“Why wasn’t I killed in the tunnels?”
David shook his head thoughtfully.
“Perhaps my brother is supposed to believe you’re trying to kill him. Then, when you are out of the way, the new ‘Laird’ Douglas can hardly regret the passing of a shrew who was trying to do him out of his inheritance.”
“But I’m assuming that Hawk is supposed to die as well.”
“I assume the same.”
“But my family discussed buying the property from him!”
“Perhaps it’s all deeper than any of us imagined. The man spoke about others of his kind. What kind? As to the tunnels, maybe they weren’t trying to kill you. Maybe they were just trying to capture you, as I assume they’ve captured Sabrina. You never saw that man before tonight, yet he very definitely felt that you are destined to die soon.”
“He did say that Sabrina was alive,” Shawna said.
“We have to find her quickly. I’m concerned that there is a cult in action here.”
“Edwina’s group of witches are good women! I cannot believe that?—”
“I accused Edwina of nothing. I said that I’m afraid a cult exists here. I am not accusing her of having a part in it. And I still believe that someone tried to make you appear guilty to my brother. Remember, I wasn’t with you in the tunnels, when Hawk was nearly killed, until the trouble started.”
Shawna fell silent. David opened his trunk and drew out a bottle of good Scotch whiskey. He took a seat upon the trunk then and offered the bottle to her.
“Straight whiskey,” she murmured.
“My lady, I do apologize. My offerings here are few,” he murmured. “I do have a castle of my own, but alas! It rests in the hands of others.”
“You, M’laird Douglas, are a sorry, wretched bastard. Not in the least nice. Straight whiskey shall be just fine.” She swallowed hard, gagged, coughed, but felt better. Then she shivered fiercely again.
“Oh my god, what is going on?” she demanded in a stark whisper.
“Think carefully, Shawna. You’ve really got no idea? No idea at all?” he asked her intently.
“I swear to you,” she said wearily, “I do not!”
David took the bottle and swallowed down a large draught of whiskey himself. He set the bottle down and saw that she was still shivering. He let out something like a growl of impatience and reached for her. She stiffened against his attempt, then let out an aggravated cry of frustration as his strength outweighed hers, and she found herself seated between his legs, dragged down in front of him with her back to the trunk. He rubbedhis hands briskly with the blanket over her arms and shoulders, vigorously flooding warmth back into her body.
“Better?” he asked, his word against her ear, bringing a different kind of warmth along with it.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. His body sheltered her. She was definitely warmer.
“They’ll know you’re here now. Alive. Whoever was in that crypt tonight will know.”
“I don’t think so,” he reflected.
“But the attacker who survived knows?—”
“He—or she—might well think that it was my brother. We’re enough alike. And it doesn’t matter. I’ve decided I’m going to keep my presence a secret only a wee bit longer.”
“Oh?” She twisted around, trying to read his features.
David nodded grimly. “The laird of the castle is supposed to reign as royalty on the Night of the Moon Maiden. He is master of all that happens. I do think that I shall appear for the festivities.”
Shawna wondered why that announcement made her feel so uneasy. People—gentry and villagers alike—usually dressed in costume for the occasion. The night was wild with feasting, drinking, and ribald merrymaking. People went wild.
Perhaps dangerously so.
“David, I’m not sure?—”