Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood Series Book 4) (18 page)

When they reached the entrance to the tomb, Ivana asked, “Had you been at the hunting cabin with Lachlan before you found us inside the burial mound?”

Isla felt the blush rise to her cheeks. “Yes. I … I thought it might be last time I would see him.” Good Lord, she sounded like a naughty child explaining a misdemeanour to her parents.

“I understand,” Ivana said offering a knowing smirk. “You love him. Why wouldn’t you want to lie in his arms when Nikolai’s interference has robbed you of the opportunity for so many years. Now you’ve taken the cure you need never worry. Now, you can live your dreams.”

The mere thought of the time she’d spent alone with Lachlan caused her heart to beat wildly. “I cannot prove Nikolai’s bigamy, but I pray your testimony will be enough to convince the appropriate authorities that my husband is dead.”

Ivana placed her hand on Isla’s arm. “My husband is a marquess. Both an earl and a viscount witnessed Nikolai’s death, too. There will be no issue when it comes to acknowledging your status as a widow. I can guarantee that.”

Isla breathed a sigh of relief. To know there was still a chance for her to be Lachlan’s wife was all she needed to hear.

With a renewed sense of optimism, Isla gave Ivana the lantern. “I’ll squeeze through the gap first.” She shuffled past the large boulder, took the lamp from Ivana so she could do the same. “I’ll ensure Lachlan comes back later to seal the entrance properly.”

Once down inside the square chamber they spent a few moments examining their surroundings.

Ivana put her hands on her hips. “No doubt at one time there would have been various artefacts in here. Items of jewellery, furs, basic objects they believed necessary to succeed in the afterlife.”

“The fact that they are no longer here means someone deemed them necessities to succeed in this life, too.”

Ivana turned to face her. “Those desperate for money often resort to immoral means when all other options have been exhausted.”

“What, like extortion and theft?”

“Yes.” Ivana’s eyes widened. “And murder.”

“Murder?” Isla shivered. A sudden wave of foreboding rippled through her. For a moment, she thought she had imagined the sound of footsteps on the dusty floor behind them. She turned, held the lantern aloft and scoured the shadows. “Who’s there?” All this talk of theft and murder had made her delusional. She turned to Ivana. “Forgive me. I did not mean to cause alarm. It’s just so dark down here that I cannot help but feel a little anxious.”

“No. I heard someone, too,” Ivana whispered, stepping closer until the sleeves of their dresses touched. “We should not have come down here on our own. Perhaps we should leave.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let that happen.” The deep masculine voice resonated through the chamber.

What first appeared as a black shadow suddenly took on the form of a man. With her thoughts a little wild and chaotic, Isla presumed she had seen a ghost. But as he stepped into the chamber, she realised she knew him.

“Boyd.” Isla put her hand to her chest, her shoulders sagging with relief. She hadn’t seen the man for three years but with his long black beard, he was instantly recognisable. “Good Lord, did you have to scare us so. My heart was about ready to burst.”

“I see Hendry was mistaken when he said you had lost your sight.”

“The problems with my vision are only temporary.” She narrowed her gaze. “What are you doing down here? Did Lachlan send you to find us?”

Ivana’s fingers curled around Isla’s forearm. “You know this man?” The odd hitch in Ivana’s voice troubled her as the lady usually held her calm demeanour even during intense situations.

“Of course. Boyd is the steward at Carrick Hall.” Isla turned her attention to the tall, scrawny man in front of them. “When we leave you can help us move the boulder back to block the entrance. It will save me troubling Lachlan.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be leaving here, Miss Maclean. As your friend said, when men are desperate they often resort to immoral means to achieve their goals.”

Isla shook her head, hoping she had misheard. “I don’t understand.”

“He intends to leave us down here,” Ivana replied, her tone brimming with reproof.

Isla gasped. Her frantic gaze locked with his. “But why?”

Boyd fiddled with his cravat, untied the bow and began unravelling the excessively long strip of material wrapped around his neck. “I’ll tell the villagers I saw you heading out on the road to Crieff with your companion,” he said ignoring her question. “Everyone likes to gossip. They will tell Lachlan they saw you, make up a reason for your unexpected visit. Lachlan will go looking for you. He’ll not rest until he knows you’re safe and well. In his desperation, he’ll not think to look down here. By the time he does it will be too late.”

Isla struggled to comprehend what she was hearing. For the first time in the three years, she wished she still suffered from the blood affliction. She would love nothing more than to bare her fangs and watch the blackguard plead for his life.

“That still doesn’t explain what this has to do with me?” she said, drawing on the courage that had kept her sane these last few years.

“I suspect it will have something to do with money,” Ivana said calmly. After battling with Nikolai, Boyd must seem rather tame in comparison. “Or the sort of deep-rooted jealousy that makes a man act like a depraved lunatic.”

Boyd sneered. Reaching into a small leather scabbard at his side, he withdrew a dagger. “I’d say your friend is a good judge of character.” Boyd used the blade to split the cravat into two similar sized pieces. “Put the lantern on the floor beside you.” Demonstrating the dagger’s menacing slash as a means to intimidate, Boyd threw a piece of material to Ivana. “Tie Miss Maclean’s hands behind her back.”

Ivana straightened. “And if I refuse?”

“You won’t,” he replied confidently. “I’m rather skilled with a blade.”

“It is not the first time a man has threatened me in such a manner,” Ivana said with some arrogance. “I am sure it will not be the last.”

As Boyd waved the dagger back and forth, the sharp edge glistened in the subdued lighting. It suddenly occurred to Isla that Boyd was the one responsible for slaughtering the cattle. “You were the one who turned the villagers against me. You made me out to be a monster when you were the one terrorising the livestock each night.”

Boyd shrugged. “I had to find a way to distract Lachlan. You have always been his weakness. Either the need to prove your innocence would consume him, or he would run back to Edinburgh and drink himself to death. Both scenarios suited my plans. The fact you refuse to go out during the day made my task considerably easier.” He waved the knife at Ivana. “Enough talk. Now tie her hands.”

Ivana inclined her head.

Against her better judgement, Isla placed the lantern on the floor and let Ivana wrap the cloth loosely around her wrists and knot the ends. With her hands now tied behind her back, she was powerless to offer any objection.. She cursed inwardly.

Boyd gestured to the floor with his dagger. “Sit down.”

Begrudgingly, Isla complied. “I still don’t understand why you want rid of Lachlan. Or what any of this will achieve.”

Boyd shrugged. “Not that it is any of your business, but I don’t need him snooping around the accounts.”

“What did I tell you,” Ivana said with a hint of arrogance. “The man is desperate for money.”

Boyd’s face crumpled with disdain. “How can a man better himself when faced with obstacles at every turn? I have spent the last ten years pandering to Ewan Carrick with nothing to show for it but ink-stained fingers and an aching back. Six more months was all I needed to secure new premises for the distillery. But then Lachlan came back and …” He shook his head and grumbled to himself. “I’ve said too much already.”

Ivana cleared her throat. “I often find those with a history of criminal activity cannot wait to bare their soul. The need to justify one’s actions is a sign of man fraught with doubt and uncertainty.”

“I’ll cut you from throat to navel if you don’t shut that smart mouth,” Boyd barked. “Now turn around.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Ivana said as she turned to face the wall. “When they find us they will wonder why our hands are tied. It is a physical impossibility to do such a thing unaided.” Ivana winced and sucked in a breath as Boyd pulled the knot tight at her wrists.

With a rough hand to her shoulder, he pushed her down to the floor. “I intend to return and remove the evidence. When they discover your lifeless bodies, everyone will assume someone passing noticed the boulder out of place and kindly replaced it, leaving you both trapped down here.”

The man was insane.

“If you’re caught you do realise you’ll hang,” Ivana informed.

Boyd sneered. “If I don’t pay Stanthorpe what I owe him, he’ll gut me like a fish.”

Isla tried to think of a way to distract him. If only she had the power to compel him. “It’s remarkable how many people are buried wearing their jewellery,” she said hoping they would think of something by the time Boyd had raided the chamber. She nodded to the stone coffin. “There is an exceptional bracelet in that one.”

Boyd’s greedy gaze flitted to the coffin. “You’re lying.”

Isla shrugged. “I’m not. But there is no one to stop you opening it to take a look. I’ve heard tales that noblemen are buried with a pouch of gold coins but, as of yet, I have only had the opportunity to peer into that tomb.”

Boyd narrowed his gaze, yet he said nothing. He turned and stared at the stone coffin. She could almost hear the Devil’s chants urging him to sin. Indeed, waving his dagger at them by way of a warning, he strode over to examine the lid.

Isla suppressed a smirk as she watched Boyd heave as he pushed the slab. Moving back to retrieve the lantern, he returned to rummage inside the box.

His eyes flashed with excitement when he held up the metal bracelet.

“Of course, you do know whose tomb that is?” Isla said feigning a tone that expressed fear.

Boyd tore his gaze away from the shiny object. “I’m not interested in the dead. What use do they have for such glittering adornments?”

“You should be interested. You have just ransacked the grave of a baobhan sith.”

Ivana gasped. “You mean he has brought the curse of a thousand devils down upon himself?”

“I’m not as foolish as Ramsey and Hendry,” Boyd snorted. “I don’t believe in tales of myth.”

“The sith are said to haunt anyone who tampers with their final resting place.” Isla nodded to the open tomb. “Take another look inside. Someone stabbed her through the heart with a wooden stake. Is that not the preferred method of dealing with such creatures?”

The bracelet quivered as Boyd held it between trembling fingers.

His curiosity proved to be too great. As Boyd stared into the coffin, Isla turned to Ivana and whispered, “We must use our powers for mind manipulation to make him believe he’s cursed.”

Ivana frowned. “But we do not possess such powers anymore.”

“I know, but we have to try something.”

Ivana nodded.

Isla conjured an image of herself in her mind’s eyes. Her fangs were long and blood-stained, the whites of her eyes littered with ugly red veins. “The sith will not rest until they have had their revenge,” she mumbled in a deep, sombre tone. “I can see her coming to you at night, sinking her talons into your neck to drain your blood.”

“I can hear her haunting melody,” Ivana said. “She is calling out to you.”

Boyd stumbled back from the coffin. The bracelet fell from his fingers and rolled across the floor to Isla’s feet. It looked shinier than she imagined. Indeed, the more she stared into the reflective surface, the more vibrant the engraved symbol appeared. In her mind, she saw a golden-haired woman suffering from the same affliction, caught a glimpse of an older man forced to hide in the shadows, too.

“Talliano was her father,” she suddenly whispered, the words entering her head for no apparent reason.

Boyd started mumbling again as he put the lantern on the floor. “Can you hear it? Can you hear her song? You were right. I am cursed. She is coming for me. Stay away. Stay away.” He dropped the dagger and covered his ears with his hands.

A soft haunting melody echoed through the chamber. The accompanying words were not in any language Isla could understand. Still she felt a stirring in her chest, the pain of a sad and heavy heart aching with grief.

“Get her away from me. Stay back.” Boyd crumpled to the floor. “Stay back.”

Isla was about to congratulate Ivana on a job well done when a sudden gust of wind blew out the candle in the lantern, plunging them into darkness.

Isla blinked; she had told Lachlan never to discount the impossible. The swirling mist dancing before them stole her breath. The ghostly apparition that loomed over Boyd defied all logic and reason. The spectre’s golden hair shone with a vivid intensity. Her flowing white gown was stained with splatters of red blood. Isla’s mouth hung open as the spirit of a young woman turned to face them.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard Lachlan’s voice. Isla closed her eyes and prayed she wasn’t dreaming.