He gave a brittle laugh. “Ye should be scared, lass. For decades, I have kept this clan together. I outlived the last Laird MacDean, and the way he is goin’, I’ll outlive this one, too. Oftentimes, I wish the brothers had been reversed, with Fletcher the oldest son instead. He was nay great warrior, but he was clever, and he was ruthless. That’s all a clan leader ought to be.”
Melody sucked in a breath. “You’re speaking of the man who tried to depose his brother andmurderedababy. He was mad!”
“We’re all mad, in our way. There’s been a sort of madness settled over the keep since ye arrived, Melody.” He sighed, passing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry to do this.”
Unease prickled over her skin. “Sorry to do what? I don’t understand, Angus.”
He dropped his hands tiredly to his side. “Never mind. Come, let’s press on. We are nearly there.”
“Where? Where are we going? Don’t tell me we are going back to the keep, Angus, because I know better.”
He breathed out, as if steeling himself. “We are goin’ to the Bloodwell Cliffs.”
“What?”
“There are white cliffs risin’ up out of the woodland, less than a quarter mile from here. The locals called them the Bloody Cliffs, on account of several unfortunate suicides. It’s a long drop, with rocks at the bottom. It’s where the last Lady MacDean ended her life. It’s where ye will end yers, too.”
Melody tightened her grip on Faun’s bridle. “You’re wrong, Angus. I’m not going to die, and I’m not going anywhere.”
She would have to be quick. Her aim was to haul herself into her saddle as quickly as possible. Turning and galloping away would be a trial, but she would have to try. Perhaps he could catch her on horseback, perhaps not. Either way, she had no intention of sitting still and waiting.
Angus sighed again. He looked exhausted.
“I am sorry for all this, lass. I want ye to ken that I wanted all of this to go well. I was prepared to settle for Callum’s choice. But at the council meetin’, I understood the truth. He had nay intention of weddin’ ye. It was all a lie, a ruse to shut us councilors up. He was goin’ to avoid producin’ an heir, would nae even marry, and would likely die young, leavin’ us councilors to pick up the pieces in his wake. Do ye ken what happens when a laird dies without an heir? The other clans come divin’ in, like vultures after acarcass. They’d tear Clan MacDean apart, and us with it. So, I have only one choice left to me.”
“And what choice is that?” Melody managed, teeth gritted. She took one half-step back. She could see the saddle out of the corner of her eye.
Angus sighed again. “I will unseat Callum and put another in his place. I havenae decided who should be Laird. Perhaps only I would be suited. But the first step will be to get rid of ye, I’m afraid. Ye would only support him and protect him. His grandmother is fearsome, but old, and his friends…” he broke off abruptly. “Stop shiftin’ backward, lass. I hope ye are nae thinkin’ of a grand escape.”
Melody whirled around, grabbing the saddle. She got her foot in the stirrup and was about to haul herself upward when a tremendous blow crashed into the side of her face. Sprawling on the ground, head spinning, it occurred belatedly to her that Angus had punched her.
Faun whinnied, rearing up. Her hooves came down dangerously close to Melody’s head, but she was still too dizzy and disoriented to defend herself. A pair of hands wrapped around her ankles, hauling her unceremoniously backward. Through her blurry vision, Melody saw the long line of prints they’d left behind, curved horseshoe marks dug deep into the mud.
“Help,” she managed weakly. “Help.”
“Enough of that,” Angus snapped. Then something heavy struck the back of her head, and Melody knew no more.
27
Bump. Bump. Bump.
Melody’s forehead knocked against smooth, warm leather. She could smell saddle oil. Her stomach hurt, and her hips and shoulder joints ached horribly.
She woke in a rush, and her situation became a little clearer. Metaphorically clearer, that is, not literally, since she was lying belly-down across a horse saddle, her vision blurred by blood rushing to her head. The ground slunk by beneath her, and a rush of nausea seized her middle.
Groaning, Melody tried to shift her position, to wriggle free, but found to her consternation that her wrists and ankles were tied, and there was a length of rope affixing her to the saddle, too.
“Daenae fret, lass,” came Angus’ tired voice. If she lifted her head up as far as she could manage, Melody could just get aglimpse of his hunched back, leading the horse through an open, grassy field. Just ahead, the ground seemed to end abruptly, leaving only an iron-gray sky. A tendril of fear uncurled in Melody’s stomach. “We are just about there. Ye were only unconscious for a moment or two. I am sorry that I had to strike ye. I never intended ye to be hurt.”
“Never intended me to be hurt?” she exclaimed. “You are going to throw me off a cliff and make it seem as though I have taken my own life! Which, I imagine, will infuriate my sister and her husband, and will create bad feelings at best between clans MacDean and MacLeon, and war at worst,” she paused, considering. “War is what you want, isn’t it?”
“There is somethin’ cleansing about a good war,” Angus responded tersely. “It is a good opportunity for new things. Daenae be sad, lass.”
“I am not sad. I am angry,” she shot back. “Angry atyou.”
He sighed. “Aye, that’s fair. Well, here we are. Take a look at the view.”
Melody lifted her head again. The blood in her head pounded, and her vision kept blurring. People were not meant to be upside-down for very long. Her queasiness had only gotten worse, spurred on by a definite, simmering fury.
