Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ian stared at Emily, not sure he’d heard her correctly. “Ye want to go back to London?”

“I… Yes. That would be best for both of us.”

He felt like his horse had kicked his gut with a well-shod hoof. He had come up here to convince Emily that, now more than ever, they should marry. “I doona understand, lass. If we marry, we both benefit. The MacGregors get their land back and ye become a MacGregor.”

She stared at him for so long that he began to wonder if she’d taken leave of her senses. “Do ye nae see ’tis practical?”

The question seemed to revive her. “Yes, it is practical. Yes, it would benefit both of us. You would be spared the expense of time and money to reclaim your lands. I would have a place to live—”

“So there ye are.” Ian spread his hands. “I will see to a special license then.”

“No.”

He frowned. “Why nae? We suit. Ye canna deny we do well under the sheets—”

“Lust is not love!” Her hand clamped over her mouth and she looked horror-stricken. “Never mind I said that. I meant—”

“Ye meant…” Understanding washed over him like a breaking wave that he hadn’t seen coming. “Ye doona think I care for ye?”

She hesitated. “I suppose you do care. You did save my life.”

He blinked, not sure what she meant. “Of course, I saved yer life—”

“Just like you would anyone’s.”

“Not just anyone’s. Do ye have any idea of how I felt when I came home and found the note ye thought was from me? Do ye ken what came over me when I thought ye were in danger? And worse, when I found ye in the bog, half sucked under? I…I…doona ken what I would have done if ye had been…if I hadna gotten there in time…”

A second invisible wave crashed over him, making him wonder if he’d scattered some of his wits somewhere. If he had lost Emily that night… If whoever was trying to murder her had succeeded… Nothing else would matter. Becoming un-proscribed, having their name and even their lands restored…none of that would matter if Emily wasn’t with him.

“I love ye, lass. I doona want ye to leave me.”

She stared at him. “You…love me?”

“Aye. I guess I just now realized it.” He held out his arms. “Will ye stay?”

For an answer, she leaped into his embrace and he covered her mouth with his, angling his head to deepen their kiss so she would know just how much. A soft moan came from her throat just as someone pounded on the door.

“Go away!” he nearly shouted.

The knock sounded again, louder this time.

“I do not think whoever is there is going to listen,” Emily said as she leaned back.

Ian growled and stomped to the door, throwing it open to reveal Fiona.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “but Devon and I would like a word with ye and Emily. In my chamber, if ye please.”

“Yer chamber? Now?”

“Aye, now.” she replied. “What Devon has to say is for yer ears only.”

Devon was standing by the window in Fiona’s chamber, looking out over the back gardens. He turned as they entered and Ian hoped—prayed—that his brother wasn’t going to offer a confession. He steeled himself for the possibility and felt Emily’s warm hand on his arm. She shook her head slightly. He took a deep breath.

“What do ye have to say?”

Devon looked from him to Emily. “First, I want to apologize to ye. It seems I misjudged ye in my dislike for the English.”

“Dislike is putting it mildly for ye.” Ian looked at his brother quizzically. “What changed your mind?”

“Lady Woodhaven—”

“Please call me Emily.”

Devon smiled at her. If Ian hadn’t seen it, he never would have believed it.

“Emily,” Devon continued, “caught me with Margaret Cameron in the Campbell’s folly at the ball. She said naught when she could have gotten me in much trouble.”

Ian looked at her and she shrugged. “I did not think it anyone’s business.”

Devon cleared his throat. “But ’tis nae what I need to tell ye.”

Ian felt dread flood through him. Was his brother about to confess? His face must have given his thoughts away because Devon tightened his mouth, the sullen look returning.

“I dinna do anything.”

“Devon,” Fiona said softly. “Remember what we talked about.” She turned to Ian. “Devon sent for me yesterday, shortly after Emily left to take a nap. We went for a long ride because he didn’t want anyone else to hear what he had to say.”

That explained his absence, but it didn’t necessarily excuse him. Ian nodded. “Go on then.”

Devon took a deep breath. “I think Broderick is behind all the attempts to injure Lady…Emily.”

Ian stared at him. “Why?”

“We all ken that Lady…Emily…looks like Isobel—”

“And is nothing like her!”

“Aye, but Emily is English and ye ken Broderick thinks Englishwomen are all whores.”

Ian drew his brows together. “Just because our stepmother was wanton, doesna mean all Englishwomen are.”

“Finish your thoughts,” Fiona urged Devon. “Tell them why Broderick thinks so.”

He took another deep breath. “The night Isobel was murdered, I was on my way to confront her about cheating on our father, but Broderick was at her door with a plate of marzipan—ye ken how Isobel loved it—so I hid. I saw him go in. I heard a laugh, then a stifled scream.” He paused. “Broderick never came out.”

Ian started, then his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. “The passageway. He escaped through the passageway. But why would he…” It took him another moment for the idea to register. “He was one of Isobel’s lovers?”

“I suspect so,” Devon answered. “I think he killed her because he was jealous of the other men she saw.”

“And ye never said anything?”

He shrugged. “I dinna like what Isobel was doing to our father.”

“But—”

“I ken I should have, but I was four and ten. At the time, I thought it justice.”

“And you think Broderick has tried to kill me because I remind him of Isobel?” Emily asked.

“I think it possible.” Devon hesitated. “Jamie mentioned it was Broderick who told him he’d seen the mares in the far pasture. Jamie thought it odd because the distillery is in the opposite direction, but he was more concerned about fetching the horses back.” Devon paused again. “Our uncle may be a bit mad.”

Ian’s mind raced. Now that he thought on it, Broderick had always been attentive to Isobel. The times his father had been called away to secretly take care of MacGregor business, Broderick had escorted Isobel where she’d wanted to go. He hadn’t paid much attention at the time, since it had seemed natural that Broderick would take care of his brother’s wife. But he’d also sat at Isobel’s other side on the dais for their meals. A seat that Emily now sat in, beside Ian. Was his uncle’s mind so twisted he thought Emily was Isobel?

Ian sat down on the settee beside the brazier and tugged Emily down beside him.

Other things were beginning to make sense now. The “nightmares” Emily had in the old part of the castle where the passageway was could have been real. Had Broderick actually entered her room with a knife and stood there watching her? Chills slithered down his spine.

The day Emily fell from the stairs… His uncle had been there talking with Everard from London. He would have had time to go back into the castle and loosen a board on the steps. It was Broderick who’d called Ian to the distillery because of a crack in a vat. Was that to make sure he wouldn’t be present when the whisky had been put into Emily’s tea to make her fall asleep when she needed to stay awake? The night that Emily had been poisoned, no one would have thought it suspicious to see their uncle with a glass of wine and marzipan, either. Marzipan. Ian felt a chill slide down his spine. Devon had just said that his uncle had brought marzipan to Isobel before she had been killed.

“I remember seeing Broderick in the hallway when I was going to the solar yesterday,” Emily said.

“What?” Ian groaned. Yesterday, he’d announced he was going to Taynuilt. Broderick could have written the note and he would have had time to move the boards in the bog, since it was too wet to work very far. Emily would have trusted the ground was safe because the damn note had said it was.

“I did not think anything of it,” she said. “There is a back door to the gardens so I assumed he’d come from there.”

Fiona looked at her brothers. “What are we going to do?”

Ian looked grim. “We will set a trap.”

Devon nodded. “Rory, Carr, and I will help.”

“What kind of trap?” Fiona asked.

Ian shook his head. “I am nae sure yet. Let me think on it a wee bit.”

“I have an idea,” Emily said.

…

“No.”

Emily sighed over the emphatic answer from Ian. She should have known that was coming. They were all still in Fiona’s bedchamber, and his sister and Devon were both staring at her as well. If she was going to marry the man, he needed to know she didn’t back down.

“It is the most practical—and easiest—solution.”

Ian’s jaw set. “I willna have ye using yourself as bait to lure Broderick into attempting to kill ye. Again.”

“But you will be there to catch him,” Emily replied. “It is not like you will really be called away from the castle.”

“’Tis too much of a risk.”

“It would be a calculated risk.” Emily folded her arms across her chest. “At least we would know when to expect him to attack.”

“She does have a point,” Devon said.

Ian gave his brother a black look. “Did I ask for yer opinion?”

“He is right.” Fiona scowled at Ian. “Better we ken when—and how—our uncle will attack than to have Emily caught by surprise.” She pointed a finger at her brother. “At a time and place where ye may nae be able to come to her rescue.”

Ian frowned. “I still doona like it.”

Emily raised a brow. “If I am going to be a MacGregor, then I do my part.”

Ian opened his mouth, snapped it shut, and then grinned. “Is that a yes then? Ye dinna actually say it earlier.”

“It might be.”

Devon looked at them both, then changed the subject. “We can ask Carr and Rory what they think of the plan.”

Ian grimaced. “I suppose they will need to be told about Isobel, at any rate.”

“And I think my sisters as well,” Emily said. “I do not want them worrying or, God forbid, getting in the way.”

He looked at each of them, his mouth a grim line. Finally he nodded. “Have everyone meet in the solar in ten minutes…and take care neither of our uncles are about.”

“Thank you.” Emily smiled at him. “For listening to me.”

He grunted. “Something tells me this will nae be the only time I do.”

Her smile widened. “Of course not.”

…

A quarter of an hour later they were all assembled in the solar. The bright sunshine streaming in the window did nothing to elevate Ian’s mood. He still thought Emily’s scheme was harebrained. And dangerous.

“Now let me make sure I understand.” Carr had been pacing while Emily spoke, but now he stood still. “Ian is going to make known that ye are his leman—”

“I do not think you should cheapen yourself,” Juliana interrupted.

“You will be ruined,” Lorelei added.

“I didna think ye could ruin a widow,” Rory said.

Juliana narrowed her eyes at him. “That is so typical of what a man would say.”

Emily held up her hand. “Rory is correct, but this will be only temporary.”

“Temporary?”

“Aye,” Ian said. “Yer sister and I plan to marry once all this is over.”

There was a moment of silence over that remark, then everyone started talking at once, only to be shushed by Emily. “Details later.”

Lorelei looked puzzled. “Why not just announce your intention now?”

“Because we do not want to force Broderick’s hand too soon,” Emily answered. “If he thinks we are betrothed, he may try something immediately. If he thinks I am just a mistress, someone who can be discarded, he will feel he has time to plot something.”

“Only we are going to plot that something for him,” Fiona said.

“So…” Carr cleared his throat. “Ian and Emily are going to move back into the old chamber she occupied, claiming they want more privacy—”

“The one with the passageway?” Juliana asked.

Carr nodded. “Then Ian is going to receive a missive—that I will pen—asking him to settle a dispute between kin near Oban. That will take him away for the night, since ’tis nearly a day’s journey either way.”

“And we will have Hamish deliver the missive when Broderick is here so he will hear for himself that Ian must leave,” Rory said.

“Only once Ian rides out, he will leave his horse with one of our crofters and double back on foot, using the postern gate to get in and taking the passageway to the chamber to lie in wait. Our uncle will most likely strike at night when all is quiet.”

“But what if he does not wait?” Juliana asked. “Emily will be alone until Ian can get back.”

Which was exactly what he was afraid of. “Aye. I think it too risky—”

“Doona fash,” Fiona said. “I will make sure she is surrounded by people all day.”

“And Devon and I will tell our uncles we want to discuss the distillery after supper,” Carr said. “That will give Rory time to make sure Ian is already back and Emily safe.”

“Broderick is not happy with me having a say regarding the distillery,” Emily said, “so if Carr tells him it is a good idea that will goad him into acting as well.”

Ian snorted his displeasure. “I doona think it wise to goad the man if he is already mad.”

Emily gave him that look that he was already beginning to recognize. The one that said she knew what was best. He harrumphed. They were going to have words about that. A lot of words.

But first, they had a murderer to catch.

…

Several nights later, Emily lay fully clothed under the covers in her old bedchamber. What had sounded like a foolproof plan when they had all discussed it in the solar suddenly seemed not quite so brilliant.

Not that things hadn’t gone according to plan, but a tiny bit of superstition—or maybe it was experience—hovered and niggled at her. Generally, whenever her life seemed to be moving along like it should, something invariably happened to make her plans run amok. So far today, nothing had. Hamish had delivered the message as they were breaking their fast, Ian had acted like it were a true emergency and left immediately. Carr had announced that he would be working on the accounting books much of the day, making it clear he would be around, while Rory had mentioned a few of the horses needed shoeing and he would be overseeing the farrier when he arrived. She and Fiona had spent the day with a half dozen maids going room-to-room to discuss what needed airing and cleaning.

And now, night had fallen. Carr and Devon had concluded their discussion with their uncles, and both Ian and Rory waited in the room with her. She couldn’t see them, since the candle had been extinguished and the brazier coals banked, but she could hear steady breathing. Her own was shaky.

It seemed she lay there for hours—the bit of moonlight that had shone through the window had shifted position—when finally she heard a sound. It was hardly discernible…a soft click, but her ears were attuned to the silence like a fox awaiting a hare at a ground hole. Only she were the hare.

Although Ian and Rory were still quiet, she could sense the tension in the air.

There was a slight creaking sound and slowly, the wardrobe door opened. Through her half-closed eyes, she could see a figure emerge. The moonlight glinted off the knife in his hand, and it was all Emily could do not to scream. Her nightmares had been real…

And then, all hell broke loose. Broderick was halfway to the bed when Ian tackled him. The man fell against the bedpost and managed to scramble out of his grasp and crawl onto the mattress. Rory grabbled for the knife as Emily scooted up against the headboard, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees as Broderick tried to slash her. The door to her bedchamber flew open and Carr and Devon burst in with their own weapons. There was a great deal of cursing from all of them as bodies thumped and collided, Ian practically lifting his uncle off the bed to throw him on the floor. There was a sickening crack and then silence, save for the heavy breathing. Then hands reached for her and Emily managed to stifle a scream when she realized they belonged to Ian.

“Hush.” He smoothed her hair and pulled her close. “Hush. ’Tis all right now.”

She clung to him as someone managed to light the oil lamp hanging by the door. “Is…is he dead?”

“Nae. Just knocked out,” Rory said.

Broderick moaned and began to stir as Carr finished tying his hands with the rope he’d brought. “Let me go, ye fools!”

“Think again who the fool is,” Devon growled at him as another figure appeared in the doorway.

“What is going on here?” Donovan asked, his eyes widening as he saw his brother on the floor and then his hands went up as Carr and Rory advanced on him. “Whatever Broderick was up to, I had nae part!”

“Our uncle just tried to murder Emily,” Ian said.

“What?”

“And he murdered Isobel, too,” Devon added.

Donovan looked at each of them and then down at his brother. “Is this true?”

“The whore cheated on me,” Broderick spat out. “I loved the bitch and she cheated on me!”

An odd expression crossed Ian’s face and then cleared. “So ye meant yerself when ye said Isobel cheated on the man who loved her.” It was a rhetorical question and he got only a defiant look for an answer.

“But why try to murder Lady Woodhaven?” Carr asked.

“Because she is English.” This time he did spit. “And she wanted the distillery. It was supposed to be mine. Mine. Donovan was going to sell me his portion when he retired. I had plans—”

“Nobody interrupted yer plans,” Ian said. “Emily gave ye only an opportunity to make more profit.”

“The damn English do nae keep their promises,” he said defiantly. “Ye ken what the English have done to MacGregors for nigh two centuries! Ye are going to trust the damn bit—”

His words were cut off by Ian’s fist. “One more word against Emily and there will be murder done here this night. Yers.”

Broderick gave him a belligerent look but kept still. Donovan took a step closer to him. “Ye meant to kill Lady Woodhaven? I will hear it from ye.”

Rory held up the knife. “He had this in his hand when he emerged from the passageway.”

Donovan glanced at it, then back to his brother. “I will hear it from ye.”

“Aye.”

“Were ye also responsible for the whisky put in her tea and the hemlock in her wine?” Devon asked. When Broderick didn’t answer, he crouched down and grabbed him. “I was blamed for both those things. My own brother doubted me. I will have the truth from ye as well.”

“Aye,” Broderick finally said. “I took the foreshots from the whisky so it wouldna smell.”

“What are those?” Emily asked.

“They are part of the early distilling process,” Ian answered. “Different boiling points are used to extract the alcohol and part of the first stage—the foreshot—is verra strong and has almost no odor.” He turned back to Broderick. “And the hemlock?”

Again, he looked mulish and Devon’s hand went to his neck. “Answer us while ye can still talk.”

“I stole it from Old Gwendolyn’s cottage,” he choked out. “She never locks it.”

Devon released his hold and stood up. “What are we going to do with him?”

“He should be turned over to the magistrate in the morning,” Carr said.

“He will hang,” Donovan said quietly.

“He should have thought of that before he tried to kill Emily,” Ian said.

“But he did kill Isobel,” Rory answered.

“Which I, for one, could overlook, considering her treacherous behavior and the fact that her father killed ours,” Ian replied. “But I canna—and willna—allow Broderick to be a danger to Emily. Ye should also ken,” he continued, “that we are going to marry.”

“She is a Sassenach!” Broderick shouted.

Ian raised a fist, only Emily caught it. “Please. No more violence tonight.”

He lowered it slowly. “What ye doona ken is that Emily offered—before my proposal—to return the deed to our lands if our name is cleared. All she asked was to stay in the castle and to share the profits.” He looked at Donovan. “The land is going to be ours. And hers.”

Donovan glanced down at his brother, then back at Ian. “If I give ye my oath—as a MacGregor—nae a Murray—that I will escort my brother to Glasgow and see that he is on the next ship that sails to the Colonies and…” He glanced down once more. “If Broderick swears he will nae return, would ye agree to banishing him?”

“I canna—”

“Yes, you can,” Emily said. “I do not want to see a man hang, even if he hates me.”

“Ye are more honorable than we are,” Devon muttered.

“Not honorable especially,” Emily answered. “I just do not want to start life as a MacGregor”—she turned to smile at Ian—“with MacGregor blood on my hands.”

He studied her for a moment, then sighed and nodded to Donovan. “’Tis done then. Take him away.”

As his uncle helped Broderick up and out the door, Ian looked at his brothers. “And I will have ye gone as well.” He put his arm around Emily’s shoulders and drew her close. “I would like to spend some time getting to better know my intended.” He smiled at Emily. “Much better.”

“We doona need to be told twice,” Rory said and pushed his brothers out into the hall. “We’ll send food up in a few days if we doona see ye.”

Emily shook her head as she went to the door and bolted it after them, then turned to Ian.

“How much better do you intend to get to know me?”

He grinned and held out his arms. “Come here and I will show ye.”