“You have me,” he said. “You’ll have me, as long as time allows it.”
I looked away from him for a second, my heart racing. “This—all the gold—is why Fiona and Keenan are suspicious of Beatrice and Rylee?”
He nodded. “No one comes here unless the visit is approved. Yeah, there are rumors about the gold, but no one has been brave enough to search for it, except for Craig. Even he treads lightly. Beatrice and the wife of Charlie knew we were in Scotland.”
My head went blank for a second while I gazed in the distance. “What do you think happened?”
“What I think—” Cian stood and wiped his hands on his pants. “I think the wife of Charlie has eyes that are attracted to shiny things, is what I think.”
“Maybe Beatrice came after her?”
He grew quiet for a second before he nodded.
“I think Beatrice would have followed her,” I said. “Tried to stop her, knowing what was at stake. I grew close to Beatrice when my dad was sick. Hasn’t she been around for a long time?”
“Before I was born.”
“Yeah. It just doesn’t seem like she would do something like this. Not now. Not after all this time. Maybe she knew Rylee was after the gold and tried to stop her, thinking Charlie would be caught up in this if his wife was caught.”
My husband was good to me, but I’d heard the rumors about him in Boston. They gave him the moniker Beast of Boston for good reason. I hated to keep remembering it, but the night of our wedding was still a vivid picture inside of my mind—red, bordering on black, soaking through a pristine white tapestry. His eyes were not his own when he was backed into a place of survival.
“What could have happened after?” I spoke the thoughts inside of my head, not necessarily needing answers, but just airing them out. “If Beatrice followed Rylee and tried to stop her? I hope Rylee didn’t…damn. I hope she didn’t hurt Beatrice to stopher.”
Cian took my hand, his clammy and cool from the water, but it was still warmer than mine. We said nothing else while we just stood there. The dogs were sniffing around the lough, catching scents we didn’t have the power to. A rustling wind blew. Argus and Grania both lifted their heads and sniffed. A second later, Henry was running toward us, trying to keep his pants up while he seemed to zig zag between obstacles that were not there.
“She’s alive!” he roared. “Help! She’s alive!”
It seemed like Cian and I moved in sync. We ran toward Henry, the two dogs following, and then the four of us followed Henry. We were heading toward a part of the property that seemed more remote than the rest. The foliage was up to my knees, and in some parts, it was prickly with brambles. They were tugging at my jeans.
I was worried about Argus and Grania getting caught up in the thorns. I stopped underneath a towering tree, telling Cian to go ahead with Henry, who had stopped not far away. He leaned down, taking Beatrice’s hand. She was hidden, all except for her hand.
Cian shook his head. He wasn’t moving any further. He was only a few steps ahead. He was about to turn back to me when Henry started to shout what had happened. Beatrice had come to stop Rylee from searching the property for the gold she’d heard about. Craig’s men must have followed Rylee. She ran from them, and without Beatrice knowing, she had chased behind all of them. When she realized what was going on, she hid behind a tree before she tried to run back to the castle for help.
It was dark by this time, and Beatrice didn’t see a hole in the ground. She stepped in it and fell in the brambles, hitting her head on a rock. She thought her ankle was either twisted or broken.
“The only thing she remembers after hittin’ her head is the screams,” Henry boomed out.
“Screams?” I whispered just as a drop of rain hit me on the forehead and ran down my nose. I wiped it, and all at once, rattling the screws inside of my head and loosening a cog inside of my heart, the clocks in my dad’s house hit noon at once.
My hand was stained with blood, and as I looked up, I flinched so hard it felt like all my bones were jumping clear through my skin.
Something that resembled a bird cage was swinging from above, the bloodied body of Rylee inside of it, her hands still clutched to the bars, but her eyes closed for good.
Chapter25
Maeve
It wasn’t a sea of mourners at Rylee’s funeral, but a pool of them. They all gathered around the graveside, heads bent down, mourning for a woman I didn’t know. I couldn’t even piece together her story. All I knew was that she was married to Charlie, and she seemed to value gold over her life. It was unclear whether the Craigs had gotten to her before they killed her, using a familiar face to get close to the gold, but Charlie was still standing. I knew that meant Cian either hadn’t found fault with him, or he was doing it because of me. He knew how I felt about Beatrice.
She stood on one side of her son with a crutch wedged underneath her arm, Henry on the other, and they both had a hand on his shoulder. He truly looked devastated by his wife’s death, no matter the reason for it. In his mind, probably, she had been reckless, but people are reckless every day—in cars, in jumping out of airplanes, in defying the sea when it’s frothing and the boat on top is nothing but a spinning plaything in its grip.
Life in general is dangerous. But sometimes the risks weren’t worth it.
Fiona stepped up to the grave, closed her eyes, and started to sing a song that sent my skin rippling and my heart aching. It was in the Irish language, and it almost sounded like she was singing to someone—communicating through melodic phrases. The lines were ornamented and melismatic. It wasn’t even about how good Fiona’s voice was. It was all about the emotion she put in it. Almost like she was bleeding from the heart for it.
I couldn’t understand a word of the song, but something about it made me move closer to Cian at the same time he moved closer to me, like the message and sound was pulling us together. When he set his hand on my shoulder, I could feel the tremble of his bones. His touch was light, but it almost felt like he was squeezing me to him.
Charlie broke down at the end, and all the mourners left. I couldn’t help but to look over my shoulder at the grave once more before we left. It seemed cold, and the song forever haunting it.
