Page 22 of The Return of the Heir

She opened her eyes and turned towards him. Her fingers rested lightly on his right arm. “Consider this. . . I know what your father did to your mother was horrible, but if your mother was not of the spirit world, she would not have been there to protect us. She helped us so many times when we wanted to give up and let the cold take us. . .when we were lonely, she filled our hearts with song. . .when we were weak, she gave us strength. Your mother is the reason we are still alive.”

Before he could respond, the door before them crashed open, slamming into the wall. Alastair spun to face Callum who filled the doorway. His brown eyes locked on Alastair. “The healer sent me to find you. You’d better come, and quick.”

“What’s wrong?”

Callum’s gaze slid to the woman beside Alastair. “Is that really you, Gwendolyn?”

She nodded. “What is it? Is something wrong with my sister or brother?”

Callum dropped his gaze. “It’s Arabella. She’s coughing up blood. The healer says it’s Winter Fever.”

Alastair watched the colour drain from Gwendolyn’s face.

“Nay.” Gwendolyn’s eyes filled with horror. “Where is she?”

“Second floor. The gold bedchamber,” Callum said.

Gwendolyn’s fear was palpable as she hitched up her skirts and darted up the stairs and into the castle. Alastair followed with Callum on his heels. “Tragedy seems to cloak Gwendolyn and her family.”

“Nay,” Callum replied. “Things will turn around for her now that she has you in her life once more.”

“She is in my life, aye. But I am not for her.”

Callum’s brows came together. “How can you say that? You are betrothed.”

“We were betrothed five years ago.” Alastair threw a look at his brother. “Before I came here, I pledged myself to another.”

“But Gwendolyn—”

“—was presumed dead.”

Callum frowned. “And now?”

Alastair’s gaze returned to the woman racing down the corridor, too far away to hear any of their conversation. “What matters now is the health of her sister. We can sort this out later.”

“I don’t have much experience with women, but I suspect going back on a betrothal might be something to sort out sooner rather than later.”

Alastair watched Gwendolyn pause at the doorway of the bedchamber before she stepped inside. The sound of the forced cheer in her voice reached out to him and twisted his gut. She would be brave for her sister and brother as she probably had every day of the last five years.

At the shadowed doorway, he paused and looked to the bed where Gwendolyn now sat beside her sister, holding her hand while the healer mixed some kind of concoction with her pestle and mortar that would supposedly help ease Arabella’s suffering. He turned to Callum. “Say nothing about what we’ve just talked about. Gwendolyn has enough to worry about at present. Promise me you will.”

“I give you my word, but would it be wise for me to send for a solicitor? Perhaps he could advise you about how to handle two brides.” Callum raised a brow.

Alastair scowled at his brother. “Your silence is all that is needed.”

He would have to speak with Gwendolyn eventually, but for now he would focus on the challenge at hand. Gwendolyn did not need to know about Beatrice Lamont until Arabella’s fate was determined. Judging by the pallor of her face and the slight blue colour about her mouth, fate could play an ugly hand at any moment. His standing in the doorway would not change anything. He had a villain to find. Turning away from the scene, he moved down the hallway to the stairs. Coming inside the castle just as Alastair was preparing to return to the old keep was Graeme. “Did you find him?”

“Nay,” Graeme replied. “He disappeared into a network of tunnels within these walls.”

“He won’t escape us for long. Gather all the men. Send two to stand guard outside the gold bedchamber. I’ll not leave Gwendolyn or her siblings unguarded again. The rest of us will pursue Garrick.”