Mara said nothing.
“Tell him your name, darling,” Emilia prompted.
“Mara,” said the little girl, glowering. There was something about this man she did not like. She turned her face away and hid it in Emilia’s skirts.
Emilia offered no explanation for Mara’s behavior though. She gave Robert a half-smile then said, “Goodbye for the moment, M’Laird.” Then they left and Adam came back into the room and sat beside him.
“Who was that?” Robert asked, scowling with annoyance. “The little girl. She was not very friendly.”
“My daughter,” Adam answered casually. He picked up an apple and bit into it, chewing it with an exaggerated air of enjoyment, then sat back in his chair. “Is it not a fine day for a feast?” he asked happily.
“How old is your daughter?” Robert asked, looking slightly puzzled.
“Six years old,” Adam replied, still munching contentedly.
“It is not Emilia’s daughter?” Robert was beginning to look more and more mystified. “Or did you bring her with you from England?”
“No, she was born here,” Adam answered, enjoying Robert’s discomfiture.
“And is she Emilia’s too?” By this time Robert was floundering. “But she must have been only twelve years old—only a child herself!”
Adam shook his head, then his dark blue eyes became as hard as glass. “She is adopted. Emilia rescued her from the McKay farm when it was burned to the ground and your men murdered her parents. She has not been the same child since, but we will love her and she will get better...we hope.”
Robert’s jaw dropped in an expression of deep shock as he realized he had walked into a trap. He was about to deny it, but before he was able to talk Father Gordon opened the doors of the room with fury, grabbed a candlestick from the table, and brought it down on McElwee’s head. The priest had not hit him hard enough to render him unconscious, but he was dizzy and disoriented and when he tried to get to his feet he found it impossible, since the room around him was spinning crazily.
“Thank you for that honor Adam,” said Father Gordon.
“My pleasure Father,” said Adam.
Robert had brought two of his most trusted guards inside with him, and he turned around to ask them why they were not doing their duty to protect him. He heard two sickening crunches, and he was just in time to see them both fall to the wooden floor with a thump, each rendered unconscious by an axe-handle to the back of the head. Two burly, weather-beaten men stood beside them, wielding the offending weapons and glaring at Robert.
Father Gordon knelt beside the men to make sure they were still alive, then he stood up and stared at Robert, who was holding his head as if to steady it. He stared in horrible fascination at the two men who were lying sprawled on the floor, but said nothing, because he was so shocked that he could not speak.
Adam picked McElwee up by the collar of his coat and dragged him to the window.
“Look what is happening down there,” he growled. The rest of his guards, eight men, were in the process of being kicked and punched by the villagers, who looked as if they were taking a grim enjoyment from their task. One by one they began to fall down, and as they did seven of them were tied together and led away in a long procession towards Inverinch castle and the dungeons. Only one was still standing.
“The army of my clan will destroy you,” McElwee said with all the strength he could gather. There were tears in his eyes, not because he had just seen the capture of his men, but because he was scared for his own life.Surely they will not kill a laird?he thought, terrified.
“No matter what happens to your clan or mine,” Adam hissed in his ear, “you will be roasting in hell for an eternity!” Then he whipped out a long, wickedly sharp dagger from its sheath.
Suddenly Robert heard the priest’s voice behind him intoning the last rites, the prayers for the dead, and he realized the fate that awaited him.
“Noooo!” he screamed. He screwed up his eyes and waited for the stroke of the blade that would end his life, but it never came. His heart was beating so fast and so hard that he thought it would burst out of his chest, and his whole body began to tremble so violently that his knees gave way and he sank to the floor, unable to get up.
Adam wiped the shining blade on the sleeve of his tunic. “I was going to slit your throat,” he said pleasantly, smiling at Robert. “Then I decided that it would be too quick. You, M’Laird, will rot in a dungeon till you die, but Father Gordon and I could not resist a little harmless fun. I hope you enjoyed it too!”
Adam summoned a few villagers to haul McElwee away to the dungeon. Adam looked out of the window and saw that there was one more guard still standing.
“Bring that man here!” he cried. He looked at Father Gordon. “I need a messenger,” he said heavily, then sighed and folded his arms on the table, resting his head on them.
“Father, I never want to live through another day like today. It has been exhausting.”
Father Gordon laid a hand on top of Adam’s dark hair. “I cannot say that I have enjoyed it too much either.”
“I have put Mara to bed,” Emilia said from the doorway. “She was very upset by the sight of McElwee for some reason, but how could she know who he was?” She was troubled.
“She senses it,” the priest replied. “Evil has a smell of its own, Emmy, and children can detect it. In Mara’s case, poor child, it must be very easy to recognize it, since she was so closely exposed to it.”
