What had he done, that monster, Drayton Carver? Maren squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed as the memory of Dylan rushed back. For so long, she had banished it, lest it bring her spirits low.
Maren saw him with the sun in his hair, chewing on a shaft of wheat, smiling at her. Dylan was freckle-faced, decent, kind, the son of the farmer and his wife who took her in and sheltered her after she stumbled off the moors into their barn at Longbrook Farm. She had woken that day to a pitchfork in her face, but they had not harmed her. Instead, Ezra and Myrna Cameron had taken her in, and given her clothes and shelter. They had put her to work on the farm, and Maren toiled in the fields and the barn, shoulder to shoulder with them. And their son, a year younger than Maren, had welcomed her too. Shy, stumbling Dylan was infatuated from their first meeting, and though he was plain and quiet, he was kind and dependable, and after the cruelty of her family’s rejection, he had felt like a safe haven. Maren had envisaged a simple, peaceful life at Longbrook.
They were good people, and whatever Drayton had done had doomed them to a violent end. The thought birthed a terrible anger in Maren. She put her fist in her mouth and bit on it hard. Dylan had adored her and how happy they could have been. Clear as day, she could picture his youthful voice wobbling with nerves as he pledged his devotion. And yet he had never laid a hand on her in lust, so decent, was he. There was no great passion for him on her part, but she would have settled for kindness and gentleness back then, just some surety, a roof over her head and a quiet life.
Those were the shining days of her life, spanning two summers. But then the redcoats had come, tearing apart the farm and then burning it to the ground. They had not given her new family the courtesy of a trial. Oh, no. They had simply slaughtered them and left them where they lay. She was assailed by a memory so painful it made her clench her eyes shut – bloodied bodies lying in the long grass under the midday sun, the hum of flies buzzing, and everything foggy with smoke as Longbrook Farm smouldered to nothing.
Had she felt happiness since then? No. There had been only bitterness and struggle until overwhelming, passionate Bryce Cullan crashed into her life. These terrifying feelings which had overtaken her since meeting him could be a new kind of happiness. But was she even capable of that anymore?
Now there was this fresh horror to cope with. Had Drayton taken revenge on her through the Camerons? Had he somehow unleashed the wrath of the redcoats on them. Would he do the same to Bryce if she did not do as she was told, for Drayton’s nature was relentless and so very cruel? He was a snake who sank in his fangs and kept pumping his poison in, no matter how much she tried to shake him loose.
She could run and draw danger away from Bryce. Aye, get on a horse and leave Drayton behind forever. But he might still hurt Bryce out of spite – a knife in a dark alley, a musket ball to the head, or worse. And how could she ever leave Bryce? Her heart was full to bursting with love for him. It hurt to acknowledge that weakness, but there was no denying it. She loved Bryce, so there would be no running like a coward. If she was to buy time, she must appease Drayton, make him think she was compliant.
Somehow Drayton had to be stopped, even if she had to do murder and damn her eternal soul. She was damned anyway, so why not? Yet still, it took Maren most of the day to pluck up the courage to do a terrible thing.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Penhallion’s walls were a welcome sight, catching the hazy light of the afternoon. Bryce smiled as he rode through the gates and handed his reins to a servant. Before riding for home, he had spent the night in an inn to cool his temper, for it had led him foul in the past.
‘Is my lady at home,’ he asked.
‘Aye. But your father has gone out saying he had important business and would be away most of the day.’
‘Excellent,’ said Bryce. With no distractions, he would have Maren all to himself for a while. He would have it all out with her and then take her to bed, for his loins were afire, and his mind fixed on her all the way back from Balloch. Maren’s many faults were nothing compared to the joy she inspired in him, the anticipation and excitement when he was near her. Maren McEwen was an adventure he did not want to come to an end, so he resolved to do whatever it took to keep the lass in his life.
He took the stairs to their chamber two at a time. The castle was quiet, with most of the servants taking the chance to be slothful while the master was away. Bryce burst into their chamber to find it empty. He frowned and set off to look for Maren.
She was not in the hall or outside in the yard. He stalked the corridors impatiently but stopped dead when he heard a scraping noise coming from his old chamber. The door was ajar, and he slipped inside to see Maren leaning over his desk with a sheaf of papers in her hand. She was staring at them so intently that she did not see him approach.
‘What is this?’ said Bryce, making her jump.
Her eyes were wide, her face pale. ‘I might ask you the same,’ she said, thrusting a thick cream parchment at him. Bryce recognised it immediately.
‘Why are you rifling through my things, Maren?’ he said.
‘Why have you lied to me, Bryce? Explain yourself,’ she snapped.
‘It is you who needs to explain, going through my things when my back is turned.’
‘It is just as well I did. Were you ever going to tell me that I was bought like chattel?’
‘Lass, I….’
‘You took advantage of my poverty and desperate circumstances to force me into marriage. No, not marriage, service, as your slave.’
‘That is not how it is.’
‘Of course, it is. I thought you had agreed with the magistrate that you would be held responsible for me, nothing more. But this is a bill of indenture. It says that I am yours for a year, to do with as you please. Only you can release me from this monstrosity. God, I was such a fool to trust you, Bryce, for now, I know I am nothing to you, nor will I ever be. If you’d had a kind heart in that jail, you would have helped me for my own sake, not to further your ends and force me into servitude. But I was easily duped, for I had no choice but to accept your proposal to deceive your father or face a terrible fate.’
‘Damn your anger, Maren. I got you out of jail, didn’t I?’
‘Because it suited you and your devious ends,’ she hissed. ‘And I was no criminal to be held there in the first place. Not that you care, not that you have asked. Like all your kind, you assume I am a fallen woman, so I would not mind being placed under your power until it pleases you to release me. We had an agreement, Bryce, and this was not part of it.’
‘Calm yourself, lass.’ Bryce tried to take Maren by the shoulders, but she pushed him off.
‘Touch me again, and I swear I will run you through,’ she snarled.
‘Alright, lass, but calm down, and hear me. I had no choice in this matter. The magistrate insisted you be under my charge, else the English would be up in arms at your release.’
