No Other Woman (No Other Series) (36 page)

Darkness was falling, but the moon, which was very nearly full, rode high in the heavens, casting eerie shadows upon the faces of cherubs and seraphs that had been carved into the gravestones. Sculpted angels cast strange forms upon the earth. Larger, bulkier, even more mysterious shadows were created by the vaults of the dead. The vaults themselves, though eerie in the moonlight, were handsome exhibits of architecture, many of them built in Greek or Roman fashion, with fine white columns and meticulous scrollwork.

The cemetery faced the northwest, toward the dense forest there. As it happened, or perhaps by some ancient design, it was tucked away in the corner of the property, and here now in the moonlight, it was difficult to believe that not more than several hundred yards around the stone base of Castle Rock was the grand entrance to the great hall of the castle.

The air was crisp and cool; a ground fog was rising, adding to the ghostly feel of the shadows that fell upon the ground from angels and archangels. Their footsteps, even against the grass, seemed loud in the night; no sounds from elsewhere seemed to penetrate into the moonlit haze of the cemetery.

"McCloud, there it is, just ahead," Shawna advised, seeing the family name in large sculpted letters atop one of the mausoleums that stood before them. Her voice seemed loud in the night.

Hawk strode ahead to the vault, walking up the three steps that led to the heavy door at the entry. The others followed just slightly behind him, watching as he went through the keys. "Is there any way to identify the proper key?" he queried, looking back at Shawna.

"Rainor—the undertaker from the village—knows them all. I'm afraid I don't."

"We are at a
Douglas
holding," Alistair reminded him. He shrugged. "I've no idea which key."

"It's trial and error," Shawna apologized.

Hawk nodded, and tried a key in the lock. He went on to a second key, and a third. The hardwood door to the vault groaned open.

Yet, even as it did so, Hawk suddenly spun around, hearing something Shawna had not heard. He cried out a sharp warning to them all.

"Down!" he thundered.

He fell atop his own wife, pressing them both to the earth. Shawna heard Alistair swear; then, to his credit, her cousin cast his own body atop hers, bearing them both to the earth. A clump of mud flew up against her just as a hail of bullets went crashing through the cemetery, ricocheting off stone tombs, angels, and death's-heads.

"Sweet Jesu!" Hawk muttered, his head just -above a tombstone.

"Someone is shooting at us—in the cemetery!" Alistair said incredulously.

"Do you see anyone?" Hawk called.

It seemed that the fog had rolled in more thickly the very second Hawk spoke. A field of clouds seemed to lie on the ground where they had fallen for protection.

It surely did offer them protection from the bullets. But it blinded them as well.

"Shawna, Alistair... creep this way. Down on the ground, snakelike. Get into the vault!" Hawk commanded.

"Go!" Alistair urged Shawna.

"But you—"

"I'm right behind you. Go!"

Shawna instantly obeyed. Old, broken headstones clawed at her clothing; blades of grass tickled her nose. She all but tasted the mud of the earth. She heard Alistair inching along right behind her.

She stopped, cringing, as the sound of a bullet bouncing off stone just beside her rang loudly in the night. A shadow loomed huge above her as Hawk stood—just long enough to return a barrage of fire from a gun he had apparently been carrying discreetly.

"Get in the vault, all of you!" Hawk commanded, falling back to the earth again, behind a large headstone.

Shawna saw Skylar rise to a crouching position and run up the three steps and slip into the vault just ahead of another round of bullets that came crashing into the masonry and shrubs that surrounded them. Shawna lifted her head just in time to see a creature in a cowled cloak slip behind the vault far to their left.

"My God!" she breathed, incredulous. "To our left!" she cried to Hawk.

"Will both of you get in there!" he cried back. She realized that he was reloading his gun. "Now!" he said,

and she saw him rise, now firing with rapid precision in the direction she had pointed him.

"Shawna, go, get in the vault," Alistair hissed.

"Alistair, did you see—"

"I saw."

"Who—"

"Up, cousin, now, quick!" Alistair urged her. He drew her to her feet. A bullet crashed into stone right by her head as she dashed into the McCloud burial vault, Alistair right at her back, pressing her forward all the way.

"Down here!" Skylar whispered, slipping her arms around Shawna and bringing her down to hunch low just behind the heavy wooden door.

Hawk fired rapidly then, rising as he did so, backing his way toward the vault. He slipped through the doorway which they'd kept ajar for his entry. He leaned against the cold stone of the vault then, inhaling deeply. "There are at least three of them."

"Them—who?" Shawna gasped.

"Your cloaked figures." Hawk looked down at them in the shadowy darkness. "There's no other way in here—and no way out—other than this door?"

Shawna shook her head. "There's another room to our left, but no other way in, no other way out."

On the ground, she crept closer to where he stood just inside the doorway, carefully trying to look out. She covered her ears and leaned flat against the stone as the firing started up from outside once again, bullet after bullet grazing off or plowing into the mausoleum.

"They're trying to make me return fire, run out of ammunition," Hawk said.

"Will you—run out soon?" Shawna asked.

"I have a couple more rounds on me, but... well, we could use some help down here..." he murmured. Bullets crashed into the stone again. Hawk angled out the door, taking careful aim. He fired, then leaned back against the stone as more bullets came flying their way.

"I've got my dirk, if they come close," Alistair said.

"Eventually, they'll have to come—here," Hawk said.

"I don't think they know that we're all in here yet," Shawna said. "The fog is so thick... they were surely as blinded as we were."

"As we are!" Alistair said.

Once again, Hawk inched nearer the door. To their left were another three family vaults. A number of hemlocks grew in the area, and stone sarcophagi littered the earth along with angels, archangels, and more.

Then, for a moment, framed in the moonlight, was one of the cowled figures. The hood was low over its face.

A cloaked figure, its features hidden by the fall of its cowl. A figure, just like those figures she had seen in her dream.

Calling her name.

Coming for her...

"There!" she cried to Hawk.

He took aim. A cloud inched over the moon. Hawk fired, and fired again.

His bullets, like the others, ricocheted in the night.

Yet, against that sound, Shawna was certain that she heard another. Pounding. A pounding against the earth.

She stood carefully, gripping Hawk's arm. "Someone is coming."

Someone was coming...

Friend or foe?

Three horses thundered into the graveyard.

Guns blazed.

One horse reared directly in front of the vault as its rider—easily recognizable to Shawna—fired off a gun from its back toward the mysterious cowled figures who had been firing at the group in the tomb.

Shawna gasped, falling back where Skylar was crouched down by her husband's feet.

"It's Brother Damian!"

"My God, is he going to help us, or kill us?" Skylar demanded.

"Help us—I think," Shawna said.

"He's not alone," Alistair warned quickly.

"Aye, there are two more riders with him. I don't know either," Shawna said.

Gunfire sounded; then ceased entirely. The riders went galloping over stones and angels alike in pursuit of the cloaked figures.

Skylar called out to Hawk, "What's happening?"

"Rescue," he said flatly.

"I'd say quite in the nick of time," Alistair murmured.

"But what is going on, Hawk?" Shawna asked.

"Our rescuers have gone in search of our attackers. I think we're safe to stand now."

The riders returned. Evidently, the cloaked figures had managed to disappear into the darkness afforded as the moon once again made a fickle disappearance behind a cloud.

"None of them!" a voice muttered with furious disgust. "Every last one of them managed to disappear right into thin air!"

The horses with their three riders came to a halt in front of the McCloud vault.

Brother Damian was off his horse, hurrying up the steps toward them, moving furiously and swiftly for such an old man. He was quickly followed by a slim little man with a face so ugly it was endearing. Behind him came a very tall, straight, lithe but well-muscled man, wearing a railway frock coat over blue denim breeches and white cotton shirt, a plumed slouch hat sitting at a rakish angle atop his head.

Shawna tensed, wondering What designs this trio might have upon them. She gritted down on her teeth and studied the curious Brother Damian, yet she was startled from her observations when Hawk murmured a pleased, "Sloan! I will be damned. Sloan!"

Hawk strode from the vault, laughing as he embraced the tall, lithe newcomer with ebony dark hair, sharp handsome features, and mahogany eyes.

Shawna stared in stunned amazement at the two. Her nightmares had entered into the realm of life tonight. She'd dreamed of savages arriving en masse to do her in for her part in the "death" of David Douglas.

All this fellow needed was a bow and arrow.

"My God. Another... Indian!" Shawna murmured.

"Another half-breed," Skylar said quickly. "He's a friend, a dear, good friend!" she explained happily, and followed her husband out to embrace the stranger, kissing his cheeks as he enveloped her in a hug.

Apparently, Shawna reflected dryly, staring at her cousin who returned her wry assessment, the newcomers did not seek to kill them.

"Shall we find out what's happening?" Alistair suggested.

"Definitely," Shawna agreed.

She ventured out, Alistair directly behind her. The small, slim man—with features so wrinkled that he had a troll's look about him—smiled. It was a nice smile. Shawna smiled back.

"When did you arrive?" Hawk was asking the half-breed Indian newcomer.

"Not thirty minutes ago." He appeared quite tense and worried. "We arrived to discover that there was, indeed, trouble here. This good fellow here is Mr. James McGregor, bearer of the ring sent to you previously, and very anxious, when he made my acquaintance back in Gold Town, to find out about you. I had assured him you had left for Craig Rock, and his story was so intriguing, I determined that I must accompany him here."

"Sloan, what a very good friend you are!" Skylar said. "It's so good to see you."

"And your timing was impeccable," Hawk assured him. He then turned to Brother Damian.

"How did you know to come here?"

"I didn't know; we heard the commotion," Brother Damian said. Except that there was no longer a pleasant Irish lilt to his voice.

It was a different voice.

David's
voice—deep and husky and all Scottish.

Shawna gasped, realizing that he had deceived her all along. He had gone about by day, spying on them all. Not just in the passageways of the castle, but wherever he chose to be, walking among them all. His deception had been complete; she'd not recognized him in any way, shape, or form. He had been at the tavern, drawing her out. She was furious that he had deceived her so easily.

Apparently, he had deceived others, too.

"My God! David!" Skylar gasped. "Why didn't you just tell me who—"

"The disguise was important, Skylar. I didn't know who in the household I dared trust. It's been the only way I can move around by light of day. Skylar, where is the boy?"

"Danny?" Skylar gasped. "He is with Anne-Marie. I pray God that—"

"I pray God as well, but I do believe that Anne-Marie is innocent of any wrongdoing."

"I gave him over to her," Hawk said. "We couldn't bring him here."

Skylar continued to stare at David. "I thought I was insane, wondering what it was about you that was so familiar. Now I know. Douglas eyes! I feel like a fool, for not having recognized your eyes immediately."

His eyes!
Shawna thought.
Aye, she should have recognized the eyes herself.

But she had not.

"The disguise was necessary," David said.

Indeed,
Shawna thought.

Necessary.

Against all of them.

He had donned his disguise not just to watch her kin, she thought, but to watch her as well. Her anger grew.

She longed to fly at him and tear his fake whiskers off one by one. She struggled for control.

David had yet to glance her way.

"I left the castle to discover that James and Sloan had arrived. We heard gunshots, and decided a show of force on horseback might serve us all well. It seemed that there was some fair firepower coming against you."

"Aye, that there was," Alistair said, surveying the three who had just arrived. "You all—know one another?" he said politely.

David grinned ruefully. "Aye, that we do, Alistair. Good Mr. McGregor here has been with me on my—journeys—I shall say. And I have known Sloan a very long time. He grew up in the same camp as my brother. Sloan, James—Alistair MacGinnis. And of course..."

At last, he turned to Shawna. He'd been very aware of her presence, she was certain.

"And of course... Lady Shawna MacGinnis."

His voice seemed a combination of ice and fire as he said her name. His eyes fell on her in such a way that she felt as if she had been physically attacked.

Aye, it was true that he was so well costumed he had fooled even those who knew him best.

But something else had changed. Completely. He did not just seem angry; he seemed to loathe her. With an anger red-hot enough to kill one second, and cold enough to freeze the very air around them the next.