Chapter Twenty-Three

Waking with Blair in his arms, Finlay realized just how much he had missed her. Somehow, she had become everything to him.

Blair was his salvation.

First, he’d never felt so close to a woman, and she seemed to be accepting of his quiet, reserved nature. But she’d also found a way to give him hope, making him feel worthy of her affections, despite his deficiency.

Looking over at her now, he couldn’t believe he’d been the one lucky enough to marry her. He was almost waiting for God to send a messenger that said, no, there was a mistake, he did not deserve her. But if that happened, he’d make a deal with the devil to keep her.

After slipping quietly from the bed, he pulled on his clothes and sneaked out the door, careful to keep it from clicking as he tiptoed out into the hall. He wound down the hall and stairs to his office. Once there, he discovered his account books were missing. He’d hoped to glance over them with a clear head this morning before heading out to survey the damage to the stable in the daylight.

At first glance, he thought perhaps Blair had put them back in the drawer, but when he opened it, there was an empty space where the books should have been. Maybe Andrew had shelved them somewhere. He’d ask the servant after he met with the Cameron men about the events of last night.

Stopping in the kitchens for a bite, he was pleased to see a well-stocked pantry. The cook even smiled and didn’t make a fuss when he took from the food prepared to put out on the side table in the breakfast room. With the fresh supplies, the man’s cooking had improved.

Stepping out into the early morning air, he took in the eerie fog that had settled with the thick mist blanketing the path like smoke searching out someone to strangle. He shivered but moved on to his target.

The stables were a good hundred yards to the west of the property, and he could barely make it out with the haze hovering like a low cloud. As he got closer, voices carried to him through the stagnant air despite the lack of a breeze.

Tristan and Malcolm were waiting as he stepped through the door. The smell of charred wood clung to the insides. A brutal reminder of last night’s events. There was no sign of the injured stable master, so he asked, “Is the man awake yet?”

“Aye, he’ll be here any moment,” Tristan said. “I’m going to take a look around outside.” The Cameron man swiveled and strode out of the stable.

Finlay inspected the damage—luckily one of the housekeeper’s boys had seen smoke and had run for help. But all the lad had been able to tell them was that the stable was on fire. He’d seen nothing else, and the man they’d found on the ground passed out the night before had a large bump on his head.

Fortunately, the rain from the previous week had kept everything moist, and there had been sufficient buckets filled with water to douse the flames. Had the boy not been here, the structure would have been destroyed, and the stable master would have perished in the flames.

Abe, the injured man, slogged in.

“How is yer head?” Finlay stepped forward to inspect the damage. Last night there had been too much blood to make out the extent of the wound.

“It will be all right, my lord. Just needs time to heal.”

“Tell us what happened.”

“I caught a man slinking around out here. Seemed to know his way around. I saw him pull out a spyglass to watch the house. Likely, he didn’t know you had full-time help now.”

Finlay tried to think what was on this side of the house—his study, the dining room, the parlor.

“I yelled out ‘hey’. Calm as you please, he walked up to me and asked if I’d see the lady or lord of the house this evening. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Tall man, stiff, too, like a wooden soldier. I told him it was not proper calling hours, that he should leave and come back tomorrow when it was… And the next thing I remember, I was on the ground, your man pulling me from the building.” He pointed to Malcolm.

“What did he look like?”

“It was already dark. I couldn’t see well.”

He’d banished thoughts of the attempts on his life when he’d become convinced his wife was innocent—he had brushed them off as unlucky coincidences. But the disregard of Abe’s well-being and that of the horses brought back the fears there was something sinister behind the rock in his saddle and the arrow in the marketplace. Hell, if someone had followed him from Scotland to prevent him from speaking to the king, the man surely knew he was too late. His message was already delivered, so that made no sense, and this didn’t appear to be an attack on him like the others had.

Tristan rushed in, out of breath and holding his side. “I’ve found something in the woods ye must see.”

…

Finlay was gone when Blair woke. She dressed quickly but carefully in the new pale lavender gown the seamstress had fitted perfectly to her curves. Not waiting on her new lady’s maid to arrive, she pulled her hair into what she hoped passed as fashionable and finished it off with two matching ribbons.

Rushing into the breakfast room, she found it empty, but food had been piled high on the side table and remained untouched as if she were the first one up. She stopped in the study, but Finlay wasn’t in there, either. He must have been through here, because the account books appeared to have been put away. Surely her husband would eat something before starting his day, so she headed for the kitchens.

“Have ye seen Finlay?” she asked the cook.

“Yes, my lady. He left about a quarter of an hour ago.” He pointed out the back door toward the gardens.

Tramping on the still wet ground, she hurried to the entrance of the garden. She’d not been out on the grounds without one of the Cameron men accompanying her until now, so she reveled in the peace of the birds singing and the beauty of the rising sun. Shrubbery blocked the view in several directions, and she smiled as she envisioned the plans Tristan and the new gardener had designed to make a maze. She could just see herself chasing their children down the paths or even better, Finlay looking for her to carry her off to what would be a private bench in the center.

There was no sign of her husband, but when she slogged into the heart of the overgrown mess, movement caught her eye. Maybe there were deer living in the tangled brush. As she got closer, an echo of a twig breaking reached her ears, and she hesitated. Something didn’t feel right, like she was being stalked by some wild animal.

A scream from the direction of the house rent the thick morning air. Jenny.

While pivoting, her hair got stuck in a bush, and when she moved, it yanked at the tresses. She rubbed her head as she ran back toward the kitchens.

The housekeeper was standing just outside on the steps, barking orders at someone in the kitchen, while her youngest son sat crying and holding his hand. Blood was everywhere, and dizziness assailed her. Fighting the wave, she determined she would not faint this time.

“What happened?” Blair asked.

“He cut his finger.”

Kneeling down, she inspected the gash, a spot in between the child’s thumb and pointer finger.

The cook showed up with a clean cloth to wrap it. “We need to get him to the village healer.”

“I’ll go with ye,” Blair said. “Ye may need some help.”

Jenny nodded, and moments later, they were in the stables, mounting horses for the short journey to the village. On a nice day, you could walk the distance, but time was important.

One of the new men was alone in the stables. He had a gash on his temple.

“Abe. Did ye hit yer head last night?”

“Yes, my lady,” the man answered as he wobbled on his feet. Maybe the damage from the fire was worse than she’d expected.

“Ye should go get some rest until it heals. I release ye from yer duties for the day.”

Abe helped hand the boy up to his mother. “Yes, my lady. I am not at my best. The master was here, and he just told me the same.”

She thought she’d caught a glimpse of a group of men walking into the woods, but there was no time to find Finlay now. Hopefully the cook would let him know she’d gone to help Jenny.

In no time, they were in the village stables and she was helping the boy into Jenny’s arms. They hurried down the street to the house of the village physician. The healer was able to see to the lad straight away, and it wasn’t long before both boy and mom had calmed.

“We’ll be all right now, my lady, if you wish to go back.” Jenny held her son’s hand as he lay on a bed, his eyes slowly shutting. The housekeeper settled into the nearby seat as if she were suddenly exhausted.

“Aye, if yer certain. I’m sure yer other boys and Andrew will want to ken how he’s doing. I’ll go reassure them.”

Stepping out into the day and shutting the door behind her, she glanced up to see a dirty, disheveled man with crazed, angry eyes descending on her. Bruce Graham. Her breath caught. Pure menace stared back at her. It was the same kind of anger she’d seen in Henry as he beat her. Her belly knotted, and fear invaded her chest.

Turning the knob, she tried to push back into the healer’s house, but Bruce grabbed her wrist and twisted back. He held on with a grip so tight she wanted to cry out in pain. His other hand pushed at her opposite shoulder, backing her to the door frame and pinning her.

“Ye have made me very angry, Blair. It’s been impossible to get to ye with all those Cameron men about. They didnae leave ye alone for a minute.”

“Let go,” she screamed. She tried to pull free, but he used the whole of his weight to restrain her.

“Ye will be coming back to Scotland with me.”

“Ye have nae claim on me. I’m married.”

“No’ for long. And I dinnae care. I cannae go home without ye.”

“What do ye mean?”

“What I didnae tell ye before is that the Grahams have exiled me. The only way I can go back is with a way to help their cause. Ye are the key to me getting my life back.”

Fear snaked its way into her heart, so deep she felt it crash into the pit of her stomach. Was he desperate enough to kill Finlay?

The door swung in, and she stumbled back. It was Jenny with a large, club-like object in her hand. As the housekeeper came down on Bruce’s head with it, his grasp on her wavered, and she was able to escape his hold. He staggered then stretched for her, but she’d just made it out of his reach.

“Run, my lady. Get help,” Jenny ordered as she jumped in between Bruce and her, holding the staff up, ready to strike. “Go,” she yelled.

Dashing back to the stables, Blair didn’t look behind her until she was guiding her horse out. Bruce was headed straight for her on foot. He probably had a horse around here as well, so she dug in her heels and urged the mare to move at a fast gallop from the village back to Catriona House.

Almost there, she looked over her shoulder to see the toad had found his horse and was giving chase. She picked up the pace to a sprint. When she arrived at the estate, she was so petrified, she didn’t even go to the stables, just stopped the mare in front of the house, dismounted, and ran inside.

There was no one about.

She bolted through, checking the parlor, the breakfast room, the study. Even the kitchen was empty. Grabbing a knife, she ran up to her bedchamber to see if Finlay was inside and heard a door slam downstairs. She couldn’t be sure it wasn’t Bruce following her into the house, so she locked the door and sat at the back of the bed, knife ready, just in case.