“Nae any harm,” Brodee said, disbelieving. Had he known these things, he would have guarded his wife himself. His throat constricted with the certain knowledge that Patience was in imminent danger, and likely from Kinsey, whom she trusted. Though, who else was helping her? Someone must have been. But who? And why?
Fergus shifted his weight, cleared his throat, and continued. “I was set to tell ye, but Lady Patience did nae want them to be punished if ye were too angered, and I told her I’d find the culprit and speak with them myself. I’m sorry, laird.”
“’Tis just like my wife to think of another before herself,” Brodee said, his chest aching with the knowledge of how kind she was.
“They all vowed that nae any of them shot a stray arrow into the courtyard that night. I started questioning each of them individually, but I’ve nae finished.”
“Laird,” Mari stammered, looking positively terrified.
His gut sank. “Aye?”
“I saw Ulric in the castle earlier today.”
“Ulric,” Brodee repeated. He’d not seen the man since the day Brodee had him escorted off the land.
Mari nodded. “He said he came back to challenge ye at the tournament today for the lairdship, so I did nae think anything amiss.”
It could be that it wasn’t. It could be that Ulric truly had returned to challenge him, as Brodee himself said someone could do. It could be that there was a reasonable explanation for where Kinsey and Patience were, but that would not justify Kinsey’s manipulations. And they damn well were manipulations. She had been clever and careful, and he’d been so absorbed with trying to deny how Patience made him feel that he had not seen the trouble brewing right before his eyes.
He struggled to take a breath past his rage. “Call the Blackswell men to the courtyard. I fear Lady Kinsey is trying to kill Patience, and whether Ulric is involved or nae, I dunnae believe she’s working alone. When they get here,” Brodee said, focusing on Fergus, “send them in every direction out from the castle in search of Patience and tell them to be prepared to kill her captor.”
Fergus nodded as Brodee turned toward the stables, his blood coursing through his veins and his heart racing. Behind him, heavy, quick footfalls fell, and then William and Cul were at his sides.
“We’re coming with ye,” William said.
Brodee nodded. He could not speak. His throat was so tight he could barely swallow. One thought kept going through his mind: he could not lose her. Despite not wanting to risk loving her, he’d fallen. He’d been successful at defending himself against countless ruthless enemies, but as he strode toward his horse, he realized he’d never had a hope of defending himself against Patience. He was not a praying man, not anymore—not since Arabel had been murdered. But Brodee found himself praying now for Patience’s safety. He would give up his lands, the castle, even his life, to find her unharmed.
A screech ripped Patience from the blackness that had consumed her. She opened her eyes, and the sunlight nearly blinded her. Squinting with a pain that split her head, she blinked several times as another scream—this one almost animalistic—resounded around her. She knew that voice.
Kinsey.
Kinsey was in trouble!
Patience’s eyes flew all the way open, and she pushed past a nauseating wave of dizziness in order to scramble to her feet. The forest around her tilted precariously, and bright dots peppered her vision.
“Damn ye, Kinsey!” came a man’s enraged bellow. “I’ll kill ye!”
Patience gave herself a little shake as she reached for the hilt of her dagger only to find it gone. Then she remembered her fingers upon the cold, hard steel before someone had hit her from behind.
She looked around frantically, unable to place exactly where she was. Deep in the woods, yes, but where? Wind whipped her hair in knots, making her think she was high in the mountains. She turned to get her bearings, and her foot slipped on the wet rock beneath her. She went down hard on one knee, cursing. Underneath her fingertips, she felt the slick, jumbled mass of rock. Was this basalt?
A memory niggled, and her breath caught. Silas had spoken of a rock ledge called the Old Man of Storr. He’d said it would be the perfect place to push her to oblivion if she ever angered him enough.
A chill swept through her as she struggled to her feet and turned to face the east. If she recalled correctly, the pinnacle of the rock was to the east. But it could not be that she was here. She started up the sharp incline of rock toward the direction of Kinsey’s screams, shoving branches out of her way and grasping roots growing out of the ground. Grass covered some of the rock in a soft carpet, and her toes squished into the mud. She had no notion where her slippers had gone.
“Come for me, Ulric!” Kinsey shouted from somewhere above Patience.
Patience frowned as she climbed as fast as she could to get to her friend, banging her knees upon the rock when she slipped. She clenched her teeth against the branches that cut through her gown and sliced open her arms. Then she realized Kinsey had sounded taunting not fearful. But that did not make sense. None of this did.
The higher Patience climbed, the harder the wind became, and as she huffed in a breath, she smelled and tasted the sea. The trees grew thin, and sunlight hit her face once more. A blue sky appeared above her, and then another bellow from Ulric resounded in the silence.
“Ye betrayed me!”
The eerie laugh from Kinsey caused gooseflesh to cover Patience’s arms. Finally, Patience reached a plateau, and in the distance, several rocks jutted to the Heavens above. Beyond them was a drop—to the sea, she was certain—and Kinsey and Ulric stood at the edge.
She opened her mouth to call for Kinsey when Ulric lunged at the woman. Patience screamed, racing forward and watching as Kinsey seemed to leap out of the way at the last moment, Ulric disappearing over the ledge. All the breath left Patience’s lungs as she reached Kinsey, whose pale-blue gaze settled on her with an odd look.
“Kinsey!” Patience choked out. “He tried to kill ye.” She moved toward the ledge beside Kinsey and bent down, grasping her dagger from where it gleamed on the ground. Ulric must have taken it and dropped it. Rocks dug into her knees as she kneeled and looked over at the steep drop. Far below them, Ulric lay in a twisted mass.
