Page 118 of My Highland Love

“She is the most likely one.”

Marcus exchanged a glance with Justin. “What do you mean 'the most likely one?'“

“There's another woman, but she doesn't seem a good fit. A raving lunatic. Has nightmares about a child who was poisoned—”

Marcus started. Justin straightened and Steven dropped his spoon into his nearly empty bowl. William looked from one man to the other.

“Where is this woman?” Marcus demanded.

“Twenty miles outside of Boston in Danvers Sanitarium.”

“Danvers?” Steven repeated in a loud voice.

Marcus shot him a warning look.

Steven lowered his voice. “That's an asylum for the criminally insane.”

Marcus felt the blood rush to his head.

“What are her circumstances?” Justin cut in.

“Her father brought her,” William replied. “She suffers from delusions that her child has returned from the dead.” William shivered. “Most of the men working there fear her. There's nothing like the fear of the devil to put the fear of God into a man.”

Or the fear of a courageous woman, Marcus silently added.

Minutes later, Marcus stepped from the tavern onto the dimly lit street between Justin and Steven. Once out of sight of the tavern, Marcus looked at Justin. “I am the spurned lover?”

Justin grinned. “You weren't anything until I thought you would do poor William in.”

“Who is this William?”

Justin gave a deprecating laugh. “A Boston law-enforcement officer.”

Marcus addressed Steven, “What do you know of Boston law enforcement?”

“I don't know William, but many Boston police officers are in a position to know information like what he told us.”

Marcus nodded. “Where does Landen Shipping hold its board meetings?”

“The Brill Building, downtown Boston,” Steven answered.

Justin said, “Ardsley will have to transport her from the sanitarium to the meeting,”

“Aye.” Marcus replied. “Only, we will meet him long before he reaches Boston.”

* * *

The sun peeked over the horizon. Not a single traveler had appeared on the road leading to Danvers Sanitarium while they lay hidden under the cover of darkness. Marcus tapped Justin on the shoulder and signaled that he would return momentarily. He slipped from the trees overlooking the road east of them, crept through tall grass, brambles, and bush up a hill. The wildly growing foliage ended abruptly. Across a vast manicured lawn, the view of the sprawling, ivy-covered, brick building—his first in the light of day—chilled him to the bone.

The pointed towers and peaked gables had lost the haunting look their silhouettes projected in the twilight hours and became, instead, the bared teeth of The Witches' Castle. A shudder ran through him. What sort of twisted mind had built a sanitarium on the spot where John Hathorne, the most fanatical judge of the Salem witch trials, once lived?

Marcus's heart hardened at sight of the iron-barred windows. He brought his gaze down to the stone steps of the front entrance. Marked on both sides by wrought iron railing, they lead up to a circular, covered porch. Columns supported the porch roof on either side. He looked again at the windows, studying one, then another, of what seemed an endless array of cells.

Which of those tiny rooms held Elise prisoner? So close. Marcus envisioned forcing his way past the attendants who fed off the brutality they inflicted upon the helpless inmates. The image, however, was violently replaced by the realization that those men would hold him until Price arrived. Then any power embodied in the information he held would become worthless—and Elise would be lost forever. He closed his eyes in an effort to banish the thought but saw, instead, her frail form, lying on a thin pallet, hands crossed over her breasts in readiness for the coffin. He shook off the vision, then turned from the menacing asylum. He crept down the slope and returned to Justin and Steven.

Marcus scanned the empty road before whispering, “What has gone wrong?”

“Mayhap Ardsley took her out before we arrived?” Justin asked.