I hope so.
Within seconds, Jonet fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, carrying his promise into her dreams.
She did not know how long she was sleeping when she felt a soft hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her away. Jonet opened her eyes, squinting into the darknes. Much like the morning, the clouds seemed to be shielding the light of the moon, bathing the room in shadows.
Even so, she managed to make out the familiar outline above her.
“Freya?” Her voice was raw, groggy. “Did somethin’ hap
pen? What is it?”
She began to sit up, growing a little panicked. Matthew shifted behind her, waking.
In the darkness, Jonet saw Freya shake her head. “Nothin’ happened, Miss Jonet, everythin’ is fine. But, I thought ye would like to ken that…”
Jonet sat up all the way. Her eyes had adjusted enough for her to see the slight frown Freya wore. Despite her earlier reassurance, her heart jumped. “Is it Faither? Did somethin’ happen to him too?”
“Nay, Miss Jonet. But… the maid has been found. The guards have brought her to the dungeons.”
Jonet let the words settle for only a second before she leapt from the bed and took off into a run.
Chapter 26
Jonet was fast. He had known that quite early in their acquaintance, ever since that race. Back then, she had been driven by the need to win, to finally have a reason to remove him from her life. Now, she was driven by the need for answers, a quiet desperation that grew stronger with every step upon the cold floor.
Her hair flew behind her like a dark cape, a magnificent figure darting through the hallways, not caring who saw her. It was very early in the morning, hours before the break of dawn, and it seemed the festivities had only recently concluded. Even so, there was a thrum of activity throughout the Castle, as if all the servants had been awakened in response to the nature of the unrest of the Laird and his family.
Dougal’s death seemed to have opened their eyes—or rather loosened the tongues of those who might have known the purpose of the investigation. As Matthew rushed to follow on Jonet’s heels, he managed to catch snippets of whispers, of open wonder as to whether the girl they had known for so long was truly capable of such a thing.
If Jonet were privy to the whispers, she did not make it obvious. She continued racing down to the dungeons, her steps firm and quick. Matthew did not have to work to keep up, but his chest clenched with unease, not knowing what they would be running towards.
The dungeons were dark and dusty. The strong scent of mold slammed into them both when they arrived, slowing their steps. The distant glow of torchlight shone on the rusting metal bars barring whatever prisoners were kept there. It also revealed the location of the supposed culprit and as they drew closer, Matthew saw that the Laird and Jonathan was already there.
The Laird was shaking in anger. His body appeared to vibrate, a force that would undoubtedly explode at any moment. Jonathan stood a few steps behind him, as if he did not wish to be caught in the fire once he did.
The lethal iciness resonated from the Laird as he stared at the woman before him. His silence, his fury… even Matthew was a little afraid.
Jonet did not seem to notice. She rushed to his side, coming to a stop when she laid eyes on the maid. The maid looked disheveled, dressed in dark colors with an earsaid around her shoulders.
“Where did ye find her?” Jonet asked, her voice a whisper.
Jonathan was the one who answered, his voice echoing around the dungeons. “She was caught tryin’ to leave the village. She had taken one of the horses from the stables and had been gettin’ supplies before makin’ her escape. We caught her before that could happen.”
The maid was shaking like a leaf. Her eyes darted from the Laird, to Jonet, even to Matthew, then back to the floor.
“Do ye recognize her, Jonet?” Matthew asked, coming to her side.
“Yer name is Jamilyn, isnae it?” She nodded slowly.
“A-aye, Miss Jonet.”
“She claims she dinnae do it.” The Laird’s voice was sharp, yet low. It commanded the attention of them all and another note of fear ran through Matthew. He could not tell what the Laird would do, now that his brother had fallen at the hands of the woman before him.
“I dinnae, Me Laird!” Jamilyn rushed forward, grasping the bars. “Ye have to believe me.”
“Then why were ye tryin’ to leave the village?” Matthew demanded. “Why did ye leave the Castle after Dougal was found?”
“I thought ye would think it was me,” she declared. In the light of the torches, he could see tears streaming down her face. Yet her voice was strong. “I was the one who found Mr. Anderson. I thought that ye would think I killed them if ye realized I found Mr. MacTavish as well. I grew frightened.”