She stumbled after him and, in that lurch, pulled at the knot, letting the ribbon slip free. She let it drop into the flattened grass by the path, pale in the dark.
Behind them, music rose again. Someone even shouted a toast. It greatly contrasted with the path before her. The trees ahead were a dark wall, with their trunks standing close.
Pete’s grip did not loosen.
Emma kept up the pace lest she fall. Fear sat in her ribs like a stone as the sounds of the festival dulled with every step.
Soon, there was nothing but the scuff of his boots and the rough pull of his breath as the dark completely swallowed them both.
31
Logan had just finished talking with a neigboring Laird and had turned to find Emma in the crowd. He couldn’t see her with the women she had been talking to earlier. She wasn’t with the Isobel either, who was talking to the maids. Something about that, despite the loud music, made his blood run cold.
He turned around slowly, telling himself that she had stepped behind him or toward Isobel. She was not there. His gaze swept over the dancers, the tables, the line of stalls.
Nothing.
Dread coiled in his gut as he walked towards his sister.
“Isobel.” His voice cut through the music.
His sister turned away from a group of women. “Aye. What is it?”
“Where is she?”
Isobel’s eyes flicked to the edge of the courtyard and then back to Logan and her lips parted. “She was with me. We walked toward the edge, and then Pete came to speak with her. I thought the conversation wouldnae take long so I left her with him…” Color drained from her face. “She only meant to speak with him for a—Logan!”
Logan did not remember crossing the distance. He only knew his hand was on a guard’s shoulder, fingers digging hard. “Did any of ye see Lady MacLellan leave? With anyone?”
They all shook their heads.
Panic rose in his chest, but he forced it down. “Spread out. Check the grounds. David, get two men and come with me.”
He moved toward the far edge of the grounds, eyes on the trampled grass where the light didn’t reach. This was the captain thinking, not the husband. Because if the husband took over, he would react impulsively, and that was the last thing anyone wanted.
He looked around the space ahead of him, searching for footsteps or any sign that Emma had even been here at all. Suddenly, he spotted something near his boot. A sharp ribbon with its pin still intact. He crouched, picked it up, and swore under his breath.
“Emma,” he said softly, like it was both an answer and a plea. “Where in God’s name are ye?”
“There.” David pointed to a bent branch further ahead, then another.
Footsteps.
Logan stuffed the ribbon into his pocket and darted ahead.
He took the lead, his feet finding each scuff and mark, every place grass lay in the wrong direction. David and two trusted men kept pace, but Logan hardly heard them. The night closed in, thick with the cold air, and the music faded completely.
He hadn’t gone far when voices reached him first. The first was male and low. He would recognize that voice even in his sleep.
“Pete,” he whispered.
He moved further and saw the flicker of firelight between the trees. At that point, he slowed down and lifted a hand. The men behind him halted. He moved forward alone.
Emma was tied to a tree, her hands tied over her head.Her hair was mussed, and her face was white as a sheet. A thin line marked the skin at her neck, dark even in the dim light.
Pete stood close to her, dagger in hand, talking as if he were reciting a sermon. Logan couldn’t hear him fully, but he was too angry to listen. Instead, he exhaled and stepped into the clearing.
“Step away from me wife.”
