No Other Woman (No Other Series) (46 page)

But not now, not this way. Not when he was so cold and distant, and it seemed that he didn't love her. She didn't want him to marry her just to protect her, or even for Danny's sake.

"I can't marry you—like this!"

"You must marry me. It's the promise I want from you," he told her.

It was blackmail!

He offered the crowd his most charming smile. "Gossip abounds in small villages, eh, my friends, and I'm quite certain that you've heard tales of a lad belonging to the laird of Castle Rock and the lady of Castle MacGinnis. Well, gossip stands true; the boy is ours. Heir to all that is mine. In honor of our son, we are delighted to make our relationship legal and proper."

Gasps sounded. So many of them, it was almost as if the crowd had inhaled and exhaled simultaneously.

Then there was silence.

The whispers began then along with the cheering and calls.

Whispers.

Speculation.

Some of the people had indeed surely heard that Danny was the lady's child. Some had doubted it; some had believed.

Surely, all had gossiped.

And now David had made certain that everyone knew.

"Reverend Massey?" David said.

The Reverend, looking completely pleased, smiled benignly at the two of them.

"Laird Douglas, m'lady, if you will?"

He stood before them, and began to pray.

"I cannot do this!" Shawna whispered. "David!"

David ignored her.

Before Shawna managed to tell the reverend that though she loved David, she couldn't marry a man who completely mistrusted her, she found David dragging her down. She was on her knees, head bowed in prayer.

And she was praying, she discovered.

God, help me! What is right here, what do I do here? I cannot do this, or can I? I would do anything for Danny, but is it right to marry...

She glanced at David. His head was bowed; dark and handsome, he appeared the sincere bridegroom, seeking the blessing of his maker as he entered into the holy sacrament of marriage.

Except that his eyes were actually open. And he was listening not just to the reverend, but to every word and whisper going on around them.

Yet he responded. When the Reverend Massey spoke to him, he responded. She watched him, amazed that he could appear to be so rapt in the proceedings when his attention was in fact for all those around him.

"Shawna?"

Her head jerked around as she looked at the Reverend Massey, curious as to what he wanted. "Aye?"

The Reverend Massey smiled, reaching out to her. "M'laird, m'lady, I now pronounce you man and wife."

Flowers flew, bagpipes screeched. She found herself drawn back to her feet, and into David's arms.

He kissed her dutifully.

"Laird Douglas! Ye've been gone too long for so chaste a touch!" came a cry.

"Come now!" laughed someone. "Ye know what ye're about, ye've a
child
already, Laird Douglas."

Delighted laughter arose.

David responded, lifting a hand to those who tormented him. He swept Shawna nearly off her feet. His kiss was deep, passionate, blazing. So intimate those who had teased him cried out with hearty approval.

He released her, his eyes just above hers. And with her whole heart, she wondered what lay within them.

"Why did you do this?" she demanded. She ached to hear him say what he had told her before—he loved her. He had loved her forever.

"So that my son's mother need no longer be a MacGinnis," he replied, eyes dark upon hers.

"So you will bring Danny back?"

His grip upon her tightened. "Aye, as I'm able."

"You promised!" she reminded him, fighting his hold.

He arched a brow. "You've just promised to love, honor, and obey, my love."

"Indeed, well, you remember this! MacGinnis was my father's name. I will remain a MacGinnis until the day I die," she informed him.

"And I'm trying terribly hard to see that the day you die remains far in the future."

"This is a travesty."

"Nay, lady, this ends the travesty," he told her, and lifting her off her feet, he carried her to the throne chairs that had been prepared for them for the evening. "Friends, I give you Lady Douglas!" he announced.

The cheering began again.

And the windup of pipes screeched.

Well-wishers came forward.

"Ah, cousin!" she heard, and turned to see that Alistair was at her side. He was decked in his MacGinnis colors, not costumed. She was glad. She would easily recognize him.

"It's come about proper at last, eh?" He smiled. "I'm happy for you, cousin. Truly, I am."

"Thank you. Alistair?"

"Aye?"

"Why has he done this?"

Alistair's smile faded. "He is very afraid for you, I think. He wants everyone to know, it seems, that he is alive and well and healthy as an ox. His brother is alive and well—and healthy as an ox. And if something were to befall them both, he has left a child. Legal issue."

"This has to end!" she whispered. "Alistair, I can stand this no longer. Who would have done such a thing to me as to hire a midwife to switch my babe with a dead one? Who would have done such things to David? Who would try to kill him—"

She broke off.

Old loin Menzies had come up to her. He opened his arms, kissed both her cheeks.

"It's the witches, mind ye!" he said, and walked away.

A rise of shouting announced the caber throw. She suddenly felt David's fingers curl around her hand. She glanced at him sharply.

"My love, I am required to take part."

She followed at his side as they joined the men taking part. "Stay here with Skylar and Sabrina," David commanded, stepping onto the field.

The onlookers gathered around as the men took their turns throwing the massive log as far as they could.

"What is this?" Sabrina asked.

"The caber throw."

"They can't possibly throw that—log too far!"

"Aye, they do well enough!" Shawna assured her.

Despite the chill, many men stripped off their shirts and jackets, coming upon the field kilted only.

Shawna clapped as Gawain and Lowell took their places. Despite their ages, her great-uncles cut well-muscled and arresting figures—and their throws were among the best. A cry went up for the MacGinnises, and Shawna joined in with it.

The show was a good one, and it seemed that every man and woman of Craig Rock gathered around, close, shoving a bit to get closer still, yet laughing as they stepped upon one another, apologizing in good humor.

Especially those who were already drunk.

Shawna's cousins all joined in, and showed admirably.

David took his turn last. Spitting upon his hands, rubbing them against his tartan, picking up his caber.

His throw was excellent, outdistancing Aidan's by at least a foot.

Despite herself, she felt a swell of pride as she watched David. His smile was so quick, so deep. His stance was so proud, his physique so well honed. She was, in truth, so much in love with him.

And she was his wife.

And no matter what the circumstances, it suddenly seemed quite wonderful.

The other contenders left the field of the caber throw; David stood alone in it, the undisputed winner.

As a roar of approval went up and the Douglas name was chanted, Hawk walked out to his brother's side. In a charming play between them, they challenged one another, and a contest was on between the two. Shawna found herself forgetting her bitterness and her fears, and watching the play with as much laughter as anyone within the crowd.

"Shawna?"

She swung around. Alistair stood behind her. "Shawna, I need you to come with me."

"Why?"

"You've moved too far from the others in our party. We need to go back around the stones."

She saw what he was saying. The crowd had followed the action. There were still people near her, but she didn't recognize any of them. The crowd had parted her from Sabrina and Skylar.

She spun around, very uneasy. She didn't know a single soul close by. Those near her wore giant headdresses made of feathers, leaves, and fur. She stood among strangers, in the shadow of some of the larger stones.

"Shawna, come on!"

He was tugging upon her arm.

He was trying to lead her around the stones—into black shadows, in order to reach the crowd once again.

He stared at her with his blue MacGinnis eyes, and she thought of the times that she had trusted him.

And she was suddenly afraid. She jerked free from his hold upon her.

"I see Edwina. I'm going to get her," Shawna cried out.

In a panic, she whirled to escape him, pushing through the revelers. She hurried, and looked back.

She didn't see Alistair. She leaned against a stone, closing her eyes, breathing hard.

How stupid. She shouldn't have run this way from Alistair; he had gone toward the bulk of the crowd.

She nearly shrieked aloud as she felt a tug on her shoulder. Her eyes flew open. A tall figure with a staff, dressed as Father Time, stood before her.

"Shawna, lass, are you all right?"

For a moment, her heart beat too quickly. Then she realized that Father Time was her great-uncle Lowell, re-costumed after his turn at the caber throw.

"I'm fine, Uncle."

He smiled broadly, then slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.

"Are ye happy, child?" he demanded.

"Aye, Uncle," she said carefully.

"It's good, when you think of the child."

"Aye," she said. His words had sounded somehow strange. As if he might have known something about Danny.

"Uncle Lowell, do you know something?"

"Eh? My ears are getting bad, lass. What did you say?"

"I said—"

"Too much noise here! Bleedin' pipes! And what a thing for a Scotsman to say, eh?"

"I said—"

"Come this way so I can hear what y'are a-sayin'."

He winced against the noise and motioned to her to follow him.

She did so.

They moved deeper into the field of the Druid Stones, returning to stand where her wedding had so recently taken place. Where the altar stone lay. Vacant now.

"Ah, Shawna, lass, it has become a strange world, eh?"

"Uncle Lowell, please, is there something you know about Danny—" she queried, breaking off abruptly.

She thought that she had seen a shadow. A cloaked figure, slipping from one Druid Stone to another.

"What's that?" she murmured.

He pulled her close against him. "What?" he demanded.

"A figure—one of the cloaked figures."

"Witches!" he whispered feverishly.

Shawna frowned. Looking across the slope of the hill where the play with caber throw continued, she could clearly see Edwina standing with Sabrina and the women in her group of Wiccan healers.

"We need to get back, Uncle Lowell," she said uneasily. "But if you know something, if you can tell me something—"

"I can tell you something."

Shawna stared as the figure she had seen suddenly came around the stone nearest them. The figure allowed her cowl to fall back.

It was Mary Jane.

Shawna stared at her. "And I refused to believe that you might be guilty! You weren't even with me in Glasgow! How did you get your hands on my child?" Shawna demanded. "Uncle Lowell, get someone, we need help, we can't let her go."

"She won't be going anyplace," Lowell said strangely.

"Uncle—"

"Do her!" Mary Jane insisted. "Do her on the stone now."

"Nay, I cannot. She's Lady MacGinnis, there's a ceremony that must be—"

"The Druid Stone requires the sacrifice! And we might have had an innocent maid, if it hadn't been for this special
MacGinnis
blood of yours. And we might have had the child, with blood tenfold stronger!"

"Cease your chatter, woman!" Lowell demanded.

Shawna stared from Mary Jane to Lowell, incredulous. Then she realized that she must escape. Help was so close! Just beyond a few stones.

He had told her to stay near. At his side throughout the night. He had known that something would happen. The full moon would draw the blood of the lunatics just as it would the water of the loch. She had come to meet the devil—

Her own great-uncle. Her kin. Her blood.

Mary Jane lunged for her, sensing that she was ready to flee. Shawna didn't hesitate; she wound her fingers into a fist and struck Mary Jane furiously in the jaw.

Mary Jane gasped in pain and fury. Shawna turned to run.

But Lowell was there.

She never got a chance to scream. A strange-smelling handkerchief was clapped over her face.

She started to struggle.

But she couldn't fight the drug.

She was out in seconds. Deadweight in her uncle's arms. Deadweight as he threw her down upon the Druid Stone. He quickly slipped his dirk from the sheath at his calf.

But a sudden rise of laughter stopped him.

He turned back to see that the caber throw had broken up. The revelers were returning here.

He wouldn't have the proper time.

Mary Jane came up behind. "She all but broke my jaw!" she cried softly. "Damn you, slit her throat! Have done with it."

"Nay, I need time."

"Time! You old fool! They are watching us! We'll lose her again! Just kill her."

"She's the MacGinnis," Lowell said.

"It doesn't matter! We'll sacrifice one of our own for the ceremony if need be. The Druid Stone demands a sacrifice, you've said so yourself. Kill her now!"

"Woman, we'll not!"

"Old fool, we will. The stone must have blood." She wanted blood?

Lowell lifted his dirk, then plunged it downward. Blood spilled over the altar stone. The revelers were returning. Laughter and shouts were growing louder.

Lowell lifted his burden, disappeared behind a standing stone, and then began to run.

Chapter 25