Page 14 of Her Magnificent Mistake (Surprised Heirs #1)

CHAPTER 13

H awk had never climbed Pook’s Glen so quickly before.

I dinnae even recall if I tied up the puir horse below.

But he couldn’t think about the horse. All he could focus on was climbing the slippery, mossy stone steps Grandda’s stonemasons had built. More than once his feet went sliding out from underneath him and he only missed falling by a quick grabbing of the wall. Twice even that didn’t slow him, and by the time he reached the top of the burn, the knees and arse of his trousers were soaked through.

Panting, he stumbled toward the cottage.

Please dinnae be locked in an intimate embrace . He had no desire to throw open the door and see Allie and Rupert kissing—or worse, the way he and Marcia had made use of this cottage. He was as enlightened as the next man as they tore toward the twentieth century…he just didn’t need to see his niece with her tongue down someone’s throat.

To his relief, Allie and Rupert were sitting outside the cottage, both of them bent over a big purple rhododendron bloom as if studying it.

Hawk told himself the panting he was doing was in relief. Not because he was exhausted.

The youngsters sat on a blanket that faced the cliff, a picnic spread around them, their clasped hands almost hidden by Allie’s simple skirt. They’d clearly been in the middle of an intense discussion. Judging by the way Rupert now pointed from the bloom to the sky, it had something to do with the Douglas firs that towered over the sheer thirty-foot drop to the burn below.

But now it was not the rhododendrons that consumed their attention, but himself. “Uncle Maxwell?” Allie prompted. “Is anything wrong?”

Hawk bent double, hands braced on his knees, as he fought to even out his breathing. “Are…are ye alone here? Have ye seen anyone else?”

Allie, clearly thinking he was judging them for sneaking in some time alone, rolled her eyes. “No, Uncle, we may be alone out here, but we are not being naughty.”

“Actually,” Rupert began slowly, “we may not be alone. When I was standing to fetch that bloom for ye, Allie, I thought I saw Marcia far below us. Did ye bring her?”

Straightening, Hawk peered down the burn but saw no one. Why would she have followed him? The cliff, and the way the burn twisted and turned, made it difficult to see who else was down there, but… “Well,” he sighed, “at least we’re alone up here.”

A new voice. “On that, you are incorrect, my lord.”

Hawk spun about to see Artrip— Artrip ?—step out from behind the cottage, holding a gun.

“What—Artrip, what the fook?” Slowly edging around the picnic blanket so he was standing in front of Allie and Rupert, who had scrambled to their feet, Hawk shook his head to see the old butler waving such a thing around. “Put down that gun, someone might get hurt.”

The distinguished older man didn’t seem to hear him. He held the revolver confidently, the tip of the barrel pointing too accurately at Allie to allow Hawk to breathe.

Oh fook.

“Oh, this is delicious, is it not?” he murmured. “You running up here, my lord, so you might die in the most fitting of ways. I had only intended to kill your niece up here, hence why I followed her.” He edged sideways, his stance sure. “I followed her, you followed me, Lady Marcia followed you. Like some sort of Scooby Doo farce.”

Hawk’s arms were out from his side, trying to offer Allie some protection, but that utter tripe made him blink. “I—what?”

It was Rupert who hummed thoughtfully. “Ah, the Scoobius doobius is I believe the scientific name of the North American canus family known for its?—”

“Shut up, this is not about you,” snapped Artrip, momentarily pointing the gun at the lad. Cursing silently, Hawk did his best to shoo Rupert behind him as well, but…well, he was only so broad.

Trying to draw Artrip’s attention back to him, Hawk cleared his throat. “What is this about, Artrip? Ye’ve been loyal to my family for years.”

“Oh, I am so glad you asked, my lord, I was hoping for a monologue moment. I did not get the opportunity with the others.”

“A what?” Rupert asked, and Hawk considered smacking him to get him to stop drawing the attention of the madman with the gun.

Artrip puffed out his chest and used his free hand to smooth down his extensive combover. “A monologue moment, you puffed up popinjay—you think you know everything! You know, this is the moment when I explain everything as the hero becomes more desperate for escape.”

Hawk was looking around frantically now, wondering if he could nudge Allie and Rupert down the slippery stone steps toward freedom. Would a broken ankle be a sufficient gamble for freedom?

“Of course,” Artrip continued, the gun pointed solidly at Hawk, “I am the hero in this situation. Are you not going to ask, but why are you doing this, Artrip ?”

“But why are you doing this, Artrip?” Allie blurted out, a tad shrill, though Hawk could forgive her that.

And every second Marcia was getting closer…

The butler inclined his head gratefully. “Thank you, my dear. You have impeccable timing.”

Nay, ignore her! Keep the gun pointed at me ! Hawk ground out, “I’m more interested in hearing about the others . The ones ye couldnae monologue to. Who are they?”

“Why, your family.” Artrip’s grin was polite and deferential, which made the subject matter all the more horrifying. “I killed your Uncle William and your cousins, Franklin and Roger.”

“Nay,” Hawk rasped, eyes wide. It had been murder? “They died from excess, and bad eels, and shite riding ability, everyone kens?—”

Artrip waggled the gun in a scolding way. “Helped along by poison to mimic bad food, a pillow held over William’s mouth—good heavens, that man was strong—and a slice off Roger’s saddle girth.”

“Holy shite,” muttered Rupert.

Hawk raised his voice. “Ye murdered them? In cold blood?”

“Oh no, in quite hot blood. That is the point. This was fueled by anger and years of hatred. Your grandfather, now?—”

Hawk surged forward, love for his Grandda transformed into hate of the man before him. Only Allie’s hold on the back of his shirt kept him from grabbing Artrip and being shot. “You killed Grandda as well?” he roared. “He was an auld man!”

“Older than I am, certainly, but not by too much,” Artrip continued smoothly, as if Hawk hadn’t just tried to tear that combover from his head. “And weak. He barely fought at all as I pressed the pillow against his mouth.”

Oh God. Oh, Christ in Heaven. I’m sorry, Grandda. So sorry.

Hawk’s throat was closing with emotion, and he could barely process this. They had all been murdered after all, even his Grandda. He had never even suspected.

“And what about the rest?” Rupert asked. “Hawk’s brother and wee cousin?”

Shut up, shut up , Hawk wanted to whisper. Stop drawing his attention . Leave him to me.

Judging from the shushing sounds Allie was making, she agreed.

Artrip acknowledged the question with a polite tip of his head. “Stephen was truly a despicable man. He would loudly proclaim to anyone and everyone that if he ever inherited Tostinham, he would turn Pook’s Glen into an… attraction .” The butler sneered that word. “Inviting anyone and everyone to tromp all over, ruining what beauty existed. It could not be allowed to happen!”

“So ye killed him,” Hawk rasped. He remembered how they’d found his older brother face down in the water at the base of the burn. Artrip had likely thought it a fitting end.

“However,” continued the butler blithely, “I cannot take credit for the death of young Willy, your uncle’s son. He died in London over fifteen years ago, far from myself…but it was convenient, I admit.”

Convenient ? “The lad was barely a bairn!” Hawk growled. “Uncle William was devastated!”

“But he was still your grandfather’s spawn, and thus deserved to pay for what the old bastard did. Are you not going to ask but why ?”

“But why , Artrip?” blurted Allie’s unnaturally high voice. “ Why ?”

“Yes, thank you my dear.” The older man favored her with a proud nod. “You really are bright, and it is rather a shame that you will have to die.”

“ Never ,” snarled Hawk, yanking his shirt from his niece’s hold and stepping closer to Artrip.

Who clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes slightly. “Fine, I will kill you first, my lord, to make things easier. I suppose you have not the stomach to see your ward killed.”

Hawk heard the desperation in Allie’s voice when she exclaimed, “But—but you have not finished monologuing! You need to explain why ! We cannot die until we know why!”

“Oh, yes, good point my dear.” Artrip straightened his shoulders, the gun remaining steady as his gaze flicked lightning-quick between the three of them. “Always nice when a lady does as she is expected. Well, it is quite simple. You are all paying the price for your grandfather’s sin. Your great-grandfather, my dear,” he said to Allie.

“Sin? What sin?” Hawk shook his head, edging away from the younger couple, hoping to draw Artrip’s fire. Do not think about Marcia. Do not think about how she’s about to walk into this danger. “He was an auld man!”

“He was not always an old man, was he?” Taking the bait, Artrip turned just enough to keep Hawk under the barrel of the gun. “And he never hid his sin, he practically demanded worship for it! He was proud of the way he bottled up the burn! He bragged about how he had tamed Pook’s Glen ! How he had ripped down centuries of natural formations in order to make the burn accessible to everyone! Oh, he had sent men and metal and stone into the wilderness to make it a tamed beauty !” Artrip spat this last, as if it were a curse.

His eyes had turned wild, his hair flapping about as he whipped his head in agitation, and two bright spots appeared on his cheeks. “As if this was something to brag about? Killing a natural wonder, taming a wild place, killing a spirit .”

Hawk had only been half listening, his focus on the gun which had remained remarkably steady, despite Artrip’s ire. “Killing…a spirit?” he now repeated, hoping to keep the man talking.

Talking utter bollocks, but still talking.

The butler obliged, gesturing with his free hand at the beauty around them. “Can you imagine what this place used to look like? Wild and free from human encroachment? Before your grandfather made it accessible to anyone? Old one-legged washerwomen can now just pop up to the top of the burn for an outing on a Sunday afternoon!”

Hawk didn’t understand. “Aye, that was his point. To make this natural beauty accessible to anyone.”

“He killed the land ,” Artrip spat. Then he paused, took a deep breath, and used his free hand to smooth down his wayward hair. “The burn used to be the home of the spirits, my lord. Not just Pook but others, wild and free. By taming the burn, your grandfather killed them, chased them away. And that is the greatest sin of all.”

Hawk’s brows had rose. Artrip was…what? A nature-worshipper? “Ye killed my grandfather for that ?”

The gun pointed at Hawk’s chest. “I vowed to wipe out his entire family. Any of his blood who saw this place the same way he did.”

This was ridiculous. “The land will still be here, the damage done.”

“Your cousin Marianne will inherit,” Artrip announced smugly. “She has already promised me she will allow the burn to return to nature. Perhaps the spirits will return, as was meant to be. It is a long shot, true…but one I am more than willing to kill for.”

“Holy shite,” Rupert whispered again, behind Hawk and a little off to one side.

Artrip nodded firmly. “You must all pay—all of you, pay for this crime against the natural world.”

Pook’s Glen was beautiful, and now anyone could share in it. That had been Grandda’s vision, his dream. How could this possibly be a bad thing?

Rupert hummed thoughtfully. “In Exodus, the Lord punishes the children and their children for the sins of their parents, into the third and fourth generation.”

“Did you just compare Artrip to God?” Allie murmured.

“Good point.” Rupert was just out of his view and Hawk didn’t risk turning, but he could imagine the young man nodding thoughtfully. “Perhaps the better quotation would be from Vigil’s Aeneid , Book Four I believe. Dido curses Aeneas and his descendants and says Let there be war between your people and mine forever. Scholars believe?—”

“You really are quite annoying, young sir,” Artrip announced in exasperation. Then he swung the revolver toward Rupert, and shot him.

W hen she saw the flash of the barrel, saw her younger brother spin about as the bullet hit his upper arm, Marcia’s breath froze, making it impossible for her to scream.

But screaming wasn’t necessary.

Instead, she burst over the top of the staircase where she’d been crouched, listening to Artrip’s mad monologuing and biding her time.

The time for waiting was past.

Marcia burst into the clearing in front of the cottage, all her instincts shouting at her to go to Rupert—but Hawk had sprung into motion sooner and as he lunged for Artrip, the older man dodged and grabbed a screaming Allison.

Not Allison !

Marcia changed direction mid-stumble and threw her arms around Hawk’s middle, trying to anchor him in place, desperate to keep him from throwing himself at Artrip as the butler backed away, slowly dragging Allie—with his gun pointed at her jaw—toward the cliff.

“Do not startle him,” Marcia hissed, impressed at how steady her words sounded, although her heart was breaking inside. When she heard her brother’s groan, she almost whimpered in relief, and risked a quick glance to the side.

Rupert had been thrown flat, but now he was trying to roll to his feet, while clutching his arm and looking quite pale. He’d been shot in the arm? Marcia breathed a little sigh of relief to see him conscious, and flicked her gaze back to the action.

O h damn. With Allie seeming far too at ease for having been taken by a madman, Marcia couldn’t help but think how she herself would have reacted…and groaned. “Allie, stay calm, do not struggle.” Because if the girl was anything like Marcia, she’d already be concocting a plan.

Marcia had been in these situations before in the last ten years, but never with the lives of people she loved on the line. Oh God, not Rupert, not Hawk—and Allison was an innocent. She would not let them be hurt. She tried to focus on what she’d learned from Bull, and how to turn this situation to their advantage. “Keep calm, Hawk. There is no telling what he will do.”

“I ken ,” moaned Hawk, and she could hear the heartbreak in those words. “Fook.” He twisted to wrap his arm around Marcia’s shoulder so they were plastered together, as if that would help keep him steady. “Artrip, let her go!”

Allie seemed remarkably calm for someone being held hostage by a madman. Her gaze kept flicking between Marcia’s face and her chest. When Marcia finally noticed, Allie turned her attention firmly to Marcia’s breasts.

Well, that was certainly not expected, though she knew plenty of ladies who ? —

No, not her breasts.

To what dangled between them.

Almost unbidden, Marcia’s hand rose to the blue glass pendant Lady Mistree had claimed was her inheritance . As had become her habit, she worried the glittering amulet back and forth on its chain, the motion unconscious as her attention remained firmly on Artrip.

Interestingly, the movement halted the butler’s slow escape. He stopped backing toward the cliff, his gaze caught by the sparkle of Marcia’s necklace. “What is that?” he barked, his eyes wide and entranced. “That—that bauble?”

Marcia felt Hawk’s arm tighten around her, as if he was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t risk glancing at him. Allie nodded slightly, a satisfied gleam in her eyes, as if she wanted Marcia to talk about the pendant.

At a time like this? They all thought she should talk about…jewelry?

“This?” Marcia slid the blue glass along its chain again, trying not to look at the prone Rupert to her left. “It was a…a gift. I was told it is a rare and valuable treasure, because it is no ordinary jewel.”

Her mind raced, thinking about what Artrip had so casually announced and his reasons for doing it, and how on earth the pendant could be relevant.

What had Lady Mistree said about it?

Slowly she straightened away from Hawk, allowing her arm to drop, inching away so that they both had space to act. “You see, this pendant is not merely made from blown glass.” Holding it away from herself, Marcia pretended to focus her attention on it, as if it were fascinating. “It came from a mysterious old woman and contains—well, I suppose it is silly to believe such things.”

“It contains what ?” barked Artrip, slowly relaxing though the barrel of the gun was still too close to Allie.

Marcia pretended to blink in surprise. “Why, it contains a spirit . A sprite. That explains the swirling blue glitter.” She held it up farther. “It is beautiful, is it not? Oh!” She pretended to come to a sudden realization. “Perhaps it is Pook ! You said he disappeared from the glen when the burn was tamed! Perhaps he now resides in this pendant!”

Artrip’s hungry and utterly insane gaze was locked on the piece of jewelry.

Marcia inched farther from Hawk, hoping to give him room to do whatever he was going to do as she distracted Artrip, and made her voice as gentle as possible. Do not panic. Just breathe. You remember breathing? “Release Allison, Artrip.” She could only speak this soothingly if she ignored the little whimpers of pain her brother was making on the picnic blanket behind her. “Let us all walk down the mountain without harming any of us, and I will give it to you?—”

“Nay!” growled Hawk, likely thinking of revenge.

Without glancing at him, Marcia nodded slowly, noting that the gun was no longer pointed at Allison’s jaw, thank God. In fact, the pair of them had stepped away from the cliff edge and come closer. “Yes. It is just a trinket to me, but it could mean everything to Artrip, is that not right?”

Let us go .

Hawk groaned in what sounded like tortured agony. “For God’s sakes, Artrip, let Allie go. It’s me ye want, eh?” From the corner of her vision, Marcia could see the man she loved edging sideways. “I’m the one who believes in Grandda’s vision for this place. I’m the one who helped him tame the burn. I’m the one who thinks?—”

“Uncle Maxwell.” Allison’s voice was calm and sharp. “Do try not to piss him off more than necessary, if you do not mind.”

Hawk shook his head. “Allie?—”

Marcia saw the girl’s lips suddenly curl upward knowingly. Saw her wink. As Hawk straightened in surprise, everything seemed to slow.

Allison slid her leg behind Artrip, cocked her hip and, using her hold on his forearm, flipped him over her shoulder .

As Artrip went flying, he lost his hold on the revolver. Hawk lunged for him, but Marcia stumbled toward the gun, thinking only to throw it over the cliff, out of Artrip’s hands.

Allison straightened, pumped one fist in the air, and yelled, “Suffra-jiujitsu!” but since everything was still in a sort of slow motion, she’d barely had time to get out the first syllable before Artrip was on his hands and knees, scrambling toward…toward Marcia ?

She tossed the gun behind her as the old man reached her, arm outstretched, grasping. Rearing back, Marcia’s only thought was to get away from the terrifyingly determined look on the butler’s face and that clutching hand.

But she was too late.

Artrip’s fingers closed around the pendant and Marcia sucked in a gasp as a strange blue light seemed to flare from inside the glass, accompanied by a high-pitched note that wasn’t quite music. It sparkled through the space between Artrip’s fingers, and in that moment—that damned slow motion moment—the old man’s expression turned peaceful.

Then Hawk slammed into him from the side, tackling them both over the cliff.

This time Marcia did scream, but she didn’t know if it was in terror or in pain as Artrip’s grip yanked the pendant away from her, snapping the chain as the man she feared and the man she loved both fell into the burn.

Suddenly Allison was beside her and they were both scrambling toward the edge of the cliff…

Only to see Hawk dangling from a rock outcropping a few feet below the edge, his head tipped back, dark hair framing a miraculously unharmed smile.

“Oh, thank fook,” Marcia muttered, slumping to the ground, heart pounding.

Hawk’s smile grew. “Och, worried for me, lass?”

“Of course I was, you stupid man,” Marcia said in relief. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Uncle Maxwell,” Allison blurted. “Though I think in quite a different manner. Try not to fall—Mr. Artrip is lying down at the bottom, rather twisted and bloody. I am not sure he’d be a sufficiently soft landing for you.”

That news caused Hawk’s grin to falter. He took a deep breath, his booted feet scrambling for purchase. “I might be a tad clumsy, but I’ve been scrambling up and down these cliffs since I was a lad. I just need a little?—”

He grunted as both Marcia and Allison, stretched out at the top of the cliff, leaned down to grab his arms and help him up over the edge.

“Thank ye,” he panted as he gathered them both in his arms. She could almost see the relief pouring from his brow. “Good Christ, thank ye.” He buried his face in Marcia’s hair and inhaled. “I was so worried for ye.” He placed a kiss on Allison’s crown. “I thought—I thought I was going to lose ye both.”

“Do not be silly, Uncle Maxwell. Although I think it is quite clear that you need to trust the ladies in your life a bit more. We know what we are doing.”

Whether that meant Allison being willing to live in the wilderness with her only family, or Marcia wanting to marry him all those years ago. Hawk’s shaky laugh was echoed by Marcia.

Allison sniffed. “After all, we love you.”

“I love you too, lassie,” he muttered, voice tight. He shifted his attention to Marcia. “And ye. I thought I was going to die without telling ye how—how sorry I was. How stupid I’d been, and how I should no’ have assumed?—”

Surging up on quivering knees, Marcia captured his lips with hers. Her desperate hold on his neck tightened, and she kissed him with all the emotion—love, terror, surprise, exhilaration—of the last minutes.

At long last, when she pulled away, Hawk exhaled and pressed his forehead to hers, his other arm still around his niece. “I love ye, Marcia Calderbank. I always have.”

“I love you too, Hawk. Always and forever.”

One more quick kiss, then he sighed. “Let’s go home, eh?”

From the picnic blanket came Rupert’s strained voice. “If it’s no’ too much trouble, could I come with ye? I’ve had rather enough of studying the rhododendrons.”

Smiling in relief, they wrapped his wound—a deep gouge along the outside of his left bicep which still bled sluggishly—and took turns supporting him down the mountain to where the horses waited.

And much later, when Hawk’s men went to retrieve Artrip’s body, they found the old man’s skull crushed against a large rock, the damage almost hidden by his combover. Marcia’s blue pendant, which she knew she’d seen sparkle such a bright blue and emit that high note, was still clutched in his hand, crushed beneath his body.

The pieces of glass were swept together for her to keep, but now they were merely that: glass. No glitter, no light, and not a hint of blue.

Just plain, ordinary glass.

Whatever had been there had flown. Free at last.