Page 65 of Marry the Highland Villain
And if he did allow her to explain herself, would he believe her words, or would he assume she was lying to save herself? And what would he do if he believed she was trying to deceive him?
Of course, that was assuming he returned. Brigid hated to think such things, but hehadbeen absent from their marriage bed when she awoke. If it wasn’t clan business that had taken him away, then she had no idea what it could be, and now that she had nothing to do but think, she couldn’t help but worry that it might be part of some other sinister plan set in motion.
As for Laird Auchter, Brigid still knew little of him, but one thing she did know was that the way he’d spoken to her the night before had left her feeling as if she’d been spoken to by a snake—a hungry, venomous one. She could well believe that he might give her poison while planning some other ‘accident’ or incidentto kill Conall. She could just as easily believe that she might be punished for his crimes while he claimed innocence.
The thought that Conall’s absence might be due to some treachery on Laird Auchter’s part terrified her, and not only because it would endanger her life as well.
There were also her sisters to consider in all of this. What would happen to them if she were right and this was all part of some plot? If she were convicted and executed for Conall’s injury or death, or for supposedly betraying him, what would happen to Lily, Megan, and Valerie? Conall might not be vengeful enough to attack them outright, but Oliver might well declare a feud against her sisters if Conall were hurt or killed by Laird Auchter’s machinations.
Oliver had already made it clear that he thought that she and her family were no better than their mother’s relations, after all. What if he were to act on that belief?
If Conall or his brother, or even Clan Auchter, decided to declare war on the Blackwood sisters, then none of them would live to tell the tale. She knew Valerie would do her best to rouse the retired and still loyal members of their father’s old crew, but even if she were to succeed, it wouldn’t be enough. And they’d not even have that much protection if it came down to fighting. Pirates, even loyal ones, were usually too practical to face such odds.
A door creaked, and Brigid immediately clambered to her feet, her aching limbs screaming in protest, already stiff from sitting on the cold, damp floor.
A moment later, Oliver appeared, his face set in a familiar cold scowl of fury.
“I’ll ask ye one last time,” he said in a tone that made her blood run cold. “Where is my brother?”
“I dinnae ken,” Brigid replied, shrinking back against the wall of the cell.
“What did ye do to him?”
“I didnae do anything!” She fought back tears and clenched her hands into her skirts. “I didnae harm him. Why should I?”
“Because ye’re Laird Auchter’s blood.”
“And that means nothing to me,” she protested. “I only met him for the first time last night, when he came to the wedding feast.”
“And why would I believe that, when I found poison in yer pockets?” Oliver’s sneer deepened as he spat out the words.
“I told ye,” Brigid replied, her tone pleading. “Laird Auchter gave it to me, and I forgot about it. I meant to dispose of it or seewhether Emily had a use for monkshood—my sister Lily told me that plants like this can be used to make medicine too.”
“Ye must think I’m as daft as a newborn to tell me a story like that.” Oliver’s lip curled. “I dinnae ken what ye did, or how, but ye’ll nae be leavin’ that cell until I’ve found my brother. And if he’s nae hale and healthy, I’ll see to it that ye die as soon as he does.”
Brigid swallowed and tried to quash the fear that threatened to crush her. She had no doubt that Oliver would keep his promise, and enjoy acting on it. She shivered, and not just from the cold, clammy air.
Far above, something slammed loudly, the sound reverberating through the stone. Oliver’s head whipped around, his shoulders stiffening as his hand fell automatically to the hilt of his sword.
Brigid slid back, her shoulders pressed against the wall of her cell as the door to the dungeons crashed open with a bang like thunder trapped indoors.
CHAPTER 23
The castle was swarmingwith activity when Conall returned, and the first guard to see him had his sword halfway out before he realized he was about to draw steel on his Laird.
“My Laird,” the man said, sheathing his weapon immediately. “Master Oliver has been lookin’ for ye.”
Conall nodded curtly, his eyes on the warriors stationed along the wall and bristling with armor and weapons to the point that a number of them looked like upset hedgehogs.
“Were we attacked?” he asked, seeing no other reason for the state of high alert the castle seemed to be in.
“Nay, My Laird. All is well. But yer brother said yer life was in danger.”
The man’s eyes flicked down to the open wound on Conall’s arm. The blood wasn’t flowing quite as freely now, but it had seeped through his shirt in a way he knew must look alarming.
“My life was in danger,” Conall told him. “But nae from anyone in the castle, as far as I ken. I was attacked by the former laird Auchter.”
The guard blinked, and Conall saw the unease on his face.
