Emerald Embrace (39 page)

It was an incredibly complex tangle, and one she dared not try to solve alone. If only Bryan were here! But he was not, she thought crossly. It seemed that he only crawled the tombs and chambers of the crypts in the dead of night.

Unless …

Unless he had been among the whisperers on the stairs …

She started through the tower across the long corridor to her old room and then to the main stairs, then hurried down to the great hall. Only Elaina was present, sewing before the fire. She looked up at Martise with a warm smile. “Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon, is it?”

“Aye, you’ve slept the morning away. But then brides are supposed to do that, I hear,” she said, and grinned impishly.

Martise smiled. There was tea on the buffet, and she availed herself of it. “Elaina, you’ll discover for yourself someday, I’m sure of it,” she promised her new sister-in-law.

Elaina flushed. “Maybe,” she said. She put down her sewing. “Bruce said this morning that you would be going to America.”

Martise almost dropped her cup. “What?”

Elaina smiled. “He said he thought the two of you needed to take a honeymoon. He said you have property in the States and the two of you should go look at it. And then, of course, he could look for my Niall MacNeill, and for our brother, too.” Her voice became very soft. “He warned me I mustn’t hope too greatly that they live, but he will search …” She broke off again, shaking her head. “My brother is dead, I am certain.”

Cold shivers ripped through Martise. She did not know how to answer. She couldn’t lie. Elaina’s brother did lie in a coffin below. Her brother Bruce.

“It was a long, hard war,” Martise said.

“You didn’t know that you were going back to America?”

“No, I, er, didn’t,” Martise said, sitting across from Elaina. The fire snapped and crackled.

“Ah, well, Bruce must want it to be a surprise. He probably warned me in case you two decide to disappear mysteriously in the middle of the night. Riding away by the light of the full moon, disappearing into thin air …”

Chills shook her. Was Bryan planning that she should disappear into thin air this very night?

Cast upon the shoals below.

Buried within the castle walls.

Martise felt ill. How could she suspect a man who loved her so passionately and tenderly?

How could she not suspect him?

Because she loved him.

“Where is Bry—Bruce?” she asked Elaina.

“Gone, out. There’s much to be done today. Tomorrow is a high holy day for us, which means that tonight the villagers will play.”

“Oh?”

“Aye, ’tis great fun. They come to the castle in masks and disguises, and we provide marzipan candies and pasties and treats.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Martise said uneasily.

“We can dress, too, if you like.”

“Perhaps.”

“Let’s!”

“But—”

“Come on!” Elaina said. She reached out a hand to Martise. “We’ll find costumes.”

“Where?”

“In the wine cellar. We’ve a lot of old clothing stored there, very old clothing. Some from the twelfth century.”

“In the crypts?”

“In the wine cellar!” Elaina repeated.

Martise rose with her. She had wanted to go to the crypts. The wine cellar was in a different direction down the broad hallway, but perhaps she could see something.

“This shall be fun!” Elaina promised her.

They ran down the steps, past the chapel, still fragrant with the flowers from the wedding service. While Elaina opened the gate to the wine cellar, Martise stared down the hallway. But she could see nothing. The hallway was too long, and too dark, and the crypt, which the circular stairs from the master suite descended to, was shadowed in absolute blackness.

“Come on, back here!” Elaina encouraged her. Martise turned around and followed Elaina into the wine cellar, past the bottles and racks, some of them covered in dust. “Back here!”

Behind all the rows, there was a cavern in the wall, lined with trunks. Elaina blew the dust off the top of one and plunged into it. “Oh, look! These are beautiful, aren’t they?”

Martise took the gowns from Elaina. They were both from the Napoleonic era, elegant silks trimmed with fur, with high bodices and low necklines and slim skirts.

“And there are hair crowns in here!” Elaina said. “Oh, they were so pretty! However did we come to adopt these monstrous skirts after these beautiful sleek things were worn!”

Martise shook her head. “I’m sure I don’t know,” she murmured. Then she fell silent. She was certain she had heard someone else down here with them. Footsteps … that led toward the crypts.

“Elaina!”

“What?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Footsteps?”

Elaina held still, listening for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Nay, I heard nothing. Give me a hand, Martise, let’s bring this trunk off of this one. I believe that the really old gowns are down here.”

Martise dutifully helped her. They both laughed, looking at one another, realizing that their faces were smudged with dust.

“Oh, well, ’tis worth it—” Elaina began, then paused, frowning, listening.

“What is it?” Martise asked tensely.

“Someone is down here,” Elaina murmured.

Martise left her, hurrying through the wooden racks of wine to the entryway. She burst out into the hall and stared down the long corridor.

Nothing greeted her but silence. Silence and darkness. Still, she felt as if her skin were crawling. She hurried back to Elaina. “No one is here.”

“Maybe Hogarth was down here, cleaning up the chapel, setting flowers, I don’t know.” She smiled. “It could have been anyone. Look at what I’ve found. It’s perfect for you.”

She lifted up a gown that resembled a tunic. It was white and soft and exquisitely crafted, with shimmers of material falling upon one another. There was a golden braid belt beneath the breasts, and then the gown fell in a soft sparkling splendor to the floor. “And there is a circlet, a crown of jewels, with a train of silk, to go with it,” Elaina said.

“It’s stunning.”

“Wonderful! I shall be the Empress Josephine and you—well, you shall be Queen of the Castle, of course!” Then she broke off again, frowning. She looped the gowns over her arm and smiled. “I do hear something. Excuse me, Martise.”

Martise sat down upon a trunk and heard Elaina’s footfalls grow softer and softer. She waited several minutes, wondering where Bryan was, and when he would return.

Then she heard something else. A whisper of sound. A grating. A sliding, and then a grating.

It seemed to be coming from behind her.

She leapt off the trunk, gasping, certain that the wall was starting to move, that stone was scraping against stone. She backed away and closed her eyes then heard it again, the grating.

But even as she stared, the wall came together. It was as if it had never moved.

Martise stepped forward, touching it, leaning against it. Then she heard a clanging.

The gate to the wine cellar had slammed shut. “Elaina!” she screamed. She swung around and raced through the racks of wine once again, and when she reached the iron gate, threw herself against it. It had been locked, padlocked, from the outside.

“Elaina!” she screamed. “Elaina!”

There was no answer. Her voice echoed through the empty halls.

She swore, she kicked the gate. Cold crept along her spine. Elaina … she had never suspected Elaina. Beautiful, melancholy Elaina. Perhaps she was just barely on the edge of sanity. Perhaps …

Martise clenched her teeth and sank down to the floor. She was panicking, and it was foolish. She was locked in with bottles of wine this time, no corpses. And surely there was some mistake. Elaina would come back for her.

But already, the dim light that filtered in through the chapel windows was fading from the hall. And if she wasn’t locked in with the corpses, they still were not very far away.

“No …” she mumbled aloud.

Someone would come for her. Hogarth would need wine for dinner. There was no reason, absolutely no reason, for her to panic.

Then she heard it again. The grating. As if the wall, far back in the little storage chamber, were moving. And she knew. There was a passage here. Like the passage from the laird’s library into her room. Like the sealed passage to the torture chamber, where the poor girl’s body had been discovered. There was a passage. And whoever had locked her in was coming for her now. Coming from out of the stone of the castle.

She threw herself against the grating and screamed. There was a figure there, a figure in the darkness, coming toward her. She screamed again. She was trapped, from within, and from without…

“My lady!” a voice cried out. The gate rattled. The grating was silenced.

“Lady Creeghan!” the voice repeated. She blinked, because a match was lit against the wall, and a lantern came ablaze. It was Hogarth, the lamp in one hand, the key to the gate in the other.

“Martise!” Elaina’s soft voice called out. And then, behind Elaina, she heard Bryan’s voice, breathless, angry.

“What in God’s name is going on down here?”

The gate swung open. She stepped out, and the mad pulse of her heart slowly subsided. She wanted to throw herself into Bryan’s arms.

He had been the last one to appear—after the grating sound had ceased. She didn’t know where he had been. She could only see in the shadows and the glittering lantern light that his ebony hair was tousled over his forehead, his eyes were aflame, and a furious pulse beat against his throat. And he was winded, as if he had come running.

“Bruce! I didn’t know you were back!” Elaina cried.

“What’s going on?” he asked again.

“We were looking for costumes,” Elaina explained. “How did the door get locked?”

“You didn’t lock it?” Martise said.

“Of course not!” Elaina protested indignantly. “Martise, how could you think I would play such a prank upon you?”

Hogarth cleared his throat. “Please, ladies, my Laird Creeghan. Forgive me—I locked the cellar. I’d no idea that the ladies were into the costumes. Forgive me, please. I should have called out first.”

Martise stared at Hogarth and felt relief flood through her. He smiled apologetically, uneasily, and she wondered if he was telling the truth.

Or if he was shielding someone.

Elaina shivered. “Let’s go up.”

“Aye, supper is ready to be served,” Hogarth said. “Early this eve so that the villagers might play.”

Martise turned and hurried for the stairs. Bryan set his hand upon her back to lead her up. She quickened her pace, avoiding his touch.

Ian and Conar and Peter were in the hall when she reached the top of the steps. “Aha, there’s the wayward bride!” Ian called cheerfully. “Holding up the meal,” he said, taking her hands. “That’s not the way to our hearts, cousin-in-law,” he teased.

“Martise was locked in the wine cellar,” Elaina told them.

“First the crypt—then the wine cellar?” Peter inquired.

“’Twas my fault, sir,” Hogarth quickly explained. “I brought out the wine and padlocked the gate.”

Bryan was behind Martise again. He pulled out her chair, and she felt the warmth of his touch. “They were acquiring costumes, Martise and Elaina,” he said. He took his seat at the head of the table. “And did you find something?” he asked her.

“Aye, wonderful things!” Elaina said. “Bruce, shall you dress?”

“I think not, Elaina.”

“I shall wear my colors!” Peter said.

“That’s no disguise!” Elaina protested. “All right, then, be boring, my beloveds. But we shall be magnificent. I found Martise the twelfth-century bridal gown. She’ll be exquisite.”

“The bridal gown?” Bryan said, stiffening.

“Aye, Bruce, wait till you see her! A bride yesterday, a bride today. But you canna see her till we’re ready. We’ll dress in my room.”

“Indeed?” Bryan said.

Elaina nodded happily. “And you really must wear something out of the ordinary. All of you.”

Peter snorted, and Ian laughed. And the conversation moved onward to the festivities and the treats. “Tomorrow should be endless,” Ian commented. “All those men today worthless from the wine and ale and whisky of yesterday. And now, after tonight! Why, it shall take those drunkards a week to recover.”

“Ian,” Conar protested sternly, “the villagers are hard workers and not drunkards.”

“No more so than yerself,” his father taunted.

There was an awkward silence, then Ian laughed. “Aye, well, that’s a fact. I did overindulge yesterday. But then, I gained a new cousin. And a delightful one.” He winked at Martise.

Elaina pushed back her chair and tossed her napkin on the table. “Martise, are you done? Shall we?”

“Yes, I’m quite finished,” Martise said. She rose. Bryan’s eyes were bright and probing upon hers. He smiled, and his gaze remained on her even as he spoke to his sister. “I do not mind my bride being stolen for a few hours,” he warned her, “but remember, all, that midnight is the witching hour this night above all nights, and I will have her back at that time!”

Elaina laughed.

Martise felt chills race down her spine.

“Of course, laird of Creeghan!” Elaina assured him, then hooked her arm in her sister-in-law’s and drew her toward the stairs.

As they entered Elaina’s room, Martise wondered if she shouldn’t find time to talk to Bryan alone. There was so much that she should tell him. About the whispers on the stairs. About her certainty that there was a passage behind the wine cellar.

And still…

She didn’t know! Damn, but she didn’t know. What if he had caused the grating? What if he had become her lover, and even her husband, just to give her as a bride to the castle, her blood to feed the stone?

She almost groaned aloud. She was going to have to see him later. What was she to do at midnight? Grow frantic and say that she would not sleep with her husband? Disappear in truth into the night?

She needed to see him.

“There we are,” Elaina said, pointing to the gowns on her bed. “I gave these to Holly when I left you so that she could freshen them. Oh, Martise, when I ran up the steps, I’d no idea Hogarth might lock you in by accident. I am so sorry.”