“Because I need her, of course. I need her to take the blame. Anyone given the facts, her history with you, her very vocal declarations that Dùn Cuilean is hers will accuse her without taking a moment for deeper reflection,” he explained. “Without her, none of this would be possible. And, no, to answer your question, I will not kill her. I won’t have to. She is in custody now—I must say, I wasn’t anticipating that—but what is one more charge against her? Murder? The entire staff here will provide testament to her motivations and greed at trial. She will hang or wallow in prison, but she will not gain the title.”
Hero shook her head. “Why?”
Kennedy’s mood swung from hilarity to a scowl as he bit out, “Because I will not muddle about as a miserable clerk for my father for even a moment. I am a Kennedy of Ayr.”
“So you would kill two innocent people to avoid working for your father?” Ian snarled incredulously.
“I admit I should have tried harder in the beginning. I haven’t a lot of experience at homicide,” Kennedy went on, reverting to his previous line of thought and chuckling as if his words were meant to amuse. “I did find some small measure of amusement in toying with you though. Watching you observe Daphne with such speculation. Wondering.”
“You’re mad!”
“The fire was genius! You have to admit that. It should’ve done the trick. Imagine my surprise when you weren’t even in the bed. But I’ve decided that I cannot drag this whole thing out any longer. Something more pointed was in order, but still it had to be something Daphne would have done. If she’d thought of it, of course.” He glanced at the half-collapsed wall. “This should have been more effective. I had to remove more of the mortar when it didn’t break as I anticipated. I suppose I should have done more the first go around.”
Ian eyed the man before him, ignoring his ramblings, and looked for a weakness. It was hard to believe the young man was behind this. Barely in his twenties, slight and clerkish in appearance. Not at all what one would expect of a killer. “You haven’t been at Ayr in more than a week. You didn’t do this alone.”
“Very clever, Ayr. You’re right. I did need an inside man, didn’t I?”
“Jennings?”
“No, Jennings was too much Daphne’s lapdog to be trusted,” he laughed. “I put my own man in more than a month ago. Can you not guess?”
“Dickson.” Ian cursed under his breath. The truth was so obvious in retrospect.
“So clever, yet you didn’t figure that out? Even when he suggested you let the staff off for the night to attend the festival?” Kennedy mocked. “No, you wanted to be able to fuck your bonny bride on the ramparts. I must confess that worked out well for me, though several other contingencies were in play. Now there is no one to save you. No one to hear you scream as you fall to your deaths. Pity, though. Lady Ayr does have the most delicious thighs, doesn’t she? And the way she cries out just so…” He gave a little shudder of pleasure.
Ian growled low in his throat, the menacing sound carrying on the breeze. Kennedy only laughed and waved his gun as a reminder of who held the upper hand. “I wouldn’t try anything, Ayr. There will be no more accidents after this one…until perhaps Daphne does happen to meet her own unpleasant end, that is.”
“Why didn’t you just shoot me?” Ian taunted to keep him talking. He needed to tamp down his anger, to buy time. He needed to see if Kennedy’s defenses would drop and allow him an opening to disarm the lunatic. And people thought Beaumont mad! This demented plan was a hallmark of true insanity. “Why all the accidents?”
“It would have been easier, wouldn’t it?” Kennedy drawled. “I shall tell you the truth. It wasn’t my preferred method simply because it’s rather hard to imagine Daphne shooting anyone in cold blood, is it not? I couldn’t even prod her into acting against you both. Only Lady Ayr was in her sights, so to speak. But it was enough, and I can’t have any doubts, you know. I could shoot you now and dump your body over the edge, but if your body was recovered and the bullet wounds were discovered, I’d face the same problem. I’ll do it if I have to, but it would be far tidier for me if you’d be so kind as to jump.”
“You’re a fool if you think we’ll leap on your command.” Camron leveled the pistol at his chest, but Ian crossed his arms doggedly, facing the barrel of the gun without fear. Bullets didn’t frighten him. Not even death. Ian eyed the madman, intent on charging the madman as soon as Kennedy’s eyes shifted.
Unfortunately, Kennedy didn’t seem surprised or even displeased by Ian’s resistance. Instead he shrugged philosophically and smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t do it, Lord Ayr. You are a stubborn man. But perhaps to save Lady Ayr, you will.”
The gun shifted until he had Hero in his sights, and Ian felt a chill race through his veins, freezing him in his tracks. If he charged, he’d leave her exposed. Instead, he instinctively pulled her to the side just as a gunshot rang out, echoing across the firth. Shielding Hero with his body, Ian glared furiously at the young man.
“A warning shot.” Kennedy shrugged and cocked the pistol once more. “Just to prove I’m deadly serious. I have several shots remaining, you know. How many should I put into her to convince you?”
“You’ll only kill her after I am gone,” Ian spat, keeping Hero’s head firmly tucked beneath his chin. “So what’s the point?”
“I promise you I will not,” Kennedy said with a bow. “Lady Ayr may even stay at Cuilean if she likes. Under lock and key, of course, and with the proviso she never speaks of this. Her life would depend upon it, naturally.”
“I would never!” She pushed away from Ian’s protective embrace. “So you might as well just shoot us now.”
Ian took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly as he moved in front of her again. For the first time, he felt a shiver of fear—not for himself, but for Hero. It was all for her. About her. He couldn’t let this madman win.
“If that is your wish, my lady.”
Kennedy lifted the barrel of the gun and aimed. Ian knew his moment had come. It was now or never. With a shout of rage, he charged forward, catching Kennedy around his midsection and throwing him against the wall. A bullet whizzed past his ear as he threw a hard right to Kennedy’s stomach. Ian heard a satisfying grunt and added a left uppercut that threw the man back once more. Kennedy clasped his hand over his mouth as blood spurted out, and Ian knew the man had most likely bitten off a part of his tongue. He hauled the man up by his shirtfront, ready to beat him to a pulp, but Kennedy staggered to the side and the gun sounded again. The bullet hit the stone balcony with a ping and Hero cried out.
Holding Kennedy’s shirtfront in one fist, Ian turned back in alarm to see Hero against the ruined wall, holding her arm. Blood oozed between her fingers. She’d been hit either by the ricochet of the bullet or by the fragments of stone the bullet had dislodged.
She read his impulse to go to her and held up a hand to forestall him. “I am all right.”
“Are you sure?”
With a wince, Hero nodded, and Ian turned back to Kennedy with murder in his eyes. “That was a big mistake.”
