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“You don’t seem very worried about your brother,” William remarked, frowning at him angrily. “Are you going to send out a search party?”
“Of course I am!” Robert answered indignantly. “The men are preparing as we speak, but they must all eat first to keep their strength up. Now, Master William Gibson, why do you not keep your mouth shut, take care of your sister, and leave all that to me?”
“Happily.” William’s voice was icy. “Good luck, M’Laird. Please let us know how you fare. I would join you, but I must take care of Grace. This has been a shock for her, and for me as well.”
Grace had been standing as immobile as a statue, letting the two men’s words wash over her. She heard and saw nothing; her mind had become completely blank. Sometime before, she was told that Fergus had been taken prisoner, but it meant nothing to her. In fact, she felt as though nothing around her was real. The world and everything in it was going about its business around her, but she had no part in it. For all intents and purposes, Grace Gibson did not exist.
“Yes, I know,” Robert replied, glaring at William. Then he put his hand out and placed it on Grace’s arm, trying to look into her eyes.
Grace flinched and braced herself before she looked up at him. For the first time, a sense of reality came back. She hated this man, and nothing he could do would ever change that. She could not help looking at him with a narrow, malicious stare, but he seemed oblivious.
“Are you all right, Grace? I’m worried about him myself. He is my only brother, and I fear for his safety.”
“I am fine thank you, M’Laird,” she replied coldly. “If you will excuse me…” she turned and ran upstairs, followed by William, who swiftly caught up with her, steadying her so that she did not trip over her skirts.
“Grace,” he said anxiously, “be careful. You will hurt yourself if you go on like that. Come.” He put an arm around her waist and helped her up to the top of the staircase.
She staggered unsteadily alongside her brother, who led her to her bedroom and ushered her into a soft chair beside the fire. William ordered whisky and a maidservant to light the fire, then sat down beside Grace, drawing her head onto his shoulder.
Grace was trembling all over, and tears were leaking down her face and soaking into the fabric of his shirt, but William ignored them. The shock of the first few moments had worn off, and the reality of the situation had now hit her full force. She felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her world, and all of a sudden, the dam that had been holding back her emotions burst, letting out a wave of misery.
She burst into tears just as her whisky arrived, borne by one of the manservants, and the maid who was setting the fire did her duty quickly and scurried out of the room.
No doubt Grace’s story would be all over the estate by tonight, William thought; servants’ gossip spread more quickly than autumn leaves on a windy day. Rumors would fly and become less factual and more dramatic, and before long, Grace would become akin to a tragic heroine in a storybook, ready to kill herself because of the loss of her one true love.
William sighed in exasperation as he held Grace in his arms. He had never before felt the rage he now felt towards Robert MacAndrew, a coward of the first order, a bully, and a narcissist. There were not enough words in any language insulting enough to describe him, and he could not imagine that there were any people left who liked him.
And yet, Fergus had given up a woman like his sister for the love of a brother like him. He did not despise Fergus; what he had done was for the good of both their families, but William could not help wondering if he would have done the same had he been in Fergus’s place.
And now there was another matter on his mind that he needed to discuss with his sister, but not yet; now she needed to purge herself of the grief she felt.
When Grace had cried until she had no more tears left, she accepted the tumbler of whisky from her brother and downed it all in two gulps, then coughed for a few moments. She knew it would not heal the sense of loss, but it might dampen the pain a little.
“Careful, Grace.” William was concerned. “You’re not used to strong drinks.”
“One more.” Grace held her glass out and William filled it with some reluctance. She took it from him, but sipped it more slowly this time.
“Better?” William asked cautiously. “The color is coming back to your cheeks.”
Grace nodded. “A wee bit,” she replied, with a sigh that seemed to come all the way from her boots. Then she looked at him, her face twisted with agony. “Will, what are they doing to him? Are they hurting him? Torturing him? Is he tied up? Locked in a room somewhere in the dark? Oh, god, I can’t bear to think of it!”
She put her head in her hands and once more dissolved into tears, simply unable to bear the thought of Fergus being restrained and incapable of freeing himself.It must be killing him, she thought. He was a man who loved freedom and the great outdoors, but most of all, he loved the company of others, and now she knew that he loved her, Grace Gibson. Of all the women in the world he could have chosen, he had picked her, and she considered herself the luckiest woman in the world.
She dried her tears and looked at William, who was fidgeting restlessly. “Grace, there is something I must tell you,” he said, frowning deeply.
She looked at him expectantly, but the expression on his face terrified her. What other dreadful news did he have to impart?
William took a deep breath. “I have a feeling that it was not the Pattersons who took Fergus, although Robert is taking great pains to make us think so,” he mused. “Robert and his little worm of a servant Angus followed Fergus into the trees. While we were following the stag, I saw him pointing into that little copse of trees by the Falbeg Burn, but that was when we were attacked.
Robert went into the trees first, then Fergus, then Angus. A minute later, we heard a lot of crashing and shouting, and we were distracted by the attackers, though we managed to drive them away. We saw no clan crests on their uniforms, although Robert swears they were the Pattersons.
When the rest of us finally managed to follow them into the trees, we found Robert lying on the ground with Angus bending over him. Fergus’s horse was there, but the saddle was empty, and there was no sign of him anywhere.
I was the first on the scene and I asked what had happened to Fergus, but Robert seemed to be a bit stunned, and I couldn’t get a word of sense out of Angus. He was more worried about Robert than he was about Fergus.
We were delayed for a few minutes, while both of them recovered their wits enough to point us in the right direction. By that time, of course, the kidnappers had a head start and were well on their way, and Robert and Angus were the only ones who had seen them. It all seems very suspicious to me.
We only have their word that the kidnappers were the Pattersons, and I must confess that I am finding that increasingly hard to believe, Grace. They have always been a peaceful clan, who are friendly towards everyone else in the area. This is just not like them. You saw how Robert MacAndrew was preparing for war… this is his doing, not theirs. A dear friend of mine, Callum, is a Patterson, and I swear that his clan would have nothing to do with this.”
