Chapter 16
“It’s me own fault.I’m to blame.”
It was the third time Ryder had made the statement in the past hour, and Melissa was already weary of trying to correct him. As he sat by the fire in the Great Hall, though, his face tense with both pain and guilt, it was obvious that he wouldn’t listen, even if she did speak up.
“I should never have left the castle without a guard,” he continued, twisting in his seat in agitation. “I thought I’d be able to look after her, but I should have guessed that whoever’s behind this would send more than one man to overpower me. They kent I wouldnae be able to fight them all.”
He shook his head, staring into the fire, before twisting round to stare at the door, waiting for it to open with news from Colby and the search.
He’s like a caged animal,Melissa thought, as she sat quietly beside her mother, her mind whirling. God help whoever did this when he finally catches up wi’ them.
“But who is behind it, Ryder?” Melissa’s mother leaned forward, searching Ryder’s face for some clue. Melissa had never seen her look so scared. Not even at her father’s deathbed or funeral. Not even when they’d returned to Millar Castle, having discovered that their own home was gone. But losing a child, she supposed, would be worse than any of those things. Not that Meredith was lost, of course — or not in that sense, at least. She corrected her own thought before it could take root in her mind. Yes, her sister was missing. But she would be found. Surely she would be found.
“Ryder?” Her mother prompted gently, shaking Meredith’s husband from his thoughts. He looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“Who’s behind it?” he asked. “I wish I kent.” He shook his head, then dropped it to his hands, his entire posture filled with regret.
“I have my fair share o’ enemies,” he said, at last, looking up at them. “More than my fair share. I suppose ye know that. I’ve spent me whole life fighting, and I’ve told meself I was doing it for the best — to protect me and mine. But now I find it’s probably put them at risk instead, for any one o’ those enemies could’ve done this. Any one of them could’ve realized this was their chance to get back at me. Now, when I’m at my weakest.”
“Yer not weak,” Meredith’s mother said kindly, placing a comforting hand on her son-in-law’s arm. “Nobody could ever call ye weak.”
“Aye, I daenae suppose they would,” Ryder acknowledged. “But that was before I married Meredith. She’s me biggest weakness — she makes me vulnerable, and someone kent that and used it against me. I just daenae ken who yet.”
He paused, his expression thoughtful. This was the very thing he’d been worried about. The reason he’d tried to drive Meredith away during her first few days in the castle. He’d been afraid that she would make him weak and that he, in turn, would make her vulnerable. This much was true, beyond the shadow of a doubt.
Was it really true, though, to say that all of those who classed themselves as his enemies would have known that? The more Ryder thought about it, the more he started to doubt that fact. The wedding had been a small one, after all — deliberately so. Most of those who’d known about it were here in this room or out searching for Meredith on his behalf. The villagers who’d lined the streets as they followed the piper home after the ceremony could be ruled out, for none of them would class Ryder as an enemy, having lived on his land, and enjoyed his generosity ever since he became laird.
Who, then, had known enough about his feelings for Meredith to have known to use her against him?
With a bang that echoed the length of the Great Hall, the door opened, revealing an agitated-looking Matthew, with Ellen hovering anxiously behind him.
“Matthew, at last!” Ryder said, leaping to his feet and growling in pain when the arrow wound in his leg reminded him sharply of its existence. Ellen had cleaned and dressed the wound as best she could when they’d got him back to the castle, but Ryder knew it would be a long time before an injury that deep was fully healed.
“What news?” he asked eagerly, ignoring the pain in his leg and head as Matthew hurried towards him, his feet loud on the flagstone floor. “Did ye find Colby? Has he sent his men out to join the search?”
“I dinnae find him, Me Laird.” Matthew’s face was ashen in the dim light of the large room, and Ryder felt a sudden trickle of foreboding run down his spine as he waited for him to continue.
“I dinnae find him,” Matthew said again, “But I did find one o’ his servants, on his way here. He gave me this to give to you.”
His hand trembling sightly, he held out a rolled-up piece of parchment, tied with a ribbon, which Ryder fumbled with for a second before the paper finally fell open.
The room fell silent. All eyes were on Ryder as he scanned the document in his hands and then read it again, as if to be sure he’d understood it.
“Get me horse ready!” he suddenly shouted, casting the parchment angrily to the ground before him. “I will find Colby Green, and I will make him pay for this!”
* * *
In the silence that followed Ryder’s outburst, Melissa darted forward and picked the sheet of paper up off the floor, where it had fallen, her face blanching in horror as she read what it said.
“Well, miss?” Ellen said, her fear making her bold. “What does it say? What’s going on?”
“It’s… it’s just a few lines,” Melissa said, at last, holding the message up so everyone could see it.
I have Meredith. Return my clan’s lands, or I will kill her. You know where to find me.
The paper fluttered from Melissa’s hands as she stood there, speechless. Then, with a small sob, her mother fell to the floor in a faint, and all thoughts were forgotten as she rushed forward to catch her.
By the time Melissa’s mother was lying propped up in front of the fire, a glass of whisky in her hand, Ryder had finally stopped shouting and was pacing back and forth across the room, his injuries apparently forgotten. He had been incensed when he’d realized his wounds would not permit him to ride out that night, but as his initial burst of anger settled to a low but furious simmer, his pacing had become thoughtful.
“Perhaps it’s for the best that I don’t act tonight,” he said, as if to himself. “It’s what he’ll be expecting, after all. For me to storm round there to free her — and walk straight into some unknown trap, I’ll be bound.”
“Ryder?” Melissa’s voice broke into his thoughts. She was sitting by her mother’s side, clasping her hand in hers, but her eyes followed Ryder, looking for an answer. “Ryder, are ye going to tell us what’s going on, or do we have to guess?”
“Colby Green,” Ryder said bluntly, continuing to pace. “That’s what’s going on. And I should hae kent. I should hae kent he would be behind this. It was right there in front of me, the whole time.”
“I daenae understand,” Melissa said slowly. “I ken the message came from the Laird of Moore, but I thought ye were his friend? His oldest friend. That’s what he told Meredith, at least?”
Ryder paused in front of the fire, wondering how much to tell her.
It was true that he and Colby had known each other since they were but young lads, as Colby had told Meredith. It was not true, however, to say that they had been friends. Actually, their clans had been sworn enemies for as long as Ryder could recall. It was only when his own father died that he’d tried to reach out and call a truce. But the alliance Colby’s father had promised him had turned out to be false — just a ruse to try to get closer to him and take his lands.
He’d had no option but to kill the man. He would not have stopped in his bid to become Laird of Millar, as well as Laird of Moore. Ryder’s father may not have been right about many things, but he had at least been right about that, so there was no mystery as to why the man had turned against him, rejecting his offer of kinship, and preferring instead to double-cross him. No, the only mystery to be solved was why, after his father’s death at Ryder’s hands, Colby had tried to befriend him.
“A false friend,” he said, finally turning to Melissa and her mother. “One who always meant to double-cross me; to find some way to avenge the loss of his family’s lands and soldiers that came about because o’ his faither constantly going against mine. Well, it looks like he’s finally found it. And now I need to find him and put an end to this once and for all.”
It was a very brief summation of all that had happened between his father and Colby’s. And between Colby’s father and Ryder, for that matter, but he did not want to distress the ladies with the gruesome details of a feud that had divided their clans for generations. A feud which he had finally been willing to consider closed — only to realize too late that Colby had been lying to him all along.
He was not his friend; he never had been. Ryder had known it once, but the events of the last few days had somehow pushed it from his mind and allowed him to accept Colby’s overtures of friendship, too distracted by the attack on Meredith, and her father’s subsequent death, to examine the man’s motives as rigorously as he usually would.
It was his fault, and he would never forgive himself for this catastrophic — not to mention uncharacteristic — lapse of judgment. Meredith was in danger because her husband — the very person who had sworn to protect her — had let his guard down and put her at risk. But now was not the time for blame and recriminations. Not when his wife was still in the hands of Colby. Ryder shuddered at the very thought, pressing a hand to his eyes as if to blot it out. He could not afford to think of that now.
Think, he told himself, as the fire crackled before him. Ye have to think how yer going to get her back — and then ye have to think about how, exactly, to deal with the man who took her.
Melissa was still watching him, her mother’s head now drooping onto her shoulder as she surrendered to sleep.
“Melissa,” Ryder said, stopping abruptly before her, as a thought started to form in his aching head, “I think I have a plan. But I’m going to need yer help.”
* * *