Angus leaned over the railing, floated down, tried to stop Brodie, to push him, or knock the cup from his hand, but Brodie passed straight through him. Angus clawed uselessly at the cup.
It was then that Caroline turned and saw him over her shoulder. She smiled a welcome. She imagined he was part of the damned fool ceremony. He shook his head, desperate now. Brodie had arrived at Alec’s side, bowed, and was holding out the laird’s cup with a sickly grin on his florid face. Alec nodded to his cousin, reached out to take the cup. Angus looked at Caroline desperately. “Lass, do something!” he cried. He saw Caroline’s smile fade, watched her high color turn to ashes. She began rising to her feet, her eyes still on him, a frown drawing her brows together as she opened her mouth to speak. Angus watched as her shoulder hit the cup, sending it spinning out of Brodie’s hands.
Everyone in the room watched the chalice arc through the air, the candlelight glinting off the cup’s silver embellishments as the ruby wine splashed, sparkled, and dropped to the floor. The chalice rang on the stone, echoing through the ancient hall to the very rafters, like a bell warning of treachery and murder.
Devorguilla shot to her feet, her chair tipping backward. It landed in spreading pool of wine with a crash. She stared down at the rivulet flowing toward her in dull surprise, evil seeking its source, Angus thought as she lifted her skirts out of the way.
Angus looked back at Caroline, who hadn’t taken her eyes from him. She stood staring at him, her eyes hollows of surprise as if she’d seen a ghost.
He smiled. What else could he do? She knew what he was now. No one else had seen him. He smiled at her and touched a hand to his bonnet, and slipped back into the shadows.
Muira hurried forward to wipe up the spill, the white rag soon blood red. A faint and familiar smell reached her, and she frowned. Muira dipped a finger into the dregs in the cup and tasted it. In horror she stared at Devorguilla, who was sitting quietly again, her face tight. Devorguilla caught her look and returned one of pure malice. Muira made a sign against evil.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Somerson threw down his napkin and rose. “If the evening’s festivities are finished, I need a quiet place where I can speak with Caroline alone.”
Alec felt her tense, but she nodded. “Of course,” he said. “My study is at your disposal.” He still wasn’t certain what had just happened. Brodie had raced for the kitchen, and Muira and Devorguilla were glaring at each other like two cats about to fight. Caroline’s hazel eyes were as big as saucers as they darted into the dark corners of the hall. Perhaps he’d gone too far teasing her, pleasuring her at dinner with her half brother right across the table. He looked again at William Mears, who was staring at Caroline as if he’d been the one to have the pleasure. He wondered again how well she’d known him as a girl—a few stolen kisses perhaps, or even a deep friendship. Did he feel what Alec felt for her? Hardly. Alec watched Caroline depart with Somerson, saw the sway of her hips, the elegant set of her head. Moments ago, he’d been teasing her, but he was the one left wanting, burning with desire that was even worse now. He’d made another grave mistake. How would he keep himself from climbing the stairs to the tower now?
He needed a cold bath, or a long swim in the icy loch. As the company dispersed, he went upstairs, changed into the ease and comfort of his plaid, and slipped out into the dark night. The air was sweet and cool from the rain, fragrant with pine and heather.
He heard the sound of his sister’s sobs before he saw her huddled on a stone bench by the wall, her knees curled under her white dress. Megan looked like a heartbroken ghost.
Alec sat down beside her and pulled her against his shoulder and let her sob until her sorrow turned to hiccups.
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“I thought Brodie loved me.”
“Perhaps he does,” Alec said.
“Then why was he staring at Sophie all night? Why wasn’t he looking at me? He has hardly said two words to me since she arrived.”
How could Alec not understand? All Mears had to do was glance at Caroline and he was consumed with jealousy, but if Brodie had pulled Sophie into his arms and laid her on the table to have his way with her during the meal, he would have felt nothing but mild surprise at the lad’s lack of timing—not that he’d allow any such impropriety after they were wed, of course. He recognized his sister’s feelings in his own regarding Caroline.
“Brodie’s very young, as are you, lass. He’s never been any farther from home than Glenlorne,” Alec said. “And Ben Ardle is barely ten miles away, and not nearly as grand as Glenlorne. Did you see the tiara Sophie had on tonight? Perhaps he was staring at that. It would impress anyone.”
“I have jewels as well.” Megan sniffed. She showed him the pretty flower at her throat. The purple and blue stones glittered in the candlelight that poured through the window.
“Where did you get that?” Alec asked.
“Lady Caroline lent it to me. I believe it’s Lady Lottie’s. She was going to wear it herself, but she could see I wanted to look especially pretty tonight for Brodie. Isn’t that kind of her, Alec? She’s a lovely person. I overheard Countess Charlotte say they mean to keep her locked up for the rest of her life, or marry her off to a tinker for tuppence.”
Alec shifted uncomfortably at the change in topic. His sister put her hand on his sleeve. “You wouldn’t let them do that, would you? People have to listen to you, because you’re laird, don’t they? She could stay here, bide with us.”
Alec shut his eyes for a moment. “Lord Somerson is her brother, and her guardian. He only wants what’s best for her,” he said, but even he could hear the doubt in his tone. He felt another pang of guilt. He should never have written to Somerson.
“I know you don’t like him, or Countess Charlotte. I won’t let on for Lady Caroline’s sake, but isn’t there anything you can do? If you weren’t already betrothed to Sophie, you could marry Caroline, couldn’t you? I wish Sophie had never come. She wants to change everything.”
“I thought we were speaking of Brodie?” Alec tried for a light tone.
“I suppose we were, weren’t we? Could you command him to marry me?”
Alec stroked his chin. “I could, I suppose. And if he refuses, I could have him executed,” he joked, but she didn’t smile. “Would you want that, sweeting, a man who had to be ordered to take you? You’re young yet. Go to London for the Season, see the city, meet people, and then—”
Megan gasped. “Don’t tell me you want me to marry an Englishman as well!”
He shook his head, tapped the tip of her nose, and wondered again where her freckles had gone. “I want you to marry a man you love and who loves you.”
