
A grin briefly appeared. “Afraid of being in the shadows with me, lass?”
Merith rolled her eyes despite herself. A feeling of dread came over her, but since she already knew it was going to be impossible to stay away from him, her pulse quickened.
They crossed the courtyard and reached the stables without incident. It seemed all the stablehands had retired for the night. Inside, horses shifted lazily within their stalls while lantern light cast long shadows across the wooden beams overhead.
Locke moved directly toward a large stallion.
Merith frowned. “That horse belongs tae Murdoch. Ye cannae simply take it.”
He looked at her and the silence alone answered the question. Merith sighed. “Of course ye can.”
His grin widened. “Now ye’re learnin’.”
Before she could protest further, he saddled the horse with ease.
Moments later, he helped her mount. His hands settled briefly at her waist. The simple contact sent a strange warmth through her despite the cold.
Locke swung into the saddle behind her and the horse shifted beneath their combined weight.
Then, they were moving. Out through the rear gate and into the sleeping Highlands.
The landscape unfolded around them in haunting beauty. Moonlight washed over distant mountains, turning their rugged slopes silver and blue. Mist drifted through valleys like ghostly rivers while dark clusters of pine trees swayed gently beneath the wind.
For a time neither of them spoke. The rhythmic sound of hooves echoed across the trail while Locke’s arm remained firmly around her waist, steadying her whenever the terrain became uneven.
Eventually Merith could bear the silence no longer. “Will ye finally explain where we’re goin’.”
“A village,” he replied bluntly.
“Why?”
“So ye can see what Carnegie lands truly look like.”
She frowned. “I’ve already seen them.”
“Nay.” His voice remained calm. “Ye’ve seen the parts Murdoch wanted ye tae see.”
Merith looked away. The words made her uncomfortable because they echoed her own growing doubts. The prosperous village near the estate had been beautiful. The cottages were sturdy. The livestock healthy. The people respectful and content.
Had all of that been carefully chosen? The possibility made her stomach churn.
“How much farther?” she asked hesitantly.
“Not long,” he replied. His hand tightened slightly around her. “We’ll return before dawn. Ye have my word.”
For some reason that mattered more than she wished to admit, and she believed him.
The village appeared nearly an hour later. At first Merith thought they had arrived at the wrong place. They had to.
This settlement bore little resemblance to the thriving communities she had visited earlier. The cottages looked worn and weather-beaten. Several roofs sagged beneath missing patches of thatch. Windows were dark and fences leaned at crooked angles.
The entire place felt strangely silent and wrong.
Locke dismounted beside a small inn and Merith followed more slowly.
A chill settled over her. “Where is everyone?”
Locke gestured toward the village. “This is everyone.”
The inn’s sign creaked softly overhead. Inside, only three patrons occupied the common room. A tired woman stirred a pot above the hearth while an elderly man sat alone nursing a mug.
No laughter filled the air. No music. No cheerful conversation. There was only tiredness.
Merith looked around in disbelief. “This cannae be right.”
“It is. This is the part that Murdoch doesnae want ye tae see,” he replied.
“But the village nearest the keep—”
“Is proudly shown tae visitors, while the others are left to rot,” he cut her off before she could finish.
His voice held no triumph. She heard only sadness.
“Murdoch keeps one prosperous settlement where guests can admire his generosity.”
Merith turned sharply. “Ye’re asking me tae believe this entire village lives like this while he feasts in Carnegie Keep?”
Locke met her gaze. “I’m askin’ ye tae simply look.”
The innkeeper approached cautiously. She appeared older than Merith had first thought. Lines of worry etched her face.
“Can I help ye?” she asked, putting a hand on her hip.
Before Merith could answer, Locke removed several coins. “Food. Fer everyone.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Everyone?”
“Aye,” he gave her a nod.
She glanced around the nearly empty room then back at him. “That’ll feed half the village.”
“Good.”
Tears immediately filled the woman’s eyes and Merith felt her breath catch. No one reacted with such gratitude over a simple meal unless food had become precious. The realization of it made her head spin.
“Och, God bless ye, lad,” the woman said, drying her eyes and moving on to plating food.
Locke and Merith did not stay to watch more. Once they were outside again, Merith turned toward Locke. “What happened here?”
His gaze swept across the cottages. “Tithes. Levies. Fees. Every year Murdoch demands more, barely leaving these people enough to survive.”
Merith shook her head. “He uses those funds tae maintain the estate.”
“He uses them tae buy more land,” he corrected. “When neighboring lairds struggle, he offers loans. When they fail, he takes their holdings.”
The pieces began fitting together. She recalled the strange ledger… the secret accounts. The imprisoned villagers.
Still, she resisted. Part of her desperately wanted another explanation.
“How dae ye know all this?” she asked.
Locke studied her for several moments. Then he reached into his coat. When his hand emerged, a familiar flash of red glimmered beneath moonlight. The ruby pendant.
Merith stared at it as her pulse quickened.
“I thought ye sold it,” she said, gasping.
He placed it carefully into her palm. The ruby gleamed like captured fire. It was heavy and exquisite. It was definitely worth more money than many families would see in years.
“Murdoch bought this while villages like this struggle tae survive,” Locke said.
Merith closed her fingers around it. The gemstone suddenly felt unbearably heavy.
“He could have repaired roofs.” Locke’s voice remained quiet. “Bought grain. Reduced taxes.”
Merith stared down at the pendant. “He chose this instead.”
Silence thickened between them. The wind stirred her cloak, and somewhere near a dog barked.
For several seconds, she simply stood there, torn between the life she had expected and the truth unfolding before her. Finally, she looked up. “If I return this…”
“Aye?” Locke tilted his head to the side.
“I can pretend none of this happened.”
Locke said nothing because they both knew she could. She could return to Carnegie Keep, marry Murdoch, and ignore everything she had seen. Many women would. The choice remained hers.
Merith looked once more toward the inn. Through the window she saw the innkeeper embracing a woman carrying food toward the kitchen.
Without another word, she turned and walked toward the door to head back inside. Inside, every conversation ceased.
The innkeeper looked up nervously. “Mistress?”
Merith approached the table. Slowly, she placed the ruby pendant upon the worn wood. Gasps spread throughout the room at seeing the gemstone.
The innkeeper stared. “What is this?”
“A ruby pendant,” Merith replied.
The woman’s eyes widened further. “I can see that.”
Merith drew a steady breath. “’Tis yers. Have it melted. Sell the gold,” Merith added.
The room fell silent. The innkeeper blinked. “M’lady?”
“Divide the coin among the villagers,” Merith went on, nodding in encouragement.
Nobody moved and nobody spoke. Then the innkeeper’s hand rose shakily toward her mouth. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “M’lady…”
Merith swallowed hard. “This belongs tae the people who paid fer it.”
The woman looked as though she might collapse. “Ye would truly dae this?”
“Aye.” The answer came without hesitation.
Somehow, she already knew there was no other choice. Behind her, Locke remained silent, yet Merith could feel his gaze upon her. She could feel the pride he was trying very hard not to show.
The innkeeper clasped both of Merith’s hands. “Thank ye, thank ye both.”
Around them, villagers began murmuring quietly. For the first time since entering the village, the room felt alive.
Merith looked down at the pendant one final time and then released it completely. As she did, an understanding dawned upon her. She had crossed a line from which there could be no return.
The woman who had arrived at Carnegie Keep intending to become Murdoch Carnegie’s obedient bride was slipping further away with every passing day, and standing beside her in the flickering inn light was the man responsible for that change.