Highland Wolf (Highland Brides #10)(88)

“How do ye plan to tend to it?” Claray asked, quite sure she didn’t want to hear the answer.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Exactly what she hadn’t wanted to hear, Claray thought on an inward sigh. Hamish was obviously as mad as his mother. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised what with her raising him and feeding him all her bitter theories on what God expected and wanted.

“See,” Hamish went on, “that way, ye’ll be free and we can wed.”

Claray stiffened at that. This was not something she’d expected.

“And I promise I’ll never imperil yer soul by makin’ ye enjoy the beddin’,” he vowed, his hand moving to her knee and beginning to squeeze. “In fact, I’ll be sure ye do no’ enjoy it, so yer soul is safe.”

Hamish squeezed harder with every word he spoke. But Claray refused to show that he was hurting her. She’d heard some of the women talking, and from what she understood, Hamish had some unusual tastes when it came to the bedding. Pain excited him, and the last thing she wanted to do was excite him. So, Claray bit her tongue and didn’t react, until she felt the bones grind in her knee and couldn’t bear it anymore, and finally gave in and cried out in pain.

“There,” he said soothingly, releasing her leg the moment she cried out. “See. With me yer path to heaven’ll be a sure thing. Fer ’tis surer ye’ll get to heaven through pain and sufferin’ like His own Son did than pleasure. I’ll be a much better husband to ye, Claray, and a better laird to our people too.”

Claray thought she’d rather roast in hell than marry the man. She couldn’t believe he’d think she’d agree to marry someone promising her a lifetime of pain. Much as she loved God, if that’s what He expected of her to get into heaven, she would say, “Thank ye, nay.” But in her heart, Claray didn’t think that was what He wanted at all. Not if madmen and their mothers thought it was the only route, and that was what she was dealing with. A madman and his mother.

“How do ye plan to kill him?” she asked quietly, trying to sort out how much time she had to escape and warn Conall.

“Soon as he gets here, and that should be soon,” Hamish muttered, straightening suddenly. “I had mother spill the mead on ye so ye’d go up to change, and I put nightshade in Stubborn Bastard’s stall so he’d have to seek ye out to talk to ye about—”

“Ye poisoned Stubborn Bastard?” she interrupted with alarm.

“Nay,” he snapped with irritation at the interruption, and then grimaced and said, “Well, mayhap.” Scowling he said, “All I did was put the nightshade in his stall. If the stupid beast ate it, there’s naught I can do about it. Besides, ’twas necessary,” he assured her. “I needed to get yer husband alone, and the only way I could think to get him away from Roderick and Payton was to have him follow the path yer bleedin’ wound made when I carried ye out through the secret passage. That’s why I had to hit ye so hard. ’Twas part o’ me plan. Ye needed to bleed freely so he’d ha’e a trail to follow. I’m sure he’d no’ want the others kennin’ about the secret passage. He’ll usher them out o’ the room and come after ye alone. Then I can kill him, we can marry and all will be well.”

Claray felt her heart sink as he described his plan. Mostly, because she was very much afraid it might work. Conall probably wouldn’t want anyone else to know about the secret passage. He hadn’t even told her about it and she was his wife. Which meant he probably would follow the trail of blood alone. That in itself wouldn’t worry her too much, but he trusted Hamish and, seeing him here, Conall’s first thought might be that he’d got here first to rescue her just as she’d first thought. It might make him slow to realize the situation and give Hamish just a few seconds’ advantage. That might be enough to get him killed, Claray realized. She really didn’t want Conall killed.



When the wolf stopped suddenly, Conall was at first afraid that he’d lost the scent. But when he moved up beside Lovey and saw the ramshackle old cottage in the clearing they stood on the edge of, his heart started to pound. He knew instinctively that this was where Claray was.

Reaching down, Conall put a hand on the wolf to be sure Lovey didn’t charge forward and give away their position, then glanced down with surprise when he felt Squeak’s little claws moving up his hand. The wee stoat was scrambling up his arm to his shoulder. Leaving him there, he murmured, “Stay,” to Lovey, and started into the clearing.

He was perhaps ten feet away when he heard voices coming from inside. Although inside was a relative term when it came to the building. There was no roof or door, and the stones on one of the two walls he could see from where he stood were missing from about two-thirds of the way up. That’s where Conall went, easing up to the shortened wall to peer over it.

“Why?” he heard Claray ask, though he couldn’t see her. All he could see was the back of a man’s head and shoulders, and the half wall opposite the one he stood outside of. While this one was missing its top one-third, the opposite wall was half gone from the looks of it. If the man weren’t facing it, he would have considered walking around and creeping in that way to take him by surprise.

“Hamish?” Claray said grimly when he didn’t answer her question. “Why?”