“I’d hope you would be the one sitting out here making sure I dinna do something that would endanger the whole clan.”
“I wouldn’t,” Cam declared gruffly. “I’d be on the horse next to yours as we rode like the devil himself to go get her back.” That thought brought on a different question. “Does Kenna know what you’ve done?”
Lach frowned. “Why do you think I spent the night down here with you instead of in my bed with her? She’s spitting mad. I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me.”
It was small consolation. “I know I never will,” Cam spat out. “In my heart, it’s the same as if you’d tied the rope around her neck yourself.”
Lach’s eyes, already bleak in the low light, shimmered. “Mayhap if you read her letter—”
“I’m not reading the damned letter. If she wanted to say something to me, she should have bloody well been here to tell me herself. Not snuck off as soon as I turned my back.” Cam’s chest was on fire. The slash he’d suffered in battle and the broken ribs had been nothing compared to this pain. He couldn’t breathe.
Lach had already dropped the parchment through the grate. It lay on the stone floor at Cam’s feet.
“I’ll hate you forever for this, Lachlan MacKinlay.” Cam’s voice was calm as he stared at the man he’d once loved like a brother. He would have to move to another clan, for he’d never respect his laird again.
Lachlan let out a breath and nodded. His head hung in despair. When he finally turned to leave, Cam saw unshed tears in the man’s eyes, but he didn’t feel the slightest spark of sympathy.
Despite the fire blazing in the hearth across from his cell, he began to shiver uncontrollably. Picking up the two heavy blankets he’d been given, he wrapped them around himself, but still he shook.
They brought food, but he didn’t eat. They brought whisky as well, but he was past his desire for oblivion. He paced his cell, thinking and planning.
Surely there must be a way to get out of here. When he’d shaken every bar and tested every stone twice, he gave up and slumped onto his pallet. Other than the maid who brought his food, he hadn’t seen anyone. No doubt they were giving him time to be alone with his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.
When the main door opened and he heard the soft footsteps of a woman, he assumed they had sent him more food. Was it already time for supper again? He’d lost track of time.
“Cam?” a familiar voice called.
Kenna.
He came close to the bars, and she reached out to take his hand. When tears filled her eyes, he gave in to his own grief once again. He hadn’t cried since he was eleven and his dear mother died. But today he couldn’t seem to stop.
“I have a plan,” Kenna whispered, brushing her tears away.
For a moment, her words made no sense. Then they sparked, and hope began to stir. A plan? That meant doing something to get Mari back.
Kenna held up the key to his cell and glanced toward the main door.
“Come. We must hurry.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The stench of London woke Mari, and like many other times on their long voyage from Scotland, she was forced to pound on the roof so the driver would stop. She barely exited the carriage before being ill.
She’d not been one for travel sickness before, but her nerves were a jumble and had made her nauseous. Who could blame her? She was facing certain death.
Wiping her mouth, she took in the pale-pink sky of early morning. Would this be the last day of her life? Would they even bother with a trial?
Sir Ridley did a fair job of hiding his annoyance at yet another delay. No doubt he had a large bounty waiting to be claimed upon his return with her.
Admittedly, over the weeks as they’d traveled, the man had been a gentleman. Even his pointed comments had died down after a few days, and he’d spoken with her as a regular person. Once he’d even asked for her account of that night. She’d explained her terror, and how she’d been certain her life was at stake. It seemed ironic now. She hadn’t saved her life at all. She’d only delayed her death.
But no. In that delay, she had made wonderful memories to take with her to the gallows. Memories of a large Highlander with a kind heart and a blissful touch. She would recall the tight hugs of her nephews and the soft smile of her beloved sister.
“I am taking you to Blackley House so you may change and rest in comfort. You’ll be guarded heavily while arrangements are made to bring you before the lords for your trial.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He thought he was doing her a kindness, but in truth, she hadn’t ever wanted to set foot in that house again. It had been a place of pain and fear, not comfort.
When she was brought inside, Lucy came to her in tears. “Oh, Your Grace. Are you all right?”
“Yes, Lucy,” she assured the maid, though it was untrue. Nothing would be all right ever again. “I’m just tired.”
“Of course. Let us put you in the blue room. The other room is…not ready for guests,” she said.
Mari nearly laughed. First, because she wasn’t a guest. And second, because she was doubtless the reason the room was unusable.
“The dowager duchess is here,” Lucy shared as they walked upstairs to the blue room.
Mari gasped at this news. The Dowager Duchess of Endsmere had been an unhappy shrew even before Mari had killed her son. Lord only knew how much worse her attitude would be now. She’d never wanted her son to marry Mari.
At this rate, Mari might be begging the lords to end her sooner rather than later.
Lucy helped
