Page 14 of Married to the Cruel Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #5)

14

T he sun had barely crested Ersie’s windows. It spilled pink and golden light across the garden and glens as she tugged on Brannoc’s reins, leading him out of the stables.

Her plan was simple: take Keith’s horse, ride to the southern borders, and talk to the guards.

She tightened her cloak around herself and urged Brannoc into a canter. The air was brisk, with dew still clinging to the grass. Her mind raced through every detail she’d uncovered so far, and something didn’t sit right.

I need answers.

By the time she reached the southern guard post, her hair had slipped free of its braid and fluttered in the wind. Three guards were posted there, clustered near the watchtower, half-heartedly tossing stones into a bucket.

“Mornin’, lads,” she called, her voice even.

They turned, surprised to see her, and stood straighter when they realized who she was. Keith had obviously told them about her.

One of them, the tallest, stepped forward. “Lady Ersie. We didnae expect company at this hour.”

“Ach, well.” She dismounted and strode toward them. “I’ve got very little time to get done what needs to be done. If ye ken what I mean.”

“Sure, Me Lady,” another lad said quickly, shuffling his feet forward to grab the reins of his Laird’s horse.

“Might I come up there with ye? Would like to see ’round.”

“Of course, Me Lady,” the third guard said, and he opened the door to the watchtower for her to follow them inside.

“Rather a long way from the keep?” she started as they all climbed the many steps to the top.

“Aye, Me Lady. This tower has the best view of the outer curtain,” one of the guards said.

“Especially that night,” another added.

“What was so special about that night?” Ersie asked lightly, her thighs starting to burn.

“Full and high, the moon was that night. Large, casting light so bright it lit the grass like mornin’ dew,” the third guard said from the rear of the group.

The stone tower was narrow, and the winding stairs leading to the wooden perch were never-ending. She emerged from the dark, damp stairwell and was immediately assaulted by the morning light.

“Malcolm, fetch a stool for us,” the tall guard said, pointing to the third guard. “Here, Me Lady, ye can have this seat.”

“Thank ye…?” Ersie trailed off.

“Angus, Me Lady. And that is Ewan,” he elaborated, pointing at the other guard.

“Pleasure to ken ye, lads. I’m sure ye have been made aware that I’m here on business.”

“Aye, Me Lady,” Angus said, speaking for the other two.

Ersie smiled, her eyes landing on each of them before speaking again. “Ye mentioned the moon, lad,” she said, turning to Malcolm.

“Aye, it was a glow sharp enough to illuminate the shadows along the wall,” he replied and pointed.

Their gazes flicked to the stone wall of the keep.

“Fog hovered over the loch like an army of spirits,” Ewan muttered quietly.

“Fog?” Ersie echoed.

Fog means obscured line of sight .

“And ye could still see, ye say?”

Malcolm nodded earnestly. “Aye. I saw movement. Thought it was foxes or somethin’ at first, but the movements weren’t like those of a fox. I hunt wi’ me faither, ye ken.”

“And I went down with him to observe.”

“How long did it take ye?” Ersie asked them both, having just made the ride herself on Brannoc.

The ride was long because the watchtower was situated on the far side of the loch, only reached by the main road. Or so she had thought.

“It took us and the steeds only about three or so minutes, just through there,” Angus said this time, pointing to a well-traveled path that she hadn’t seen before.

Of course, they would have a quicker way to reach the castle.

“What happened when ye got there?” Ersie asked, looking back at Malcolm.

“Well, it werenae foxes, but I did hear hissin’ when we came upon the wall.”

“Hissin’?”

He nodded. “Aye, like a snake or steam. Tried to get Ewan to hear it, but he couldnae.”

“And the bairn?”

The three guards looked down in silent reverence, still clearly affected by the loss of their Laird’s son on their watch.

“Did ye investigate the hissin’?”

“We didnae,” Angus said, his shoulders tensing slightly.

“Why did ye dismiss it, then?”

Ewan winced, and Angus continued to speak. “The lad was green. It was his first week in the watchtower. He didnae ken the sounds of the loch. The hissin’ could have been anythin’. Wind in the grass, a bird settlin’—”

“A person,” Ersie interrupted.

Angus’s knuckles turned white, but she continued. This happened on their watch. They would have to answer until she was content that none of them had a hand in it.

“Did ye see anythin’ strange when ye got up to the wall with him?”

Ewan shook his head. “Nothin’, Me Lady. The wall was silent,” he said softly.

“Did ye believe him?” Ersie pressed.

Angus shrugged. “I believe he saw somethin’, sure. But the bairn bein’ taken? Could be. Could have also been nothin’ at all.”

Malcolm looked hurt but didn’t argue.

“Alright then…” Ersie said, feeling justified in having scolded the men for not taking the new guard’s word more seriously.

Just as she turned to leave, Angus cleared his throat.

“Wait, Me Lady,” he called, his tone more neutral than she had expected. “There’s more.”

Ersie paused, glancing between the three of them.

Ewan spoke next, his brow furrowed in thought. “I didnae hear the hissin’, but the lad was keen on the sound. Never heard the likes of it before or since, he said.”

Ersie’s eyes landed on Malcolm. “Is this true?”

“Aye, Me Lady.”

“We didnae include any of this in the report because nay one specifically asked us that. We thought that it didnae matter, but now… mayhap it does,” Ewan said, his brow still furrowed.

“Aye,” Angus said. “Mayhap it does, considerin’ the bairn was found just hours later in the loch.”

Ersie gave a tight nod to each of them before departing, thanking each of them for their cooperation as she disappeared down the winding staircase.

Back at the keep, she paced through the halls with renewed purpose. Her thoughts buzzed like hornets. It was still early enough that most of the keep was just barely stirring, save for the kitchen.

Ersie was convinced that there was something to the southern guards’ statements, and hearing them in person gave her new insight into what happened that night. None of their reports had mentioned anything about the shadows or the hissing. Not one.

She filed away the encounter before moving on to the next person she desperately needed to find—the healer.

Surely, the healer would still be around… right?

Storming down into the depths of the castle, she traced her steps to where one might logically find the surgery. Only, when she pushed open the door, a wall of ledgers greeted her, and she closed it immediately.

“Blast!” she hissed, but her hand lingered on the handle.

Wait a minute…

Ersie pushed open the door slightly and peered around it. Floor-to-ceiling, meticulously stored ledgers. Scrolls from only the Lord above knew when. Leather bindings. Faded metal placards with the years etched into them.

Her feet carried her to the nearest and mostly incomplete stack to let her eyes wander momentarily, not even registering that the door closed softly behind her.

Fingers lightly tracing the etchings so as to not disturb the layer of dust that had collected on the surface, she read them quietly.

Finances. Trade Agreements. Medical Logs. Inventories. Rosters. Visitor Logs. Guard Logs. Correspondence…

Birth and Death Records.

Ersie’s entire body went rigid, and her fingers itched to grab the large green book.

The year was current, which meant this ledger would have probably been for the entire clan and not just the keep. Her eyes darted around the cases, searching for the records from five years ago.

“If I locate those records, mayhap I will find information about the attending midwives or healers…” she mumbled, the particles of dust drifting around the space wildly.

It was in the stack toward the back of the row, as if it had been purposefully placed in a forgotten corner.

“Aye, this is it!” she hissed excitedly to the shadows that surrounded her curiously.

She brought the ledger up to the front of the room, where the daylight filtered weakly through the window, and sifted through the heavy pages, her fingers dragging along the ink, searching for that day.

Scurrying footsteps. Voices.

She paused, tensing, her fist clutching the blade at her thigh.

A man and a woman whispered nearby, giggling with each other. Ersie crouched low behind the door, curious.

“Ye promised me a walk near the stables,” the woman whined playfully, and Ersie rolled her eyes.

“And I’ll take ye there, love. But if ye keep temptin’ me like that… I willnae even make it out there afore I get me hands on ye,” the man replied, his voice teasing.

“Do ye want everyone to see us?” the woman scolded.

“I dinnae care if the Mad Laird himself sees me take ye. I want even him to envy me,” he said.

Ersie heard a low growl followed by a stifled moan, before the lovers retreat into the depths of the keep.

Her breath caught. Not because of them, but because her thoughts had suddenly turned to Keith. To the feel of his lips on her throat, making her moan just as the woman had. The heat of his hands around her thighs.

Heat pooled low in her belly at the memory of the kiss they shared the previous morning.

“Stop it,” she hissed.

Gripping the book in her hand—and thinking that no one would ever even come down here, let alone need this specific ledger—she tucked it under her arm.

Better leave this room to the lovers.

Ersie retraced her steps to go back to the small library, the one with Keith’s portrait on display.

The hearth was roaring, the staff abuzz with life as the morning seeped through the windows. Feeling comfortable under Keith’s pointed stare, she propped the book up on the stand, flipped the pages to where she left off, and started searching the entries once more.

A few moments later, a voice rang out, smooth and unexpected. “Now there’s a sight. Bent over like that, ye almost look vulnerable. Almost.”

She spun around, unsurprised. Lucas. Her dagger was in her fingers but hidden behind the book.

He leaned lazily against the doorjamb, his arms crossed, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Didnae mean to interrupt yer sleuthin’,” he said. “But I have always found determination an attractive quality in a woman. Especially one with legs like yers, lass.”

Ersie mentally hurled every insult that she could think of at the man, while her face presented the expression of an unbothered warrior.

She smiled sweetly, twirling her blade between the tips of her fingers. “Careful, Lucas. Lest ye make me forget ye’re me host and show ye just how invulnerable I truly am.”

He laughed and pushed himself upright.

“Lookin’ for somethin’?” he asked, his eyes roaming over every inch of her.

“Just admirin’ some of the history here.”

“Aye, well… Should ye ever wish for a tour?—”

“I’ll be sure to bother Keith about it, so as not to… impose.”

His chuckle lingered between them long after he disappeared, and it took until the aromas of the morning meal wafted into the small library for Ersie to finally locate the date she was searching for.

Only, it wasn’t really what she was searching for. It was something she had already seen in the kirkyard.

Mairead, of Clan Kitarne, and child, unnamed. 1695.

Turned out that the death of Lady MacAuley was too distressing for the record keeper to complete the ledger fully, which was quite frustratingly inconvenient.

What about the healer? The midwife?

Not having the key information in the entry was disappointing, as it was suspicious. She flipped to the front of the book to ascertain the record keeper.

“Fiona MacBeath?”

A name she didn’t recognize, though it sounded familiar. She made a mental note to ask Keith or Isla about it later.

Ersie yawned then, stretching like a cat as she rested the tome on her lap. The fire’s warmth continued to lull her until the light from the window shifted, and her head dropped slightly.

Just for a minute…

Sleep took her quickly.

When she stirred next, the light in the library was much dimmer, though the fire was still crackling. A soft sound reached her ears, the familiar scratch of a quill on parchment.

She blinked groggily and straightened.

Keith sat at the desk in the corner of the room, half-shadowed, his brow furrowed as he wrote quickly. The muscles in his forearm flexed with each stroke.

Ersie’s breath caught for a moment.

Without glancing up, Keith’s voice wrapped itself around her. “Ye are awake.”

She rubbed her eyes and nodded. “How long was I asleep?”

“Long enough that I wondered if ye had taken root,” he replied, setting the quill beside the tall stack of papers.

She scoffed. “Ye wondered where I was hidin’, did ye nae?”

Keith’s expression darkened slightly, though not unkindly. “I have found recently that I often wonder where ye are when I cannae find ye.”

“Well,” she said, stretching, “ye need nae fash yerself. Brannoc was with me the whole while.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “He’d guard ye with his life.”

The silence stretched between them as he let his eyes rove over her body, before meeting her stare once more.

“Ye look… preoccupied,” she noted, yawning and stretching her limbs again.

“Aye.”

“Can I help?”

“Ye pushed me out of yer room last night,” Keith said plainly.

His lips quirked up, as if the element of surprise had landed precisely how he had wished it to.

“Aye,” she said, sitting up and clearing her throat. “I did.”

“I’d hardly categorize that as polite behavior.”

“I never once told ye that I was polite.”

“Shouldnae have to, Lady Ersie Barcley.”

She scoffed and prepared to volley a response back when the ledger slid off her lap and landed on the floor. “Oh!”

She picked it up quickly and set it to the side carefully.

“I did have a question.” Her eyes traced a line on the floor between them before reaching his. “Who was the midwife or healer in the room when…” Her eyes flicked down to the ledger and then back to his.

Keith didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched long enough to make her feel slightly uncomfortable for bringing up the day his wife died.

“Mrs. Martha Morrigan of Clan MacAitken.”

Ersie’s world tilted and took her with it.