Page 54 of The Return of the Heir

Chapter Seventeen

The sight of Monkstadt House, the new seat of the MacDonald clan, surprised Gwendolyn as they approached. Instead of the well-protected castle they had abandoned, their new home was merely a fortified country home. Its whitewashed walls stood out like a beacon in the silvery moonlight.

Still shielded from view by the tree line at the edge of the estate, Marcus guided his horse to a nearby rowan tree and dismounted before assisting her to the ground. Gwendolyn tensed as one of the guards patrolling the outside of the stone wall drew closer.

Marcus pulled her deeper into the shadow of the trees as the guard passed the two of them, his steps crisp with military precision. Once he was out of sight, Marcus waved her forward towards a door in the stone wall at the rear of the house. Gwendolyn drew her woolen cloak more closely about her as a chill of apprehension ran through her.

At the door Marcus paused and withdrew a skeleton key from his sporran. Placing it in the iron padlock, he turned it and the shackle disengaged. “Once we are through this door, we will have to move very quickly across the open area to the cellar door. Can you do that?” His expression was grim.

She nodded. “Go as quickly as you must. I assure you I can keep pace.”

Once the door was open, Marcus sprinted across the open grounds. She pushed herself to keep up. They were almost at a doorway when Gwendolyn heard a sound. She glanced over her shoulder across the grassy area they had just traversed. Dots of light punctuated the darkness. “Lanterns,” she whispered.

“Come with me.” Marcus yanked her sideways towards a wooden shed. He opened the shed door, pulled her inside and shut the door. The scents of burning wood and smoky meat filled her senses. They’d found refuge in the smokehouse. Marcus peered through a crack in the wood. “More guards.”

Gwendolyn’s heart skipped a beat. “Are they looking for us?”

“Possibly.” Marcus watched for a moment longer then shook his head. “There is no urgency in their steps. Probably a patrol making rounds. We were lucky we avoided them as we ran here.”

Gwendolyn leaned back against the wooden wall, trying to steady her breathing. “Thank you for taking this risk, Marcus.”

“If it helps me win Rowena’s hand, then it is worth everything.” As the men disappeared around the side of the house, Marcus opened the shed door and they made their way into the cellar. “We’ll have to be quick. We don’t want to run into them again on our way back to the gate.”

Inside the cellar, it was dark. And the icy cold air seemed to pierce right through her garments, straight to her bones. She shivered as she kept pace with Marcus for fear of losing him in a sea of black. She was frightened, but she wouldn’t give in to fear. “Where is the Fairy Flag?” Did the MacDonalds display it like a spoil of war in their hall? Or did they hide it away in fear that it might be taken away from them by another clan?

Marcus came to a stop. Once more he fiddled with a key, trying to slide it into the lock in the darkness, and a heartbeat later she heard a familiar click. “The Fairy Flag is kept inside a secret compartment carved into the hearth in the main hall. Fortunately for us, the household is all abed, except for the guards. With luck, we can slip in and out without incident.”

As Marcus moved to open the door, Gwendolyn stalled him with a hand on his arm. “I said I would not involve you. There’s too much—”

“I am already involved. The two of us can work faster than one.” He cracked the door open and peered first left, then right, before he waved her to follow.

Silently they made their way down a long hallway before entering a room on their right. The flame from two sconces near the hearth still burned, casting the chamber in golden light. The hearth was the largest she’d ever seen, spanning one third of the room’s length and extending all the way to the ceiling. If the secret chamber was behind one of those rocks, there would be hundreds for them to search.

Marcus moved to the right-hand side of the wall of stone. “I’m not certain exactly where the chamber is, but it is in this vicinity,” he whispered. “Start running your hands over the stone, looking for irregularities that might serve as a latch of sorts.”

Using both her hands, Gwendolyn ran her fingers over the surface of the large rocks, finding them smooth. Marcus did the same to a section to the left of her.

When feeling for a lever failed, Gwendolyn pushed against each rock in frustration. Suddenly one rock moved. Her hands trembling, she pushed again, harder. The rock swung in at a right angle, revealing a deep cavity. She thrust her hand into the opening, but was too short to reach what might be hidden deeper inside.

Instantly, Marcus was beside her. “Allow me.” He reached into the depth and withdrew a small wooden chest that was a foot long and a half a foot wide. He handed the chest to her as he once again reached inside and pulled the rock back into place.

Holding her breath, Gwendolyn released the latch on the lid and opened the chest. The Fairy Flag rested inside. Relief washed over her at the sight. The burden of guilt she’d been carrying with her for the past five years lightened. Now if they could only make it back to Dunvegan without being discovered.

“Is that the flag?”

Gwendolyn shut the lid and nodded.

“Then let’s go,” Marcus whispered, already heading in the direction they had come.

Gwendolyn followed closely behind. Her heart thundered in her ears, and her body continued to quake until they were safely outside the gate in the stone wall. Once there, she released her pent-up breath. It was over. They had succeeded in righting a wrong.

They hurried towards where they’d left the horse when a dark shape separated itself from the shadows. “What have we here?”

Gwendolyn’s stomach twisted at the sound of a familiar voice.

Garrick.

“You followed me?” The words were only a whisper of sound. He appeared as she’d last seen him. His clothes, his anger, nothing had changed. Except for the dagger in his hand and the murderous look on his face.