Page 66 of Somewhere Along The Way (Mackinnon #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ross had been back at Dunford three weeks the day he was arrested.

They had come out of the cloak of night, pounding on Dunford’s doors, demanding Ross be brought down. Under armed guard he was taken to Edinburgh to await trial for the murder of the Marquess of Larrimore.

Annabella was feeding the chickens in the rain the day Allan rode home with the news of Ross Mackinnon’s arrest. After Allan had told her, she dropped the bucket of chicken feed and cried, her tears running down her face and blending with the rain.

She thought she had absorbed all the grief she could contain with Gavin’s death, but she was wrong.

Only yesterday she had received a letter from Ross, telling her the things she would not listen to when he had been here.

He had not killed Gavin, he said, but by the time she read it, that part was old news.

Annabella knew as soon as her mind began to clear that Ross could not have killed Gavin.

Only yesterday he had written her of his innocence, and today she heard of his arrest.

Some people were never meant to be happy.

Perhaps she was one of those.

Word of his arrest brought questions flooding into her still grief-numbed mind. Ross, she knew, was the one who found Gavin, the one who carried him into the house that night, his clothes stained with Gavin’s blood. But there was a matter of motive. What would Ross stand to gain by killing Gavin?

“They dinna think it to be a murder of gain, lass, but one of emotion,” Uncle Barra said. “His pockets were full. Robbery was not the motive. Huntly has been questioned and has verified that Gavin came to him, telling him he had come only to pacify you.”

Annabella blanched. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, lass, that Huntly has sworn that Gavin told him he never intended to ask Huntly to agree to withdraw from the betrothal between the two of you.

He swore that Gavin wanted the marriage as much as anyone, that he only pretended to be on your side to keep you quiet until the marriage, which had, by the way, been moved up to December twenty-first. Did Gavin tell you that? ”

“No.”

“The wedding was moved up, lass. Your father told me in the letter he sent with Gavin.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you told me Gavin said not to do anything until he returned. I felt it best to keep the letter secret until then.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I don’t believe a word of Huntly’s sworn statement. I know my brother. Gavin wasn’t like that. He would have never played me false. Never.”

“You will have to admit it does serve Huntly’s purpose quite nicely, however.”

“In what way?”

“Let’s say—strictly for the sake of comparison—that Gavin had no intention of asking Huntly to withdraw.

He goes to Huntly, tells him of the early wedding date.

He leaves. On the way home he encounters Ross Mackinnon.

The two of them talk. Gavin lets it be known that he is on Huntly’s side in all of this.

If Gavin tells Ross of the earlier marriage date, that adds more pressure to Ross. He and Ross argue. Ross stabs him.”

“In the back?” she shouted, leaping to her feet. “If Ross killed anyone, he wouldn’t stab him in the back. I know he wouldn’t kill any man in such a cowardly way. I know it. And he would never kill my brother.”

“I know that. You know that. But Mackinnon is a foreigner to these parts. Huntly is held in high esteem…”

“In only a few circles,” Annabella reminded him.

“In only a few circles,” Barra repeated, “but unfortunately those circles are the important ones. Huntly is a sly weasel. He’s out to get Mackinnon. I feel it in my bones.”

“Why would he be after Ross?”

“Because Ross made a fool of him by taking the woman he was to marry. Revenge runs hot in Huntly’s blood. He’s already obtained proof that Mackinnon is a wanted man in Texas. It doesna look too good for Mackinnon, lass.”

“Wanted? For what?”

Barra paled. “Leave it be, lass.”

“For what, Uncle? I have a right to know.”

Barra sighed. “It seems the lad seduced a lass and promised to marry her, then left the country. But there are always two sides to every story,” Barra went on to say, but Bella was not listening.

Dear God. Did he make a fool of me as well?

In her heart Bella didn’t want to believe it, but her mind was more shrewd. Too much evidence pointed at Ross, and she could think of nothing, not one point that could be declared in his favor, save the fact that she loved him.

Her hands trembling, she turned, her face pale, and looked at her uncle. “What will they do to him if…if he is found guilty?”

“Hang him.”

A portion of her mind refused to believe it.

Another part was full of doubt. For a moment she thought she might faint.

She felt sick, sick beyond reasoning, beyond rational thought, even beyond speech.

Gavin was dead. Murdered. And Ross would pay the price for it.

Ross would hang. He would be no more. He would cease to exist as Gavin had, save in the dark, shadowy coiners of her mind.

He would die and she would never see him again.

Just like Gavin.

She would never again know the feel of his dark head held close to her breast, or know the whisper of his thoughts against her flesh.

There would be no more moments of laughter, no more times when he would happen upon her and take her by surprise, no more times the sight of him would set her soul on fire.

Never would she enter into the sweet, teasing banter with him, or know the pleasure of being loved and loving in return.

Annabella looked at her uncle and started from the room. She paused at the door. “Perhaps he will be spared,” she said. “Perhaps he will find a way to save himself.”

“Perhaps. Are you going to see him?”

“No.”

“Why? Do you believe him guilty, then?”

“No…I…I don’t know. I’m not certain of anything anymore. All I know is my brother is dead, and someone murdered him. So far, Ross is the only one with a motive.”

“You don’t think Huntly has a motive?”

“What could it be?”

“You.”

“Me?” she retorted. “Me?” She laughed mockingly. “Why should he kill for me? I belonged to him already.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps on paper. But in your heart, lass, you will always belong to Ross Mackinnon.”

“What are you saying, Uncle?”

“I’m saying, don’t be so quick to condemn the lad.”

“I thought you were convinced of his guilt. You certainly sounded like it.”

“I merely told you the facts, lass. Facts dinna make a man guilty.”

She came back into the room and took a chair across from Barra’s desk. “All right. Let’s back up here. You mentioned that Huntly might have a reason for killing Gavin, and I was that reason. I don’t understand.”

“What if Gavin went to Huntly as he said he was going to? What if he asked Huntly to back off? What if Huntly refused?”

“What if Gavin got angry and told Huntly the wedding was off anyway,” she finished.

“Exactly,” Barra said. “What if Gavin left after that?”

“Huntly could have had him killed.”

“Or he could have followed him and killed him himself. We know Huntly left that night for Edinburgh. He could have killed Gavin before he went to Edinburgh. Your brother was stabbed in the back. Dinna be forgetting that. That in itself smells of Huntly. I dinna think he’s man enough to face a man down. ”

* * * * *

Over the next few weeks Annabella tried to pick up the pieces of her life that had been scattered like the bucket of chicken feed she had dropped that day in the rain.

She found herself spending more time in the kitchen, bending over a quilting frame, or sitting in the parlor with Una and Ailie making lace or smocking.

Her aim was to keep busy, but soon she learned the hands can work even while the mind stays idle.

And whenever her mind was idle, the same thoughts would return.

Many thoughts were about Ross and the moments they had shared, but often she would find she relived and rethought the conversation she had with her uncle that day.

What if he was right? What if Huntly was involved here?

She had no way of knowing, and perhaps she never would.

But she did know one thing. Ross was innocent.

She would stake her life on that. She felt guilty for even doubting that for a moment.

She made her mind up to go to Edinburgh to see him.

And then she thought of his grandfather.

The old duke had to be taking this hard.

But Percy is there with him, she told herself.

I know Percy wouldn’t go back to England now, no matter how much he needed to return.

He loves the Mackinnon. Loves him as much as I do.

“I’m going to Dunford,” she announced the next morning.

“Can I go with you?” Ailie asked.

“No,” Barra replied. “This is something Bella must do alone.”

It was past midnight when she arrived at Dunford two days later, but the old duke was still up, at least she thought him to be, since the light was on in the Mackinnon’s study.

When a sleep-dazed Robert opened the door, Annabella hurried through the door, her skirts swishing around her. “Is His Grace in his study?”

“He is, miss.”

“Thank you, Robert. Will you have my things taken from the coach and placed in my old room?”

“Yes, miss.” Robert watched her go. “Oh, miss?”

She paused and turned to look at him. “Yes?” A wide grin split his face. “Glad to have you back, miss. The old duke is a broken man. Maybe you can do something for him.”