Page 18 of The Return of the Heir

Alastair looked into the distance, seeking his foe in the shadowed darkness. “Garrick MacDonald has been holding them captive for the past five years. If he escaped you, that means he’s still here in the castle somewhere.” Alastair brought his gaze back to the men gathered. “I need five of you to head to the Fairy Tower. Two of you stay below and three others go up to the tower to wait in case Garrick returns there. The rest of us will fan out around the castle. Be aware, Garrick isn’t alone. Gwendolyn Harris is with him.”

Callum stepped closer. “As his prisoner or as his accomplice?”

Alastair checked his emotions. “Most likely as a prisoner herself. There was evidence Gwendolyn was chained in the tower as well as her siblings. They claim Garrick is forcing her to impersonate the Grey Lady in order to scare us all. So remember that if you encounter anything ethereal. ’Tis only a trick. Gwendolyn is alive and very real.”

Alastair was raw and hurting simply thinking about what Gwendolyn and her siblings had been forced to endure over the past five years. He’d been such a fool to give up his search, to go away for so long. If only he’d come home sooner. . . Alastair balled his fists at his sides. He wanted someone or something to release his anger on, but that would not come until he found Garrick. Until then, there was no one to fight, no one to blame but himself. He could only proceed with the burning ache that compounded with regret and sorrow. “Five years.” The words were a whisper that was stolen by the wind.

As the men dispersed in every direction in groups of four or five, Alastair’s feet seemed rooted to the ground. “My God, how did they last so long?” He cleared his throat to rid it of its huskiness. “If I had only known. . .”

Graeme remained at Alastair’s side. “Stop blaming yourself. You could not have known Gwendolyn was alive. The MacDonalds went to great length to deceive you.”

“I left. I could have stayed and fought my father.”

Graeme studied him for a long moment before he said, “Nay. You couldn’t. Your father was not going to give you or your brothers anything but pain and heartbreak.”

Alastair returned his friend’s unwavering regard. “All except Callum and Rowena.”

Graeme frowned. “Callum was too young at the time to make his way on his own. And your sister’s world is different simply because she is a girl.”

“As was Gwendolyn’s world. As her betrothed, I was supposed to protect her.”

“So you feel guilty. We’ve all failed at things. Stop filling a cup that is already overflowing.” Graeme’s gaze narrowed. “’Tis time to act. Let us find Gwendolyn and free her from Garrick’s control.”

Alastair nodded, grimly. “If I were Garrick and wanted to avoid detection, I’d hide in the secret passages that are rumoured to be within the castle walls.”

Graeme gave him a puzzled look. “There are secret passages?”

“There were always talk of such things. My brothers and I looked for them for years, but we never found any. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Perhaps with more mature eyes we might find what we missed as youths in the old kitchen or the old great hall.”

Graeme removed a torch from its wall mount in the courtyard. “Then let us go find ourselves a villain.”

They headed towards the oldest part of the castle. The old kitchen and great hall had been abandoned years before after the roof had started to fail. Other than the haunted Fairy Tower, it was the least used part of Dunvegan at present. The air in the chamber was cold and still. The soft tread of their footfalls was the only sound in the utter silence as they moved into the abandoned kitchen. Most of the cookware and tools had been moved to the new kitchen. All that remained was an empty spit in the giant hearth, a grinding stone, and a few forgotten kitchen items. Cobwebs lingered in the corners and caught the light of the torch, glistening like gossamer silk in the darkness.

“No one is here,” Graeme said, his voice echoing in the emptiness.

The two of them spent several moments searching the old stone walls for signs of a secret passageway. When they found nothing, Alastair said, “Let’s head to the great hall.” He and Graeme followed the corridor from the kitchen to the great hall. The chamber they emerged into was large. Only a portion could be illuminated at a time with the light of the torch until Graeme made his way along the outer wall and set his flame to the sconces waiting there. Slowly, the center of the chamber came into view, revealing that the furnishings had been moved from the old hall to the new, leaving an empty space filled with only dust and debris.

When Graeme lit yet another sconce, the image of a woman, dressed all in grey, suddenly appeared at the far corner of the chamber. Alastair tensed. The Grey Lady?

As the spirit turned towards them, Alastair recognised that halo of blond hair, and the delicate features of a face that was etched in his memory. “Gwendolyn.”

Instead of coming to him, she remained still and silent, yet held his gaze, pleading with him to forgive her for some unknown offense.

He raced forward, but when he grew near enough to take her hands in his, his fingers slipped right through her. She was there, and yet she wasn’t. He felt the blood drain from his face as he stared at the image before him. He’d told his men to be wary of tricks, but this trick seemed so real. Was she dead then? Her siblings were convinced she was alive.

Graeme reached Alastair’s side and held the torch towards the image. It vanished. “How is this possible?” Graeme stepped back, taking the light source with him, and Gwendolyn’s image suddenly reappeared.

“This has to be a trick.” Alastair turned away from the illusion of Gwendolyn and peered into the darkness behind them. He grabbed the torch from Graeme’s hands and strode towards the back of the chamber. Scrambling noises ensued, then a thump. By the time Alastair reached the area, nothing but emptiness remained. A quick twist behind him confirmed that the image of Gwendolyn had disappeared also.

“What just happened? Is Gwendolyn alive or dead?” Graeme asked as he joined Alastair.

Alastair frowned, trying to keep hope from building inside him that his one-time bride might still be alive. “’Tis a ploy of some sort. It must be. Garrick is playing with us. He has Gwendolyn, and he wants us to know he is in control of what happens to her.” Alastair glanced at the panelling on the wall behind them. “It took Garrick and Gwendolyn only seconds to disappear, meaning there must be a secret door in this panelling somewhere.” He moved to the panelling and starting from the corner, poked and prodded the elaborately carved wood.

Graeme joined in the search. “You really never found any secret passageways during all the years you’ve lived here?”

“Now that I think back, my brothers and I did find one behind the chapel in the older portion of the castle. We assumed it was some sort of priest’s tunnel that was used during the Reformation. We never found anything else, so we assumed only the chapel had such a secret system of moving about.”

“And now?” Graeme moved his fingers slowly over the woodwork.

“We might have been wrong.” Two minutes later Alastair found a catch hidden in the molding. He depressed the catch. Only a few steps away, a piece of the panelling popped free of the rest of the woodwork. He gripped the edge and swung it open.

“There really is a secret passageway.” Surprise echoed in Graeme’s voice.

Alastair didn’t reply as he stepped into the darkness. Gwendolyn was in there somewhere and she needed his help. This time he would not fail her.