No Other Woman (No Other Series) (33 page)

"Aye, a passionate man follows his religion with great faith," Brother Damian agreed.

"I don't ken what you're off about, boy!" loin said, exasperated.

"Perhaps the Lady MacGinnis is not all that she seems."

loin took exception to that as well. His glass hit hard upon the wooden table. "Don't y'be sayin' a word against the likes of Shawna MacGinnis. She's proved herself as fine in spirit as any man in taking to the likes of watching over us all. Why, she is using her own income to see to the welfare of your grandfather, young Hamell. She's sending him to that special hospital, soon as the arrangements are made. And didn't she just take your wee brother into the castle?"

"Aye, me brother," Hamell muttered bitterly.

Old loin stared at him. "Then your nephew—if young Danny is your sister's illegitimate issue."

'"The lad is not me sister's—"

"Be that as it may, Lady MacGinnis has cared for you and yours," loin insisted.

"Oh, aye, the great lady, that she be!" Hamell agreed, and he hesitated, still looking unhappy.

"Son, just what are you trying to say?" Brother Damian persisted.

Hamell shook his head. "Just that, well, we're not always what we appear to be, and that's that, I'll say no more—"

"Ye've said nothing!" loin snapped in total exasperation.

"Fine, I'll say this, then! One would assume
Miss
Sabrina Connor to be an innocent maid. And if strange things have been happening, well, aye, they've been happening since The Fire, since David Douglas died. Lady MacGinnis was with David Douglas that night, and it's my belief that Lady MacGinnis was with the laird's heir that night in the carnal sense—begging your pardon, Brother Damian. So if some practitioner of the black arts seeks a sacrifice—
an innocent sacrifice
—then Sabrina Connor would certainly be a fair choice."

Brother Damian arched a brow, wondering if the truth regarding Sabrina Connors condition might save her life.

"What if Miss Connor is not so innocent a lass?" he suggested. "She had scarcely arrived here before she disappeared. What could any man know of her past?"

"Indeed!" old loin exclaimed. And he stared at Brother Damian, then at Hamell. He sniffed once, very quietly. Then he sniffed loudly, and rose, walking away from the table to the bar.

Most probably, Brother Damian determined, to make his peace with Edwina. It might be one thing to rue the practice of witchcraft, but it was quite another to suffer through the pain of carbuncles.

"Ah!" Hamell Anderson murmured unhappily. "I should have kept my mouth shut. I've offended the old goat. He does truly love Lady MacGinnis!" He glanced at Brother Damian. "I don't mean offense to Lady MacGinnis. I don't. God's blood—sorry, Brother—but all I say is that she and David Douglas were like sparks flying together; hot a civil word, yet they couldn't keep apart. I suppose to you, good friar, 'tis sin, but then, like as not y'don't quite ken what it is between a man and woman that draws them together."

"I do my best," Brother Damian said dryly. "As I assume you do yourself."

"Wait, now, there, are you tryin' to imply that young Danny might be me own lad?"

"I wasn't implying anything of the like," Brother Damian assured him. "I just suggested that—"

"I took no innocent maid and gave her issue!" he said, then lowered his voice, looking around. He was terrified of his father, Brother Damian thought. "Look at the lad, and look at the MacGinnises, will you!" he said, and quickly stood. He started to leave, then hesitated and added quickly, "If you seek answers here, Brother Damian, look to the lady herself!"

* * *

Alistair stood in the chapel, inhaling, exhaling, staring at the crucifix.

There was no help for it. He was going to have to go down to the crypt.

Because things were beginning to happen. The past was tormenting the living and beginning to eclipse what there might have been of a future.

He didn't want to go to the crypts.
He had to.

Yet even in the daylight, he despised going there.

He shuddered fiercely.

Then the sound of the chapel door opening off the great hall sounded and he spun around.

Hawk Douglas had come.

"Alistair!" Hawk greeted him, his hands on his hips as he stared up at the crucifix as well. Then he glanced Alistair's way, his green eyes sparkling. "I hadn't thought you so religious as to spend time in the chapel."

"I—" Alistair began, and paused, then arched a brow. "I hadn't thought
you
so religious. In fact, don't you people—" He hesitated again, smiling ruefully. "Sorry. Don't the Sioux have a rather different religion?"

"Aye, gods and goddesses, the power of wind, the rain, the earth," Hawk said, taking no offense. Alistair thought it uncanny that in his height and build, and even in some of his movements and mannerisms, Hawk could so resemble his brother, while still having the look of his mother's people about him as well. He was dressed very much like the American today, in a light blue denim work shirt, darker breeches, and American-made boots. Hawk grinned at Alistair. "I'm still quite convinced that there is one great power—and it's all the same, no matter what we call our religious choices."

"So you have come to the chapel to commune with this 'great power'? If so, I shall leave you in peace—"

"I've not come to commune with anything—I'm passing through."

"To—?"

"The crypts."

"The crypts?"

"I understand that you heard something coming from the chapel last night, but found nothing."

"Aye," Alistair said. He shrugged. "You know how these ancient places creak and groan."

"I know—and so do you. Far better than I, since you've been living here. If you heard something, I'm sure there was something to hear."

"I found nothing—"

"But you didn't look down in the crypts."

Alistair shrugged.

"Well, I want to investigate there. Come with me. I'll appreciate the company."

Hawk Douglas started for the gateway, lighting a match to set flame to a lantern hanging from a hook on the wall. "Are you coming?" he queried politely. He turned, pushed open the iron gate, and started down the steps to the crypts.

Alistair felt a trickle of sweat slipping down his neck.

He followed Hawk Douglas.

* * *

Despite her exhaustion, Shawna hadn't imagined that she'd be able to sleep that day, especially since dawn had nearly broken when they had reached the castle, and David had departed.

But it felt as if she had barely been in her room long enough to shed David's tartan, wash enthusiastically with soap despite the small amount of water in her ewer and washbowl, and lie down to close her eyes before there came a tapping on her door. She awoke in something of a panic, froze, then quickly called out, "Who is it?"

"Mary Jane."

"One minute!"

She leapt out of bed, saw to it that David's tartan was kicked firmly behind the dressing screen, and hurried to the door.

Mary Jane smiled, but she looked quite tired. "Good day, Shawna. Laird Hawk has sent me to see if you'd be so good as to join the family for a late breakfast, before everyone sets off to search for Miss Sabrina again."

"Aye, certainly. I'll be down."

"Good. You look so tired."

"You look exhausted."

"Well, now, we've all been up, worrying about poor Miss Connor, so it seems. Though, of course, perhaps the constable was right—we none of us quite know what will happen if the right man comes along, now, do we?"

Shawna glanced at Mary Jane, arching a brow. "Not Sabrina Connor," she said.

"Ah, but why would Sabrina Connor be different from any other lass?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she knew Sabrina had been kidnapped, but as close as she and
Mary
Jane had been throughout the years, she remembered that David had chosen to hide the body of the man he had killed in the crypt. He didn't want others knowing what they had discovered.

"Look at you, m'lady, begging your pardon!" Mary Jane said softly. "You were willing to risk much for the late young master David Douglas. Aye, and for the MacGinnises as well. But look at all you endured—for want of a man."

"Mary Jane!" Shawna said uncomfortably. "That was all quite long ago."

"Well, shall I lay out your clothing for you?"

"No, no... I'll be fine on my own," Shawna said. She was determined to hide David's tartan before anyone in the household could come upon it and ponder its presence in her room. "Please tell Laird Douglas I'll be right down. What—what of Lady Douglas? How is she faring?"

"She is tired, but well, and quite determined. Thankfully, she is convinced that her sister is alive, and she is determined to find her."

"Good," Shawna said. David, she was certain, had seen his brother and sister-in-law, and told them of the events last night in the crypts. "I shall be right along."

When Mary Jane had gone, Shawna dressed quickly. She folded David's tartan and hastily slid it into the one drawer in the tower room's eighteenth century wardrobe.

When she exited her room, Gawain was waiting there. "Uncle!" she said in surprise.

"I'll escort y'down, lass," he said.

He slipped his arm into hers, seeming both very worried and far older today than usual. "No clues, no hints of anything regarding Sabrina, nothing?" she asked him.

"None. And we've the celebration coming up so quickly now. It means so much to so many. Everyone is worried about Sabrina, but Lady Douglas has just come here for the first time and she and her sister are foreigners, and the people are restless because, although they care, they don't want to be cheated out of their feast and a day's rest. We must use most of our manpower to continue to search for Sabrina, but the castle staff must make preparations for the Night of the Moon Maiden."

They were the last to enter the great hall. Hawk and Skylar Douglas were already seated, he at one end of the table with her beside him to the right. Skylar looked drawn, but as Mary Jane had said, she looked very determined as well and composed. Alistair and Aidan were seated to the side of Skylar, Lowell and Alaric were across from them. The place at the other head of the table awaited Shawna, and Gawain seated her there while taking the empty chair next to Lowell at her side.

"Good morning, Shawna," Hawk said, watching her with his sharp green eyes. She was convinced then that he had spoken with his brother. David would have gone to Hawk before leaving the castle to carry out his plans for the day. "Poor thing, she looks exhausted, don't you think, Skylar?"

"Simply exhausted." Skylar managed something of a smile. "Aye, quite exhausted."

"We are an exhausted group!" Gawain said.

"It'll be a harder day today, mark me," Lowell said. "Eat up, now, all of you."

"Aye, it will be a busy day, searching for Sabrina while the preparations go forth," Alaric said, glancing down at Laird Douglas. "It will be the first time you rule as laird at the Night of the Moon Maiden, Hawk. Will you and your lady come in costume?"

Shawna cleared her throat. "I don't think that Skylar wants to be bothered with the Night of the Moon Maiden right now—" she murmured, but Skylar interrupted.

"Thank you, Shawna, but I like to have my mind occupied, and I don't mind hearing more. Hawk will not let me go searching again until I've eaten, so please, I'd like to hear about the local customs."

"Well, then," Shawna said, "aye, people come costumed. We've trunks filled with old clothing in one of the tower rooms. Mary Jane can help you find something later if you wish. Hawk, what would you come as to rule over the night with your lady wife?"

"Do I rule?" Skylar queried. "I thought the Moon Maiden had to be a young village girl. A lass, a—"

"A virgin?" Alistair suggested. "Remember, they quit sacrificing a Moon Maiden centuries ago!" he said impatiently.

There was an uncomfortable silence at the table. Shawna felt Hawk staring at her and she knew he was worried that someone might well intend for Sabrina to be a sacrifice. She spoke quickly.

"The laird and lady—when there exist both a laird and a lady—have special chairs placed on a dais from which they open and guide the festivities. The laird chooses his lady, of course, to rule with him, but then the people choose a lass for Moon Maiden, and the laird and lady give her a crown of flowers—and a horse from the Douglas stables."

"A horse?" Skylar said.

"Aye, a fine horse, so that she can ride throughout the year and observe her domain," Aidan said.

"I crowned Gena Anderson Moon Maiden last year," Shawna said.

Gawain sniffed. "Ah, and thank God, for it seems she was no sacrifice. She walks around alive and well. She does, doesn't she, Alistair," he said, staring at his son.

Alistair arched a brow. "Indeed, Father. To the best of my knowledge." He lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. "Father, Danny is not my child."

Gawain grunted.

There was another moment of uncomfortable silence. Forks could be heard scraping against plates as everyone suddenly pretended to be greatly interested in the food.

But then Hawk set his napkin upon the table. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, we've all got a busy day ahead of us. Shawna, may I have a word before we get started?"

He rose, and awaited her. Shawna rose as well, following him as he headed toward the stairs. "What is it?"

"Come along with me," he told her.

She was startled when he started up the second flight of stairs to her third floor tower room.

"Hawk—"

He stopped in front of her door, opening it. "Go in now," he said.

"You've summoned me—to go to my room?" she queried.

He smiled. "I heard you had an exceptionally eventful evening."

Shawna felt a soft tide of red seeping over her features, and she wondered just what information brothers shared. Was he speaking of events before or after they'd swum to the cavern?

"Aye, that! In the crypts—"

"I've been there briefly, but I have to return to search the place more thoroughly."