He winced. “Forgive my poor choice of words. I have no intention of molesting you. Before I go on, however, I do need to see to one detail.” He waved to a wooden panel along one wall. “MacLeish.”
The big man jerked the panel aside. It emitted a painful screech as he tugged at it again. It revealed a box bed holding only a thin pallet. On it, bound hand and foot, lay Kieran. A yellowing bruise covered one side of his face, his uncombed hair lay in matted curls around his face and he had three days’ worth of whiskers. MacLeish hauled him to a sitting position.
His eyes, blinking at the burst of light into his makeshift cell met hers with an expression of combined horror and shame. “Diantha.” He could hardly croak her name through cracked lips.
She nearly fainted with relief. He was alive.
Barclay also regarded him with pleasure. “Perfect.” He turned to Diantha. “As I should have said, I have a proposal for you.”
The sight of her husband gave her courage. She held up a hand. “All well and good, but I should like a drink of water first, and one for Kieran.”
“Oh, very well.” With a sigh of exasperation, he caught the servant’s eye and jerked his head. “See to it.”
The taciturn servant picked up a tin pail from beside the fireplace and went outside. A few minutes later, he returned with fresh water slopping over the side of the container. Picking up a battered tin cup, he dipped it into the cool liquid and offered it to Diantha.
The gesture surprised her into a “Thank you.” She took the cup to Kieran, holding it for him as he drained it. Then, returning to the pail, she got a drink for herself.
Barclay leaned against the stone wall, watchingher with folded arms and a contemptuous smile. “If I may proceed?”
She set the cup down on the slanting surface of the old table. “By all means.”
He bowed. “I have harbored great regard for you since we first met, Diantha. I hope finally to be rid of my unworthy cousin by this evening.”
“Finally?” She regarded him in horror. “You’ve attempted to murder him before?”
“I placed my trust in MacLeish to weaken the bridge that collapsed under your husband.” Barclay considered. “In retrospect, I admit it was too grandiose a scheme. The additional wadding I slipped into his gun the first day of shooting was a far better idea. Unfortunately, he used a blank, which had no shot in it.”
“He would have bled to death!”
“You bastard, Diantha could have been killed!”
Barclay sighed. “That is rather the point of a murder.”
MacLeish hunched a massive shoulder as he left the cottage. “I should hae bashed him in the head tae start with.”
Barclay ignored him to address Diantha. “I beg you to preserve your own life by marrying me. I shall be a far more satisfactory husband than my cousin. As my wife, you are constrained from testifying against me, and you will have my undying respect and affection.”
She waited for him to finish his speech. “Even though I smell of the shop? Barclay, you are a blithering ass, and I have no intention of marrying you, ever.”
Kieran scowled at her. “Diantha, save yourself, please.”
She shook her head. “I would rather die.”
“Done!” Furiously, their captor grabbed her and dragged her to the bed. Placing a booted foot on Kieran’s chest, he shoved him backward, then practically threw her in on top of him. With a few more agonized squeaks, he pushed the door back into place, trapping them in total darkness.
She heard Barclay’s boots tramp across the floor before they faded suddenly. “MacLeish!” His voice bellowed from outside the walls.
Kieran struggled to place his ear at the crack between the partitions, and Diantha did likewise.
Barclay said something about “back at sunset” and “have the horses saddled,” which she hoped meant they were not far from the manor and Archie.
The two of them scarcely dared to breathe until the muffled hoofbeats died away. Only then did they relax and adjust themselves to lie face-to-face in the narrow space. Keeping their voices to the barest thread of sound, they spoke.
Diantha, at an advantage with her hands tied in front and her feet free, offered to try and untie Kieran’s wrists. He told her that the servant stayed in the croft as a guard and warned her to make as little noise as possible.
She placed her bound hands on the rough wool of his jumper and sighed with relief. She was trapped and probably going to die, but for the first time in days, she was with Kieran.
Kieran whispered against her ear, his voice barelymore than a vibration. “For the love of God, why did you not just say ‘yes?’”
