Grace in Thine Eyes (46 page)

All at once Will was swallowed by a cloud; thick, white mist wrapped him like a burial shroud. He could not see the summit above or his brother below. Refusing to panic, he pressed on, one foothold at a time, cursing the weather and Somerled and granite slopes and anything else that stood in his way.

He would have his revenge, if only for Davina’s sake.
My bonny wee fairy
. She did not love this Highlander, could never love him. He’d bewitched her, as Father said. That would end very soon. He and Sandy would not let this man ruin Davina’s life as he’d ruined her virtue. Furthermore, they would claim his silver and gold, his property and lands, as payment for her loss.

But first Will and the others with him had to climb this wretched mountain.

He heard Sir Harry’s voice below. Strained, anxious. Then his brother’s voice. Calm, encouraging. “Not much farther,” Sandy told them. “Just keep coming.”

Will’s hand touched a broad expanse above him, and he pulled himself onto the bare table of rock. Even through the cloud cover, he could see several large boulders, precisely where he’d remembered them. Monday they’d spent a good deal of time on the summit; now that knowledge would be put to use.

He turned and reached down for his brother, helping Sandy scramble over the edge before clutching him in a brief but fervent embrace. “We’re here, lad,” he whispered. “ ’Tis almost done.”

A moment later Somerled vaulted himself over the top, his brow slick with sweat, his breath coming in gasps. “Did you … not say … ’twas none … too daunting?”

“Aye.” Will pointed to the far side of the vertical ridge. “We came up the left side when we should have come up the right. The error is mine, I’m afraid.”

Somerled turned to help his father climb onto the summit. The older man’s skin was blanched as white as his hair, and his legs were far from steady as he dropped onto one of the flat-topped boulders.

Still on his feet, Somerled blotted his face dry with his coat sleeve. “I trust we’ll not make the same mistake going down?”

“Depend upon it,” Will told him.

The foursome fell silent, taking in their colorless surroundings. They might have been adrift on a raft, so unchanging was the scenery. No peaks to the north, no peninsula to the west, no bays to the south, no firth to the east. Nothing but moist white clouds, growing thicker by the minute.

Will knew what lay out there; two days earlier he had seen the panorama. Now, except for the cold and the wind, any sense of elevation was lost. As if he could easily step beyond the precipice and find solid ground beneath his feet instead of thin air and sharp rocks below.

“So this is Goatfell’s incomparable view.” Sir Harry threw up his hands. “At least you cannot call us cowards, lads. We climbed your hill. That we did.”

“Aye,” Will mumbled, his mind racing. If he could not see what lay beyond the summit, how could he steer the MacDonalds in the right direction—right for him but very wrong for them? How could he be sure of their demise? And how would he and Sandy find their way down the steep slopes when they could barely see the rocks beneath their feet?

Suddenly their cunning plan seemed an impossibility. Yet they dared not abandon it, or Somerled would sail for home and the wedding plans would proceed.

Nae
. There would be no better time, no other time but now.

Will took a turn round the summit, walking closer to the edge than was prudent, hoping to appear confident and worthy of their trust. He had no fear of heights, but this was unnerving, knowing how sheer the drop was yet being unable to see it. Stopping for a moment, he stared into the endless sea of clouds. Was
this
the spot they’d chosen? The west face of Goatfell overlooking Glen Rosa was a descent even the most experienced climbers avoided.

Steeling himself, Will turned to face them. “Since it appears the clouds are not likely to lift, suppose we start down and take a different route back to the castle.”

“In which direction?” Somerled’s eyes narrowed. “Did your father not warn you to descend along the same path?”

Will tried to shrug, though it felt more like a nervous tremor. “My father has not climbed Goatfell in thirty years. Sandy and I were here on Monday and tested this descent ourselves.” He swiveled toward the precipice, if only to mask the heat climbing up his neck and no doubt staining his cheeks. He’d lied before, but not with such murderous intent.

When he turned back, Somerled was beside him. Alarmingly near.

Without thinking, Will took a step back. Closer to the edge. He could feel the winds sweeping up the precipice and over his shoulders.

Somerled eyed him. “Careful, Will.” Almost a threat.

Surely the Highlander had no scheme of his own? He was taller, if not stronger, and half a dozen years older. Will would not forget that when the time came. He stepped round him, then motioned to Sandy. “Join us, Brother.”

Sir Harry came along as well, his color restored and his breathing even. “Any route we take will be slow going in this weather.” He scanned the cloud cover. “We’d best begin before the rain does.”

Will nodded, grateful for the baronet’s unintentional support. “Here is what Sandy and I had in mind.” Using terms known only to veteran climbers, he described the route, carefully chosen to start with ease. “Sandy and I will descend on either side of you so we can easily maintain contact. And assist you, should your foot slip.”

“Send me down first,” Sir Harry demanded. “I’ve spent the better part of my life on hillsides.”

Will heard the bravado in his voice but would not dispute the man’s claim. Not when his foolhardy offer so thoroughly suited his own needs. “As you say, sir.”

Somerled was not so quick to agree. “Might it not be best if I went first?”

Sir Harry scowled at him. “And risk losing my heir? Nae, ’tis a father’s duty to go first.” He straightened his woolen coat and stamped the grass from his boots. “On with it, gentlemen.”

Will walked the precipice with Sandy once more to be certain—very
certain—of their starting point. He caught his brother’s gaze.
Are you sure? Any doubts?
They’d be jeopardizing their own safety in the process. If Sir Harry grabbed one of their arms in desperation … If Somerled had seen through their ruse and formulated a plan of his own …

Nae
. The scoundrel did not know Goatfell. His ignorance would be his downfall.
Quite
.

“Sandy, if you’ll start to the right.” Will watched his brother gamely lower himself over the edge, then he did the same, half a dozen feet away. Jamming his boots into narrow crevices, Will rested his arms on the summit and looked up at their adversaries. “Sir Harry?” He nodded to the gaping spot between them. “The place of honor is yours.”

With a grunt, the man lowered himself over the precipice and started downhill. “Aye, ’tis an easier path,” he said, a look of relief on his broad face. “Follow my lead, Somerled. I’ll have you back in your lassie’s arms before noon.”

The man hadn’t looked at his pocket watch of late, Will decided. It was already noon.

Sir Harry continued moving downward with Sandy’s encouragement. “There’s a solid ledge there, sir. Have you found it?”

“Aye, aye. Come along, Son.”

Somerled crouched over the summit, looking down at the three of them. Will could not read his expression. Fear, hidden behind a firm jaw? Resolve, locked inside his unblinking gaze?

“Have a care, Father. For I do not trust these hills. Nor this weather.”

Nor us
. Will caught Sandy’s gaze across the stony expanse.
Be on your guard. He suspects something
.

With his long legs, Somerled was soon lower than they were, with his father directly below him, barely visible in the cloud. “How goes it, sir?”

“Well enough,” he called up. “Are the lads coming, or have they abandoned us?”

“We’re on our way, sir.” Will and Sandy moved as one, easing down only a few steps. The terrain would soon take care of things without any assistance from them.

Somerled inched farther down as well, his countenance a fair match for the granite.

“Och!” Sir Harry fumed. “ ’Tis my hand you’re stepping on, lad.”

When Somerled shifted his leg in search of another toehold, his father began to lose his footing, with nothing but loose gravel beneath his boots. The sound of rocks tumbling into a vast cavity of air was wrenching. The older man’s urgent cry for help was worse.

“Father!” Somerled shouted. “Take my leg. The lads will hold me.”

Will heard Sir Harry’s anguished groan. Saw Somerled’s body jerk as his father latched on to his boot. Watched them both slide farther down, almost beyond reach. Felt his stomach heave as Sir Harry lost his grip and went the way of the rocks, his heavy frame not falling into thin air but hitting the jagged mountainside with sickening thuds, his screams fading into the cloudy abyss.

A deep and terrible silence descended on Goatfell.

“Father …” Somerled was weeping. Pressing his forehead against the rocks.

Will could not bear to look down. Could not bear to think of what he had done. Could not bring himself to do it again. For any reason.

“Somerled. We’re coming.” He started down, ignoring the risk. “Sandy, please … help him.”

His brother did not protest. Yet even moving another foot lower, the twins were barely able to grasp Somerled’s coat sleeves. “We’ll have to continue down,” Will insisted, knowing what it could mean. “One more foot, Sandy.”

“Will …” His brother’s eyes were wet with tears, his body trembling. “I cannot go farther.”

But I can
.

“Somerled! Are you able to move this direction?” Will reached into the wind. “Take my hand.”

Somerled looked up at him, his face ravaged. “Did you mean this to happen?”

Will swallowed. The time for deception was over. “We did.”

“Then how can I trust you?” Somerled struggled to pull himself up, fighting for a toehold.

“I give you my word.” Will clamped onto his forearm. “As a brother.” He dragged him toward the summit, straining to keep his balance. “Get your footing,” he yelled, sensing the pull of gravity. “Sandy! Can you reach him?”

He could not.

Somerled slipped from his grasp, a look of terror on his face as the rocks beneath him gave way. “Will … help me!” he cried before disappearing into the cloud.

Will grabbed for him nonetheless, nearly falling himself. “Nae!” He choked on the word as he clung to the hillside, wishing he could cover his ears.

Sixty-Six

When the day gaed doon ower Goatfell grim
And darkness mantled a’.
T
HE
S
IGNAL OF THE
B
RUCE

T
hey’ll not come hame onie faster, Miss McKie, nae matter how lang ye leuk oot the
windie.
”

Davina kept her nose pressed to the glass, even as the innkeeper’s nagging voice grated against her ears. Mrs. McAllister had fussed at her when she’d had no appetite at noon, then complained when Davina had put aside her book of poetry to stare out the kitchen window, watching the road to Brodick castle and imagining Goatfell beyond it.

Will and Sandy had asked her to wait for them at the inn. Could she not honor their simple request? Perhaps her loving obedience might build a bridge between the twins and Somerled. They were soon to be related by law; she prayed the McKies and MacDonalds might someday be true brothers.

Mrs. McAllister leaned closer and squinted through the glass. “Hoot! Whan did the sky turn sae
mirksome
? ’Tis dark as nicht oot thar.”

Davina had spent the last hour pretending not to notice how thick the clouds had become—so dark they almost shut out the sun. She knew enough about climbing hills to realize that clouds ruined the view and rain showers made for slippery footing on grass and granite. Still, the men should be long off the summit by now.

My brave Highlander
. Somerled had climbed Goatfell for her.

She was already thinking of ways to show her appreciation: learning a tune from his repertoire; sketching him as he played his wooden flute; fashioning a
waddin
sark for him, as marriage customs of old required, though she’d need her mother’s help. Sewing an embroidered shirt to fit Somerled’s broad shoulders would be no easy feat, yet the thought of him wearing it warmed her heart.

Hurry home, lad
. She expected him shortly, but without the sun’s position to guide her, she could not be sure of the time. Might the innkeeper know? Davina drew an imaginary clock on the pane, marking the hours, adding the hands.

“ ’Tis nigh two o’clock,” Mrs. McAllister said before returning to her soup kettle. “Yer brithers told me tae leuk for them onie time noo.”

Davina turned away from the glass. She could not speed their journey by fretting. Only by praying for guidance and protection.
God is our God for ever and ever
. A comforting verse, that.
He will be our guide even unto death
.

Davina eyed the table in the kitchen parlor, plates and spoons already in place for the hungry sportsmen. She was certain Somerled and his father would join her brothers for a plate of barley broth before riding north to Lochranza. It was unlikely they’d find a meal waiting for them at the castle; a steady stream of guests had departed Brodick all morning, bound for the stone quay.

She’d paused to straighten one of the horn spoons when the front door opened and closed so quietly she knew it could not be her boisterous brothers. Was Father home early? Or was Somerled playing a trick on her? She smoothed back her hair and pinched her cheeks, then started for the entrance hall, the innkeeper not far behind.

A soft knocking sounded on one of the hall doors. “Davina? ’Tis Will.”

Nae
. That thin, weak voice could not possibly be his.

Alarmed, she turned the corner and found the twins sagging against the door to her lodging room, arms limp, as if the wooden panels were their only support.