Isla scanned the crowd for Ainsley, and their eyes met. The poor girl was obviously terrified to speak up, and Isla could not blame her for that. Still, Isla pleaded with her gaze, begging her to come forward, knowing with grim certainty that this may well have been her final chance to avoid marrying Brodie.
Ainsley swallowed hard and, with tears of fright shining in her wide eyes, she stepped forward. “What Brodie MacKenzie has said is true. Seamus did indeed charge me with such a task, and he swore me to secrecy into the bargain.”
Seamus snickered at this, though from the beads of sweat forming on his brow, it was evident that he was growing more anxious by the moment. “Do not tell me, Malcolm, that ye would take the word of some empty-headed child over that of yer own brother?”
Malcolm stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Knowing you as I do, ‘Brother,’ I am almost inclined to. However, it seems as though the one person we have not yet heard from is Margaret, the maid. Summon her at once, and we shall hear her part of this sordid tale.”
“I cannot summon her,” Seamus growled, “for she is no longer here in the castle.”
“Oh, is she not?” Andrew’s strident voice cut through the air like a bugle. “Then why have I just confirmed that she is being held in the dungeons even as we speak, awaiting some further ghastly punishment once this ceremony has concluded?”
More consternation rippled through the crowd. They had come to witness a wedding, but arguably, they were being treated to a much more lively and intriguing display instead.
Isla could have kissed Andrew in that moment for coming through for her in her hour of need. She refrained, hoping that she would have ample opportunity to do so later.
“Yes, that was what Seamus told me as well when he was locking me in my chambers,” Brodie confirmed. “That Margaret would be taken to the dungeons.”
“Lies!” Seamus barked. “Lies on top of lies! She left this morning on personal business, just as I told Isla! Frankly, after her behavior of late, I would be surprised if she returned at all.”
“Well, this seems simple enough to resolve, does it not?” Malcolm said reasonably. “We shall go to the dungeons at once and know the truth of it.”
“I see no point or purpose in that!” Seamus blurted out. “That is…this is my daughter’s wedding day! It is meant to be the happiest day of her life! Shall we truly spoil it by venturing into those pestilential dungeons? The guests are here, the castle is decorated, the feast is prepared, and our two clans have entered into a contract that need not be torn asunder in the name of a bunch of silly fables and gossip.”
“They are my dungeons,” Malcolm told him stonily, “and I shall ‘venture into them’ whenever I wish, for whatever reason I please. Now stand aside, Seamus. This has gone on long enough, and if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.”
They marched down into the loathsome torch-lit caverns beneath the castle. The poor wretches chained within looked up as they passed, no doubt hoping that their laird had come to order their release.
“Margaret?” Brodie called out. “Are you here? If so, call out so that we may find you!”
“Here!” her voice answered from a gloomy corner of the prison. “I am here!”
Malcolm bared his teeth at Seamus furiously, then followed the sound of the voice. When they found her, he was shocked to see the pitiful state of her. She was pale, filthy, shaking, her hair tangled and befouled, her wrists bleeding and infected from the manacles around them. Waste and scum were smeared on the walls and floors around her, the remnants of those who had previously held her position.
“Jailer!” Malcolm cried out. “Release this woman at once!”
As he did, he heard sobbing at his side. When he turned to look, he saw that Morna was weeping uncontrollably.
“Oh, Malcolm,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Oh, look what they have done to your poor daughter, after all I did these years past to try to save her.”
