His expression, beneath his thick whiskers, was livid. She noted that his hands were tensed, rolled into tight fists at his sides. Once again, looking at him, she found something quite unnerving about the man, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
Maybe it was his hands. They were very strong, very powerful hands. Long-fingered, his nails clipped and cleaned.
She should know something about this man, she was certain she saw something in him, in his face. There was something about him that was familiar.
“Brother Damian?”
Where in God’s name was Hawk when she needed him?
Damian didn’t seem to see Skylar. He didn’t seem to see anyone or anything at all, other than whatever vision it was that played in his mind.
“I shall kill her!” he said furiously. “I shall very nearly do the damned deed myself!”
Then, before Skylar could reply, he grabbed both of her hands, his eyes focused on her now. “Skylar,” he snapped, dispensing with all formality, “keep the lad here, keep an eye on him, don’t let him go off anywhere with anyone, none of the Andersons or the MacGinnises or anyone, do you understand?”
“Brother Damian, I would hardly let a child this age go off alone?—”
“Nay, you’re not listening! Don’t let the boy go anywhere until arrangements have been made for him, do you understand? Don’t let his—his father come for him, or any of his sisters, any of the Andersons. Or—or the MacGinnises. It will all make sense, just watch him closely! Swear it!”
The man was a madman, and still?—
“Swear it to me, for the love of God!”
“I—I swear!” Skylar said, frightened by the friar’s passion yet somehow compelled to give him her promise.
“I will watch the lad, I swear it to you,” she said.
He squeezed her hands, then released them.
With a speed and agility most amazing for a man of his age, he turned and left the castle.
She was going to have to find Hawk, that was all there was to it. She would take the boy with her and find her husband down in the crypts.
CHAPTER 19
Alistair MacGinnis seemed exceptionally uneasy in the crypts. “I can’t quite imagine what you’re looking for down here,” he told Hawk.
“I don’t know myself,” Hawk said. He hesitated. “But there was some commotion down here last night—and I’m certain there’s a connection between what happened last night and Sabrina’s kidnapping. Besides, on the day that Sabrina disappeared, there was talk of my brother’s corpse rising out of its coffin, I’ve been told. I’m considering having the body exhumed.”
“Exhume the body?” Alistair repeated.
“You don’t think that doing so might put to rest some of the strange happenings here?” Hawk queried.
Without answering, Alistair pushed open the iron gate to the crypt. He set the lantern upon a hook, then walked to the coffin that bore David Douglas’s name. Nervously, he set his hands to the lid. The nails screeched but gave.
Hawk watched him curiously for a moment, then hurried over and helped him. Together, they lifted the lid from the coffin.
“It’s…” Alistair began.
“Gone,” Hawk concluded flatly. He closed the lid. “Someone has stolen the corpse.”
“Hawk!” came a cry as the two men stared at one another. “Hawk!”
Hawk glanced at Alistair. Shawna was coming. They quickly re-covered the coffin.
Shawna burst into the vault.
“Hawk!” she acknowledged, then looked at her cousin, attempting to conceal her surprise to find the two of them together in the crypts. “Alistair!” she said. “What—what are you doing down here—both of you, together?”