He waved her off. “Of course ye can.”
Alex sat down behind his father’s desk and poured himself a drink. He could not stop himself from pondering and wanted to put all of the pieces together. Did Sybella know? The question continued to hammer at him. Perhaps she didn’t. He could not simply ignore how gentle and loving his wife was. She was everything the MacKenzie clan was not. And he was proud to call her wife.
A thought froze in his mind.
Even thinking about the idea killed him. But what if Sybella did know of the stone? The harder Alex tried to ignore the truth, the more it persisted. He downed the rest of his drink, realizing these wild ideas were driving him mad. He’d told Sybella repeatedly that he wanted nothing but honesty between them.
He decided to simply ask her.
Alex walked to the great hall and stopped at the clan crest. He never would’ve noticed that the stone was different in the eye of the raven if Aunt Iseabail hadn’t told him. Now he could see it as clear as day. He bent down and tugged at the rock, making sure it was still secure in its place.
“Alex.”
He stood as John walked toward him, a troubled expression upon his brow.
“What is it?”
John lowered his voice. “Mayhap we should go to your study.”
Alex nodded and once again found himself walking to his study. When John closed the door behind him, Alex grunted.
“Am I going to need another drink? I’ve already had my fill with Aunt Iseabail.” When John merely nodded, Alex sat down behind his father’s desk and poured them both some ale. He handed John a cup. “I am almost afraid to ask.”
“Alex, I am your friend. We are as brothers, but ye also made me the captain of your guard. I have a duty, responsibility.”
Alex spoke hesitantly. “Aye…”
“There is nay easy way to say this, but I must.” John took a drink from his tankard and then met Alex’s gaze. “Did ye speak with your wife about the dungeon?”
Alex shifted in his chair, studying John for a moment. “Aye. She told me she was there.”
“She told ye?” asked John, surprised.
Alex didn’t really want to share Sybella’s fears with John, but his friend was troubled over something. “She wanted to see where we held the MacLeod. She is fearful of me taking my leave to Lewis and thinks I leave her unprotected with MacGregor.”
“The MacLeod man is dead.”
“I tried to tell her the same, but ye know how lasses worry over naught. What is this about?”
“When I saw your wife from the wall, her behavior was odd, almost as if she didnae want to be spotted.”
“I’m sure she didnae. I would have throttled her myself had I seen her. ’Tis nay place for a woman.”
“I had one of my men follow her.”
“What? For what purpose?”
“I donna know, Alex. Something isnae quite right. And being that ye spend many an eve tupping the lass, mayhap ye are blinded by her actions.”
“What are ye saying? I think with my coc—”
John dropped a missive on the desk before Alex. “Read it.”
“What is this?” asked Alex, picking up the letter.
“Read it,” repeated John.
Alex read the words and his heart stopped.
Sybella walked along the garden path, contemplating how she was going to free the stone from the great hall floor. She would need to find some kind of tool to loosen it. Perhaps she’d check the stables when everyone was asleep. She had another disturbing thought. Once she removed her clan’s stone, there would be a hole in the floor. She needed to find another rock to replace the one she would take.
She sat down on a bench and watched Rosalia and Ciaran play with Lachlann. Ciaran held his son up in the air and Lachlan smiled from ear to ear. When Rosalia reached out and touched her husband’s arm in a gentle gesture, his eyes held a tremendous amount of love for the woman standing by his side.
As Sybella watched the family together, she didn’t notice her own lips curving into a smile. From what Alexander said about his cousin, Rosalia had suffered hardship and discomfort before meeting Ciaran. But no one could tell from looking at the woman. Rosalia was proud, strong. And Alex’s cousin had certainly found her inner peace and her one true love. To be honest, Sybella was blissfully happy for Rosalia. And if Sybella was truthful with herself, perhaps she was even a bit jealous of the woman who stood before her. One thing was clearly evident: Rosalia was a survivor.
Every time Rosalia’s eyes met Ciaran’s, it was difficult not to notice the heartfelt love, understanding, and compassion that were exchanged between them. Sybella hoped that perhaps one day Alex would feel the same about her—well, as soon as she could clean up this mess her clan had created.
With that revelation, Sybella stood from the bench. “Pray excuse me. I think I will take a quick walk to the loch.”
Rosalia turned. “Do ye want us to come along with ye?”
“Nay, ye stay with your bonny lad. I will return soon.”
Sybella walked casually to the loch, her eyes searching the path along the way. There were no stones or rocks that would serve her purpose. She thought perhaps there might be more of a selection next to the water—at least, that was her hope.
Reaching the loch, she took a moment to merely stand there and admire the view. The sun was starting to set below the horizon, and the leaves rustled in the wind. She took a deep breath and let the fresh air stimulate her senses. When another round of painful memories started to invade her thoughts, she began to walk.
Tiny pebbles rolled onto the sandy shore. When she almost stumbled, she looked down and spotted a rock that would suit her purpose. She picked up the stone and wiped the gritty sand off the surface.
On safer ground now, Sybella paused to reflect a moment. She was astonished at the sense of completeness she felt at Glengarry. She truly loved everything about this place. From her home to the loch to her new kin, she could easily live out the rest of her days here. And as long as the man she loved was forever by her side…She smiled at the thought.
Alex couldn’t deny the evidence any longer. His wife was a traitor. A MacKenzie through and through. Curses fell from his mouth, and he knew that when he was crossed, his temper could be almost uncontrollable.
“What will ye do?” asked John.
Alex ran his hand through his hair, his movements agitated. “Before or after I kill her?”
John’s eyes widened. “Alex…”
Alex looked up at the ceiling. “God’s teeth, I can hear ye now, Father. I should’ve known the lass was naught but trouble from the start. Why in the hell would I even think about wedding a MacKenzie. Why?”
“Do ye really want me to answer that?”
Alex glowered at John, and the man had the nerve to raise his hands in mock surrender. “May I offer ye a suggestion?”
Alex closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “What?”
