He drew a slow breath and pushed the door open. The room was still. Too still.
The fire had burned down to ash. The bed was untouched. A chill crept along his spine.
“Scarlett?” he called quietly.
No answer.
The room was too still. Her chair sat perfectly aligned, her cloak neatly draped. Everything was in its place.
Except her.
His eyes fell on her sketchbook, left open on the table. A fresh drawing of the gardens was half-finished, the charcoal still soft to his touch. She had been here only moments ago.
A cold knot tightened in his chest. He followed a faint draft out into the corridor, down into the courtyard. The wind-driven rain stung his face as he strode toward the gardens.
By the silent fountain, he found it. Her parchment, soaked and ruined, the ink bleeding away. And beside it, glinting in the wet gloom, her necklace.
He knelt, lifting the garnet from the mud.
He turned sharply and strode to the door. “Guard!”
Footsteps thundered in the corridor.
“Find Lady Scarlett,” Robert barked. “Search the grounds, the stables, the hills if ye must; she’s gone from her chambers.”
The guard blanched, bowing quickly before sprinting away.
Robert stood there, gripping the doorframe until his knuckles whitened. His heart was a slow, heavy drum in his chest.
God help anyone who’s touched her.
The storm inside him had already broken loose.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Gundor Castle had not known such unrest since the rebellion years. Torches flared to life, boots pounded across wet stone, and servants hurried through the corridors with pale faces and shaking hands.
At the center of it all, Robert McLaren stood perfectly still.
The torchlight carved harsh shadows across his face, catching the sharp planes of his jaw and the hard line of his mouth. Only his eyes betrayed him, lit with a cold fury that burned beneath a thin layer of control.
Scarlett was gone.
He had known the moment he entered her chamber. Cold hearth, untouched bed, sketchbook open on the table, charcoal still beside it. She had been here an hour ago. Less.
He looked at the connecting door. Then at the window. Then at the sketchbook again. A half-drawn castle wall, abandoned mid-line, which meant she had not chosen to leave.
Which meant someone had taken her.
He heard footsteps behind him but didn’t turn until Leon spoke. “She’s nowhere in the keep. The guards at the north tower saw
nothing, but the gate watch said one of the stable lads had gone missing an hour before dawn.” Leon’s voice was taut. “Robert…”
“Seal the gates.” Robert’s tone was absolute. “No one in or out without me order.”
Leon hesitated. “Aye, but…”
“Search every road and ridge within ten miles,” Robert continued. “Send two riders north, another pair along the glen road. And I want eyes on the forest path by the hour.”
