Fear Familiar Bundle (116 page)

Truth to tell, she did sound pretty unhappy. Oh, well, here's a cushion from a chair. I'll drop it in the opening before the door can close, and then we'll have an exit. I'm not about to get trapped in this place with these two. I don't think I could take the heat.

"I'
M OKAY
," Mary whispered again as she held on to William. "I'm really okay."

William crushed her against him, terrified to let her go. He could feel the pounding of her heart, and it reassured him. He never wanted to let her out of his arms again.

"I saw him," Mary said, trying hard to remember the details. With the paint on his face, it completely distorted his appearance. The only thing she could say for certain was that he was big, and that he had long, black hair. Because his features had been obscured by the weird pattern of paint, she couldn't describe him, but he did bear a passing resemblance to the rows and rows of MacEacherns hanging on the walls of the castle.

"We'll talk later. Let's just get out of here."

"The door!" Mary struggled to her feet. "It jammed when I was in here before."

"Meow!"

Familiar's mew echoed against the stones. It was a demanding tone.

"Is it possible he wants us to follow him?" William asked.

"Highly possible, but we're closer to the end that comes out in my room."

"Meow!"

"He's a demanding cat," Mary said as she yielded to Familiar's direct order. "He's also almost always right. Let's go."

William led the way in the darkness, and was tremendously relieved to see a three-inch slot of light. At the base of the door, a green velveteen pillow was almost crushed. Beyond was the turret room.

"Familiar did that. He knew the door would close and we wouldn't be able to get out."

"Just exactly what your relative had in mind," Mary said. "I don't know who he was, but his entire game is to prevent our marriage. He told me…" She faltered. It was one thing to hear the threats, it was another to repeat them to William.

Putting his shoulder against the door, William heaved it open enough for them to make an escape, Familiar at their heels. William picked up the pillow, and the panel slid back into place. There was no trace that it was even there.

"What did this man tell you?" William tossed the cushion onto a chair and pulled Mary into his arms. "More importantly, what did he do to you?"

"Nothing that won't mend," Mary said, rubbing her scalp. "He had a fondness for dragging me about by my hair. I felt as if he were my flipping brother."

William kissed her, touched by her attempts at humor when he'd been so afraid for her. That was like Mary, to make light of the damages she'd suffered so that he wouldn't worry.

"What did he do?" he repeated. The cold knife of real anger forged as he waited for her reply. It was one thing to drug him, but it was another to touch his Mary.

"He picked me up by my hair, more than once. Sort of hauled me around, in and out of the passage. He threw me up against a wall, and then scared ten years off my life by dragging me into the passage with him." She took a breath and refused to looked at William. "In the darkness in there, I remember his sword clanking against the wall. I thought he was going to cut my head off. That would have pleased Chancey, that I would have died like my namesake."

Even though her words were spoken in jest, William felt his blood chill. The idea that Mary had thought she might die was intolerable. Whoever had done this would pay.

"I think we owe Familiar a great deal of thanks," he said, veering away from the cold fury that was growing inside him. He didn't want to frighten Mary with his own dark emotion. The MacEachern clan was descended from bloody warriors, and not even generations of peace had completely destroyed the hum of his blood.

"William?" Mary was looking at him with concern.

"What, my love?"

"I'm fine now. He only wanted to scare me, I believe. He told me if I didn't leave Mayfair tonight, you'd be in terrible danger. So, he did mean to let me out."

"Possibly." William wasn't ready to give up his anger.

"No, I'm sure he was. He could have hurt me. To be honest, he could have easily killed me. No one would have been the wiser…" She turned to the black cat, who was perched on the chair and cushion, watching them. "If it hadn't been for Familiar."

"Let's get out of this room." William looked around at the faded draperies, the daybed that was against a wall with a large window. "Slaytor and Lisette obviously had some enjoyable times here, but I'd just as soon redo this room when you have time to think about it."

Mary smiled. "That would be fun. Maybe I could use it for my music room."

William's smile was genuine. "That's delightful. I can hear your cello against these stone walls. It will be like my own private symphony. Now, everything is set for the dinner tomorrow, and I've spoken to Abby."

"News travels fast in Mayfair. That man knew we were planning on marrying soon."

William paused. "Then he had to overhear me telling Abby about the announcement."

"But those walls are solid. Abby told me they were more than three feet thick, reinforced with all kinds of things because the kitchen was part of the original castle."

"That's true, but there's no telling what hidden passages are behind those pantry walls. I did ask Erick, and he said that the castle had been through so many additions and renovations that it would be impossible to determine where they might be. But he said we could measure the rooms and try to make an educated guess."

"Well, we know one leads from here to my room."

"And one from my room to the hallway up here. There could be a dozen more. Why not one into the kitchen? Or at least, an opening where a person might eavesdrop." William was more certain of it as he spoke. There had always been stories at Mayfair about maids who knew exactly what William's parents wanted even before they could call for it. Maybe the staff knew something about the old castle that the MacEacherns had forgotten.

"Well, at least we know how he got the glass of port and the pestle." Mary felt at least one loose end had been tied. Her satisfied expression gave way to one of real concern.

"What is it? Did he hurt you?" William's worst fears resurfaced.

"No, it's just that it dawned on me, whoever he is, he could be living in those walls. He could have been there for some time now, William. And the fact that you've come home might have driven him out— and made him dangerous."

Mary's conclusions were like drops of water hitting a crystal surface, shattering into a million little droplets and spreading out in every direction. Too clearly, William saw the dangers. With his father old and infirm, someone could have lived within the vast stretches of the castle with no difficulty. There was always abundant food in the kitchen, and rooms where no one ever entered— just the maids on an irregular basis. Mayfair was simply too big for one small family to inhabit all of it.

"You're thinking exactly what I'm thinking," Mary said, her voice dropping to a frightened whisper as she looked around the room. "He could be some local crazy who's been here all along, pretending to be Lord MacEachern and waiting for his chance to rule. Now that you're back, you threaten him. And if he's been in Mayfair, he knows the terms of the will."

"And he would view
you
as the ultimate threat," William said, finishing for her. "Without you, I can't inherit."

"Yes, and I would be the easiest target, the weakest. There's also clan loyalty to consider. If he's playing at being a member of your family clan, he wouldn't really want to injure you. An outsider would be far more acceptable."

"He doesn't object to making me think I'm crazy, but he might shrink from putting a dagger in my heart."

Mary felt the blood squeeze through her own heart at that image. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know." William hadn't considered this possibility. "I'll tell you, though. I almost prefer this to the idea that someone I've known all my life might be trying to send me to a mental ward."

"I'm not so certain I feel the same way. You didn't see this man. The black-and-red paint is not merely bizarre, it's terrifying."

"There were times when members of a clan used paint as a symbol of war," he said.

"I thought that was the province of Native Americans," Mary noted.

"The clans of Scotland were much like the American tribes in some ways. Not nomadic, though. But the painting of the face has been a part of ritual and tradition in many different parts of the world."

"What would you say red-and-black paint might mean?" Mary asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.

"I'd say it was serious business, whatever else it might signify."

"What are we going to do?" Mary asked again. Now the plan to stage a fake wedding seemed dangerous. "Maybe we should cancel our announcement. This man lurking about in the walls might go over the edge. He could try to injure us, or anyone else who happens to be here."

"We have to flush him out, whoever he is," William insisted. "We can't continue to live here, never knowing when he's going to appear."

"You're right," Mary said, though she wanted to insist that they pack their belongings and leave. Surely there was some professional they could call in to find the passageways and hiding places, to drag out the man who'd been tormenting them.

"Mary, we have to right this ourselves. The old legends of Slaytor aren't that important. It's a part of history here, and it adds to the aura of Mayfair. But if I allow anyone— anyone at all— to drive me from my home, I'd never have the respect of the people here. The symbol that Mayfair is would crumble. I'm not bragging when I say that it would be economically devastating to the community. Even if I didn't want to stay and fight this out for me, I'd have to do it for the people who depend on me. Do you understand that?"

"I do," Mary answered, slightly ashamed of her desire to flee. "I do, and I stand beside you."

Familiar wedged himself between their legs and looked up at them. "Meow." It was as if he were declaring his intention to also stand with them.

O
F ALL THE GUESTS
at the dinner party, Abby and John were the most uncomfortable. They stood in one corner, drinks melting in their hands as they looked around the room and forced smiles.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," Mary whispered to William. She felt sorry for them, so obviously ill at ease.

William excused himself and walked over to the couple. "Abby, everything is fine. The caterers followed your instructions to the letter. I only wish you could relax."

"She'd rather be working," John said, almost snapping to attention when the doorbell rang to announce the arrival of Clarissa and Darren McLeod. He plainly wanted to go and perform his duties, but Abby's gentle hand restrained him.

"Where's Kevin?" William asked.

"One of the fillies took a bad turn. He's down there with her now, but he promised he'd be here in time for dinner— and in a suit," Abby said. Her pride peeked through her discomfort. "He loves those horses, he does."

No matter what Kevin might or might not have done, William's heart went out to Abby. "I want you to know that when I inherit the estate, Kevin will be treated fairly."

Abby and John exchanged quick glances, then both looked down.

"We have no doubt of that," Abby said. "How long have you known?"

"Not long." William took her hand and squeezed it. "Abby, you and John did a wonderful thing, taking Kevin in. If he is my half-brother, he'll be treated fairly."

Worry furrowed Abby's brow. "I told him to be straight with this, to talk with you. But he wouldn't. He said he wanted to do things his way." She glanced at John, and a look of pain passed between them. "He's a good boy, but he can be stubborn, and it's been hard for him, what with Miss Sophie and all."

"What about Miss Sophie?" The conversation had taken a turn William hadn't anticipated.

"His feelings for her are strong. All of these years, he's never given a girl the time of day. It's been hard for him, wanting to make Miss Sophie an offer."

"He wants to marry her?" William was surprised.

"He does, but what can he offer her? A life here as the wife of a servant? Especially with her friend marrying the Lord of Mayfair." She shook her head, but not before tears were evident. "Pride is not a bad thing, but it can make a man foolish."

"Kevin's feelings for Sophie aren't foolish."

"No, but his actions have been." Abby saw the look of warning on John's face. "I'd better check to see if everything is going smoothly in the kitchen." She turned away abruptly and left.

"She's upset," John said, following after his wife without another word.

William motioned Mary to his side. "This is going to be an interesting night, my love. Whatever happens, don't leave the dining room without me."

"What is it?" Mary felt her heartbeat accelerate.

"Promise, Mary. Stay in the dining room. Your life and mine might depend on it."

Kevin strode into the dining room just as everyone had started taking their places. Although he didn't go to Sophie, his look lingered on her, and she, in turn, couldn't take her eyes off him. But whenever they felt someone looking at them, they dropped their gazes and pretended they were not interested in each other.

Mary watched the exchange with a feeling of sorrow. Not Sophie. Not her friend. She could take anything except betrayal by her friend. What was going on between the two of them, and how deeply was Sophie involved in Kevin's personal business? She and Sophie had been so close for so long, and now they hadn't really spoken to each other in several days. Why hadn't Sophie confided in her? The sense of betrayal made tears well in her eyes. She blinked them back. How did William feel, thinking his own relatives might be plotting against him? She felt Sophie's gaze on her, and she forced a smile.

"You look beautiful," Sophie said to her. Her dark gaze met Mary's green one and then slid away.