Page 49 of The Return of the Heir

“But what if—”

“Nay.” Marcus gathered her hands in his. “I could not bear it if something happened to you. Please, stay here.” The look in his eyes spoke more of the emotions he had for Rowena than his words had.

“Aye,” Gwendolyn agreed. “I need you to help cover for my absence. You can tell everyone that after supper, I came to your chamber to talk and fell asleep, should anyone come looking.”

Rowena’s eyes were wide in her suddenly white face. “If anything happens to either of you, I will never forgive you.”

Marcus pulled Rowena into an embrace. This time Gwendolyn did not try to stop them. They deserved these few precious moments together in case something went horribly wrong later this evening. Gwendolyn gave the two of them their privacy as she stepped up to the altar and gazed at the stained glass window behind it. The reflection of light upon the glass told her it was late afternoon. It would only be a few more hours until they could put their plan into action.

Before they did, however, since there had been many witnesses to Marcus’s arrival, they would need just as many to see that he left. After several minutes, Gwendolyn rejoined the couple. “As much as it pains me to break the two of you apart for another day, it must be done. Until Alastair approves of this match, which he will not do until we succeed in bringing the Fairy Flag home, I am afraid you will have to leave Dunvegan, Marcus.”

“Agreed. For your safety and mine.”

Gwendolyn nodded. “The two of you say your goodbyes now, then I shall escort Marcus to the gate, making sure there are several witnesses to his departure.”

“Where shall I meet you when it is time to go to Monkstadt House?”

“Ready your horse and meet me in the woodlands to the south. I will join you as soon as I can safely slip away from tonight’s festivities.”

Gwendolyn and Marcus left Rowena in the chapel as they headed for the gate. At the sound of the grinding portcullis, several people came out to watch as Marcus retrieved the horse he’d left tied outside the gate and made his way across the land bridge that separated Dunvegan from the rest of the Isle of Skye.

Once Marcus was out of view, Gwendolyn turned and headed inside the castle. With each step, anxiety and unease coiled inside her. Alastair’s future, her own livelihood, and the fate of a young couple all rested upon their success tonight. Nothing could go wrong, or they would all suffer the consequences of their actions.

*

As soon asthe council meeting ended. Alastair made his way to Beatrice’s chamber. He wouldn’t wait another moment to confront her about not only coming to Dunvegan to spy on him for his enemy, but also about her role in freeing Garrick from the dungeon. It made perfect sense that she had been the one to free him.

He’d watched the way Beatrice swayed her hips at his men as she passed them in the hallways. She used her feminine assets to turn heads, and then turn his seasoned warriors into malleable clay. The guards in the dungeon had not stood a chance against her—not when they thought with a different part of their anatomy than their heads.

He knocked on the door. “Beatrice. Open the door. We need to talk.”

She must have been expecting him because the door opened immediately. “Alastair. How nice of you to come to check on me after my fainting spell this morning.” She stepped back, allowing him to enter, then shut the door behind him.

“That is not why I am here, and you know it. I need to know. Did you agree to come here as my fiancée or as a spy for the MacDonalds?”

Her cheeks flamed red. “How could you think I would betray you in such a way? The accusations against me are false.” Beatrice reached out and stroked the length of his arm, lingering where it rested against his thigh.

Alastair straightened and stepped back, refusing to let her manipulate him as she might have in the past. “I don’t believe you. In fact, I believe you were the one who released Garrick MacDonald from the dungeon.”

“I. . . I. . .” She staggered on her feet. “I’m not feeling well.” She collapsed on the floor.

Alastair crossed his arms instead of falling to her side with an offer of help. “Are you quite done?”

She released a soft groan and put a hand to her head. “I’m so dizzy.”

He remained where he was for several long moments before he finally bent down and helped her to her feet. Then in the next moment he lifted her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of wheat.

“Put me down!”

He strode across the chamber and tossed her on the bed. “If you are so dizzy, then I expect you to stay here all night to regain your strength so that you and your father can leave on the morrow.”

She brushed her hair out of her eyes and straightened her skirts before turning an indignant gaze upon him. “What about tonight’s banquet? I am supposed to act as hostess.”

“I’m sure Mrs Morgan can handle that task,” Alastair said, backing towards the door.

“You cannot imprison me here.” Beatrice pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Why? Because it befouls your plans?”

Her eyes narrowed to flinty shards. “We are betrothed. We are set to marry in three days.”

Despite his anger, Alastair could not hold back a satisfied smile. “Yesterday I discovered that Gwendolyn and I are still legally betrothed. Which means I cannot engage in a similar contract with you.”

Beatrice gasped. “What trickery is this?”

“No trickery. Just the truth, which is more than you are willing to give me.” He reached the door and stood in the doorframe. “I will return the bride price to your father, and that will invalidate our arrangement.”

“You cannot do this.”

“Be packed and ready to depart on the morrow. I will inform your father of the change in plans.” He stepped outside and closed the door, leaving Beatrice with her mouth gaping wide.